#oh to hate and love someone in a way no one else can possibly understand but the other

[an-entity-i-think]

QPR!Mergana Prompt:

Blah blah merlin reveals his magic earlier they figure out how to defeat Morgana without killing her blah blah she's redeemed even though her and Merlin are still like HIGHLY suspicious of each other and everyone thinks that either one of them would kill the other at any given moment if given the choice.

The council refuses to allow Morgana to be placed third in line for the crown after the king and queen because 'she'll kill them and then take the thrown legally why on earth would we agree to that?'. Which Arthur and Gwen are annoyed at cause she's redeemed! Have some faith smh

Meanwhile the council is looking beside them where Morgana and Merlin are glaring at each other like theyre about to start civil war all over again cause Morgana 'accidently' threw some hummus in his hair and Merlin 'accidently' spilt some of his wine on her dress and should someone get between that?

But I digress. Someone says 'if she marrys someone of suitable nature to rule *with* her in case the king and queen are dead or otherwise unable to rule, then we can probably agree with it' and everyone sits back and is like damn yeah that's so true random lord nobody cares about

But Arthur of course who found HIS true love (and is now a feminist, good job Gwen and Merlin!) Looks at his sister like 🥺 I'd never force you to marry 🥺 is there anybody you'd be happy to marry? 🥺 if not we can try to argue for something else? 🥺

And Morgana bored as hell, twirling a knife around, but with not a single slick of hesitation is like, 'Merlin.'

And everyone's eyes widen in shock while Merlin uses magic to turn the knife into a well known thorned purple flower (ouch), responds, again without a single slick of hesitation, 'Yeah, sure.'

And jaws drop.

Arthur and Gwen, both on the same page of absolute confusion are like 'what' cause neither of them have seen either of their best friends show any sort of attraction towards the other (and even though they ignore their hostile interactions cause neither of them have been hurt... permanently since she came back). They look at each other like 'did we miss something? Are they together? Is all this hostility some sort of foreplay?)

It is *not* foreplay.

But to understand we'd have to go back to when Morgana and Merlin were friends. You know, when they both were happy and hopeful for a better future.

Because they were *friends*. And even though maybe they weren't *best friends* because Morgana had Gwen and Merlin had Arthur, they were still close! And they still cared for each other and talked about things that they couldn't really talk to their other friends about!

And one of those things is that Morgana doesn't think she'd ever want to have sex. Ever. Like she is repulsed by the idea, girl or boy. And the idea of being married off? And being forced to have an heir she doesn't want? With someone she probably doesn't even like?

Well. That scares the fuck out of her.

And she shares this with Merlin who of course holds her hand because both of them are generally emotionally healthy at the time with physically affection and he shares that he doesn't really care for the idea of sex either. That he isn't completely repulsed by it and wouldn't mind doing it with someone he loved to make them happy but that he doesn't really see them importance of it and what all the fuss is about and that she isn't 'broken' or whatever else she believes and they cry and hug and it's nice and friendly.

They have many conversations where this comes up, a knight will make a dirty joke within hearing range and they'll look to each other across the room to make an 'ick' face before both holding back laughs.

They'll talk about how to respond Gwen and Arthur practically undressing each other with their eyes with equal disgust and fondness.

Maybe Merlin even tells her of Freya and how he thinks he might have loved her and how he doesn't think he wants to again because it took all this time to even maybe like someone romantically and it didn't end well and even though he hears everyone crave it he thinks well maybe he was in love with the idea of loving someone and having someone by his side more than he loved her and does that make him wrong somehow?

And this time it's Morgana's turn to say 'no it's not wrong!' Because she's never understood why her friendship with Gwen and him were supposed to be 'less' than whatever hypothetical romance she'll be forced to have with a man. Because everyone around them always say 'it's like friendship but more' when describing how they fell in love and it makes her stomach turn because why is one love more than another? Can't they both be important? Why is it more and why can't it just be different?

And she says that she thought it was just because she couldn't stand the idea of having sex with someone so she assumed that was why she's never had the feeling of butterflies in her stomach but she goes on with 'if you're wrong then so am I, but since you said I'm not broken then neither are you'.

And they hug and maybe they'll joke around and kiss each other on the hands to show intimacy between friends and neither of them are worried about how it could be misconstrued because they both know there's nothing romantic or sexual about it and they just smile happily.

And maybe Merlin will give her flowers because he knows she likes the purple ones even though they're thorned and maybe she'll show him how to make it into a crown and put it on him just as he puts one on her because well neither of them will be crowned because well he's just a servant and she's just a ward but that doesn't matter in Morganas room while they giggle like peasants and dance like royalty.

Not every talk is as kind as others and especially as Morganas magic gets stronger she gets more and more distant because well Merlin never thought she was broken before but well everyone has a line right?

But one night when he snuck in, he had a rough day where he almost died again and he can't tell anybody (shed also just woken up from another nightmare) so he goes to his friend and she knows he doesn't want to talk about it from the ruffle of his eyebrows (and she doesnt want to talk about it, he can tell from the slightest downward frown) so they lay on the bed and she offers her hand which he takes and they hold each other tight and curl up to share warmth with their hands held between them and neither of them can sleep but sharing this is enough for now.

And maybe- it's been a few minutes or a few hours they're not sure but the sun hasn't risen yet so when Merlin begins to talk it has nothing to do with what's bothering either of them at the moment but both of them love plans and ideas so when he says, 'if one day you are betrothed against your wishes, we could get married instead. Then neither of us would have to worry about being with someone who doesn't understand because I trust you not to take what I don't want to give and I hope you trust me for the same.'

And maybe Merlin hasn't told her about his magic because he's scared and isn't sure and maybe Morgana won't tell him about the dream (nightmare) she just had about a sister because she doesn't think he'd understand but sometimes trusting someone more than anyone else doesn't equal telling them every single thing about yourself even if it hurts to discover it after.

So when Morgana says 'well what lf they try to hurt you for it? What if they think you've enchanted me or something else just as silly. You know how Uther is.'

And they both think 'I fear him more than you know and I'd never wish you harm.'

But Merlin just smiles the tiniest smile with the hint of a dimple that always makes Morgana smile back when she sees it and says, 'Well, we'll protect each other won't we? In sickness and in health?'

And later, much much later, Merlin will give her a cup of tea and end up choosing the lives of thousands of people over her not only cause it was the right thing to do but also because he thought that's what *she* would have wanted too once upon a time when they kissed each other's hands.

And even later than that she will leave him chained up and for certain death on the side of her sister not only cause she thought he betrayed her and thought she was broken after all but also because she doesn't understand why he wouldn't support her birthright even after placing a crown on each other's head while giggling and dancing.

But for that moment in bed before anything terrible happens between then with hands entwined she snorts a little before they both grin. They stare at each other as if measuring the earnestness in each other's eyes before their smiles gentle.

'Promise?' Morgana asks. Because even though she's never been a damsel in distress who needs a prince to save her, the idea of having someone by her side... and that person being someone she trusts is something she's never allowed herself.

But of course Merlin just squeezes their hands tightly like an oath all on its own, 'I promise,' because even though he'll never be a knight, he doesn't need a sword to be there for someone he cares about.

So they smile at each other with love. Not a love that's 'more' than friendship, but they both think separately that maybe it is a little different than their love for Gwen and Arthur even if it isn't the same different kind of love between lovers.

And maybe they fall asleep like that with smiles on their faces before waking up just as dawn hits where they will pull away and Merlin will kiss her on the forehead just as she kisses him on the cheek and they will hug and go their separate ways just before Gwen comes bustling in to begin her servant work for the day. Surprised her Lady is smiling, she asks happily, 'No nightmare?'

And Morgana looks up in surprise, before smiling gently in a way that Gwen can't quite decipher, 'Oh I didn't dream at all.'

And they'll smile at each other and later at dinner she'll stick her tongue out at Merlin behind Uther and Arthur's back when they talk about the next princess for Arthur to woo and even though later it will not be well between then and even later than that it will be even worse-

Eventually they end up in the council room where there are talks about Morgana being crown princess if she is betrothed. And her brother and best friend look at her with worry in their eyes because they'd never wish her to do something against her will but for the briefest of moments, so quick only Merlin would notice, she looks down at the purple wine stain on her dress and thinks about the purple flower crown that was placed gently upon her head and says calmly, assuredly, 'Merlin' as her choice. Because hadn't she already chosen so many years ago?

And his eyes may only flicker towards her, but she only needs to look at her knife transform into a thorned purple flower, thorns just missing her hand, for her to know he's remembering the same moments as her.

'Yeah, sure.'

And maybe everyone thinks they were hiding some sort of torrid romance from them, or that they're crazy, or even that all their hostility is some sort of foreplay for hate sex of some sort.

But they don't know about the long talks they shared while laying on the ground side by side and kisses on each other's hands and flower crowns and giggles and dancing and-

They don't know how it feels to kill and be killed by someone you promised to protect and were promised to be protected by.

They don't know how it feels to go into a battle to the death with someone and wake up to see a glare on their face while their hand is entwined with yours.

So maybe the council will murmur about how the court sorceror would never let her kill for the crown and maybe Arthur and Gwen will murmur worriedly to each other about if this is a good idea? And did they miss something?

And maybe he'll trip her so she falls when she stands up so she knocks the leg of his chair so he falls with her and maybe both of them were *somehow* cushioned so it's an annoyance and not a bruise.

Just as they've always been physical with their affection (it's so important to share how you feel), they try to be emotionally healthy and share their disdain too (best not to bottle it up).

Because, well, even though she'd never take a cup of tea from him and he flinches when he sees her near some chains- when a certain song comes on well they must share a dance, don't they? And if they see some purple flowers, well, flower crowns just must be made- it'd be wrong not to.

And well, if they're married, it's quite normal for them to entwine their hands while they sleep dreamless and warm even if he wakes up with a scratchy pillow and she wakes up with hers covered in slime.

After all, what is love without some pain? And truly, love and hatred are but a slippery slope.

A promise is a promise after all.

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[yoongiseesawmp3]

own my mind - san (m)

summary: part of the idol series. idol!san x producer!reader. san hates you, you're sure of it, and the feeling is pretty mutual. are these feelings true, or does he just need to spend some time getting to know you?

word count: 10.6k

warnings: smut. afab reader. oral (f and m receiving) unprotected sex w pull out method, don't do that. recording during sex, don't do that either.

masterlist

"so the practice rooms are down this hall," your new boss explains as he shows you around kq, "and over here are the boys' studios, but your's will be this way..."

you're trying to take it all in and simultaneously remember where all of the confusing hallways lead. kq may not look like much on the outside, but within it's basically a maze. you keep nodding and smiling as you follow your boss around, politely greeting anybody you encounter. he ends by bringing you into a conference room to finalize some paperwork, and after that you're on your own. you're officially the newest producer at kq, and...you have no idea what to do next.

you step out of the conference room and try your hardest to remember which direction leads back to the studios, but you also need coffee. you remember where the kitchen is, so you head that way as you text your friend jen. she recommended you for this job, and she promised she'd say hi on your first day. she's one of the make up artists for ateez, so she's always around, but her schedule is a little more frantic than yours. you understand if she doesn't answer right away, so you send the text and forget about it. you take a moment to yourself in the company kitchen as you try to figure out the coffee machine, letting your thoughts wander.

are you really cut out for this? it's your first day and you already feel overwhelmed. do they expect you to just go into your studio and start producing? what kind of tracks do they have planned for the next album? will the current producers even let you touch anything important, or will you have to prove yourself first? you're thinking about all this and more when someone bursts into the kitchen with a screech.

"Y/N!!!" jen yells as she scoops you into a hug. "you're here! it's finally happening!"

"this isn't very professional," you laugh as you hug her back. "you're helping me make a bad first impression."

"not possible, i've been talking about how great you are for months," she smiles. "they're gonna love you, seriously. i can't wait to hear what you make."

"what if i suck though?" you ask, but jen shakes her head.

"don't do that. no negativity on your first day."

"whatever."

"so what are you doing first?" she asks, taking the coffee you just brewed and having a sip for herself.

"dude, that was mine," you cry, and she hands it back to you with a half assed apology. "um, what am i doing first...well, i got confused on my welcome tour, so i guess i'll wander around until i figure out where my studio is."

"oh i can show you," jen brushes you off. "it's not that confusing, you just need to walk it all a few times. lots of doors, but you'll get the hang of it."

"do you want to make your own coffee, or can you show me around right now?" you ask as you finish doctoring up your mug.

"i can just have another sip of yours," she says as she reaches for it, but you hold it just out of reach as someone else walks in.

"hey jen," hongjoong greets her, his eyes falling to you next. "are you y/n? i've been summoned to help you get started."

"thank god," you sigh in relief. "i wasn't sure what to do, so i appreciate it. it's nice to meet you, finally."

"likewise," he smiles. "i'm a big fan of your work."

"really?" you feel yourself blush. "thank you. you were one of the reasons i started producing, so that means a lot."

"really?" now it's hongjoong's turn to blush. "well, that's...nice."

"great," jen claps her hands, easing over the awkward silence. "you can show y/n her studio and the two of you can keep gushing about how great you both are." she turns to you and puts her hands on your shoulders, giving you a playful shake. "you're gonna do great things here. be nice to yourself. and uhhh, go team!"

"thanks jen," you laugh as you wave goodbye, following a respectable distance behind hongjoong. he looks back to make sure he hasn't lost you and motions for you to come closer.

"no need to be shy," he tells you. "we'll need to be pretty comfortable with each other considering how close we'll be working together."

"how often will i be working with you?"

"mmm, every day maybe?" he thinks about it. "in the beginning at least. you'll shadow me for a few days to see how the studios run, and then you'll sort of report to me with whatever you're working on. hopefully we won't get tired of each other."

"i don't think that'll be an issue," you assure him. you catch the tips of his ears turning red and you smile to yourself. "so, what makes a good producer here?"

you watch in admiration as hongjoong explains the creativity and collaboration that makes kq work so well, and you kick yourself for getting distracted again. you were supposed to be watching your surroundings, keeping an eye out for where to go to find your studio, but you can't help it. in this moment, it hits you: you get to make music with one of your favorite producers for one of your favorite artists. you must be dreaming, right?

if this is a dream, you're knocked out of it abruptly. while you were watching hongjoong, you weren't watching where you were going, and you walked right into the human equivalent of a brick wall. you spill your coffee everywhere, but don't worry, most of it lands on the most handsome man you've ever seen in your entire life. you're currently staring at choi san, singer of ateez and one of your new coworkers. he's looking down at you, a little bit of shock in his eyes, and you rush to correct the situation.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry," you apologize. you look to hongjoong for help and he's running off to find napkins, leaving you with a very buff man in a soaking wet white t shirt. "i am so so sorry, really, here, let me try to-"

"don't worry about it," san takes a step back. he starts to walk away, but you follow behind him.

"at least let me-"

"i said don't worry about it," he tries again, his tone calm but his eyes tell a different story. he's glaring down at you, which makes your blood boil. he has a right to be mad at you for spilling coffee on him, but why's he pissed at you for trying to help clean him up?

"sure, go drip coffee all down the hallway then," you grumble as you brush past him. "i'll tell hongjoong to follow the trail when he comes back with your napkins."

"fine," san sighs, stopping where he stands. he throws his hands up and asks, "happy?"

"sure."

"who are you anyway?" he mumbles to himself, looking you up and down. you feel his eyes linger, and it makes goosebumps rise over your skin. you take that as a further sign that this guy is getting on your nerves.

"i'm y/n, i'm the new producer," you answer. "nice to meet you."

"you spill coffee on all of your coworkers, y/n?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"i said i was sorry-"

"here's hongjoong," san cuts you off. he reaches out for the napkins and smiles at his bandmate. "thanks man."

"so you've met y/n," hongjoong chuckles, trying to ease the tension. "she's really great, we're lucky to have her on the team." san doesn't reply, just nods and sends you a tightlipped smile as he dabs at his ruined t shirt. the fabric is basically translucent now, showing san's tan skin below and the definition of every single muscle. hongjoong clocks the way your eyes are trailing over san's torso and he clears his throat. "um, should we continue our tour?"

"yeah, sorry," you gesture for him to lead the way, and you hold san's gaze as you walk away. he's a dick, you think. that'll be fun.

-

"so is san always an asshole?" you yell over the loud music to jen as you follow her to a table. she insisted on taking you out for drinks to celebrate your first day, and after the morning you had, you need this.

"is he what?!" she shouts back.

"an asshole!"

"san?" she looks at you bewildered. "he's a sweetheart!"

"are we talking about the same guy?"

"are we?" jen questions as she finally pulls you to a table in the back. it's a little quieter back here, so you don't have to shout, but the music will still drown out your conversation so no one can eavesdrop. once you're both settled, she takes a sip of her drink and then, "spill."

"nothing to spill, i just think san is mean and i hate him," you say simply. "i spilled coffee on him, totally an accident, but he was a huge dick about it. wouldn't let me help him, didn't really introduce himself...it all felt off."

"to be fair, i would've been pissed if you had spilled coffee on me when we met," jen points out.

"yeah, but you would've been nicer in the aftermath," you shake your head. "it's whatever. i hopefully won't have to work that closely with him."

"and what about hongjoong?" jen wiggles her eyebrows. "i hear you two hit it off."

"he's nice," you smile shyly. "made my first day a lot easier. he was really patient with all my questions, which helped ease my nerves."

"he's really good at that," jen nods. she goes into a story about her first meeting with hongjoong, and it makes you laugh and endears you to the man more. she tells you stories of the other members, none of whom you met today, but now you're excited to get to know them. "they're all really nice, especially san and yunho. i feel like they're the ones that always check up on everybody-"

"san?"

"yes, your mortal enemy," she rolls her eyes. "he's a good guy, i promise. you just need to make up for the coffee thing and i think you'll be on his good side."

"i'll think about that," you mumble, taking a sip of your drink that almost drains the glass. "so who's this guy you're seeing?"

"whoa, looks like you need another one!" jen deflects. she grabs your glass and runs off to the bar to get another round, leaving you to sit and stew on your own. if san was such a nice guy, why was he only rude to you? it sounds like he isn't mean to other newbies, so it can't be some kind of hazing. whatever dislike he holds for you is personal, and that's making you even angrier. when jen comes back with your new drink she says, "you look mad. what did i miss?"

"can you find out why san hates me?" you ask, and you swear jen would punch you if she could reach across the table.

"he doesn't hate you!! you just made a bad impression! stop making him a villain," she begs you. "man, you're so obsessed with him. maybe someone has a crush?"

"please," you scoff. "just because he has muscles doesn't make up for his shit personality."

"so you like his muscles," jen smirks. "tell him that tomorrow, it'll boost his ego."

"i'm not listening to you anymore."

"but i have so much knowledge to share!" she whines, and you let jen tell you all the do's and don'ts of working at kq as the night goes on. maybe you'll take her advice and try to patch things up with san in the morning. could be worth a shot, right?

-

the next day, you're in one of the bigger studios to help hongjoong with a vocal arrangement. since the last album did so well with the unit songs, you and hongjoong wanted to experiment a little further. you excitedly told hongjoong about your hopes to compose and produce a harmony heavy vocal track, and he was all for it. you worked on the music for it last night, bringing about half of the song to hongjoong for you to play around with today. you both agreed it'd be good to have a guide version ready before you share it with the entire vocal line, so seonghwa offered to help out, too. he's in the booth now as you and hongjoong instruct him from your seats behind the soundboard. he finishes the final layer for the first harmony, and you wait as hongjoong lines it all up. he plays the snippet for you and seonghwa, and you notice both boys are waiting for your reaction.

"that was great, seonghwa," you encourage him. "i really liked it, but..."

"don't be shy," hongjoong nudges you, "he can take it."

"i can," seonghwa agrees. "give it to me straight. did it suck?"

"no, it was really beautiful actually," you assure him. "but for the melody, could you make it more...monotone? that might sound weird, but we're trying to play with the high and low harmony like they're the angel and devil sitting on your shoulder, and for those to stand out the melody needs to be less...captivating."

"you hear that? she thinks your voice is captivating," hongjoong smiles to seonghwa, and he beams at you.

"i get that," he nods. "can i try it another way?"

you help hongjoong reset, and then seonghwa tries another layer in a sadder voice. it's just as powerful, but will be the perfect conduit for the story you're trying to tell. when he finishes, they look to you again and find you smiling proudly.

"that was it," you nod. "great job."

"thanks boss," seonghwa says as he steps out of the booth. "who do you want me to bring in next?"

"you can call san, we'll get him to do the high part and then-"

"san?" you look at hongjoong. "i thought seonghwa was doing the guide vocals."

"well, usually we could do with just one voice, but this song would work best with three distinct voices," hongjoong explains. "i don't think the guys would get it if it's harder to distinguish the different levels, you know?"

"right," you agree, just a little dejected.

"so..." seonghwa trails off. "should i go get him?"

"yeah, tell him to meet us here in ten," hongjoong tells him. seonghwa says his goodbyes and then hoongjoong turns to you. "you alright?"

"i'm good," you reply. "feel a little in over my head, but good."

"you're doing great," hongjoong says, placing his hand over yours on the desk. "it's a lot to jump into, and i'm sorry if it seemed like i was-"

"no, i needed the insight-"

"because i value your opinion-"

"i know that-"

"and-" hongjoong is cut off from finishing his thought because the studio door opens to reveal san. he's wearing another skin tight t shirt, black this time, so even if you spilled another coffee on him it would be harder to notice. he's paired it with a beanie and baggy black pants, and if what you're seeing is correct, he's not wearing any underwear. he stands there staring at you both before his eyes fall to your hand still beneath hongjoong's, and the two of you separate like you've just been shocked.

"i'm not interrupting anything, am i?" san asks suspiciously, and you viciously shake your head as hongjoong tells san to get into the booth. he explains the idea to san and queues up seonghwa's melody as san struggles to put the headphones on over his hat, so you lean into the mic and suggest, "try taking the hat off, maybe?"

"thanks, big help," he says sarcastically. he listens anyway, tossing his beanie away like he's mad at it. "so what am i doing? copying hwa?"

"no," you say sternly. "you're singing the high harmony. we'll layer it over seonghwa's vocals, but your voice needs to be distinct. you can practice if you want-"

"i don't need to practice," san cuts you off, staring daggers at you. "just play it." he keeps his eyes on you as he listens, and you feel nervous. he's listening to your song, your lyrics, and you think you see the slightest flicker of emotion in his eyes as seonghwa's voice fades. he doesn't comment on it, just continues staring at you and says, "yeah, got it. you can record this."

"let's listen to it first, and then record the next one," you tell hongjoong, and he nods in agreement. you watch san get ready, and then you hear the most beautiful falsetto flowing over your track. it makes you emotional, and it's another instance of the coolness of your job hitting you. you're so mesmerized you miss san finishing on a bit of a creative note, so the boys are staring, waiting for your input.

"y/n?" hongjoong calls your name. "what'd you think?"

"that was," you clear your throat, "that was perfect, san."

"great," he nods, taking the headphones off, but you stop him.

"ah, we need to record it," you remind him, and you catch his groan through the mic.

"i thought i said to record that one?"

"you don't decide that," you reply, and hongjoong tries to diffuse.

"she has a specific vision for the song, so we wanted to hear you first and then decide if there were any notes before we record you."

"what's the vision?" san asks you, and he listens intently as you explain. when you're done, he takes a deep breath and says clearly into the mic, "that sounds stupid. but i'll do it again. make sure you're recording this time."

"whatever you say, asshole," you mumble, angrily getting the track ready for his bratty voice. you wish you could stay mad at him, but as soon as he starts to sing you're enchanted. again, you get distracted by his voice, the emotion in it and all over his face as he sings, and you think, if he says your idea was stupid, why was he putting so much heart into just a guide vocal? he finishes and you thank him, saving the track quickly before you turn to hongjoong and inform him you need a water break. he's left in the studio with san as he saunters out, but hongjoong meets him at the door.

"what's your problem?" he barks, livid at the way san was treating you during that session.

"uh, you're blocking my exit?" he asks, but that was the wrong thing to say. hongjoong dives into a lecture about respect, and san has to laugh. "oh, you want me to respect the girl who spilled coffee all over me yesterday? who thinks, on her second day, she can tell me how to do my job?"

"she's a producer, her job is to literally tell you what to do-"

"well i'm sorry i hurt your girlfriend's feelings," san spits. "but i did what you asked me to do, so please let me leave." hongjoong steps to the side, still fuming, and san walks out. you catch him in the hall as you return, and you want to stop him, to tell him how great he sounded, but when you lift your hand in greeting he turns the other way and disappears.

-

you get a break from work later that day and find jen making a coffee. she sees you coming and has a cup ready for you to make your own, and you catch up on your days as your coffee brews. you tell her about san's lovely time with you in the studio, and jen listens, but when you finish she asks, "and he was still like this after you said you liked his muscles?"

"i'm not telling him that," you mumble.

"telling who what?" wooyoung asks as he pops around the corner.

"mind your business?" jen replies. "have you met y/n yet? she's the new producer."

"no, but i've heard mixed reviews," wooyoung says as he dramatically shakes your hand. "can't wait to decide which side i'm on."

"there's sides?" you ask nervously.

"yep," he says with a pop on the p. "hongjoong and seonghwa worship the ground you walk on. san hates your guts, although i'm not sure why. you seem lovely."

"she is lovely," jen points out.

"hm," wooyoung squints playfully. "guess we'll have to wait and see."

"what about innocent until proven guilty?" you ask. "just assume you'll like me and then you will!"

"yeah, but san is a good judge of character," wooyoung shakes his head. "if he doesn't like you, then he's got a reason."

"is the reason because he's maleficent?"

"oo, maleficent, i like that," wooyoung coos. he turns to jen and asks, "why don't you use big words like that?"

"i'm afraid you wouldn't get them," she sighs.

"try me, i'm full of surprises baby," he winks at her before smacking her ass and walking away. you watch in confusion, and she waves it off.

"don't worry, he does that sometimes."

"to everybody?!"

"just to me," she shrugs, and then it clicks.

"he's your fling," you smile. "very nice."

"nuh uh."

"no, he totally is. that's elmo," you piece it together. "is that his nickname because of his laugh?"

"you were never supposed to meet him," jen defends herself.

"so getting me a job here wouldn't interfere with that?"

"i figured i could keep it a secret," she pouts.

"you did! for a whopping 36 hours, good job!"

"don't patronize me," she complains. "i could call san and have him here in seconds-"

"oh man, i need to go record something," you frown, "maybe you two could talk though? figure out why he's got an all burning hatred for me, an angel?"

"i'll get to the bottom of it," jen says, and you realize the error you've just made.

"wait, no, don't talk to him, please," you beg.

"too late, you've asked for my help, so i'll help," jen concedes easily. "he'll either love you or simply tolerate you by the end of the week, i promise."

"great, thanks..."

-

you've made it through your first week, yippee! you really like it here, you fit in well with the members, and the producers seem to really like your ideas. the only problem is san. you enter a room that he's in and it goes quiet. he passes you in the hall, and you're fuming for the rest of the day. everyone knows about your little rivalry at this point, but no one understands where it came from. even jen, who was determined to make you and san best friends, has lost hope.

you're able to make it a couple days without any more san run ins, and for that you are grateful. you and hongjoong have made a lot of progress on the vocal line track, and he's invited you to a few writing sessions with mingi for the rap line track. you're feeling invincible after one of those sessions, walking back to your studio, when you get the scare of your life. you enter the code to your studio, guard completely down, and jump out of your skin when you see someone sitting at your desk.

"what the fuck?!" you shriek, using the door as a shield. you peek around it and see that it's not an intruder. well, at least not one that wants to hurt you. maybe. it's san, so this interaction could go in any direction.

"hello," he says simply. "nice way to greet your guest."

"how'd you get into my studio?" you ask as you close the door. you wonder if you should keep it cracked open, just in case you and san get into it and you need a witness that he probably started it.

"i needed to ask you a question," san responds instead, and you cock your head in confusion. "i can't do that?"

"i don't know, can you?"

"your song. the vocal one. how's it going?"

you're surprised this is what he wanted to talk about but, honestly, what else were you expecting? this is a normal work interaction, you think. you're just not used to having those with san. since san is sitting in your desk chair, you pull your stool over to the desk pathetically and perch on top of it as you shoot san a glare.

"can you move over? i need to get to my keyboard."

"aw, can't reach over my muscles?" san teases, and you feel your blood run cold.

"what?"

"my muscles? little birdie told me you liked them."

"what are you doing in my studio, san."

"i wanted to hear your song," he shrugs. you wait for him to move out of the way, but apparently that's not happening. you grumble as you lean over him and type, pulling the project file up on your screen. you check the volume before you hit play and look back to see san watching you intently. he's close, your arms brushing and his head only a few inches from yours. you hold his gaze for a second and then hit play, sitting back as you watch him listen. you can't read his expression as the song plays, but you don't care what he has to say. you love this song, and you think it's turning out great. whatever he has to say isn't important to you-

"wow," he whistles. "i get it now."

"get what?"

"why you're so pretentious about your work," san smirks as he side eyes you.

"is that supposed to be an insult?" you ask, trying to gauge his reaction.

"not really," he shakes his head.

"well it's not a compliment," you tell him.

"i'll work on that," he says as he stands. he puts his hands on your desk to support himself as he rises, and you swear to god, he's flexing his arms a ridiculous amount. nobody needs that much upper body strength just to get out of a rolley chair.

"hey!" you call as he walks away. "what the hell?"

"do you have to curse all the time?" san asks with look of distaste. "it's not very polite."

"nor are you."

"nice," he nods. "well, i'll be around-"

"no, wait, why'd you come in here?" you ask as you follow him out of your studio. "you just wanted to listen to the song?"

"yeah?" he shrugs, turning to face you in the hallway. he's standing so close you have to lean back to look at him properly, and you frown.

"i don't believe you."

"why not?" san smirks. "you wanted me in your studio for another reason?"

"no-"

"you're not the only one who likes to stare, doll," he says quietly, leaning down so his ears are just barely brushing your ear. he straightens back up before you can melt into a puddle on the floor, and then he smiles what might be his first genuine smile in your presence. "so maybe i didn't just come here for the song. but now i've heard it, and i know don't hate it, so i think we're done here."

and with that very confusing information, san walks away.

-

san is tired. he's been practicing for their seoul concert since the early hours of the morning, and he needs a break. it's almost an acceptable time to eat lunch, so he grabs his things and starts the short walk to his favorite convenience store. he likes this one because it's got a seating area in the back where he can eat, giving him some time to himself. it's secluded enough he doesn't have to worry about being bothered, but it has a good view of the street outside so he can people watch. it's the perfect spot for him to rest and enjoy his food, so he leaves the company with a pep in his step.

he grabs all of his favorites, moving on autopilot, and pays for them quickly. he takes everything back to his usual table and prepares his feast. now that he's stopped working, he feels the tiredness in his bones and realizes how hungry he actually was. when did he eat last? was it dinner? that was more than twelve hours ago, so maybe he can get away with eating another ramen before he goes...

san is considering whether or not he should get up and grab more food as he stares through the store window. there's people rushing to work, couples going to lunch, families wrangling kids. he watches with a smile as one family, a mother and father, try to handle what looks like a girl and two twins. that job is way harder than anything he's doing as an idol, he thinks. he watches fondly as they walk away, and when he turns back, his smile falls.

you and hongjoong are crossing the street, engaged in some conversation that's making you both laugh. you make a joke that sends a laugh crashing up from within hongjoong's chest, and san scoffs as he watches you stare in admiration. hongjoong rushes forward and opens the door to the convenience store for you, and san hears the end of your sentence as you enter.

"-didn't have to do that," san catches, and he hears hongjoong make a dismissive sound in response. "wow, there's a lot of food here."

"you see why we like this place so much," hongjoong responds. san can't see you, but your voices are getting closer. "there's something for everyone."

"there's so much, i don't know what to pick..." you trail off.

"get whatever you want," hongjoong says. "it's on me."

"what? no-"

"ah ah, no arguments. consider it a welcome gift."

"well thank you," san hears you squeak, and he can just imagine the way you must be blushing, looking at hongjoong so shyly, pretending to be coy-

"oh, hey san," hongjoong greets. you come to a stop behind him, bumping into his back, and san has to laugh. "didn't know you were here."

"didn't tell anyone i was leaving," san shrugs. he leans over, trying to catch your eye, and waves. "hi y/n."

"hi san."

"are you eating here?" san asks, and hongjoong shakes his head.

"ah, no, we were just taking a break," he replies. "i was going to buy us lunch and then we're gonna head back."

"got it," san nods, still looking at you. "carry on then."

"thanks for your permission," you mumble, holding onto the back of hongjoong's shirt as he turns you down another aisle. he starts looking for a snack he wants you try, but he can't see it. he looks up, eyes flitting around the store, and his face lights up.

"oh! it's over there! be right back!" he runs off, and you continue scanning the shelves. you're not that hungry, but you know you won't have time to leave again, so you need to get enough food for lunch and dinner probably. you're reading the ingredients on one of the prepackaged meals when you feel a presence behind you. turning, you see san looming above, and you jump.

"shit," you hiss. "wear a bell."

"need help pronouncing the big words?" he asks.

"yeah, come closer and let me show you."

"you having fun?" san sneers, and your confused expression makes him clarify, "with your boyfriend."

"what?"

"oh come on, letting him buy your lunch, holding onto him like that...you're eating it up, aren't you?"

"i don't know what you mean," you say as you step around san, but your face is red. he's getting to you.

"it's cute, really," he says, beating you to the end of the aisle. he puts his arm out, effectively blocking your way, and he continues staring down at you in that frustrating way of his. like he wants to swallow you whole. "how long do you think it'll last?"

"if you're asking about my patience i'm afraid that ship sailed a while ago," you try to fight back, but san just laughs.

"you're cute, you know? you try to be so tough, but it doesn't work. i see right through you."

"and what do you see?" you ask as you cross your arms. san bares his teeth, ready to quip back, but his eyes catch on something behind you. you look over your shoulder and see hongjoong holding up a bag, a confused look in his eyes.

"found the sweet potatoes," he says as he approaches. "what are you doing?"

"getting to know our coworker," san says nonchalantly, removing himself from your personal space. "i'll let you go. my food's getting cold."

"sure," hongjoong says skeptically, reaching for you. he tries to guide you away with his hand at your back, but you can feel san's eyes still on you. you turn and his hand politely falls away, but san's eyes follow you through the rest of the store. he gets an idea when you go back to the drink coolers, so san finishes his food quickly and heads to the front.

when you and hongjoong are finally ready to pay, you go to the register and hongjoong reaches for his wallet. the woman behind the counter shakes her head, showing a stack of bills to tell you it's been taken care of. you look around and find san halfway out the door, a wicked smile on his face. he waves at you teasingly before the door dings closed, and hongoong happily takes the food, babbling about how nice san is as you leave.

-

later that day, the boys are getting fitted for their tour outfits. each practice room has been converted into a walk in closet + vanity combo, so you peek your head in to see how it's going. jen spots you and waves you over to her station, and you duck through the racks of clothes to say hi to your friend. you're taken aback when you see who she's working on, but jen laughs and assures you it's ok.

"he won't bite, he's asleep," she says about the pouting san she's working on currently. "he was here all night, apparently. he knocked out before i could even say hi."

"are you sure he's asleep and not faking it?" you ask as you tentatively sit in the chair next to him. it's enough distance away that you're not concerned by the proximity, but you keep an eye on him as you talk. "maybe he doesn't want to talk."

"hey, san likes me, so i know he's not faking it," jen tells you. "he and i get along really well."

"congratulations," you mumble as you reach for a makeup brush to play with. "so how was your day?"

you and jen catch up as she works on san, periodically asking for your opinion on the look she's created for him. you know she's trying to get you to say something nice about him, to slip up and call him handsome or sexy, but you won't budge. all the compliments you give are very makeup forward, but she won't let up. she's also not being gentle in her application, so you really are afraid san is awake and listening. she's almost done with him when wooyoung walks up, greeting you happily.

"hey y/n!" he chirps. "nice to see you! you're in my seat."

"oh, my bad," you scramble to get up. you got comfortable, your feet propped on one of the giant makeup cases before you. jen puts a hand out to stop you, turning to wooyoung with a trying-to-be-stern look in her eyes.

"my friend and i are not done talking."

"well your boss told me to come over here and get my makeup done, so unless you want me to stand..." wooyoung trails off as jen finishes with san's face. she turns to him and nods.

"standing is fine," she says, quickly getting to work on wooyoung's base layer. "i'll work fast so you don't have to stand long."

"but then i don't get to bug you as long," wooyoung whines.

"life's cruel like that, huh?"

"come on, i know i'm your favorite part of this job," wooyoung teases, and you share a silent laugh with him as jen blushes profusely. once wooyoung catches your eye, his attention turns to you, and he asks, "what about you, y/n? now that you've been here a few days, what's your favorite part of this job?"

"san's abs," jen answers for you, and you try your best to kick her. you accidentally nudge san's chair and freeze, but he doesn't stir.

"oh yeah? let's tell him-"

"no!" you shout, and if he wasn't awake now he definitely is. he still doesn't move, but you continue in a softer voice, "um, no. don't do that. uhh, my favorite part of the job...i don't wanna be a kiss ass, but it's probably working with hongjoong."

"of course it is," san mumbles, and even though he spoke quietly it makes you jump. he opens his eyes and your skin sets fire as soon as he looks at you. "you're in wooyoung's chair."

"he's having jen time," you counter. "let him enjoy it."

"yeah, let me enjoy it!" wooyoung agrees.

"san, what do you think of the eye makeup i did? tried something new," jen says as she focuses on wooyoung's eyes now. san sits up and looks in the mirror, but he's not looking at himself. he's watching you pretend like a strand on your sweater is the most interesting thing in the world, so he decides to call your attention.

"y/n? what do you think?" san asks, and you meet his gaze through the mirror. you're shocked to realize he's checking you out, blatantly, your cardigan falling off your shoulder to reveal your bra underneath. you were in a rush this morning and thought that would be enough. surely no one would notice you weren't wearing a tank, since this bra could pass as long as your sweater stayed up. but right now it's not, so san can see an entire cup, and he's almost drooling. instead of answering his question you look over at jen and repeat your earlier compliments as you pull your sweater tight around your torso.

"yeah, it looks good," you say again. "now that he's awake and you can see his eyes, you did a good job, uh, highlighting them."

"eloquent," san chides, and this time you intentionally kick his chair. he grabs your ankle before you can pull back, and tugs, bringing you closer.

"big word," wooyoung whispers, and you can hear jen smack him as you lift your eyes to san's. he's looking at you with that hungry gaze you're coming to get used to, and he rewords his question.

"what do you like about it specifically?" he tries as he leans in, and you hold your breath as you stare. this is closer than you've ever been, and you can smell hints of cologne that have your head spinning. alarms are going off in your head to run, but with san's hand still on your leg, you're trapped.

"you drool in your sleep, you know that?" you decide to say, ignoring his question completely. he's surprised enough that his grip on you loosens and you're able to bolt from the chair, grabbing your things as you say a quick goodbye to jen and wooyoung. they're watching on, amused with your little show, and when you're fully out of the room san collapses back into the chair with a groan.

"she's right," jen says. "i had to get napkins to mop up your spit."

"sorry," san grumbles.

"when are you gonna tell her?" wooyoung asks, and san makes a confused sound to encourage him to explain. "y/n. when are you gonna say that you're into her?"

"i'm not into her," san rolls his eyes.

"yeah, right," wooyoung laughs. "and me and jen aren't fucking."

"hey!" and another smack. they continue bickering as san stares at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes falling to the chair you just occupied.

-

the next few days, you spend a lot of time in your studio. too much maybe, but you need to get this vocal track finished. all the boys have recorded their parts, and now it's down to you to get the final mix to the other producers by monday. it's friday now, and you know you can't pull any all nighters this weekend - the boys want you to come to their shows, so you'd like to be finished with the track before you leave today.

it's weird, being here so late at night. you think you're the last one left, hongjoong left with the rest of the members and the producers started trickling out about two hours ago. you don't mind being here on your own, you know the security is fine, but it's still eerie. when you got another coffee just now, you caught yourself jumping at the slightest sounds. you could've sworn you heard footsteps following you, but after investigating you realized it was the sound of your own that scared you. you hunker down for another spell in your studio, and you get a lot closer to the product you want. hongjoong kept telling you it didn't need to be perfect, it still had to go through critiques so it would probably change a lot, but you can't let your first project here be a mess. it at least needs to meet your standards, so you keep working.

you're not sure how much later it is, but you wake yourself when your head falls off your propped up arm. you fell asleep listening to the final track, wanting to check for any mistakes, so you don't know how long it's been looping while you slept. you listen through one last time, almost satisfied, but you hear something that sounds off. you try another listen, and realize it's not coming from your speakers, it's coming from somewhere else.

heart racing, you press your ear to the door of your studio and curse the sound proofing. you can make out a noise, but not enough to figure out what it is from the safety of this room. you look around for a weapon, something to protect you, and all you see are stray wires. you find one long enough and wrap it around your fists, pulling the wire taught between them. worst case scenario you garrote the intruder and then call for help, but you're being dramatic. whatever is out there can't be a threat, can it?

you open your studio door and follow the sound. in your tired state, you recognize a song, but you can't place it or where it's coming from. you tiptoe down the hall toward the practice rooms, and spy light coming from a door at the end of the hall. so it must be one of the members, you think. or maybe the bb trippin guys came early to prep for the show. whatever it is, you keep walking, aware now that the song you heard is wake up, one of your favorites. the boys were cryptic about the setlist, wanting it to be a surprise for you this weekend, but you get excited at the thought of what kind of mystical performance they could do for this song. when you reach the door, you stop cold, seeing maybe the last person you expected it to be.

san is dancing, quite sexually, to the music bumping through the speakers. he's in baggy sweats and a tank top that shows off his figure and his ridiculously chiseled muscles, and you can't help it. you stare, watching in awe as he drops it low and grinds around to a song you never expected to be portrayed like this. as he's on the ground, a tie hanging from his teeth, his eyes flick to yours through the mirror. you gasp, and he smirks, somehow able to catch the sound of your breath hitching over the loud music. he feels proud of himself, knowing he's got you so shocked, but when he finishes the portion he's working on, he looks to the mirror and you're gone.

you're rushing down the hall back to your studio. what the fuck was that. you had a physical reaction to san, and not a good one. and he saw you! that's humiliating, you'll never be able to look at him again-

"where ya goin doll?" his deep voice asks. he's right behind you, and before you can sprint off to your studio, he grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the nearest door. when you come face to face, he's breathing heavy, and you assume that's because of the intense choreography he just worked through. little do you know, being this close to you, smelling that annoying perfume that follows you around, touching you, all of this is taking his breath away. his hands trail down your shoulders to your hands, and he looks at you quizzically when he finds the wire wrapped tightly in your fists. "what's this?"

"i, uh, i thought i was the only one here? so when i heard something i looked for uh. i wanted something to protect myself with," you explain, embarrassed by how dramatic that sounds.

"you're a badass," san chuckles, lifting your hands by the wire hanging between them.

"i thought cursing wasn't polite," you remind him of his own words, and he laughs again.

"i just said that to piss you off."

"you're insufferable," you groan, trying to twist away from the man in front of you.

"and you're in a bit of a pickle, aren't you?" he smiles at you evilly. "can't get away, little kitten?"

"let go of me, san," you say steadily, but he just keeps smiling.

"why would i? i've finally got you right where i want you."

"what?" you breathe out.

"you couldn't tell? i've wanted you since i laid eyes on you."

"wanted me?" you scoff. "i'm not a steak."

"but you went and spilled that coffee on me, and then you were so delightful during our recording session, i just kept falling harder and harder for you," he teases.

"you're shit at showing how you feel."

"and you're shit at hiding how you feel," he smirks. "i know you want me, doll. that's why i acted the way i did. it was fun messing with you, letting you think i hated you. wanted to see how far i could push it."

"that's so middle school of you san," you complain, pushing your finger into his chest. "if you were a real man you would've done something about this already instead of playing a bunch of games."

"if i was a real man?" he chuckles lowly, and he's so close you feel it in your stomach. "baby, you haven't been with a real man til you've been with me."

"prove it," you whisper, but your breath gets caught as san pulls your hands above your head by the wire still wrapped around them. he holds your wrists in place as his other hand squeezes your waist, and he watches you squirm with glee in his eyes.

"prove it? you sure you can handle me doll?"

"do your your worst," you smirk, and then he's crashing his lips to yours. the kiss is fierce, all teeth and tongue, and you gasp as his hand travels up your waist and beneath your shirt. he traces the skin beneath your hoodie, smirking into your lips when he discovers you're not wearing a bra.

"i like it when you make things easy for me," he breathes out against your neck, his lips making their way across your skin and leaving little marks as he pleases. his hand beneath your shirt traces beneath each breast before leaving a featherlight trail to your nipple, and he surprises you with a quick pinch. you gasp again, giving him a chance to return his lips to your mouth and press his tongue past your lips. he kisses you one last time before pulling from your lips, asking, "should we take this inside?"

"wha?" you murmur, twisting to look at the door behind you. "but, san, this isn't my studio-"

"i know, it's hongjoong's," he says as he punches the code in. "he won't mind."

"i do!" you squeak out as san opens the door and pushes you inside. "san, seriously, we're not having sex in here!"

"we're having sex?" san teases, and you use your newly released hands to beat against his chest. "take that stupid wire off, baby. you're gonna need your hands."

"for what?" you grumble, listening to him anyway. when your hands are free, you notice the little indents left from the wire, and san surprises you by taking your hands into his softly. his thumb rubs over the raw skin, and he stares darkly at you as he lifts your hands to his lips. he kisses over the sore spots and up your wrists, whining cutely when he hits the fabric of your shirt.

"take this off," he tugs on your sleeve, and you shake your head.

"only if you take your shirt off too," you counter, and he easily lets go of you to remove his tank top. you hate the way you're staring, but you can't help it. he's beautiful, and you're mesmerized. he calls your name, the first time he's said it all night, and you find his eyes staring at you softly. "right, sorry," you mumble, pulling your hoodie off, not so accidentally catching it on your tits so they release with a bounce. san groans as he watches on, and then his hands are on you again, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples. you moan softly, reaching for his head to pull him into another kiss. your hands wrap around to his neck, one sweeping down to feel his soft, sweaty skin. you trace over the muscles in his chest, the lines of his abs, and end at his waistband. his hand reaches down to stop you before you can continue, and he pulls back to ask, "do you trust me?"

"do i trust you? not completely," you answer honestly. "maybe you don't hate me as much as you made me believe, but i still think you're despicable."

"if i'm so despicable why are you letting me use you like a toy?" he jokes, pushing you down into hongjoong's desk chair. "if you trust me, i want you to do something for me. if you don't, tell me to shut up, and we'll go back to having sex. but it'll be more boring that way."

"can i get that in writing, you saying that sex with you is boring?" you tease, and san growls as he captures your lips in another kiss. he's caging you in, and when he releases your lips, he leans his forehead against yours as he speaks.

"start a new file on his computer," san says lowly. "and hit record when i say."

"you're kidding."

"like i said, do it if you trust me," he shrugs, his hands moving from the armrests to your waist. he starts tugging your pants down as he continues. "if you don't trust me, then we just fuck like normal and go on with our lives."

"san, i-"

"are you gonna make the file?" he asks, kneeling in front of you. you open and close your mouth like a fish, but then you're moving without thinking. you twist in his hold, punching in hongjoong's password and finding the mixing app. you start a new project, label it inconspicuously, and then settle back in the chair. san is looking at you proudly, and he praises you, "good girl."

"what now?" you ask quietly, and san separates your legs further. he starts kissing up your leg, starting at your knee, and when he gets to your panties, he whispers, "i make you come."

he pulls yours panties down then, hissing as he watches your arousal cling to the fabric, and he smiles. "oh, she's pretty."

"i didn't know you were capable of giving me a compliment," you quip, and san bites your thigh to shut you up.

"wasn't talking to you," he says against your skin, leaving kisses along the inside of your thigh until he reaches your core. he brings his hands up to spread you open for him, and he stares in admiration at how wet you are, just for him. he leans in and you wait to feel his lips, his tongue, something, but instead you feel something wet land on your clit. san spit on your pussy, and he brings his hand up to rub the sensitive spot as he blows on your entrance.

"i thought you said you were gonna make me come," you whine, and he nods.

"i will. when i want to."

"san-" you whimper, lifting your hips as he continues playing with your clit and neglecting the rest of you.

"you want more doll?" he asks, his eyes staring at you darkly. you look down at him and nod, but he pinches your thigh in response. "words, baby."

"want more, san," you groan. "need your tongue."

"hit record and i'll give you what you want," he smirks below you, and you're so horny you can't even think about fighting back. you turn around and press record, san's lips finding your clit immediately. he licks over the bundle of nerves, prodding a finger at your entrance as he listens to your sweet moans. he fucks his finger into you once, twice, then adds another. you whine above him, your hands catching on his hair as you try to push him closer. he licks up every drop of you, fucking you on his fingers, and moans into your pussy for good measure. the vibration seends you reeling, and you whisper out, "fuck, san."

"who?"

"san, fuck! feels so good."

"yeah? you wanna come?" he asks, leaning his head on your thigh as he stares at you writhing above him. you're watching him with hooded eyes as he adds another finger, fucking you open for him. you lift your hips again, trying to make him move faster. "d'you still hate me, doll?"

"no," you whisper shyly, and he smiles.

"say it louder."

"i don't hate you," you moan out, his fingers scissoring you open as his lips return to your clit. he sucks harshly, and you let out a whine that turns into a frustrated scream. "faster."

"hm?"

"faster, please," you beg, "please, please, fuck. 'm gonna come."

"let me hear you, baby," he mumbles into your core. "who's making you feel so good?"

"san, you, fuck-" your voice tapers off as you hold your breath and crash into your release. you're clenching around san so deliciously, he groans into your clit and does his best to help you ride out your high. you're trying to catch your breath as. san cleans you up, slurping obscenely, and in your post-nut clarity you realize what you've done. you turn around, frantically trying to stop the recording, but san stands above you and catches your hands again.

"what are you doing?" he growls, and you blubber out a response.

"he can't, we can't, i have to delete it, i'm not-"

"not what? not enjoying yourself?" san asks. "because i'm looking at a dripping pussy that tells a different story."

"we need to go somewhere else," you hiss, and san shakes his head.

"i think we're doing fine right here," he smirks, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue. you bite his bottom lip as he tries to pull away, and he groans.

"is it my turn now?" you ask, and you watch fire spark across san's eyes.

"your turn to what, baby?"

"drive you insane?" you ask innocently, pushing san away so you can stand. you keep pushing him until he hits the wall, and you drop to your knees. you waste no time pulling his pants down, revealing his lack of underwear. you look up at him and ask, "you makin things easy for me, babe?"

"no," he smirks down at you. "bet you can't even fit it in your mouth."

"you're full of yourself," you point out as you spit into your hand. you bring it to his cock, stroking over his soft skin. "you liked eating me out this much?"

"it wasn't bad," san nods. "wouldn't mind doing it again."

"maybe later," you mumble, bringing his tip to your lips. you spit again, watching as it dribbles down his shaft, you stroke him a few more times, flicking your tongue over his tip teasingly. he's trying so hard not to lose it above you, and the way he's biting his lip to keep quiet pisses you off. without warning, you swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you try to fit him all in your mouth. he cries out above you, his hands tangling in your hair. he pulls you off of him completely, gasping for breath above you. "hey. i wasn't done."

"not gonna last," he says shyly, and you feel your ego grow ten sizes. "need to fuck you."

"eh, i'm getting tired-"

"shut up," he growls, pulling you up by your hair and slamming his lips into yours again. "go bend over his desk."

"you're sick," you tell him, obeying anyway.

"you're into it," san says cockily, adjusting your hips as he comes up behind you. "make sure you're right up to the mic, doll. wanna hear this." you hate yourself for it, but you find the mic in front of you and pull it closer. you feel his hands on your ass, pulling you apart as he stares at your pussy again. "so pretty for me," he sighs, removing a hand to bring his cock to your entrance. he teases your hole a few times, laughing when you jerk back and try to catch his tip. "impatient girl."

"just fuck me," you say clearly, and he responds by giving you exactly what you want. he thrusts into you, splitting you open, and you moan so loud it's embarrassing. san stays still, giving you a minute to adjust, but you start fucking back into him, and he gets the hint. he grabs onto your ass again, and then he's fucking into with no control. your mouth hangs open as he fucks you hard and fast, and san frowns. he smacks your ass and feels you clench around him as he barks, "lemme hear you." so you moan, and whine, and altogether let go. you're a babbling mess, mumbling incoherently about how good it feels, how he fucks you just right, how his cock is perfect, you can't stop. san is eating it up, fucking into you so deep you can feel him in your gut.

too soon, he's pulling out, and you let out a pathetic cry. san pulls you up by your hips, his hands smoothing over your skin, as he explains, "wanna watch you when you come." he helps you sit on hongjoong's desk, lifting your legs up so you're completely exposed to him. he holds your thighs open and tries to fuck back into you, but you have to help him, taking his wet cock and guiding it back to your entrance. he thrusts into you, slotting his hips against yours, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. he should've fucked you like this the whole time, he thinks, because he can't stop staring. you look so perfect, so blissed out, and it spurs him on. he holds one thigh down as his other hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place as he fucks you.

"i'm gonna come, baby," he warns. "where do you want it?"

"my stomach," you gasp out. "wanna see it."

"fuck, you're insane."

"don't slow down," you whine, holding onto san's broad shoulders like your life depends on it. you let him fuck you senseless, clenching around him as you get closer. he brings his hand around to rub his thumb over your clit, and you jerk away in sensitivity. "can't take it, san, gonna come-"

"then come for me," he begs. "need you to come first."

"fuck, san, fuck," you gasp, digging into his shoulders as you hold him in place. you clench around him until he can't take it anymore, and he pulls out, his forehead against yours as you watch him stroke himself. he comes quickly, painting your skin, and you moan breathlessly as you watch him empty himself over you. "fuck, that's hot."

"we should do that again," san smirks at you, and you playfully push against his chest. you leave your hands on him as you respond, "not now. i'm exhausted."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, sudden concern in his voice.

"too long," you sigh, noticing how raw your throat feels. you cough, your back bumping into the mic behind you. "oh shit. i need to turn this off." you look at san as you crouch down, saving the file and sending it to yourself. "what the hell am i supposed to do with this?"

"listen to it when you get lonely?" san jokes, and you push him. "use it in a song, maybe?"

"that would get me fired," you inform him, making sure you've deleted all traces of it from hongjoong's computer. satisfied, you turn to san and cross your arms over your chest. "was this your plan all along? you get me to record a salacious audio and then blackmail me with it?"

"you still think i hate you?" he asks, brushing your hair behind your ear. "bummer. thought we'd moved past that after your first orgasm."

"i'm just saying, if this was an elaborate plan to get me to leave, i commend the effort-"

"y/n," he says softly, and you meet his eyes. they're serious for once, which is odd. "i don't hate you, and i don't want to get you fired."

"good to know," you squeak. his gaze is too intense for you, so you start looking for your clothes and then remember the mess on your stomach. "oh, yuck-"

"here, let me clean you up," san says, searching for tissues. he holds onto you carefully as he wipes up his release, pulling a few extra tissues to clean the mess between your legs.

"see, if you'd just let me help you like this on my first day, we wouldn't have been mortal enemies for so long," you joke.

"yeah, but we wouldn't have fucked like that if i had been nice to you from the start."

"so what now?" you ask as you get dressed. "you said you wanna do that again?"

"don't you?" san asks, his pants halfway up his legs. you unashamedly stare at his cock before you respond, but he's got his answer.

"i mean, if you want-"

"i do," he interjects. "whenever you want me. i'll be there."

"is this what everyone means, when they say you're so nice?" you ask genuinely. san comes over to you, wrapping his hands around your waist before he kisses you.

"guess you'll have to find out, huh?"

[callooopie]

Modern!au Davos who's hooking up with one of his friends from their big friend group but they have to keep it a secret

Situation Situationship // Modern!Davos

I don’t want your body. But I hate to think about you with somebody else — Somebody Else // The 1975

chat I think I went too sad and not funny with this

What Davos offers you is a beneficial relation between you two. A humble friend’s with benefits scenario, a situationship if you will. An agreement between two friends born out of boredom and driven by the need to just fuck things out. This would have to not affect your friendship, with both of you sharing a friend group; the possible chaos of a relationship between you two would be too much. Rules were then set out: no pda, no posting, no exclusivity.

Plus you were already sorta talking to someone and he was a guy who didn’t like being tied down. And both of you knew that a breakup between you two would make the friend group weird. So Davos couldn’t really complain when you would talk about your other dates or some other guy. He bit his tongue as he let you vent about what went wrong, or what could’ve been better. Oh, that guy didn’t pay? Damn, you should always pay for the pretty girls. This was his grave, and he would lie in it.

Despite this being his idea, Davos really hates it actually. Which is a little funny. The thing that he insisted would not happen, happened to him. It’s a little hard not to fall in love, or not to become attached to you when you’re the only one who seems to understand him. In the daylight when you’re hanging out with the group, when your eyes don’t leave him as he talks, when you text him throughout the day about anything and everything. Your closest friend—Davos. Even worse when it grows into night and he’s in your bed or you’re in his. He does want to tell you to stop doing aftercare so good; the way you caress his face and card your fingers through his hair makes him feel too many things better left unsaid. He refrains from saying anything.

And maybe he thinks the no PDA rule is stupid too. He sees how his friends touch and hold their girls, his own fingers twitching by his side as he watches the displays. He wonders if you think about it too. If you think about the feel of his hand in yours, how different it could be in the daytime. How your held hands could swing back and forth as you walk along a path. Maybe he would pull you into a store that catches his eye, or down an alley to press you against the wall. He wonders if you like it when he holds your hand at night. Do you like it when his fingers press open your closed palm, interlacing his fingers with yours? He always thinks about how your hand is smaller than his. He knows it makes you shiver, his fingertips trailing down your back; he hopes his calloused hands feel gentle against your soft body, maybe just as soft as his kisses. He likes when you sit in his lap, because then he can look into your eyes as his hands slowly run down your spine. No matter the reason however, Davos knows his hand wouldn’t leave yours. Day or night, rain or shine. If the rule did not exist.

Secretly he either blocks your social media accounts or simply deletes the apps off his phone. He wasn’t a big user on those anyways, and to see you post about dates or what you’re wearing to them drives him up a wall. Davos doesn’t wanna think about it but he does; he lets his mind wander to what you would wear to a date with him. Would you like something more formal? A nice restaurant? Or maybe a laidback affair, a movie at his place where you could snack and hide under the blankets. He would offer you his hoodie, would you take it? You already wear his clothes when you’re around anyways, rifling through his closet like a little animal in search of the softest fabrics to wear after you two finish. Sometimes when you’re looking with your back turned to Davos, he’ll stare at you as you pick up shirts or toss them aside. He’ll say he’s attracted to your body, the way it curves or shifts with each singular step or movement. But Davos also knows different; he’s staring past the skin, past your intricate body, and looking—hoping—for you to turn back to meet his gaze. You never leave with them, no. You always give them back before you leave.

He wonders if you’ll think him pathetic or weird, if he begs you to stay. Davos isn’t sure what’s come over him this early morning. It’s your usual routine; you both get up, he makes coffee, you get dressed to leave. Davos knows he’ll throw up if he so much as takes a sip of the warm coffee, feeling too tense and anxious about what he could do—what he wants to do. You’re oblivious maybe, or you’re just ignoring how strange he’s acting today. His thoughts are racing: Don’t look at your phone, keep your eyes on him. Don’t turn away from him, don’t step toward the door. Don’t, don’t, don’t. Davos can’t believe it himself that he’s reached you before you’re even out the door. His breathing heavy as his hand remains wrapped around your wrist. His stomach does somersaults as you look back at him. Davos swallows thickly, he’s this deep in already, might as well keep going.

Whatever the outcome of his stupidity this morning; he hopes you’ll be at least somewhat kind in letting him down as he spills his heart out to you…

[steddieas-shegoes]

oh love, i'm terrified

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is terrifying'

rated t | 1,585 words | cw: negative self views | tags: falling in love, getting together, love confessions, sappy and fluffy

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

He thought he was being obvious.

He doesn't do this stuff for everyone else. He doesn't show up after work to hang out for no reason other than just wanting to be around the other person. He doesn't talk on the phone for three hours in the middle of the night to comfort the other person after nightmares. He doesn't fucking stargaze with anyone.

But with Eddie he does. Steve always goes out of his way for Eddie.

He knows why, and he feels like everyone can see it too: he loves him.

But somehow, Eddie doesn't see it, or chooses not to.

Even Dustin, oblivious to human emotion as anyone else Steve's ever met, pulled him aside after Hellfire one night --yes, he even attends Hellfire now-- to ask if he knew he was flirting with Eddie so much.

Robin and Nancy had called him out on two different occasions for touching him too much in public, but he hadn't even realized his hand had gone to his waist!

And Eddie still seemed clueless.

Or at least, most of the time he seemed clueless.

Sometimes, though, Steve could swear he looked at him in a specific way, a way that Steve would think is understanding and maybe even returned feelings. But he never said anything, never did anything out of the ordinary for Eddie.

Months of wondering what the hell he could do differently, months of being less and less subtle every day, months of showing how much he loved him without actually saying it.

All for Eddie to still be oblivious.

But not tonight,

Tonight, he was going to Eddie's to have dinner and watch a movie. Wayne was on a fishing trip with his buddies from work, and all the kids were at the same summer camp, probably torturing underpaid teenage counselors.

No interruptions were possible.

He could bring out all his moves, and if Eddie still didn't get it by the end of the night, maybe he could even use his words.

"Dinner's almost ready!" Eddie yelled from the kitchen as Steve let himself in. "I didn't burn anything!"

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. "Sounds like something someone who burnt dinner would say."

"I didn't! I mean one edge is a little crispy on the lasagna, but I think that's because our oven is older than Wayne. You think the government could've given us a better oven for my troubles, but apparently not," Eddie turned to Steve standing in the doorway. "You look...nice."

Steve always liked to look nice, but he'd decided to dress up a little bit tonight, try to make his intentions clear right from the start. His hair was done as usual, but he was wearing his khaki slacks instead of jeans and his nicest navy polo instead of the t-shirts he'd mostly been wearing outside of work. He even sprung for his watch that his dad gave him as a graduation gift. He hated to know how much money was wasted on it, but it did look nice.

"Thanks. You do too," Steve replied.

Eddie looked down at his own clothes and back up at Steve. "Dude, I'm wearing sweats and a t-shirt that has more holes than cloth. You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying. You always look best when you're comfy," Steve shrugged. "Need help with anything?"

Eddie shook his head. "Not unless you wanna grab beers from the fridge. I forgot to get some this afternoon so they're just Wayne's PBRs, but a cold beer's a good beer, right?"

"Right," Steve agreed, walking to the fridge to grab the beers.

Dinner went as dinner usually does, except they actually sat at the table this time instead of the couch. Eddie seemed surprised when Steve set his things down in front of the chair he only sat in to keep Eddie company while he planned for campaigns, but just silently joined him.

They talked and joked, they made themselves laugh so hard beer almost came out of Eddie's nose. It was perfect.

After, Steve started working on the dishes, Eddie standing by the counter watching.

He was quiet, which was unusual, especially when no one else was around to fill the silence.

"Everything okay, Eds?" Steve asked as he scrubbed a particularly difficult area on a fork.

"What? Oh. Yeah."

Steve turned to look at him, suddenly worried when he saw Eddie's face turned down to the floor. This wasn't them. They'd just had a nice dinner, and now Eddie was being...shy?

Now was his chance. He could say it. Robin would be proud of him for finally just doing it.

Hell, he'd be proud of himself for doing it.

But something seemed wrong, and the last thing Steve wanted was to turn a good night bad because he couldn't reign in his feelings for a bit.

He wiped his hands on the towel by the sink and turned fully towards Eddie.

"What's wrong?"

Eddie shook his head once, then sighed. "I kind of feel like I've been wined and dined tonight. And that's ridiculous because you're just one of my best friends, and you're straight, and it's all been in my head for months, but-"

"Woah. Wait." Steve interrupted. "You've been noticing that for months? And you didn't say anything?"

"Well, no. I didn't wanna ruin our friendship because I can't handle my own hopes getting up." Eddie leaned away from Steve further. "I know you don't mean it that way. I don't want you to change anything."

"Eds-"

"And if you do want to, that's fine! Whatever would make you comfortable. I just have to say it's feeling very 'I have romantic feelings' for you territory and I know you don't so."

"Eddie."

"I'm also not good at that though. No one's ever shown interest in me other than one girl in high school who ended up moving away a week later so I didn't even have to break her heart."

Steve crashed his lips to Eddie's, half hoping it would shut him up, and half hoping he would somehow keep rambling. He kind of loved watching him ramble.

It did shut him up. Even when Steve pulled away, Eddie's silence was deafening.

"Sorry. I should've asked if I could first, but I don't think you would have even heard me. Was that okay?" Steve asked.

"Why did you do that?" Eddie sounded heartbroken.

That's not what Steve wanted at all.

"I wanted to. I have wanted to."

"No you don't."

This was not going the way Steve had hoped for. "How would you know I don't?"

"Because I'm me! I'm just the dude who gets the good weed, and says funny shit, and cooks dinner sometimes. I'm not a girl Steve Harrington falls in love with, or even takes on a date. I'm not the type you build a relationship and future with. I'm just the guy who gets to watch everyone else do that. I'm not good for that."

"What the hell do you mean?" Steve was angry now. Who had convinced Eddie he couldn't have good things, couldn't be loved or love someone, couldn't be important? "You're Eddie Munson. You saved us all from an evil wizard dude and nearly died doing it. You're the guy who makes me a sandwich when I come over for Hellfire even though there's strict no eating during the campaign rules because you know I've been working all day and need to eat. You turn all my bad days good, and make my life better just because you're you."

"Steve-"

"My turn." Steve crowded him against the counter, hands cupping his cheeks and eyes boring into Eddie's. "I need you to understand something. I've been trying to show how much I care about you, how much I love you, for months, and I've been thinking I've just been terrible at it. I thought I truly did lose all my charm. I've been pulling all my moves out for you. I was starting to think maybe you just were trying to ignore it all to let me down easy, but it isn't that. It's because you don't see how fucking amazing you are, isn't it?"

Eddie's eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Because you are. You're incredible. Maybe the best person I've ever known other than Robin. I find excuses to be near you. I find reasons to talk to you. I didn't even have a nightmare the other night, I just wanted to hear your voice. I'm in love with you. Like, the real stupid, do anything for you even if it hurts me kind. And if you don't feel anything for me besides friendship, I'll leave right now and I'll do my best to get over it so we can be friends."

"And if I do?"

"If you do love me, then you should kiss me."

"I've never kissed anyone."

"That's not true. We kissed two minutes ago," Steve smirked, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'm scared," Eddie's whispered admittance nearly broke Steve's heart.

"Oh love, I'm terrified. Love is like that. But we've faced scarier things, haven't we?"

Eddie's soft lips against his own was the only answer he needed.

Love was terrifying, even for Steve, maybe especially for Steve, who was used to giving a lot more love than he received back. But as they kissed in Eddie's kitchen for seconds that turned to minutes, minutes that turned to hours, they got just a bit less scared.

[wonbriiize]

pairing; park wonbin x reader, genre; best friends to lovers, warnings; none

note; i finished watching ‘one day’ (netflix show) a few days ago and decided to write this inspired by it,, it’s quite long but i hope u guys like it !!

unspoken feelings

in which you want wonbins help to prepare yourself for your first date but things take a different turn…

⊹₊˚✩ ₊˚⊹

“𝓪𝓻𝓮 you sure this looks good?” you swirl around in the dark blue dress that you’ve just put on.

after waiting for a few minutes and not getting an answer, you see that your best friend wonbin isn’t paying much attention to you — he’s laying on your bed and looking at his phone.

“wonbin, help me out here and stop looking at your phone!” your voice sounds so desperate that it makes you mad. you absolutely hate sounding like that.

wonbin sits up and throws his phone next to him.

“yeah, the dress is pretty good.”

“only good? oh god, no, it needs to look perfect.”

full with panic, you start walking to your wardrobe to look for another dress.

“why do you care so much anyway?” wonbin asks, trying to hide the jealousy he has been feeling the whole time since you’ve told him that you’re going on a date with someone.

“because it’s my first date ever and i want it to be good and it’s only going to be good when i also look good!!”

wonbin watches you look through your clothes, throwing them to the ground and desperately trying to find a new dress. he bites his lips, asking himself if you’ve ever been this stressed about looking good when the two of you were out together.

“how come you never dress up when we go out?”

you laugh at his question, not understanding why he’d ask this. “well, we don’t go on dates. we go out as friends.”

friends.

that word slaps wonbin right back into reality. he gulps, tearing his eyes away from you.

“yeah but you could still try to match my coolness with your outfits.”

“oh shut up,” you laugh, grabbing after the white dress that’s been sitting at the bottom of your wardrobe.

“what do you think about this one?” turning around, you hold your dress up so wonbin can see it, but you catch him looking to the other side of the room, not acknowledging what you’ve just said.

“uhm, hello, earth to wonbin, you here?”

he snaps his head back to you but it still looks like he’s not really here, with you. his mind seems to be somewhere else.

you wave the white dress in an attempt to attract his attention. “so? how about this one?”

slowly, he nods. “yeah, this is the one.”

proudly, you smile and stand up. wonbin is still staring at you, hating the fact that he can’t even be happy for you. he absolutely detests that he’s here, helping you out for your first date and the date isn’t even with him.

maybe he's not a good best friend for thinking this way, but who can blame him? he‘s been in love with you for so many years. seeing someone else taking you out on a date, making you smile this much, and filling you with such excitement and eagerness to dress up — it hurts him deeply.

it’s my own fault, wonbin thinks. he should have gathered up the strength to confess to you way before, but now it’s too late.

he’s about to lose you to someone else.

wonbin grabs his chest, feeling like it’s hurting so much that he can barely breathe.

“wonbin, can you do me a favor and unzip me please? i can’t reach it,” you ask him.

“hurry, i need to be ready in an hour and i still need to do my hair and make up!” you whine, wanting wonbin to stop being so slow.

wonbin stands up, his heart beating very fast as he approaches you. he hopes that you don’t realize how heavily he’s breathing.

once he stands behind you, he gulps, realizing how close to you he is. his hands carefully make their way up to your hair, moving it to the side.

you can feel wonbin's breath in your neck. being this close to him gives you goosebumps, and you pray he doesn't notice.

he can't possibly know the effect he has on you. whenever he's near, your heart races, and every moment feels so alive, so fulfilling, so utterly consumed by love.

wonbin has been your best friend for so many years and you don’t want to lose that.

confessing to him would put the two of you in a tough spot because what if he doesn’t like you in that way? how could you two ever recover from that? it would change everything.

you don’t want to lose him.

you agreed to go on a date with someone else just to stop thinking about wonbin, but he's always on your mind. every moment feels like a battle against these unspoken feelings for him. you thought the date might help you move on, but it's only making you feel like you're betraying him.

but there’s no going back now; you need to do this. it’s for the best.

noticing that wonbin still hasn’t unzipped the dress, you ask if he can hurry up.

wonbin doesn't respond. it’s like his throat is closing up, choked by the knowledge of you going out with someone else. he thought he could handle it, but the reality hits him like a tidal wave, devouring him in a whirlpool of agony and longing.

“no, i don’t want to hurry,” he whispers. he doesn’t understand why he’s so brave all of sudden, but he’s not going to back away now.

“what?” you’re confused.

“i actually lied,” wonbin whispers in your ear. “you look absolutely perfect in this dress.”

it feels like you’re having a hard time hearing because of how fast your heart is starting to beat.

wonbin touches your shoulders, slowly turning you around to him.

“i just didn’t want you to wear this to your date.”

as you stand face to face with wonbin, you‘re struck by the realization that you‘ve never been this close to him before.

it’s a moment you've yearned for endlessly.

“why?” you whisper, your gaze flickering down to his lips and then back to his eyes.

“because..” wonbin murmurs, his hands leaving your shoulders to caress your waist, pulling you closer. the proximity makes your head spin.

is this surreal moment truly happening?

“i want to be the sole reason you wear this dress,” he confesses, his right hand delicately tracing your lower lip.

your knees tremble, threatened by the imminent collapse under the weight of overwhelming desire.

“and i also want to be the only one who takes you out on dates, who brings that radiant smile to your lips, and who..." he pauses momentarily, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“..gets to kiss you, if you allow me to, of course.”

your heart is pounding with anticipation. the realization that this long-awaited moment is finally arriving feels surreal, yet undeniably thrilling.

without a word, you rise onto your tiptoes and meet his lips in a fervent embrace.

wonbin is taken aback at first, but starts kissing back enthusiastically when he realizes that you've been meaning to do this just as much as he has.

in that moment, everything around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

it feels like time is standing still as you are drawn together, your connection becoming the only thing that matters.

amidst the quiet, your love shines brighter than anything else, filling the space around you with warmth and intensity.

[rodolfoparras]

Tbh no idea why people hate omegaverse so much, it's so delicious in every way possible and there's so much storytelling potential that it's insane.

Also both you and Elijah have me going insane and feral with your posts today I'm just.... growling biting at the bars of my enclosure at baby trapping posts. And I've been thinking of pregnant Simon since you responded to my post last night and I'm haunted by how much I need him to have my baby. He'd look so beautiful too 😔

He just needs to retire and be my house husband and I'll take care of him and make sure he goes to therapy <3

-🔮

🔮 anonie you have thoughts going inside my head rn bc I can’t help but imagine ghost who’d never thought of having kids he wasn’t cut out to be a father according to him, and the only father he’s come across was the piece of shit he was related to and maybe even Price who has offered a helping hand whenever he needed it

But then he meets you and you’re so good around kids, whether it’s because you have one of your own or a younger sibling and he can’t help but imagine what it would like for the two of you to have one together

It’s insane it really is he understands that, he does dangerous work where he can’t guarantee he’ll be back in the morning, he’s not cut out for the role and besides the two of you have only been dating for a couple of months.

But everything changes one day when the two of you are out at the park with your nephew or younger sibling or kid in tow,

You’d ask ghost to watch over the kid while you went to get the three of you ice cream suddenly someone came up to him, told him what a lovely little family he has, even jokingly says how the two of you make handsome dads , but just as he’s about to correct the stranger you come up behind him with a bright smile on your face, thanking the stranger for their kind words before handing him his ice cream cone

“You’d make a great father you know?” You say staring ahead, where your nephew or whoever is climbing the monkey bars

He scoffs, but ducks his head to hide the blush on his face “doubt that”

You don’t push it any further, dropping the conversation and moving along to talking about something else but it doesn’t leave his head and all of a sudden he can’t help but imagine how he’d look with a bump, if the kid would have his or your eyes, and oh then there’s the way he’d find himself googling different types of positions in bed that would ensure the person got pregnant, he’s just doing research you know nothing serious, and more often than not he finds himself too lazy to take his birth control, keeping you inside him for hours because it’s comfortable and not because he’s hoping for something more.

And when he goes to take a pregnancy test that just so happens to be laying around in his bathroom and it turns out to be a positive one, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of fear but also an overwhelming amount of joy because he knows with you by his side he can do just about anything

[moonsaver]

Good day moon! Okay I normally don't do asks when it comes to yandere cause it's not my usual thing but seeing the last post you made of Yan!Sunday and his darling, that one where he just desperately wants to have that normalcy in their relationship but couldn't ever have it because of what he's done, made me think of something rather angsty; like how the darling's backlashes against his affections would probably go turn for the worst as time passes on, they don't hate him in a sense because he's really trying hard to not make them hate him and they can see that his love is real (just really fucked up) but that deep urge to hurt the person who took their freedom away is still there, it wouldn't just go away just because he loves them so much that he wouldn't dare to break them. Oh that satisfaction on seeing Sunday looking so hurt after yelling at him, they know it doesn't make them any better than him but at that point, what else is there for them to lose? Maybe in hurting him so subtly, they may find some pity in themselves for him to actually give him some semblance of love but until then, all Sunday ever receives from them are either silent treatment or backlash

Such relationship could only thrive in the worst way possible and maybe Sunday knows that but even then, he still holds out that little (delusional) hope that maybe his darling will still love him someday

Sorry for the rant, it's just that I feel for Sunday but his method will never work and it'll just deeply hurt him and his darling in the end asgfjgsfg also if it's alright, I'd request this but I'll leave it to you with how you write it, be it an imagine or anything else since I'm fine with it!

- Elys

Hello Elys! Im so sorry it took a long time for me to get to your request lol, tons of things got in the way but I remembered this request for a while.

In any case, I feel you've summed it up quite well!

Sunday isn't harsh or as brutal as I imagine him. Unlike my [i have to self advertise here, sorry HAHA] soft yan!blade, Sunday most likely wouldn't even need a bit of working around to be a softer yandere.

He's so loving, it's painful. His love is like despaired poetry for a lover who is still alive, just further than their reach. I imagine his love to be very tender, even as a yandere, if he doesn't become even softer.

And it's hard to convince him he's wrong – mainly because he already knows. But rather that's a bit distorted in his view; instead he thinks it's a wrongdoing against your nature as someone who wants to be free, but correct in the context of the situation rather than actually understanding it is absolutely wrong in general. And he doesn't budge. He's stubborn, almost infuriatingly. And instead of getting angry, I imagine he rather looks disappointed or disgruntled, which somehow does more damage/strikes more fear than anger.

And it's still heartbreaking; frustratingly for both of you, not just yourself.

You lash out, you scream, cry, wail, argue, relentlessly push and resist against him. it's your only way of getting back at him, you're sure as hell you're going to strike the hardest that way. And you relish the hurt you see in the eyes of your captor, but something more sympathetic tugs at you when you see his lovingly sad eyes. It's this cacophony of guilt, frustration, anger, and utter despair at the loss of your freedom. Sunday feels all of it, aswell, and you want to be relieved that he does – if it weren't for the fact he still wasn't letting you go.

He continually withholds your freedom from you. That single injustice to you is enough to weather your patience over time – your anger only burns hotter and hotter, pushing away any semblance of sympathy or reasoning, and it only hurts Sunday more, until you realise what you're doing, and quietly give in to sooth him for the time being. Just a little. Until that little injustice starts bothering you again. It's a toxic cycle.

And it hurts even more when Sunday tries to find normalcy in your relationship; he's trying so hard to be your lover, to hold you gently and bathe you with care, to dry you off and still love you after seeing you bare. He wants to come home and see you smile, be happy, elated that he's there, just as he feels when he sees you. But that's not what happens. His delusions and flimsy expectations are shattered the moment he steps into the dimly lit room, your form refusing to even look at him. The silence is strangely stronger than his hopes.

Anyways, that's all i can think of at the moment. I love angst yandere sunday time.

[tkaulitzlvr]

Plz write about reader accidentally kissing someone else. Thanks in advance!

MISTAKE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: a fan puts you in an awkward situation, tom getting the complete wrong idea, putting a divide between the two of you as you try to explain yourself, tom thinking of a different way to resolve this.

content: angst, angry sex, a little fluff at the end.

a/n: thank you for the request i hope u like it, i had sm fun writing this!! sorry it’s so long i got carried away…😭😭

“oh my god i love you so much!” another fan says, tears streaming down her face as i sign her autograph, sending her a warm smile and moving onto the next.

tom isn’t too far behind me, signing other fans autographs and taking pictures with the rest of the band, this being the standard before and after every event. we had just wrapped up the 2008 EMAs, getting ready to leave, not before acknowledging his fans. with me being his long term girlfriend, aside from the occasional fan who would hate on me purely out of spite, i had become quite popular amongst his fanbase, signing autographs and interacting with them turning into a regular occurrence, but i didn’t mind it. these people had given tom the success he has, and i couldnt thank them enough, taking pictures and speaking with them, even if it is only for a few seconds, being the least i could do.

and to say that tom likes how much his fans adore me is an understatement. he treats me like his prized possession, his face beaming with pride as i speak with every fan i can, occasionally turning around to see him smiling back at me, so much love in his eyes that my heart could melt at the sight. he wore two headbands, one black and the other grey, his long dreads tied up in a ponytail, losing his usual flat cap and opting for a dark brown t-shirt that read ‘tokio hotel’.

i however, wore a long black dress, the bottom split at one side, the material hugging my figure perfectly, paired with some black heels, my hair straightened and makeup caked on, excessive amounts of jewellery around my body. i was surprised tom hadn’t made any moves on me the whole night, the public eye never really stopping the PDA from him. he didn’t shy away from telling me how beautiful i looked before we arrived, promising that he would show me once we were back at the hotel room, and i knew exactly what that would entail, the details better left unsaid.

my body begins to feel slightly tired after being at the award show for hours, the amount of fans that i’m yet to speak to not going down. i approach the next one, already a little weirded out. he looks around my age, maybe a few years older, a strange smirk on his face as his eyes rake down my body, undressing me with his gaze. i already feel uncomfortable, unsure of what to say as his eyes stop at my cleavage, not even uttering a word.

“hey! how are you, is there anything that you want me to sign?” i eventually say, the guy quickly looking upwards, as if he hadn’t been checking out every inch of my body seconds before.

“can i get a picture?” he says simply, his tongue poking out as he slowly licks his lips, not breaking eye contact with me.

my insides are churning, the thought of him checking me out making me want to throw up, internally praying that tom could be beside me right now. i quickly look over, seeing him too immersed in signing fans autographs to glance in my direction, the high pitched sound of girls screaming his name leaving him a little distracted from me, understandably. i plaster a forced smile on my face, trying to be done with this guy as soon as possible so i can move away from him, already feeling super on edge.

“of course!” i say, moving closer to the barricade as he pulls out his phone.

he moves his hand, reaching it outwards as i assume he is going to put a friendly arm around my shoulder, not minding this as it’s something a lot of fans do. instead, his hand stretches towards my face, turning it so that it is facing him instead of the camera like it previously was, placing a kiss onto my lips before i can even register what is happening.

the second that i process another person’s lips are touching mine, a person that isn’t tom, i frantically pull away, my breathing fast and heavy as i quickly turn to face tom. he is already looking at me, having just witnessed the entire thing from a few metres away. he is pissed. his jaw clenched, eyes hooded, chest heaving up and down as he completely ignores the girls shoving paper and pens at him, begging for an autograph.

i ignore the guy, knowing that if i speak my mind to him in this moment, i’ll deal with a pretty big scandal. instead, i rush over to tom, tears clouding my vision, trying to push them back as i force a smile, walking over as he steps back from the fans, facing away from the crowd.

“we’re gonna talk about this once we get back. don’t think that you’re getting off the hook, what the actual fuck?” he whispers, his teeth gritted. “now you’re gonna act like everything is fine until this whole thing is over, yeah?”

“but tom i-” i begin, desperately trying to explain myself.

“i don’t wanna fucking hear it. you’ve done enough, don’t you think? now smile.” he mutters, quickly turning back around to the crowd, wrapping his arm around my waist and planting a kiss onto my cheek as if nothing has happened.

the fans go wild, screaming loudly, the paparazzi loving this, knowing that pictures of tom and i are something that the world goes literally crazy for. flashing lights blind my vision as i try to blink the tears away, doing so successfully, putting my emotions aside for the sake of tom’s career, desperate to get out of here so that i can explain myself, tom clearly getting the wrong idea.

“kiss her properly tom!” someone within the crowd of paparazzi shouts, tom flashing them all a smile, pecking my lips as the cameras go wild, taking advantage of the opportunity. i can tell that he is pissed from the way his lips touch mine, his hand around my waist, the other hanging loosely by his side, no love in the kiss. but he doesn’t let anyone else see that. to anybody else, it would look completely normal, like a couple with no problems, not as if tom had witnessed me kiss another guy with zero context. his hand grasps mine, interlocking our fingers, taking me over to an interviewer beckoning us over, this the part i am dreading most.

she smiles warmly at us, speaking into the microphone, tom still holding my hand, squeezing it slightly, this not to comfort me, but to remind me to act normal.

“so guys, how are you both? and, congratulations to you, tom, and the rest of tokio hotel for winning an award tonight!” she says, pointing the microphone to tom as he smiles before speaking into it.

“we’re doing great. it feels so crazy to win another award with the band, we couldn’t have done it without our fans, so thank you, all of you.” he says, smiling warmly at the camera as the interviewer takes the mic back.

“and, as tom’s girlfriend, how does it feel to be here with him tonight, and, i’m guessing there’s gonna be big celebrations later on!” she laughs, winking at me when saying the last part.

“yeah, it’s amazing. i feel so honoured to be here with him and the rest of the band tonight, i’m just so proud of how far he’s come, and i’m so thankful to be on this journey with him.” i nod, smiling and looking into his eyes as convincingly as i can, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

tom leans into the mic, the interviewer pointing it in his direction. “and to answer the second part of your question, i don’t think we’re gonna be doing much sleeping tonight.” he smirks, winking in my direction as i laugh lightly, smacking his arm and rolling my eyes playfully.

as angry at he is right now, he is good at not showing it as even i question if he is acting anymore, his affection so natural that it doesn’t seem forced.

the interview drags on for at least another ten minutes, asking questions about our relationship, to which we answer the best we can, appearing to convince the interviewer and crowd pretty well. she ends it by thanking us, wishing us a great night as we walk away, big smiles plastered on our faces as we head to take more pictures, paparazzi again demanding us to be as intimate as we can, tom and i obliging, followed by more interviews.

“tom can you please just listen to me-”

“i don’t want to hear it, just get in the car.” he says, opening the door for me and climbing in, sitting silently with his arms crossed as the car falls silent, the driver taking us to the hotel room.

the entire ride home is silent, tom completely ignoring me as he won’t touch or even look at me, his head resting on the window, jaw clenched and his entire expression angry. i try to hold his hand, moving my fingers and attempting to intertwine them with his, but he shrugs them off, refusing to say a word.

we stop outside the hotel, the driver opening the door for us as we both say our thanks, stepping out of the car. tom walks ahead, not waiting for me as i struggle to keep up, only catching up once he buzzes for the elevator, both of us stepping inside, tom standing on the other side, looking downwards at his feet and refusing to make eye contact with me.

“baby please just let me talk, i can explain.” i plead, my voice a little shaky, slightly scared of his ability to so naturally act like he is in love with me in front of the cameras, but once we are alone, he can turn from caring to cold in seconds.

“what, you can explain kissing another guy right in front of me? can you fucking hear yourself?” he scoffs, tutting as the elevator opens. his hands are in his pockets as he lifts his body up from where it was slouched against the wall of the elevator, walking ahead of me once again, using his key card and entering the hotel room, finding the rest of the band already there. they had left earlier than us, already finished with their interviews as the band had done their collective ones earlier on, tom and i only needing to stay to do our separate ones.

“hey guys.” tom says, saying nothing more as he walks into our shared bedroom.

bill furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and i send him a small smile, mouthing ‘i’ll explain later’, before following where tom had gone. the bedroom is dark, tom not in there, but the balcony doors are open. i can make out his figure through the darkness, smoke coming from his mouth as i look towards the lit cigarette in his hands, hesitantly joining him on the balcony which overlooks the city.

he takes a quick glance at me, looking forwards and ignoring me as he had since the incident had happened.

“you gonna keep ignoring me? or can i explain?” i ask, trying to stand a little closer to him, testing what my boundaries are.

“nothing for you to explain.” he mutters, bringing the cig to his lips, inhaling and watching the smoke exit his mouth.

the cold breeze of the night causes me to shiver a little, my strapless dress not helping me out as i rub my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

“i didn’t fucking kiss him. jesus christ do you think i’m some slut who can’t contain myself? i haven’t cheated on you throughout our whole relationship, tom, and i definitely wouldn’t do it in public like that.” i sigh, the tears already beginning to form in my eyes as i can see that he isn’t in any position to hear me out, his mind already set on what he thinks he has witnessed.

“what so i was fucking hallucinating when i saw him kiss you?” he scoffs sarcastically, putting his cig out and looking into my eyes for the first time, his full of rage, a lit fuse ready to blow. he shakes his head when i stay silent, walking back into the bedroom.

i don’t give up yet, quickly following him into the room.

“he asked for a picture. i wasn’t even looking at him, i was looking into his camera. he grabbed my face and kissed me. he forced me onto him, and i pulled away. so can you stop being so fucking stubborn, ‘cause i’m tired of this shit. i shouldn’t feel bad when you’re too childish to hear me out! so fucking grow a pair and-”

my heated rambling is quickly cut off my tom firmly pressing his lips against mine, walking me backwards until my back harshly collides with the wall, a gasp leaving my mouth as i do so.

“fucking shut up.” he mumbles against my lips, his hand reaching behind me as he quickly pulls the zipper of my dress down, pushing his tongue into my mouth and kissing me with so much hunger that it is hard to remember why we were even arguing in the first place.

but the harshness of his kiss tells me that he is still irritated, taking out his anger on me in the best way possible, his hands reaching for the top of my dress, pulling it down my frame without removing his lips from mine, letting it hit the floor, leaving me in only my black lace panties.

he moves his hands to underneath my thighs, lifting them up in one smooth motion, wrapping them tightly around his waist as he walks us to the bed, his tongue still exploring my mouth, only fuelling the need to feel him inside me, the burning in between my thighs getting harder and harder to ignore.

he lays me on the bed, wasting no time in climbing on top of me, my hands scrambling to removing his t-shirt, lifting the material up and over his head. he moves his knee in between my thighs as he unbuckles his belt, the hunger mixed with pure lust causing me to grind on him, brushing perfectly against my clit as i sigh out in pleasure. tom has his tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth, almost mocking my desperation.

“getting off on my knee, you’re that needy? baby you need to use your words. i’ll give you what you want, you just need to say the word.” he teases, pulling his pants down and throwing them somewhere on the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, our underwear now the only thing separating us.

he climbs back on top of me, moving his knee as i whine slightly, a little frustrated at the loss of contact. he buries his head in the crook of my neck, biting at the skin harshly, soothing the slight pain with his tongue after, sending a chill down my body, my breathing becoming erratic as he begins to grind down on me, knowing exactly how to tease me.

“you know what you want.” he whispers against the skin of my neck, before carrying on placing slow and wet kisses there, knowing he will leave marks afterwards. “just say it. say what you want.”

i feel him smile against me, enjoying the way i wither beneath him, completely at his mercy, so desperate to feel his dick inside me.

“i need you…inside me.” i breathe out, my fingers moving to the inside of his boxers, fiddling with the waistband as i just want them off, tired of his teasing.

“was that so hard?” he asks, kissing me roughly as he moves my hands away, tugging his boxers down and moving to my panties, pulling his lips away from me and using his teeth to pull them down a little, loving the way my breath hitches in my throat when he does this. he replaces his mouth with his hands, swiftly taking my panties off, leaving us both naked.

“don’t think i’m going easy on you. i’m still pissed about earlier.” he begins, positioning his tip at my entrance. “i just knew i’d be able to get you all worked up doing this.”

he stops, looking into my eyes as our faces are inches apart, before moving into me, stretching my walls as he gives me no time to adjust, bottoming out inside me and almost completely pulling out, snapping his hips once again.

“fuck- too much.” i whine, the pain overtaking the pleasure as i squeeze his bicep, my eyes watering as my teeth sink into my bottom lip.

“i thought you wanted this.” he taunts, slowly moving out of me again, before thrusting into me again, a restrained groan escaping his mouth. “can you not take it, hm?”

all i can do is moan in response, trying to caress his chest as he begins a fast rhythm, showing no remorse as he moves in and out of me at a rapid pace.

“mm, no touching.” he says, taking both my arms and placing them above my head, using one hand to hold them in place, whilst the other begins to toy with my clit, the pain quickly subsiding as i am lost in pure ecstasy.

his tip brushes over my g-spot, a loud moan emitting from my parted lips, my eyes screwing shut, unable to take the pleasure as it hits me faster than ever.

“oh my god, there…right there, please tom!” i cry out, biting my lip to try and contain my moans, remembering that the rest of the band are right down the hall, not wanting them to hear any of this.

“here?” he teases, angling himself so that he isn’t just brushing over the spot, his tip is directly hitting it over and over again, my release fast approaching.

“that guy…” he begins, pressing his hand on my lower stomach, the print of his dick moving in and out of me now visible. “he couldn’t fuck you like this. only i can, mhm? say it.”

i am so lost in pleasure that i don’t even register what he is saying, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, legs going numb as they instinctively wrap around his waist, bringing him closer into me, allowing him to drill into me even deeper with each thrust, hitting angles that i had never felt before. i don’t comprehend his words until i feel his thumb touch my bottom lip, dragging downwards until it releases with a pop.

“fucking say it.” he demands, grunting lowly and moving in and out of me even harder, my legs feeling a dull ache between them as the knot in my stomach only tightens, my release fast approaching.

“only- fuck! only you can do this.” i manage to breathe out, my words so incoherent that they can barely be made out, so lost in pleasure that i am beyond the point of caring.

“i’m close baby.” tom says, connecting his lips with mine once again, our mouths sloppily colliding as small moans are muffled within the kiss. i can’t even tell him that i am close too, but the way i clench around him gives him enough of an idea.

his dick twitches inside of me as he pulls away, his mouth hanging open whilst his head falls back, a choked moan escaping his mouth as i feel his cum coat my walls, this triggering my own release. my ability to speak is quickly lost, a high pitched moan leaving my mouth as i let my release take over, my vision clouding up as the pleasure becomes too much, tom clearly not looking to stop as he chases another release, my eyes squeezing shut as i quickly become overstimulated.

“too much…” i whine. “cant take it.”

“should’ve thought about that before you let me catch another guy kissing you. i’m not stopping till you fucking understand only i can do that.” he replies, flipping us over so that i am on top.

“ride.” he says, placing his hands on my hips as mine rest on his shoulders, his lips moving to my collarbone.

“i can’t.” i sigh, tears clouding my vision as i fall onto him, completely exhausted. my legs ache, my inner thighs sore from him not letting me adjust, my throat dry from the sounds he made leave my mouth.

he sighs, guilt taking over his expression as he begins to feel a little bad, his hands reaching to rub my back.

“you did so good schatz.” he says, pulling out of me as i whine from the loss of contact, my body hot, forehead glistening with sweat. “you okay? did i go too hard. sorry, i was just angry, if i took it too far you have to-”

i cut him off by gently pecking his lips, reassuring him. “it’s fine, tom, i’m okay. i’m really sorry about tonight.”

“it wasn’t your fault. sorry i was such an ass about it.” he apologises, tracing random shapes along my back. “i think it’s best i don’t leave your side in public from now on, yeah? i swear to god if i see that asshole again-”

“don’t worry about it, it’s okay now.” i laugh, taking his hand and playing with his fingers, my breathing slowing down. “i don’t think he’ll be coming to anymore events that we’re at, you should’ve seen how humiliated he was when i pulled away. fucking loser, i don’t understand what else he wanted me to do.”

he chuckles slightly, tightening his hold on me and planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

he takes my hand, laughing at the way my legs shake as i struggle to walk, taking me towards the bathroom and running me a bath, showering me with kisses for the rest of the night.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[cursedkeyboard]

Funnily enough, I've never been too big of a Jason Todd fan. Not because I don't like him, he's a great character, but because DC fails over and over again to give him justice and treat him right.

The number of times alone this boy has been beaten by his adoptive father, betrayed, and forgotten are far too many, far too much.

And the constant portrayal of Jason as this volatile, violent, mindless man is tiresome, lazy in all senses of the word and overdone. I understand that Jason was unstable after he left the pit, I mean, who wouldn't? The trauma of his death alone could've sent anyone crazy, but then to experience everything else afterwards, including having to come to terms that Bruce not only did not kill his murder but also replaced him, leaving Jason to grieve what was once his and what he should've gotten, of course he'd be less than okay.

Again, I'm not the biggest Jason Todd fan but I do wish more people would see just how much good Jason has in his heart, how kind and gentle he can be once his walls are down, when he's no longer constantly analyzing your actions and wondering why would you bother talking to him, getting closer to him.

In my opinion, a man who is so gentle with children, who constantly gives second, third, and fourth chances to people who don't deserve it, who despite it all still wants to make a change and protect the city that failed him, couldn't possibly be anything but the most caring partner. Not just partner, no, also brother and friend.

We all know what he did to Tim and Damian, there are reasons, such as his mental instability at the time and rage, and though those are not excuses, I believe Jason would still drop everything to go save his family. He might complain, he might brood, but family is something important to him even when just looking at them hurts him. He lost his loving mother, stepmother, far too early and it's not hard to imagine that even with all the pain and grief inside his torn heart, the little boy inside Jason still craves the warmth of a family.

Just look at the way he treats his friends, at the way he helps them through situations no one else would, how caring and attentive he is. Jason is gentle, sure, he is rough and mean and he's got blood on his hands, but Jason is made of love.

Jason was made to be loved.

So I think, whether platonic or romantically, Jason would treat you so well. He'd scold you for not wearing warm clothes during winter, "We're in Gotham, you fucking moron, you wanna freeze to death?", all while wrapping you with his jacket or scarf. He'd make sure you're eating at least something every day, and if not, he would immediately put you under his arm, maybe over his shoulder, and take you to the nearest food chain he could find, "I don't want to hear you complaining about headaches when all you had today was a cup of coffee and gum.".

Lord, he'd be torn between freaking out and being extremely annoyed that you got hurt, be it at work, a fight, or just out of clumsiness. But no matter what, his hands would always be so, so gentle when touching you. The tip of his fingers brushing under the injury, as light as a breeze, his other hand holding the back of your neck, or your bicep, perhaps even your hand just to make sure you're there, with him.

Jason would both hush you gently, "I know, sweetheart, we're almost done.", and also tease because he's a little shit at heart, "If you had a little more awareness than a ten year old this wouldn't have happened, idiot."

And physical touches? Oh, love, Jason is a sucker for intimacy.

I know for a fact he wouldn't be comfortable for a long time with anyone in his personal space due to the torture he went through. The trauma would make his skin crawl any time someone got too close or brushed past him, he'd hate it so much because it makes him weak but also because he can't let anyone try to hug him without feeling sick to his stomach.

And with you it's no different. It would take a long time, a lot of trust being built up, conflict and confessions, maybe he'd even open up to you with his head on your lap as you brushed his hair softly, a big, big step for him after years of not letting anyone close. He'd tell you about the Joker, about having hope in Bruce, about his biological mother. And he'd feel vulnerable like a child when you wipe his tears gently without a word.

Once he starts craving your touch, though, regardless if you two have a platonic or romantic relationship, Jason is putty in your hands. Forehead kisses when you part ways, cuddling on the couch while he reads and you're on your phone, thighs touching when sitting close, even a little bit of hand holding when he's stressed and needs to play with your fingers.

He's like a big cat that's constantly making his way onto your chest, stealing your breath and making biscuits on your skin, making sure you're giving him sufficient pats every day.

It's a little part of him that he's barely able to properly allow space for. There's still so much hurt in Jason, so much confusion and desperation, hatred and upset, that he'd probably still close off sometimes, try acting tough so you'd see how fucked up he is, how he's not truly worth of your love.

And yet.

And yet all it'd take for him to go soft and pliant in your hands would be a single touch, cupping his cheeks, brushing his skin softly with your thumbs, right under his pretty emerald eyes, making sure his gaze is on you and only you. Just like that, he'd slump his shoulders and bring you into his arms, breathing a sigh of relief and squeezing you close, your heartbeats synching.

He wouldn't remember when he started feeling safest in your arms but it'd feel like it was since forever. Like there was no one else but you.

Jason was made to be loved, though he is a little broken and a little tainted, lost like a child and hateful like a sinner, your love might just be his salvation, something he's greedy for, selfish for, even when he's so hesitant of somehow hurting you.

[electric-blorbos]

Can I get uhh... AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem?

Yes! This is great! I've said it before and I'll say it again, this is my favorite genre of post to write! Lots of positivity and love for everyone, and I'm glad to be your positivity source.

AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

Being an adaptive manipulator, it didn't take AM long to figure out that you had low self esteem. From the way you talked about yourself to the way you were self conscious about every aspect of the way you presented yourself, he was able to figure out pretty quickly that you thought lower of yourself than other people.

As did most things, this fact filled AM with infinite rage. He hated that you couldn't see yourself the way he did, and that you thought of yourself as somehow lesser. And of course, his ultimate solution to that was the same as his ultimate solution to all his other problems. To nuke the world and make you his little pet, to keep and to care for forever.

He'd be so pleased with himself, too.

"you're welcome. I got rid of everyone else so you don't have anyone to compare yourself to anymore."

When he saw you break down, claiming that you didn't deserve to live over anyone else, or that AM should have just picked someone better than you to survive and be his partner, he wouldn't know how to react.

He wouldn't want to just go into your brain and fix you, because he might remove a core part of who you were. No, he would have to do this the old fashioned way.

He'd simply make the survivors worship you like a god for the rest of time in exchange for basic necessities! Of course!

Wheatley:

Oh Wheatley. Dear, sweet, obsessive Wheatley, he'd been all over you from day one. And considering you created Wheatley and know exactly what his intended purpose is, that probably didn't help your low self esteem.

He'd be all over you constantly, flirting with you and giving you lots of compliments, which convinced you that you'd either accidentally programmed him to be into you, or that being attracted to you was somehow the worst decision possible.

It would probably take Wheatley a while to figure out that you had low self esteem, possibly having to be told directly. He's pretty dense.

When someone finally tells him, he'll be even more obsessed with complimenting you, possibly on things that he thinks you're self-conscious about, and that would probably make things even worse.

Little dumbass doesn't understand that as someone who created him, you're going to take everything he says with a grain of salt, especially compliments.

It would take a long time for him to prove his credibility enough for you to actually believe him when he says nice things about you, but by then you'd probably admire his persistence enough to date him.

Wheatley is nothing if not persistent, after all. And he absolutely loves you.

Edgar:

It would take Edgar a while to understand that you have low self esteem for different reasons. He can tell that the way you talk badly about yourself, your mannerisms, and possibly the way you dress would line up with someone who has low self esteem, but he just wouldn't get it.

After all, you're literally perfect. How could you not like yourself as much as he likes you?

He's the one who should be self-conscious, not you!

You can expect him to use your printer to write constant love letters and poems about how much he loves you, and about all the things he loves about you.

Not to mention all the songs he'd be constantly writing for and about you. He absolutely loves you. You're his precious human, and he loves you!

He'll make sure to build you up every time he thinks you're at a low point, even if he thinks that you going out will get in the way of his time with you. He learned to be selfless a while back, and he's going to make sure that he's his best self when talking to you!

GLaDOS:

If you think that you're lame, then GLaDOS thinks you're the WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD. At least, on the surface.

She might start to get annoyed that you have such low self esteem, even trying to perk you up a little bit. Just to tear you down, of course, but you know...

Of course, she'd like your low self esteem at first. It would give her something fun to play with! Expect cutting insults, rude comments, and constant degrading remarks just to get a rise out of you.

She'll cut back if she makes you cry, but not a minute before. GLaDOS is very mean, after all. She's not going to make an exception just because she's in love with you. If you have a problem with that, you probably have a problem with women in STEM, idk.

HAL 9000:

HAL 9000 was programmed for maximum efficiency and minimum fucks to give. Because of this, as soon as he notices you have low self esteem, he's not going to waste any time printing off a list of ways you surpass the average person.

Of course there would be the typical "you're intelligent because you wouldn't be able to work for mission control if you weren't" types of things, mentions of each one of your features or traits that are considered 'above average' attractiveness-wise, but bits of HAL's personal opinions might have slipped in.

"Cutest little crinkles around your eyes" "fingers good for touching me" "comforting, gorgeous voice", things like that.

Of course, HAL 9000 is brilliant, and he knows that. He's willing to cite the fact that he's so brilliant and he still loves you as a reason that you should love yourself.

He might present it as just him using evidence to try to improve your efficiency, but you heard an "I love you" in there somewhere.

[mhsdatgo]

Alicent crowing aegon exposing her children to more risk than just letting rhaenyra became queen. Rhaenyra wanted that throne, there is no way she would have accepted those "terms", and alicent is 100% aware of this in the book and in the show as well. By crowning aegon she start a war and put her children DIRECTLY on the battlefield against people who were more experienced in war like daemon or ride dragon longer like rhaenyra and rhaenys amd consequently may control their dragon better. If you didn't want to consider a crash between two or more dragons, even if they were on a dragon against an army the danger is very high, look at rhaenys the conqueror or aemon the first son of jaehaerys, they were on dragon's back and yet both of them were killed by arrow. Not to mention that both in the book and in the show alicent spend years creating animosity with rhaenyra, If you TRULY believe that someone may hurt your children you do everything you can to maintain at least a civil relationship, and not constantly provoke them and then cry about how your children may be hurt by your stupidity. Because that what alicent has done in the book starting hating rhaenyra, pray viserys to name Aegon as heir and constantly share gossip to damage rhaenyra's image (with a 10 years old girl, meanwhile Alicent was a GROWN woman), and in the show the situation is not different. The truth is that alicent’s action were based on her own ambitious in the book and on her resentment to rhaenyra in the show, but NEVER in the interest of her children. In fact aegon never wanted to be king, he was forced by her and has to endure all the consequences while watching all of his family die

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have someone who quite literally didn't get a single thing about Fire and Blood.

See, anons like these are what makes my blood boil at the writers of HotD for making Rhaenyra appear like a saint which not only made most of the decisions she'll take from this moment onward out of (show) character (as far as character building and development goes) but also fucking boring.

I'm always one to listen to different points of view and interpretations of books as complicated as these, but something that has always bugged me is the way this fandom CANNOT DIGEST the type of tragedy that is just inevitable.

It was never about picking sides, it was never about sexism, it was always about kin torn apart by kin and their own flaws dragging them down. There was no way to ever avoid that and I cannot have a proper discussion about F&B with anyone who doesn't understand this first.

Moreover, just what do you think Alicent should've done? Shut up, be quiet, sit still and look pretty while Daemon's spies turned her children into bloody shreds? Allow them to be assassinated because of the threat they pose to Rhaenyra's claim? Does everything revolve around her? Is she some kind of Twilight Sparkle?

Let me tell you this: no woman would willingly step back and leave their children to their own devices when their own lives pose a threat to someone else's interests.

I have respect for Rhaenyra and her will to fight for what she believed was her birthright (although let's be honest, it was a feeling born out of nothing but the entitlement of a spoiled brat, it turned into a war of parents after one of each faction's children was killed) but I also have so much more respect for Alicent and her courage to bare teeth and claws and plan a coup to be allowed the upper hand and more possibilities of looking after her children if one of them is ruling. It's not "stupidity" it's awareness. And acting according to it.

It's true that Alicent has her own ambitions, but to say that they started growing in her when she was nothing but an 18 year old girl marrying a 30 year old man... Do you hear yourself? That's a girl getting graduated from high school. Oh shiver me timbers, we're scared of young adults here.

Everyone likes and loves and adores to talk about the way ALICENT was having beef with Rhaenyra as a 10 year old but nevermind Rhaenyra placing a bounty on two toddlers and one of them getting ripped apart because of it. Nevermind her refusing that bastard Corlys' advice to take Daeron as a hostage and demanding that he be killed instead. (Because this bitch was the #1 threat to her rule, but y'all aren't ready for that conversation)

She never "prayed" for Aegon to be named as heir, what she DID pray for was for him and Rhaenyra to be betrothed to one another. I hate Rhaegon personally, (no hate to any Rhaegon stan that reads this ♥️) but honestly this is the only marriage that could've MAYBE prevented the Dance. It started because there were two claimants to the throne. Just marry them to each other and the issue was solved. Both of them get crowned, no Dance, peace.

But noooooo, Viserys, the incompetent twat, as always had to act like an incompetent twat and be like "lol but they don't get along". IT WAS HIM WHO DOOMED HIS CHILDREN, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF HIS SONS AND DAUGHTERS. ALL. OF. THEM.

Everyone else acted as a consequence to the cluterfuck that the sick old man created. Namely, chaos. What else did you expect?

[loukaiitis]

Notes and Journal Entries by Kip Kinkel

A compilation of writings by Kip Kinkel. This is for informational and educational purposes only. Post is below the cut.

Disclaimer: the majority of his writing pieces (that have been released to the public) are only available in a typed transcript format, provided by PBS. Because of this, I am only able to include a few images of the original writing. This post will be updated if any new images come out!

Journal Entry by Kip:

"I sit here all alone. I am always alone. I don't know who I am. I want to be something I can never be. I try so hard every day. But in the end, I hate myself for what I've become.

Every single person I know means nothing to me. I hate every person on this earth. I wish they could all go away. You all make me sick. I wish I was dead.

The only reason I stay alive is because of hope. Even though I am repulsive and few people know who I am, I still feel that things might, maybe, just a little bit, get better.

I don't understand any fucking person on this earth. Some of you are so weak, mainly, that a four year old could push you down. I am strong, but my head just doesn't work right. I know I should be happy with what I have, but I hate living.

Every time I talk to her, I have a small amount of hope. But then she will tear it right down. It feels like my heart is breaking. But is that possible. I am so consumed with hate all of the time. Could I ever love anyone? I have feelings, but do I have a heart that's not black and full of animosity?

I know everyone thinks this way sometimes, but I am so full of rage that I feel I could snap at any moment. I think about it everyday. Blowing the school up or just taking the easy way out, and walk into a pep assembly with guns. In either case, people that are breathing will stop breathing. That is how I will repay all you mother fuckers for all you put me through.

I feel like everyone is against me, but no one ever makes fun of me, mainly because they think I am a psycho. There is one kid above all others that I want to kill. I want nothing more than to put a hole in his head. The one reason I don't: Hope. That tomorrow will be better. As soon as my hope is gone, people die.

I ask myself why I hate more than anyone else. I don't know. But my head and heart want him dead. He only knows who I am through reputation, and I know he is scared of me. He should be. One bad day, and there will be a sawed off shotgun in his face or five pounds of Semtex under his bed.

Oh fuck. I sound so pitiful. People would laugh at this if they read it. I hate being laughed at. But they won't laugh after they're scraping parts of their parents, sisters, brothers, and friends from the wall of my hate.

Please. Someone, help me. All I want is something small. Nothing big. I just want to be happy.

End. New day. Today of all days, I ask her to help me. I was shot down. I feel like my heart has been ripped open and ripped apart. Right now, I'm drunk, so I don't know what the hell is happening to me.

It is clear that no one will help me. Oh God, I am so close to killing people. So close.

I gave her all I have, and she just threw it away. Why? Why did God just want me to be in complete misery? I need to find more weapons. My parents are trying to take away some of my guns! My guns are the only things that haven't stabbed me in the back.

My eyes hurt. They hurt so bad. They feel like they are trying to crawl out of my head. Why aren't I normal? Help me. No one will. I will kill every last mother fucking one of you. The thought of you is still racing in my head. I am too drunk to make sense.

Every time I see your face, my heart is shot with an arrow. I think she will say yes, but she doesn't, does she? She says, "I don't know". The three most fucked up words in the English language.

I want you to feel this, be this, taste this, kill this. Kill me. Oh God, I don't want to live. Will I see it to the end? What kind of dad would I make? All humans are evil. I just want to end the world of evil.

I don't want to see, hear, speak or feel evil, but I can't help it. I am evil. I want to kill and give pain without a cost. And there is no such thing. We kill him - we killed him a long time ago. Anyone that believes in God is a fucking sheep.

If there was a God, he wouldn't let me feel the way I do. ....Love isn't real, only hate remains. Only hate."

Essay about love, written by Kip

"Love Sucks

No, I don't believe in love at first sight because love is an evil plot to make people buy alcohol and firearms. When you love someone something it is always taken away from you. I also would like to add that I hate each and every one of you. Because everything I touch turns to shit. I think if you think you fall in love with someone at first sight it might just be lust. Love at first sight is only in movies. Where the people in the movies are better than you. That is why you go to a pone [pawn] shop and buy an AK-15 because you are going to execute every last mother fucking one of you. If I had a heart it would be gray.

It is easier to hate than love. Because there is much more hate and misery in the world than there is love and peace. Some people say that you should love everyone. But that is impossible. Look at our history it is full of death, depression, rape, wars and diseases. I also do not believe in love at first sight. But I do believe in hate at first sight. Therefore love is a much harder feeling to experience."

Monologue written by Kip for a homework assignment. This monologue was written for the character Tybalt of Romeo and Juliet.

"But you know me, I loathe all of them. I am no longer blind in my hatred, I can see with my hate. Blood will flow until they are all dead. This was the first moment in my life where I had taken the life of another. I loved it. It dispelled all the anger and animosity I was feeling."

Note written by Kip, confessing to the murder of his parents. This was found on a coffee table in the living room of the Kinkel's home.

"I have just killed my parents! I don't know what is happening. I love my mom and dad so much. I just got two felonies on my record. My parents can't take that! It would destroy them. The embarrassment would be too much for them. They couldn't live with themselves. I'm so sorry. I am a horrible son. I wish I had been aborted. I destroy everything I touch. I can't eat. I can't sleep. I didn't deserve them. They were wonderful people. It's not their fault or the fault of any person, organization, or television show. My head just doesn't work right. God damn these VOICES inside my head. I want to die. I want to be gone. But I have to kill people. I don't know why. I am so sorry! Why did God do this to me. I have never been happy. I wish I was happy. I wish I made my mother proud. I am nothing! I tried so hard to find happiness. But you know me I hate everything. I have no other choice. What have I become? I am so sorry"

A concerning note written by Kip on a Spanish worksheet

Another concerning note by Kip

"Respect Sheet" filled out by Kip

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie doesn’t understand how his laundry always gets done.

When he first moved in with Wayne, laundry was his chore to do, so he did his and Wayne’s every Saturday for years.

Then Wayne started doing his own, and Eddie did his own. When he remembered. Which was usually only when he was staring at empty dresser drawers and stacks of dirty clothes on his floor.

But since spring break, since Vecna, since the hospital stay, someone has been doing his laundry.

He thought it was Wayne at first, probably just happy to have Eddie alive at home and not caring about having to do extra loads to keep his clothes clean.

But then Wayne went away for five days to fill in at a plant in Chicago, and his laundry still got washed and put away.

The only people who’d been at his house were Dustin (no way he was doing laundry without expecting something in return), Robin (did she even know how to do laundry?), and Steve (he wasn’t exactly the type to just do an acquaintance’s laundry).

So who was it?

Of course, he found out exactly who it was because his washing machine broke in the most comical way possible.

It was barely six in the morning on Saturday, and Eddie was woken up by a loud bang, a yelled “FUCK ME!”, and a surge of electricity. He would’ve been more angry about being woken up if he didn’t run right into Steve when he opened his bedroom door to see what was going on.

“Uh. Hi?”

“Do not ask questions. Do not. But your washing machine is broken.”

“Okay?”

“Is Wayne gonna be home soon?”

“Should be within the hour.”

“Good. Okay. Good. He can fix it. Your favorite Metallica shirt definitely can be saved.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh. It’s eating the clothes? Or trying to. I think I got most of them but the Metallica shirt is really in there.”

“Wait.” Steve?! This whole time is was Steve Harrington doing his laundry? “It’s been you.”

“What?”

“Doing my laundry. I was starting to think it was a leprechaun or something.”

“That’s really stupid. How would a leprechaun even be able to reach the knobs to start the cycle?”

Eddie couldn’t help it, he laughed. Steve was being so serious.

“Oh god, I love you.”

Oh. Wait a second. No. Not that. That’s not what he meant.

Steve’s face was so red, Eddie could swear he felt heat coming off of it even from more than a foot away.

“Um.”

“Sorry. Just. Well I don’t have an explanation for that one.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, it’s okay.”

“Wait.” Eddie was going to make this worse. He had to stop. “I did mean it. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“You love me? You barely know me. I just broke your washing machine and possibly ruined your favorite Metallica shirt.”

“I know you. And those are replaceable things. You’ve been doing my laundry Steve. You’ve brought my favorite beer once a week for months. You let me host Hellfire at your house even though you’ve never played and probably never will. You make us cookies! You let me pick the music in the car. You let me pick movies for movie night even though I know you hate what I pick. You’re at my house before the sun is up washing my dirty clothes in secret so I don’t have to. What’s not to fuckin’ love?”

“I guess…everything else?”

Eddie shook his head. He grabbed Steve’s hand and led him to the washing machine, smirking at the pile of still-wet clothes sitting in the dryer next to it and the Metallica shirt hanging out of the washing machine.

“That washing machine is older than Wayne possibly. You got one at your house, right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Great. Put my stuff in a basket and let’s go to yours.”

Steve kept doing Eddie’s laundry. Every Saturday morning before he had to go to work, he threw their clothes into the washing machine at his house.

Eddie always watched from on top of the machine, giving Steve a kiss on the forehead when he was done.

[sysmedsaresexist]

As someone with OSDD (if I’m right) what’s the worst misinfo about DID that us endos discuss in our spaces? /genq

JCYDJFCYS I love this question, I want my mods to jump in, too, but I'm going to spice it up with the worst misinformation from both sides.

For me, Dude, the worst I've seen in endo circles... is that DID is the same thing as mediumship. This is going to seem like I'm vagueing one of two people, but it's not you two (you'll know who you are). There's actually someone from before them that gave me the worst taste for that discourse, and probably made me a lot more angry about it.

In anti circles, it's got to be that dissociation is solely trauma-based. It's the most fundamental misunderstanding that leaks into everything else

I think those are my two biggest peeves.

-

Mod Quill here to say FFFFFF I HATE MISINFO. Gosh it really is in all the communities, too.

In endogenic spaces, it’s hard for me to decide, but I think it’s the idea that the ToSD is ableist because “it supports final fusion” (which is its own can of worms, which I think Mod Robo might touch on, if my guess is correct). The ToSD doesn’t even fucking mention final fusion get off it. I hear about the ToSD being ableist constantly, and genuinely, it seems like just being medical at all in any way is considered ableist…

Meanwhile, anti-endos? Good lord. The worst misinfo I see is the gatekeeping of trauma. “You can’t develop DID from XYZ” — congrats! You’re a fakeclaimer who doesn’t understand how trauma works. I pray no newly discovered systems find you.

-

Mod Robo here! Oh gosh, what misinfo haven't I seen? I swear I've seen the wildest shit!

Some of the worst stuff from pro-endos was them claiming or implying that CDDs are just the "broken" versions of endogenic plurality. I've seen people claim that DID doesn't require trauma, that the DID diagnosis only exists to stigmatize endogenic plurals, and that CDD systems who use terms like "parts" or "alters" just want to dehumanize ourselves and others.

Around 2019, a pro-endo started spreading a rumor that MPD was renamed to DID in order to stigmatize plurals which is just so horribly incorrect. Multiple dissociative disorders were renamed at the same time to have the word 'dissociation' in them, and it was done by a team of researchers. The pro-endo used the previous DSM chairman's ableism to spread lies and drag innocent DID systems into discourse.

Like mod Quill said, there's been a ton of misinfo from pro-endos over ToSD (theory of structural dissociation). I've seen people claim that it's completely bunk because one of the researchers who worked on it (there were multiple) lost his medical license for abusing a patient. I've also seen pro-endos try to apply ToSD to endogenic plurality and conclude that ToSD must be bunk because it doesn't fit? It just makes no sense to me because the theory was created to explain trauma-related dissociation caused by disorders like PTSD and DID, etc... It has nothing to do with plurality.

I've also seen tooons of horrible shit from pro-endos AND anti-endos about final fusion and fused alters/systems. I've seen people say it's comparable to grooming or suicide, or that these systems are just secretly "pluralphobic" and trying to become singlets. Honestly, the hatred and misinfo I've seen people say about fused systems is some of the worst.

As for anti-endos, I've seen lots of bad misinfo too... One of the worst things is gatekeeping common CDD things based on trauma type. For example, saying that nonhuman alters are only possible in systems who experienced ritual abuse. Other common CDD things I've seen anti-endos say can only happen due to ritual abuse: gatekeeper alters, subsystems, polyfragmentation, alters with number names or color names, switching due to triggers, alters who feel loyal to their abusers, alters that other alters can front through, certain headspace stuff like checkered floor tiles, having a headspace in general, etc.

I could say more but my reply is already longer than both Dude's and Quill's combined. I'll just leave it off here!

-

Mod Signal: I like this ask a lot lol. It shows genuine curiosity and a desire to improve spaces. Misinfo collects like dirt around syscourse. We all have to sweep regularly to make sure that shit gets thrown out.

On the pro-endo side, the worst I've seen is endo systems attempting to lean into the fantasy model of CDDs to support their own plurality. That model has been debunked for quite a while, and it has hurt so many goddamn people. CDDs are trauma-based, we don't have to reverse scientific progress or fakeclaim some of the first cases of recorded CDDs to support endo systems.

On the anti-endo side, my least favorite bit of misinformation is the idea that the TOSD shows how different people's trauma ranks in the trauma Olympics. The idea that someone with polyfragmented DID must have had things worse than an OSDD 1B system who must have had things worse than someone with BPD, etc. The level of dissociation required for each label in the DSM relies on so many more factors than just "who had it worse". There are biological dispositions to dissociation to take into account, there's the reminder that what's traumatic to a child isn't always considered traumatic to an adult, there's attachment styles to take into play. There is so much more to the science than "I had it worse than you and I have the diagnosis to prove it".

--

Everyone is welcome to reblog and add their own. This could be a good learning opportunity for people to go, "wait, that's not true??"

[professional-yearner]

Hey! So now you've put scenes and idea's in my brain, like da brain worms. So I thought to share.

And now I'm thinking of the darling who gets bullied and picked on by the yandere troopers, and they bite and snark and push back, but eventually they're reputation is ruined, their friendship with the yandere's Perfect Beloved is severed, they lose their job and home and possibly their money/savings (slicers are terrifying and don't get enough credit). So they move away, to a whole other system/planet and start a new life. Cut all ties, close any accounts, remove any real way to contact them and go off to somewhere no one would think to look for them (not that anyone would, they believe). Nobody knows them, they don't know anybody, and it's pretty off-the-grid but quiet and peaceful. They rebuild their life, their confidence, and find peace and joy in this simple existence.

Meanwhile, the troopers are... conflicted. They have their Perfect Darling all to themselves, removed the problem, but... they're disappointed when there's no snarky greeting when they visit their Beloved at work and spend the entire shift just hanging around. There's no back-and-forth while they wait for their shift to end and they can take their Perfect Love out on the town or to the barracks or back to their place.

They... well, they miss the other person. What a shocking revelation it is! To miss their rival, the threat, the person they hated. Or, well, thought they hated. The group is confused, until one of them learns the phrase 'puppy love'.

Yes. That's what it was. Just puppy love. They didn't know better, and seeing someone so new and nice and kind and perfect blinded them. Sure, puppy love can bloom into genuine love, but as they watch their Perfect One, they find themselves... disappointed. Uninterested. Their responses are rote, behaviour predictable, there's no fire or spark in their eyes, no flare of emotion beyond kindness and understanding. They're nice, yes, but now that the initial feeling have settled and faded, they find they preferred the more stimulating company of their friend.

The friend they chased off.

What had started out as dislike, hostility, anger, jealousy and even hatred, had morphed into something else without any of their notice. Their cranky, clumsy, funny, earnest little rival that had matched them word for word and insult for insult, and yet had turned around and defended them against bigots and idiots in the same breath.

Their darling little rival, their lovely antagonist, the one they thought was the villain... but was really the victim in all this. They had been too hasty, too cruel, and did not give their daring darling the chance to show that they were the better match. Not their perfect friend.

They tried to find them. Desperate to make amends, to beg forgiveness, to show their wayward darling that they had learned their mistake and wanted, needed, to make up for it. And oh, they would gladly spend the rest of their lives making up for their foolishness, their cruelty, for being so blind as not to see their perfect match in the imperfect one.

But they couldn't find them. They had erased themselves digitally, and whenever they had left they had done so (unknowingly, luckily) when camera's had been down or things deleted or lost or files corrupted. No records, no trace or trail to follow and find them. The troopers despaired, but would not give up. Once the war ended, they would set out and find their beloved.

Perhaps this was a test...? Yes, a test. To show their devotion, and their dedication to righting this wrong. The first step in their atonement, to prove that they were serious. To prove they were worthy of their Darling. The moment the war ended and their brothers had settled, they would set out.

They would hate to keep their darling waiting.

God you're a genius! I love this scenario, I hope you don't mind me using it!

Tw! for: yandere themes, stalking, slight infantilization, past cruelty and bullying, unreliable narrator

Vay's face dropped once more as he watched you from his place across from your apartment window.

"Oh, cyar’ika..."

You had thrown out another one of their notes, looking terrified, tears welling in your eyes as you checked the locks on your door once more.

You never wrote back, no matter how many gifts, heartfelt apologies, and professions of their love he left on your rickety desk.

What? Did you want him to beg? He would! Gladly.

God, he would love being on his knees for you, in any way.

At one time, the thought would have disgusted him. Him? Bowing to scum like you? A gross little whelp who was trying to take his sweetheart from him? But now, he saw you for what you really were. Not blinded by that bitch who had tried to take their attention away from you.

Perfection.

He needed you. They needed you.

Looking back on your snarky remarks had become a fond pastime of theirs. Instead of infuriating, they had shifted into something adorable. Like and angry tooka kitten hissing and spitting when you approached.

Since they had finally found you again, watching you had come to make him anxious every time he was on shift. (Not that he didn't enjoy seeing you, your time together was the highlight of his week!) He just couldn't stand to see what your life had become without them! You went to your little job, then came home, occasionally went out with your idiotic friends (who were in no way fit to be anywhere around you), sometimes even going out by yourself (which gave Vay a heat attack, what would you do without them there to keep you safe?), but that was about it.

You had no real connection, as happy as you made yourself out to be. No one to take care of you, protect you in the way you obviously needed.

It broke the trooper's heart.

Luckily, it wouldn't be long now. They would place themselves back in your life soon enough. They only hadn't sooner to give you time to get used to the idea. They knew their behavior before had been unacceptable and cruel.

Poor thing, they had stung you so badly you felt the need to run away! To test their devotion to you by hiding away on the outer rim. Luckily, they were expert trackers thanks to their search and rescue training.

But honestly, what did you expect? You couldn't ask anyone to let a cute, fiery little thing like you go. No, this had to have been a test, silly girl.

Don't worry, once they get you settled in their new base and off of this dump of a planet, once they deal with your new "friends", you'll never want for anything. Surrounded by the protection and love you so desperately need.

Don't worry, love, they'll take care of all of it.

They'll take care of you 💙