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bitchlessdino · 9 months

Note

Happy 3K Nana 🥳🥳🥳 I hope your celebration has been going well and, your actual vacation is even better.

Noone perceive me. So, because I have no sense of self-preservation, could I please request a drabble featuring ChanCheol. As long as it's smut related in some way, I leave the rest up to you. I'm excited and terrified to see what your brain comes up with.

Pairing: bf!Seungcheol x fem!reader x chan

Genre: smut, slight humor

Word count: 2.8k

tags: mention of infidelity, mentions of fem oral, banter, exhibitionism, vouyerism, body worship, choking, spitting, spanking, fingering, brief biting, blowjob, degradation, praise kink, brief hair pulling, unprotected sex, double penetration, oral fixation, plot twist

Summary: Being caught doing something you shouldn’t do is a big no-no, especially when it causes Chan to come across a 5’10 unit with muscular stature by the name of Seungcheol, your apparent boyfriend.

author note: how fun. my return i bring you a chancheol fic, pls enjoy as much as i enjoyed writing.

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

“You taste like candy.”

His tongue traced your skin as if your sweat was pure concentrated nectar. Your giggles left your lips in a perfect melody, trickling as he made his way down your chest and wrapped them perfectly around the bulb of your nipple.

His moans vibrated off your body. Voice shaking to the point it could’ve been mistaken for weakness, but rather it was the radical opposite. When he replaced the plush felt of his lips to twist you between the pads of his fingers, he splayed effortlessly an intoxicating smile as the words he made left you begging for breath.

“Wanna worship every inch of skin. Fill your pretty pussy to the brim with cum. Make you mine.”

You’d drink every syllable, just as you planned to drink him up.

His bare skin was blistering, burning against yours as your legs hugged his sides. Your digits ran through his hair in fatigued confidence, thumbing over his smooth and flushed cheek. “Promise?” You asked in a sickly sweet voice.

“I’m a very bad liar, but I’m good at a lot of other things.”

You let out a light chuckle before you gripped his hair to meet his needy lips. His body enveloped yours in an overwhelming heat, muzzling your mind with incoherent thoughts. Together you were a symphony of lust, attraction, and animalistic instinct.

That was then a deep voice made itself known at the bedroom door. It boomed like a loud drum, startling your intimate partner and causing him to jump away from you. He covered his naked body with the blanket kicked off to the corner of the bed, tugging you to his side to keep yourselves hidden beneath it.

Now the shake in his voice resembled fear, pupils trembling back at the intruder. “W-who are you?”

“Ask my question first before I answer yours. Having. Fun?”

Chan’s eyes rapidly blinked for Seungcheol’s, barely meeting the other man’s eyes, clutching the fabric as if letting go would mean letting go of his life. He swallowed with effort, giving a prompt nod of his head, hoping desperately it was a good enough response.

“Now, to answer your question. I’m the boyfriend of the girl you’re fucking.”

You could feel the other body stumble behind you, physically processing the information he had just been told. “B-Boyfriend? Boyfriend?!”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol's steel stiff body took one heavy step over the other until towered over your bodies, eyes piercing back at them in a cold, intimidating gaze. “Boyfriend.”

“Look m-man. I’m sorry. For real. There’s no way I could’ve known.”

Your boyfriend snickered. “You think that’s a fucking excuse to be fucking my goddamn girlfriend?”

“No! No. I mean—“

“What’s your name, kid?”

Chan held the blanket closer, tighter, against him. If he was sweating already from the foreplay, he was shooting bullets of nerves down his forehead from fear. “Please, man. I’ll leave.”

“You think you’re better at fucking her than me? You think your cock can do worse damage?” With every word, there was seething venom on the man’s tongue, burning tension in the already charged air.

Chan violently shook his head. “N-no sir, please I didn’t know. I’ll get out of your way.”

“You think I’ll just let you fuck my girlfriend and not want to know who it is she’s fucking?”

“At this point, I just want to go home. I’m not—“ he gulped, “a home wrecker. Not intentionally anyway—“

“Fuck her in front of me.”

Chan blinked, “What?”

Seungcheol slyly grinned. “You heard me. Fuck her like I’m not here. Fuck her like she’s yours.” Your boyfriend veered his eyes on you. “That’s just what you want. Isn’t that right, you little succubus?”

You giggled a cheeky grin on your face, clinging to Chan’s arm as you locked eyes with the other man. “Yes, baby. I want him to bury his cock deep inside me until I’m crying.”

Chan shivered, cock tensing underneath the blanket much closer to its initially aroused state as heat crept the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

“Of course you do,” Seungcheol snickered, “my little slut is always so hungry for attention.” He picked up your chin between his fingers before smoothing his thumb over your jaw. “Ask him. I’m sure he’ll do what you say.”

You turned to Chan with the guide of Seungcheol’s friendly hands cascading over your body like silk drapes, they smoothed over your neck and shoulders delicate but with the weight of a ship anchor cupping a single breast. Chan’s face was overwritten with shock, unsure what part of you to look at. “Chan…” you moaned, like a siren calling to a sailor at sea, the weak helpless sailor being Chan. “Fuck me, please. Fill me to the brim with your cum like you said you would.”

The devil himself let out a shallow breath, the carrot dangling right in front of him. He drew closer to you, hand reaching up to your neck before a digit descended down your neck, “Can I really do that?”

“Of course, you can,” Seungcheol interjected, “Just fuck her like you mean it.” Seungcheol rolled your buds between his finger, eliciting a whimper from within you and your body jerked toward him behind you. “She likes it rough. ‘Enough to leave her sore’ rough. Can you provide? Chan?” He asked him solemnly, the name sounded foreign the way he enunciated it.

“I can,” Chan answered confidently for once, fueled by a festering competitive spirit. “Like I told gorgeous here, I’m a bad liar. I’ll fuck her just how she wants me to.”

“Prove you’re not all talk then.”

A switch was flipped. The hungry gazes on you had doubled and your heart pounding sound enough to be heard through a vast sea. Chan pushed you against the mattress, caressing the shape of your body as if ingraining the image through touch before the pads of his fingers dug into your plush flesh.

You felt the unremorseful spat against your already wet pussy, Chan's fingers running sloppily over your slit as his other hand clashed with your ass. His fingers entered you fast and deep, giving you a taste of what was about to come.

Chan licked his lips at the sight of you, letting his digits push in and out of you as you made those sweet, delectable sounds, looking just as–if not more–delectable yourself. Just like that, his throat was as dry as a drought in a desert, inching closer to your honey-coated folds and panting to your beckoning until he’s atoms away. He held his gaze to you, a hopeful wish in his heart that the image of your pretty cunt never vanishes or fades from memory.

It was then Chan was yanked by his blonde hair. Tugged at the root ,wincing out in annoyed pain, he now sneered back at the man who halted Chan's steps towards the gates of his personal heaven.

Seungcheol slyly grinned back at the bitter-looking individual before forcing his face parallel to his. The elder clicked his tongue as if scolding him, wrapping his fingers tighter around the boy's hair when he felt protest. “You may get to have her, but you don’t get to taste her like I do. Have her anyway but that. She’s still mine.”

Chan muttered some not-so-nice things under his breath before agreeing. He let out a sigh of relief as he was let go, annoyed now more than scared. “Fine, I’ll have no choice but to show no mercy then.”

Chan dragged you by your thighs and pushed himself against the cushion of your ass. You let out a rich moan as you felt him twitch against you. The head of his cock rubbed against the curve of your posterior before it slid through the divide, teasing you until you practically begged him to put it inside you.

His responses to your pleas are anything but generous, only kind enough to sting your bottom cheeks with the flat palms of his hand. “So needy…”

He’s surprised to not hear fits of pain, but rather hearty moans of pleasure, urging more harsher strikes to your body that left you in a raw lust. “You like that? You’ll like this even more.”

Even with the warning, nothing prepares you for fullness from Chan making his presence known. His cock filled you with strain, stretching you to your wits. “Chan…”

“Whining already? I barely put it in.”

The smug in his voice only made you want him more, making you claw at your sheets like an undomesticated pet.

“Excuse her,” Seungcheol entered, “She can act out at times.”

“Then I’ll put her in her place.”

Seungcheol chuckled, counting character points Chan has just gained from his response. “I like the way you think.”

Every thrust had the power of every fully winded stroke of his hand, slamming both your cheeks against the heat of his lap. Your face once buried in your face rose up to the surface by Chan’s vice grip on the column of your neck. The moment he made contact, you could feel the closing of your airways as he compressed around the girth, not once faltering as you swallowed every inch of cock.

Your cheek to his face, he could listen to every choked breath hardly escaping. “Take it. You said you like it rough, didn’t you? Until you cry, right?”

“Y-yes…m-more…”

“He’s fucking you that good?” The glint in your boyfriend's eyes excited you, as well as the permanent grin on his face as he moved dangerously close. “Needy little slut taking a stranger’s dick while I watch? You like that?”

“Yes, baby. He’s fucking me so good. His dick makes me so full.”

“Such a cute thing you are. Just you want until I get my hands on you too. Chan, stretch her mouth open. Warm her up for me.”

You felt another hand creep against your face, tugging you at the corner of your mouth. Through your gags, Chan managed to gradually insert each digit until there none were left. He could feel every finger coat in your thick salvia, plunge deeper as his cock rocked in you faster, heartier.

Meanwhile, your front watched Seungcheol take apart his clothes. Every muscle, every pec, every ab in place and none the other wise. Your voice broke out in anguish as he exposed himself from his trousers, his lengthy cock making an appearance like the star of the show. Your eyes trailed his hand through every stroke, every squeeze, watching as he edged himself in a controlled manner. You wanted to relieve him of that burden, make it so it choked around your throat instead, but you knew you’d get the pleasure soon enough.

“Stay as pretty as you are, little succubus.”

Your boyfriend replaced Chan’s fingers, filling a space that fit what he offered rather cohesively like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. You blinked back your tears, hot moisture running down your face furiously as his cock massaged the inside your mouth and eventually down your throat, hitting you head first.

“That’s it,” he winced, “pretty little mouth taking cock like it’s what you’re made to do.”

He took the back of your head to make you bob on him, the squelching sounds music to his ears.

“That’s so hot,” Chan commented in a breathy speech, “take him deeper.”

You were shaking, being used past your limits, and filled to the brim with cock on both ends. At this point, your eyes could only make out shapes and colors, blurred by your tears and loss of oxygen. The only coherent thought of holding cum inside you running through your mind. Their grunts were your background music, and the praises, and degradation was the melody. You begged through choked sounds as if you were on your last leg, not caring how much in pain you’d be in the aftermath.

“Came twice already and you are begging for more?”

“She’s very greedy. You want us to cum in you, little whore? Can you take being that full?”

Physically speaking, you were sure if you had a straight answer, but mentally, the thought made your stomach churn incredulously. You nodded, echoing every yes you had within you until Seungcheol pulled out of your mouth to hear you more clearly, “What was that? Let me hear that again.”

“C-cum in me,” you said through your heavy, hot sobs, “let me feel every inch of me full of cum, please…”

“I think she really wants it,” Chan teased.

Seungcheol grinned, parting your hair from your face. “Let’s not waste any time then.”

Planted on your side, both men were on either your front or back, taking residency in your walls at uneven paces. Chan pushed himself against your backside, allowing you to imagine the sculpt of his body through touch. He forced you to arch, guiding your body so he could plummet inside the very depth of you, while Seungcheol held up your front.

The heat of your boyfriend's tongue steals your breath along with the energy in his hips. He glued your thigh to his side, gripping you against him as the other man’s leg follows after you, overlapping you. You couldn’t help but feel so wanted, so spoiled, every grateful word in the dictionary. But no one was more grateful than the newcomer who was any second from exploding inside you. “Pussy feels so f-fucking heavenly. Your boyfriend’s so lucky.”

“Yes, I fucking am,” Seungcheol growled, “maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to find pussy almost as precious as my pretty baby here.”

“If I’m only so lucky,” Chan chuckled against your skin, “maybe I need to learn a thing or two from you?”

“Handsome thing like you,” the out of the blue, a hand is on Chan’s ass, “with an ass like this.”

“Likewise,” Chan revealed a toothy grin, “one nice ass to another.”

You could feel Seungcheol’s smile against your lips and a second later, you hear the boisterous sound of skin colliding, urging an abrupt slam of Chan’s hips against your backside. “I like you, kid, maybe I’ll keep you.”

Utter shock ran through the younger man, followed by arousal and a string of cusses. Chan clung to your side, trembling, teeth digging into your shoulder. “Fuck, fuck.”

Eventually, the rhythms find a mutual harmony. Your toes curled helplessly as thick threads of silky white released inside you, the legs of men clamping you down on the bed. You clutched your boyfriend, determined to not spill a drop, but relaxed as the fatigue hit you. They splayed you out once you were finished, joining your side in rest. You looked of bliss, taking in a gust of breath as you relieved yourself. “Wow. Great job, guys. That turned out better than I expected.”

“Yeah, Chan those acting classes really are coming in handy,”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Do you guys always take role-playing this seriously? I’m pretty sure Cheol bruised my ass cheek.”

“And I’ll do it again. You have a nice ass.”

You missed the banter. It was a little foreign to not have it almost the entire time. “And we’re back to reality.”

“I guess I don’t have much to complain about. You both did open the relationship for me. Thank you,” Chan hummed with glee. “Though it really would’ve been nice to have gotten to eat you out. Maybe once some time has passed—“

“In your dreams, twerp,” Seungcheol quickly retorted.

“Oh, I’ll be dreaming of it alright.” Chan nudged your face his way, “I’ll be dreaming of a lot of things I want to do with you.”

“Why dream if I’m here,” you grinned back, “I’m yours too now.”

His fingers ran through your hair adoringly, a cartoonish sparkle in his eye. “You are now, huh?”

Seungcheol thought he’d be jealous but it turned out better than he thought it would. It seemed that everyone was happy, even him, the guy that got the worst end of the deal but what more could he want than the smile on your face looking at him or Chan?

Seungcheol nuzzled closer to you both collectively, his chin hooking in the crook of your neck. “We’re each other’s now. It's new, but I think I like it. I’m glad to hear you both do too.”

Chan looked over at his now boyfriend(?) in gratitude and joined in, sandwiching you in between. “I’m grateful for my first poly relationship if it’s with you both. I think it’d only work if it’s with you two.”

You smiled the hardest you ever had tonight, making an effort to embrace them both, and feel the warmth that radiated off their body keep you warm. “I think we’re gonna work out just fine.”

To be continued…

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maiverie · 11 months

Text

BITE BY BITE ┊ CHAPTER ONE .

in which you’re a vampire, and heeseung teaches you how he likes to be bitten.

SYNOPSIS. lee heeseung has one reputation, and it’s that he’s not afraid of anything: of rules, of authority, and especially not of vampires. he’s obviously bad news, and for such reasons, you’ve always made sure to never cross his path. it isn’t until one fateful night that you find yourselves face to face and what he tells you makes your entire world flip on its axis.

“bite me, fangs. just like last time.”

PAIRING. college playboy!heeseung x vampire fem!reader

GENRES. romance, fantasy, slight thriller

WARNINGS. swearing; blood and violence; mentions of death; descriptive & suggestive (makeout) scenes (no smut); some angst; heeseung is kind of a dick / overly flirtatious at times / slightly toxic (sorry I'm kinda into that)

╰ ( # ) tracking tag ‣ #(—BBB 🔗) ┊ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST! 📌

CHAPTER ONE. ╰ ✩ ┈ 7k ﹕masterlist ﹕ next . ╰ ✩ ┈ warnings : swearing, suggestive scenes, mentions of death ╰ ✩ ┈ a/note : narrative will flit between heeseung & yn's povs

“your son will die early.”

they say the scariest type of people are the ones who have nothing to lose.

“he will die before his twenty-fifth birthday.”

heeseung disagrees.

he thinks those who have everything to lose are far more terrifying.

this was a lesson he learned when he was just twelve years old.

he’s never really believed in fortune tellers, but that hadn’t stopped his parents from impelling him to visit one on his twelfth birthday. that fateful day was the first spark of what would soon become a raging inferno, because it was then and there that a morbid foretelling had been carved into his fate.

“lee heeseung will die from two bites on his neck.”

there are two types of responses to a death curse.

one, wait for your death — wither away with each second that passes, like you’re a candle slowly melting until the flame is swallowed by a pool of liquid wax.

or two, be a fire — be a raging, catastrophic wildfire; one that scorches everything within its proximity and doesn’t wait to be extinguished, but has to be extinguished.

you can wait for death or play it like a game.

heeseung chose the latter.

he constantly plays dice for death.

“are you scared, heeseung?”

heeseung exhaled, his head thrown back as the girl straddled him. his back was pressed into the couch in the living room of his upscale penthouse, a body flushed against his while the two remained engulfed by midnight darkness — precisely how he liked it. in the dark, every sense felt heightened, like how her delicate fingers spread themselves over his neck, and how her mouth was so close to him that her hot breath tickled the sensitive skin below his jaw.

“scared?” heeseung echoed with a twinge of amusement, his tongue coating his lips. he held her hips while she leaned forward and peppered kisses all over his neck. “that’s cute.”

“ah, so it’s not your first time being bitten,” the girl purred. she then glazed her tongue across his neck, indulging in a preliminary taste, like an appetiser before a full-course meal. “i bet you love it then. being bitten, i mean.”

“i guess i do,” he whispered, feeling slightly impatient as he angled his head closer and allowed the sensation of his breath over her ear to make her shiver — “but i love it especially when they stop wasting my time and get to the point.”

his blunt words sliced through the atmosphere so abruptly that the girl seemed to halt in surprise. heeseung thinks it’s amusing that she reacts like this, because he knows he has a callous reputation that precedes him. is she surprised that what most people say about him is right?

he’s never been the type to dance around his words. he’s honest and forthright and as a result, doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he wants just one thing from this girl — nothing more.

“o-okay, sorry,” the girl cleared her throat and licked her lips. she inhaled deeply before opening her mouth wide enough that her fangs began to extend outward. heeseung could feel their sharp tips lightly graze his skin, which roused a flame of exhilaration within him.

he felt his heart begin to pick up and he shifts in his seat, eyes fluttering shut with furrowed brows.

a slow exhale escaped his nose.

two sharp pricks.

one.

two.

crunch.

a soft grunt leaves his lips. the instant he feels his blood surge up through his veins and out his neck, he waits for that surge of euphoria he had experienced a long time ago.

he waits and waits and waits — but nothing happens.

everything within him falls flat and all his anticipation dissipates like smoke in air.

again.

yet again, he’s disappointed.

they say the first bite for a vampire is a slippery slope, because once you have a taste for blood, the hunger becomes insatiable. ravenous. like there’s an unquenchable thirst to devour, and devour, and devour.

heeseung wonders if the same could apply to him.

is it possible for humans to become insatiable?

is it normal that every time he finds himself here, his mind always floats back to that one girl?

he hasn’t been able to rest ever since that very first bite.

in fact, he’s been relentlessly chasing that thrill — chasing her — for years.

it comes with a sigh and a sharp decline of the exhilaration in his veins that heeseung realises tonight is no exception.

tonight is just another unsatisfying bite.

even after four years, he’s still not able to replicate the sensation he had his first time.

while he knows that bite by bite he inches closer to death, he also knows nobody’s bite has ever felt quite as gratifying as yours — you, the girl of his first bite.

tonight is the nail in the coffin.

he needs to find you.

after all, your bite is the only one that’s ever made him feel alive.

your dad always instilled one lesson in you: be relentless.

“hi!” you stepped forward to a fellow college student, your hand outstretched with a flyer. “would you like the chance to win a gift card valued at twenty dollars? i’m looking for study partici—”

the student scowls instantly, openly glaring at you. “get out of the fucking way, leech.”

he shoves past your shoulder, bumping you hard enough that all the flyers in your hands fall and scatter everywhere along the concrete walkway. you stagger back, stunned by the sight of the disarrayed paper sheets on the ground.

second. that was the second time today that had happened. all your life, you’ve tried to come to terms with the fact that humans and vampires might never get along, but being treated this way certainly stung.

being relentless, as it seems, came at the cost of your dignity.

it’s been roughly two hours since you had arrived at your university’s front courtyard, sweltering under the sun in desperation of finding study participants for your course assignment.

so far — nobody.

literally not a single soul.

your genius idea was that you’d be able to take advantage of the booming foot traffic at this time in the afternoon. after all, the courtyard has always been known to be the place students pass in between classes, especially since it’s lavishly embellished with open, wide cement walkways; gorgeous topiaries and flowers; and a stunning view of the main building out front.

it’s your second year as a nursing student and, in a twist of sickening irony, this semester is all about haematology. blood. the lab project you’ve been assigned is simple: you need to gather some study participants, practise your phlebotomy skills, test their blood, and consult them for any blood-borne viruses. the only problem? it’s been about a month since you were assigned this project and you’ve been wildly unsuccessful in recruiting participants.

the reason why is so obvious that it hurts.

nobody in their right mind wants to trust a vampire with their blood.

be relentless, you echoed to yourself with another sigh, collecting the flyers off the ground.

with what little morsels of resilience you could muster, you stood back up and plastered a polite smile on your face, making quick strides to a pair of girls who were chatting under a large tree. they looked friendly, so you felt a hopeful shine to your lips as the edges tugged upwards.

“hi!” you beamed with a sunny grin, “my name is—”

“go gargle some garlic, fuck-face.” they sneered at you, slamming the flyers out of your hands.

the flyers once again spatter everywhere on the grass, on which the girls are sure to trample over as they storm off.

great.

you’re fucked.

there’s no way you’re going to be able to start this project, let alone finish it with a passing grade.

you know the optics of your situation are a little strange, but you really do care about nursing. yes, it’s ironic and ridiculous for a vampire to have anything to do with healthcare, but most things about you were a little ironic anyway.

you’re the daughter of an eminent vampire and a blood descendant of hundreds of generations — with your inauguration coming up in two months, you were going to be formally recognised as the inheritor of your father’s legacy and fortune. this was supposed to be a prerogative of being the great park kangho’s daughter, but it felt more like a ball and chain to a predetermined future you wanted no part of.

it was all sunghoon’s fault — had your estranged brother not run away from the family like a coward, you wouldn’t be in this situation. it would have been his inauguration.

you know it’s weird that you don’t want anything to do with this, but heck — you barely understood how to be a vampire in the first place. you haven’t even had your first bite yet. it’s strange and a little embarrassing that you’re the first vampire of your family lineage to be scared of biting into a human, but you couldn’t help it — the thought was terrifying and has always been ever since you were a child.

this fear dates back to when you were twelve and a rumor had lingered around your classmates before it finally reached you. apparently, there was once a vampire who bit into the wrong human and died.

it was unprecedented: vampires were always the predator and humans the prey, which explained your utter horror when the rumor turned out to be true.

and it turned out to be about your mother.

since then, you’ve lived your life scared in the shadows, puppeteered by trepidation and the looming fear that you might meet the same fate one day. as you’ve learned, being the one who bites doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the one who doesn’t get hurt.

in this world, there are fish and there are snakes — people who bite bait and find themselves reeled in, and people who bite with the intention of injecting their venom.

they both bite, but just one survives.

frankly, you didn’t want to be either. and perhaps it was these things — a college degree and your new part-time job — that would save you from having to follow your father’s footsteps.

was it so bad to want to pass this semester?

was it so bad to dream beyond the future set out for you?

you sigh with dejection, unable to withstand the way your shoulders slump.

you run your fingers through your hair, freezing when your eyes flit into the distance and something catches your eye.

lee heeseung is seated at one of the bench tables. there’s a crowd of people swarming around him — there almost always is — and he has one elbow propped up on the table, palm up with his chin rested on it. his gaze is initially trained ahead of him while he engages in a conversation with one of his friends, until suddenly — his eyes flick upward and you both lock gazes from across the courtyard.

your heart slows into a halt at the sight of his penetrating gaze, a complete coldness sweeping over your body to keep you frozen.

shit.

you quickly tear your eyes away from him, feeling your heart begin to pick up.

shit.

if there’s one person in the world your father has always warned you about, it’s lee heeseung.

campus heartthrob, lee heeseung.

son of your dad’s most loathed enemy, lee heeseung.

chaos and fire in one pretty package, lee heeseung.

undeniably, devilishly handsome lee heeseung with silver, almost lavender locks and big, brown bambi-like eyes that looked far more innocent than they actually were.

your accidental eye contact was a cruel mistake, because it has now become the catalyst that prompted him to stand and slowly make his way over to you. you felt goosebumps across your skin as you hurriedly tried to gather the flyers in your arms, hoping to make your escape before he reaches you.

after all, heeseung is, for lack of better words — a snake.

granted, you’ve only spoken to him once in your life, but the whispers of everybody around you seemed to suggest you were lucky.

as the youngest son of his already notorious family, lee heeseung has the most infamous name in your college, one which induces a mix of both intimidation and intrigue. he has one reputation, and it’s that he’s not afraid of anything: of rules, of authority, and especially not of vampires. his repertoire consists of constant partying, illicit affairs, and a penchant for breaking girls’ hearts and collecting vampires’ bites.

he turned heads in every room he walked and based on the fleeting moments you’d seen him in the flesh, had an aura that was inexplicably captivating. there was a reason why he never struggled in finding company wherever he went — most people found his confidence extremely attractive.

the worst rumor you’d heard was that he had some sort of obsession with being bitten. and that he’d dismiss people at the drop of a hat once he got what he wanted. you couldn’t think of anything worse than being involved with such a callous guy, which would explain the utter dread you felt when you saw his shadow hovering over your crouched body.

shit.

you gulp, feeling like cornered prey.

most people agree that he’s all types of bad news — that he’s a fire who easily burns anyone dumb enough to get close — yet he attracts people like moths to a flame.

a flame.

you were going to make sure you did whatever it took to not get burned.

it’s obvious you don’t remember him.

heeseung thinks it’s kind of funny, actually — because most people are so well-acquainted with his name that when they meet him for the first time, they act as though they’ve known him for years.

but you don’t seem to remember him at all.

nothing about you seems to indicate that you recall that night you two had first met, about four years ago under a willow tree on a cliff that overlooked the city.

you bit him that day.

while this is a memory vividly engraved in his mind, he thinks the fact you had fainted afterwards must be a contributing factor to your amnesia.

“a twenty-dollar gift card?” he chuckles, eyes raking over one of the flyers from the pile he helps you pick up off the ground. “sounds fun.”

when he looks up and the two of you stand facing each other properly, heeseung gets the first glimpse of the subtle scarlet glow in your eyes for the first time in years. at once, everything within him ignites like fireworks — he feels excitement expand the walls of his veins while his heart drums with an echo, especially when you stare back at him and your proximity allows your familiar scent to flood his senses.

he can’t help but lick his lips as his mind flits back to that night and the ecstasy you gave him with just one bite.

the willow tree. your hair. your hands. your fangs.

shit. you’re even cuter than you were back then.

heeseung has always had a habit of chasing pleasure.

it’s safe to say he’s decided that you’ll be his next chase.

“uh, thanks,” you whisper, watching him pick up the last of your flyers. he also notices the empty sign up sheet on the ground, so he adds that to the top of the pile before holding it out for you to take.

when you take the flyers from him, he senses your hesitation, which makes it obvious that you probably don’t have the best impression of him. it’s fine; he can easily change that. “your study sounds interesting,” heeseung flashes you the charming smile and moon-crescent eyes that most people seemed to fall for.

unfortunately, it has the opposite effect. you don’t do a great job at hiding your grimace, because it’s there in your eyes and in the way your lips slightly dip. you’re suspicious of him. he can’t blame you — after all, he just watched you get shut down and sneered at by several people for half an hour.

that, and the fact that unflattering rumors seem to follow him wherever he goes.

“not many people seem to think so,” you clear your throat, gnawing on your lips. his eyes trickle down the length of your hair as he notes all the different ways you’ve changed since you last came face to face. “but anyway, thanks again for picking up my flyers.”

“no worries,” heeseung tilts his head with a calm expression, though his lips twitch upward when he sees you tuck your lip between your teeth.

noted. you’ve done that twice now.

once is an action and twice is a habit.

“so where can i sign up?”

“oh, uh — i-i don’t think it’s really your thing,” you let out a breathy chuckle, diverting your eyes.

“how would you know what is and isn’t my thing?” he steps forward, lowering his head slightly so that you meet his gaze. he has to say that he loves the way you stare back at him — eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and wariness, and even the way you shuffle back in an attempt at creating distance.

“just an educated guess,” you gulp, hugging your flyers closer to your chest. “you don’t really seem like the type and i wouldn’t want to bore you,” your eyes narrow at him.

“you could never bore me,” heeseung counters, the edges of his lips curling into a small grin. “besides, i’m super interested in haematology.”

haematology… getting bitten by pretty girls… same thing.

he watches your brows slowly furrow. you shuffle back again and he stifles a laugh. frankly, the way you keep drawing the line between the two of you makes this interaction all the more entertaining.

you appear to contemplate your next words before staring right back up at him with a certain ferocity that makes his chest squeeze with excitement. “actually, i have enough participants already. the study’s full,” you forced a tight smile, “sorry.”

ha.

you liar.

you act as though heeseung didn’t just watch you get rejected by half the campus.

“wow, what a shame,” he shakes his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “i really wanted that gift card.”

“aw, that sucks! so disappointing!” you comically pout, feigning regret with a solemn shake of the head. “i guess you’re just going to have to pay like a normal person.”

“i guess so,” he chuckled, “maybe i’ll pay with this empty sign up sheet.” he leans forward and swipes the topmost piece of paper from the pile in your arms, holding it up for you to see.

your smile instantly drops. you stare at him in horror as you snatch the paper from him, scrunching it up into a ball. “th-this was a second sheet!”

heeseung can’t help that a smirk slithers to his lips because he finds this irony amusing — you seem slightly disgusted by him, but his mind runs with relentless thoughts of you like he’s a hamster on a wheel.

you don’t remember him.

perhaps he has to make you remember him.

“it’s okay,” he exhales with his nose, grinning while he looks you up and down, “it was just an excuse to talk to you anyway,” he leaned in with a playfully raised brow, “maybe even take you out on a date.”

he wants to laugh out loud when your face drops into a disgusted expression. you’re almost sneering at him with the way your lips contort into a scowl. he wasn’t serious, but he loves to watch the animation in all your reactions.

it’s entertaining.

it’s cute.

“um, no thanks,” you scoff, backing away with a few slow steps. heeseung straightens his back, watching you hold your hands up as the distance between the two of you widens within seconds.

“oh, wow, um look at the time!” you quickly check your watch and nervously chuckle. “sorry i-i gotta go! my — uh, dog just died so yeah, bye!”

heeseung attempts to withstand laughing as you twist on your heels and bolt, running as though your life depends on it. you cast just one cursory glance over your shoulder before you disappear from his sight completely, leaving behind a flyer on the ground.

it should hurt his pride that you’re the first girl to turn him down in such an abrupt manner, but he knows time is on his side.

after all, things have a way of working out for him.

he has the cheese.

he has the trap.

he just needs to wait for you to bite.

“do you want to work overtime?”

your honest answer is no.

your even more honest answer is absolutely the fuck no.

however, your lips are suddenly bobbing up and down like a marionette and you find yourself agreeing to another two hours of what you consider hell on earth.

as it appears, applying for a new job as a bartender in one of the city’s most bustling nightclubs is the latest addition to your library of horrible mistakes.

decelis is supposedly the best nightclub in the city.

objectively, you can see why it’s so popular among college students. the establishment itself boasted of three storeys plus a rooftop, with an exquisite bar on each level. the atmosphere here is undeniably electrifying, and if you weren’t so painfully sober, perhaps you’d be able to appreciate that.

ironically, clubbing has never really been your thing.

how could it, when party music is currently resounding in your ears; flashing neon lights are searing your eyes; and sweaty, gross bodies are screaming various drink orders at you from every direction imaginable?

you wouldn’t normally be caught dead in a place like this, but you were desperate for a job. it was just last week that you had waltzed into the club and slipped them your résumé. you honestly weren’t expecting to get the job, but it was an offer you couldn’t refuse when they handed it to you.

because if you wanted any chance of escaping the web in which you were entrapped, you needed to know you’d be able to fend for yourself.

but as one can imagine, bartending is fast-paced and demanding.

you thought it would be exciting to work with a backdrop of party music and led lights, but your first two shifts were dreadful. you learned over a hundred different recipes, cleaned up vomit five times, skipped your lunch break both days, and found your brain rattling in your skull to the beat of jay park’s music when you stumbled home at five am.

while your coworkers are utterly lovely and you had unbridled access to free alcohol, such things weren’t enough to offset possibly the worst part of the job — the drunk customers.

“fuck, you’re cute as hell,” the boy drunkenly exclaimed from across the bar benchtop, while you watched him struggle to keep himself erect on his feet.

“thanks. so is that cash or card?” you stared, a hand hovering over the cash register and the other cradling the eftpos machine.

“are you a vampy?” he ignored your question, his chortle punctured by a few hiccups.

you slammed your eyes shut in irritation, regretting the overtime already. the penalty rate wasn’t worth it, because if there’s one thing you detest the most, it’s being called vampy.

nevertheless, you force your lips to curl into a courteous smile, though your stare hollowed like pitless voids. “if you’re asking if i’m a vampire, then yes.”

“that’s hot,” he chuckles, slipping on his feet but managing to use the bench to catch his fall. “i mean, hella scary — but still really hot.”

“sir, for the love of god, please tell me if you’d prefer to pay with cash or card,” your jaw clenched while your resolve began to chip away.

“sir?” the boy gasped incredulously, offended by your implication. “what am i? a fifty-year-old man?”

you sure as fuck act like one. you exhaled, containing yourself. “okay, my apologies. so is it cash or card?” you grit your teeth, fantasising about climbing over the bar and strangling the life out of the guy.

“oh, just put it on the tab,” he dismisses you with a lazy wave of his hand, then snatches the glass from the bench before sculling its contents in a swift movement. “lee heeseung’s tab.”

of course.

why did you even bother to ask? more than half of the people you’ve served tonight have been stacking their orders on that guy’s tab. perhaps this is why you’ve been having such a shit shift — every second order you take is a horrible reminder of your interaction with the boy from earlier today — which, for the record — is something you desperately wish to forget.

‘maybe even take you out on a date.’

that crazy bastard.

was that supposed to be a stupid joke?

the animosity between your two families has always been obvious — and barring today, he’s never approached you and vice versa. you thought it was an unspoken mutual agreement.

sure, there have been times you’ve caught his gaze on campus or at mutual events, but that was it — today was the only time he’d gone out of his way to speak to you. this is the reason why you found it so fishy — there has to be something he wants from you, though you can’t quite put your finger on what that might be.

the only time you’d ever interacted with lee heeseung before today was a strange occurrence you recall back in high school, when you had woken in the nursing infirmary and he was sitting beside you with his head resting on your bed.

these two experiences make you feel the exact same way: like his gaze has a tendency to shoot right through you as if he could read you like an open book. you hate that. you hate his penetrating gaze and his boundless arsenal of smirks and smiles and the way he carried himself like he always had the upper hand.

whatever.

hoping to rid yourself of these thoughts, you quickly shake your head and divert your attention back to your job.

half an hour passes as you continually hustle behind the bar, attending as many orders as you can. you work as though you have four hands — sprinting around along the circular bar while people shout their orders at you.

eight tequila shots.

three vodka raspberries.

two cosmopolitans.

five apple ciders.

it isn’t too long before your coworker, yunjin, taps you on the shoulder and offers to replace you while you run off for your shift break.

you quickly thank her and rush to the other, quieter side of the bar, but in the midst of removing the apron from your uniform, you hear a voice suddenly ring.

“is the sign up sheet for a drink also full, too?”

you instantly yelp, jumping in fright from the sudden voice. you snap your head toward its direction, where heeseung is leaning over the counter, smirking at you.

what the actual hell?

you almost feel a little winded at the sight of him. frankly, it’s only been a few hours since you’d last seen him, but he looks like a completely different person when he’s all dressed up for the club.

what replaces his usually clean and casual style is something that exudes confidence and suave charisma. even you find it difficult to deny that he looks as alluring as most people claim. tonight, he’s wearing a black button up top that accentuates his wild shoulders. you notice the first few buttons are unfastened and left open to showcase his pretty neckline and the silver chain around his neck, which glints in the dim lighting. he has half of his silver hair slicked back, the other half swept forward and hanging over his forehead.

he’s gorgeous, you think, and it almost makes your blood boil.

“i only ask because the sign up sheet to stare is full,” he cracks open a smirk at your deadpanned expression. “but i guess i could make an exception for you.”

“you’re following me.”

“actually, i’m a regular here,” he smiles, nudging his chin behind you. your gaze follows his direction and you see a picture of him and his friends hanging from the wall. not exactly a flex that he’s a frequent clubgoer, but he certainly proved his point.

“fine,” you huff in concession. “good for you,” you say sarcastically, reaching down to scoop your bag up in your hands from the lower shelves just behind the counter.

“before you leave, my go-to is whiskey on the rocks,” he smiles, propping his elbow up so that his cheek can rest on his palm. “i don’t think the owners would be very happy to see a regular leave… unsatisfied.”

you pressed your lips together, turning your head over your shoulder to see poor yunjin struggling to keep herself afloat, inundated with orders. you sigh, begrudgingly placing your bag back down so that you could pour him a glass.

“look,” you yank the most expensive whiskey bottle from the shelf and pour it into a glass, hoping the total price of his bar tab knocks his ego down a peg or two. as you place a few ice cubes in it and slide it over to him, you pin him down with a dark glare and an ugly frown. “i don’t know what the hell it is you want from me, but i’m not buying your act.”

“what act?” he smirked in amusement, taking a sip of the drink you handed him.

“the whole i’m interested in haematology act,” you scoff, too exhausted from your shift to tip-toe around the topic. “look, i’m not interested, okay?” you run your hand through your hair and sigh loudly. “i’m sure you’re a nice guy,” you almost gag on air when you say this, “but you’re just not my type.”

“then what’s your type?”

“i don’t know; guys that don’t creep me out?” you hiss, frankly surprised by your own hostility. you hadn’t planned to be so forthright with your words, but frankly, you were too exhausted to care. heeseung doesn’t creep you out per se — but you knew guys like him only have selfish intentions.

they needed to fought with fire.

heeseung doesn’t say anything when you throw your bag over your shoulder and stamp away from the bar, and you don’t even bother to cast him a final glance.

however, you’re only able to make it halfway to the exit before you realise you had left your phone behind.

crap.

there’s a moment of hesitation before you decide to go back, because there’s nothing more embarrassing than having to backtrack a dramatic exit.

nevertheless, you begrudgingly twist on your heels and make the shameful journey back, noticing as you near the bar that heeseung is no longer where he had been sitting earlier. the glass you’d poured for him still remains on the counter, but in a matter of seconds, you suddenly see a girl slide into his old seat.

huh.

circumventing the crowd in the middle, you find your way back to the bar and retrieve your phone. as the design of the circular bar allows you to conceal yourself behind the middle pillar, she doesn’t seem to notice you as you watch her through a blind spot mirror on the roof.

you don’t understand the compulsion within yourself, but you allow yourself a minute or two to observe her.

you stare at her big eyes, her medium cut layered hair and the blunt bangs across her face. she looks familiar, you think to yourself, halting once you see her glance over her own shoulders suspiciously.

you watch carefully as she does one last eye sweep of her surroundings before retrieving a small paper packet from her handbag.

what the heck is she doing?

you stare with a confused frown, eyes slowly widening as you watch her rip the packet open and pour its contents into heeseung’s drink.

she then dips her finger into the glass and swirls it around.

and just like that, the powder dissolves colourlessly and it almost appears as though heeseung’s drink has been untouched.

your heart shoots down your feet when you realise what she’s done.

she’s spiked his drink.

the adrenaline allows you to cast everything aside — your long-awaited break, your animosity with heeseung, and even your bag.

because within milliseconds, the girl springs to her feet and re-enters the dancing floor while you struggle to tail her, losing her amidst the sea of bodies.

fuck!

fuck. fuck. fuck.

you quickly exit the bar and follow her steps the best you can, though it’s difficult when the lights are low enough that everybody blends into a vague swarm of heads and bodies. she has dark hair, but so do half the people here. her frame and height are small, which makes it all the more difficult to locate her. every time you think you recognise her, you realise you’d been pursuing the wrong culprit.

everybody in the crowd is shoving you in all different directions.

she’s nowhere to be found.

and you can’t seem to find heeseung, either.

shit.

when you feel yourself enter a swivet of panic, you tell yourself to do the most rational thing — grab your phone and call for help. unfortunately, the sheer volume of club music resounding around you makes it difficult for yunjin to hear you on the other side of the call.

thus, you force your way to the outskirts of the club where your voice is more audible, but it’s only here that you finally look up and spot heeseung climbing the stairs to the second storey.

there he is!

you immediately hang up on the call and thrust your way through people in the direction of the stairs, eyes widening with alarm when you see the girl trail behind heeseung, the drink in her hand. the pair eventually reach the height of the stairs and the second storey, prompting you to yell out his name as loud as you can.

“lee heeseung!” you call, but in a similar fashion to your phone call — the music drowns out your voice. you scramble now, sprinting your way up the stairs while screaming his name loud enough that he finally stops in his tracks.

“heeseung!” you pant for a breath, settling your feet on the second level while you leaned forward over your knees. “w-wait—”

“who are you?” the girl asks, so you snap your head up and sneer at her.

you stomp over toward her and attempt to grab the glass from her, but unfortunately her grip is equally as strong.

for a few seconds, the two of you engage in a tug of war.

“wh-what the heck?” the girl shrieks loudly, “what the fuck are you—”

you’re both struggling for the glass, pulling it in your own directions.

it isn’t until you tug a little too hard that her grip suddenly loosens.

the cup flies in your direction and tilts toward you an—

splash!

you freeze, gasping at the sensation of cold liquid running down your chest.

no no no no no no no no—

you look down at your uniform and wince at the sight.

fuck.

liquid is trickling down your chest and legs and pooling at the bottom of your shoes.

fucking fantastic.

you throw your head back and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes in frustration before slamming them back open.

“i quit. i officially quit,” you mutter aloud, scoffing in disbelief to yourself. with the glass in one hand, you use your free hand to fruitlessly swipe at your uniform in order to flick off whatever remnants you can, though unfortunately the liquid has already saturated your clothes.

passerbys murmur and gawk at the sight of you, causing immense heat to flood your face and ears while you lower your head in humiliation. this is so embarrassing, you think to yourself, desperately wishing to remove yourself from the scene.

while you turn around to leave, you suddenly halt in your tracks and find yourself committing to one more stupid idea.

you storm over toward the pair and grab heeseung’s wrist, yanking him with you as you stomp your way to the backrooms.

“i saw her spike your drink,” is the first thing you say when you shut the door behind yourself, and the two of you find yourselves inside one of the empty vip rooms.

you’re encased by four padded walls in a dimly lit room, on which colourful flashes of light dance and flicker all thanks to the led projector on the ceiling.

there’s an entertainment centre and a tv screen on one end of the spacious room, while a circular table and a couch that perfectly circles around its perimeter is on the other side. you storm over and slam the glass down on the table, harshly throwing your bottom onto the couch while you knot your arms across your chest.

“she poured something in that,” you point to the remaining drink in the glass, glaring up at him, “i saw her.”

heeseung is silent for a moment while he watches you. he briefly tears his gaze from yours to observe his surroundings before facing you again, both brows raised slightly. “wow, you smell great.”

his eyes flicker to your soaked shirt. “but you look better than you smell.”

“you—” you scoff, slamming your hand down on the table in frustration. “you ungrateful piece of shit!”

he immediately stifles a laugh, biting his bottom lip to refrain his grin from growing any wider. “i-i’m sorry?”

“i was trying to help you!” you exclaim incredulously, springing to your feet as you furiously storm over to him. “did you not hear what i just said? i said she spiked your drink! do you not understand what that means? for all you know, you could have been poisoned! i was trying to save you!”

momentary silence engulfs the two of you after your outburst. the silence is sobering, if you’re going to be honest. after all, you feel immediate regret trickle in, but before you can backtrack, heeseung tilts his head and watches you with a calm gaze.

“save?” he echoed while a smirk slithered to his lips, and another important realisation strikes you like a rock to the head.

perhaps you should have just let him die.

“now look at me,” you throw your hands in the air, scoffing again in disbelief. “i’m drenched in whiskey, god—” you openly gag, “this is disgusting! the least you can say is thank you.”

“you want me to thank you?” he raised a brow.

“well, you could have died; i practically saved your life,” perhaps this was a hyperbole, but you were feeling petty — he didn’t look as shaken up as you did. frankly, you were beginning to think you cared more about his safety than he did.

“see, you’re mistaken,” heeseung took a step toward you, causing you to step back. he kept advancing toward you, closing the distance, until you felt your back softly hit one of the walls.

shit.

having heeseung in such an uncomfortable proximity made you want to shrink into a ball.

“wh-what?”

“i said, you’re mistaken,” you saw his eyes glint with amusement as he placed an arm against the wall beside your head, using it as an anchor while he leaned in closer, your faces now inches apart. you gulp, warmth crawling up your neck and into your cheeks from the sheer proximity and sensation of his hot breath grazing your face.

“i think it’s cute that you’re worried about me,” you watched as the edges of his lips curled before his eyes landed below your nose. you froze when his fingers were on your chin, lightly gripping it so that he could get a better view of your lips. “but like i said, i don’t need saving.”

“you’re right,” you smiled sarcastically, slapping his fingers away from your chin, “maybe i should have just let her poison you. or sedate you and sell your organs to the black market. do you have a preference for how you’d like to die?”

“don’t worry,” he whispered to you, voice so low and ghostly quiet you thought you could feel it sweep right through you. “i already know how and when i’m going to die, so don’t bother trying to save me.”

his words struck you.

you frowned in confusion, unable to decipher the cryptic meaning behind them.

heeseung smiled at your reaction, leaning into your ear so that his warm voice sunk into your ears like honey. “in fact, do something else for me instead.”

you froze, eyes flickering to the bare skin of his neck, on which you see old scar marks that appear like vampire bites.

you quickly place a hand on his chest to push him away, but this contact only seemed to encourage him — instead, he gently grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his waist.

“bite me,” he whispers alluringly, “i bet you want blood more than anyone else.”

your face dropped as his scent overwhelmed your senses.

something musky. woody. a hint of floral.

and a hint of blood.

you felt your eyes drop and your stomach churn, because for the first time, you feel something within you — a gnawing sensation.

an ache. an itch. an urge.

a hunger, even.

“w-wait…” you blurted, feeling a little lightheaded while your heart left a hammering echo inside your chest. you swallowed and swallowed but your mouth felt drier than ever.

“if you’re going to save me,” he exhaled. “then just bite me, fangs,” heeseung lured you in with a soft voice.

he then leaned in close enough that his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your ear.

“just like last time.”

A/N. well that escalated quickly 🤠 n e ways I literally had so much fun writing this chapter (sorry i cbfd proof reading lel) bc this is my first vampire au. also my first playboy au so BE NICE PLS DONT TEAR ME TO SHREDS LMFAOOO 😭 anyway words cannot even describe how excited I am for this fic - I've been craving the thought of writing smh a lil more actiony/thrilling than my usual romcom repertoire SO. I hope u r strapping urself in for a riiiiiiide >:) anyways aaaa tysm for reading && I hope u guys enjoyed the first chap!! sorry for all the long text but i promise the groundwork is necessary for the future shitshow in upcoming chapters SO. 🫡

likes, rbs & feedback are always appreciated! :) ╰ ✩ ┈ masterlist // next chapter .

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nogenderbee · 6 months

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DAMN FINALLY REQUEST ARE OPEN!! Can I get the Astral Express crew with an extremely fatigue reader? I'm also really fatigue and I even struggle with going from point A to point B even if its like from my room to the kitchen.

Omg yes!!! So happy to do some Star Rail for a change!! Also help why do I relate- Like I'm trying to do silly little PJSK dances so my condition won't be this bad but omg it's still not great... But here it is! Hope you like it vodka <3

Also sorry for Himeko and Welt being a bit shorter-

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ March, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt with fatigue!reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff but can be read as platonic too!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @miya-akane (not tagging you since you'll get notification either way)

✧ I feel like March would somehow relate to your problem... I know she had LOTS of energy in game but just listen to me!!

✧ she's not necessarily fatigue but she is a bit lazy after long adventure where walking around Express can be hard for her

✧ so she'll never make you walk and let you sit down whenever you need! If you're with others, she'll offer to wait for you even if they prefer to keep walking for whatever reason

✧ she also rambles or keeps the conversation going so you can forget about tiredness a bit and so the time passes quicker

✧ if you were getting into trouble by your condition, she definitely did protests-

✧ anyway, if you want to get your condition up, she definitely knows a lot of fun ways and will do her best to help you find something for you!

✧ when both of you are after adventure, you may as well be sitting in the same room, refusing to go out so someone has to bring you food so you won't starve yourselves-

"C'mon it's finally time to take a break from all this walking! I'm sure others can wait and we get to talk a bit more~"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Dan Heng wad actually a bit mean the first time you felt too tired to walk...

✧ he'd complain that you're slow and that you're just slacking him down but he quickly feels bad and depending on how close you are, he either offers to sit down for a bit or to carry you for a while!

✧ but don't get used to being carried as he'll do it for 5 minutes max and then he puts you back down so you can walk by yourself

✧ he's definitely getting softer as the time passes tho!

✧ he'd try to drag you out of your room as much as possible so you can get your condition up but if you're stubborn person and simply refuse to, he'll eventually give up

✧ definitely tried convincing you to get out with things like "if you won't get out you won't get dinner" but if you won't get out, he'll bring dinner to you in the end because he doesn't want you to starve...

✧ even tho you prefer to stay indoors, he won't usually stay with you as he does have to walk around as Trabilazer so there's a high chance of him not being by your side most of the time...

"C'mon hurry up already. I carried you literally 5 seconds ago, you can walk for at least 2 minutes..."

Why he so mean idk ToT he just seems like that

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Himeko would actually be caring towards you!! She'd try her best to understand if you don't want to move much

✧ she stays in Express for most of the time herself so she'll most likely be around you when others are gone exploring and so

✧ has no problem bringing you food, she just wants to make sure you stay healthy!

✧ but she does try to get your condition up by encouraging you to at least take small walk around Express with her and may even offer you your favorite sweet as treat for doing good job!

✧ she honestly is the type to not care much as long as you stay happy and healthy

✧ she often stays in the Express but if you'd want to go on adventure, she'll be more than happy to go with you!

✧ she's pretty supportive during it too, maybe she won't necessarily carry you but she sits down along you whenever you feel like taking a little break

"Hey, since others are gone walking around Jarilo VI, how about we take a small walk?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Welt would most likely scold you for not taking care of yourself and explain how it's important for you to move at least once a day and so

✧ he'll still bring you food tho! Just be prepared for small scolding every time he enters...

✧ definitely tried getting you out of your room and even on expeditions by suggesting going to your favorite cafe on the way or so

✧ if he does manage to get you out for adventure, his scolding actually stops and he's pretty supportive!

✧ he'll let you rest whenever you need and even often drop some "I'm proud of you"s since he sees you're trying your best

✧ trust me when I say he'd love to carry you to help you out but I feel like he has a back of old men so he can't-

✧ instead he'll sit down with you whenever you need and maybe bring you some water or so to calm down

"You're doing a good job, don't give it up, alright? It's alright to take a break so ask for it whenever you need."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

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drtanner · 2 months

Text

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

#Tanner talks #long post

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runningfrom2am · 10 months

Note

Hiii if it’s okay, can I request a jj x pogue!reader? Where they are in a secret relationship.. but right before a kegger they get into a fight and ignore each other, then a girl starts flirting with jj and he fake flirts back to make the Pogues not suspicious about your relationship but reader gets insecure and thinks jj is honest with his flirting and she gets upset, walks away idk, you can think of the ending haha hope this makes sense 😊

okay YES i love this so much omg.

tysm for sending this to me! i'm honoured that you trusted me with this and i hope it's what you pictured!

requests are open! send me something here.

join my taglist here

proving a point - (j.m)

pairing: jj x pogue!reader

warnings/tags: strong language, alcohol consumption/abuse, established (secret) relationship, that's p much it??

wc: 1.9k

"Christ, JJ! Since when do you give a shit how much I drink? At an actual party?" You yell, dropping your hands from where they were rubbing the sides of your head in frustration.

"Since I had to drag you out of the driver's seat of your shitty car that's hardly drivable in the best of times! Fuck, like, I just don't want you to kill yourself or get arrested if I'm not babysitting you for five fucking seconds! I don't think I'm being crazy, here!" Your boyfriend shouts back, leaving you both staring at each other in his messy and quiet living room.

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest. "Why's it matter to you so much anyways? Not like we have any points to prove, right? God forbid we show our friends we care about each other- that we love each other. That would just be too much, wouldn't it?"

JJ rolls his eyes, taking off his hat and turning it back the way he always does when he's about to do something risky, in the way that usually makes your heart skip a beat. This time it just makes your anger spike. "You're right. Fuck it. I'll mind my business, you black out and drive into a tree. Hit another car and kill the driver. See if I give a fuck."

"I'm not gonna drive to the boneyard, JJ. You're so fucking dense sometimes- seriously! John B is driving all of us, do you actually think I'm stupid enough to steal the Twinkie?" You retort, gesturing with one arm in the general direction of where John B's house is.

"Sometimes, yeah!" JJ laughs dryly, nodding at you.

"Oh, right. Gotcha." You nod sarcastically. "Is that why we can't tell them? Are you embarrassed because your girlfriend is stupid and gets drunk at parties? Please- I'd love to know."

"That's not why and you know it, Y/N." JJ rolls his eyes, pacing the living room now.

"Whatever you say. I'll see you tonight." You mumble, heading for the door and slamming it behind you.

You trudge your way out to your car and drive off, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He didn't mean that. He couldn't have.

By the time John B arrives with the rest of your friends to pick you up on the way to the boneyard, you've managed to down three drinks to get a good buzz going before you have to see JJ again. Putting on your brave face as you close your front door behind you, you smile as you approach the van, and the back door slides open, revealing Pope and Kie in the back.

"Y/N!" Kie grins, moving over to give you some room.

"Hey, guys!" You smile, closing the door behind you as John B is already peeling out. You steady the drink in your hand, making very brief eye contact with JJ over his shoulder in the passenger seat. His eyes landing on the drink in your hand don't go unnoticed as Kie and Pope continue the conversation you were assuming they were having before you jumped in.

It isn't long after you arrive that there are kids from all over the island at the kegger, sharing drinks and yelling listening to distant music with a big bonfire raging on the sand. You sway a little with your arm placed over Kie's shoulder, both trying to steady yourselves as you talk with some other pogues you don't see very often between everyone's busy work schedules.

"Hey, wait, you guys are close with Maybank, right?" The blonde girl standing in front of you asks, attempting to whisper but the alcohol in all of your systems is preventing it.

"Yeah." You nod, looking around for him, spotting him by the fire.

"Is he single still?" She asks, and you try to suppress a laugh. Luckily, Kie isn't able to stop hers for a completely different reason.

"That hot mess? Of course he is." Kie laughs, reaching out and tapping the girl's shoulder playfully. "You're funny."

You bite your tongue, actively fighting against the glare you want to give her. You disguise it by laughing awkwardly along with Kie.

"Oh my god, how? He's so hot, are you kidding?" She giggles, shaking her head at you guys.

"Well, you don't know him like we do." You say, shrugging a little and hoping she doesn't pick up on the bitterness in your tone. She doesn't even have a shot- you're confident of that much. You and JJ love each other, even if you fight sometimes. You'll make up within the week, just like last time.

"Well, it's worth a shot." She laughs and Kie nods, pointing JJ out to her in the crowd.

The girl asks you to wish her luck as she walks off, adjusting her shirt and pulling it down slightly as she walks over to him. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from grinding your teeth together. "Kie, wanna go watch this trainwreck?" You ask, leaning into her like you're joking and she nods.

"Oh, god, yes." She laughs, and the both of you cling onto each other as you walk your way over, keeping enough distance so the girl JJ is now talking to doesn't catch on that you're listening. They're not alone, there's loads of people around, including John B and Pope who were already at JJ's side, just watching as the girl leans into your boyfriend and he drapes his arm over her shoulder, leaning down to listen closely to what she has to say.

"What are you drinking?" She asks him, tilting her head to look into his cup and then back up at him.

"Just beer." He shrugs. "Why, you want to try it? Might be a little strong for you." He teases her, making you tense up.

"Oh, please." She giggles, grabbing the cup from him and downing it, tossing the cup on the ground.

"Fuck the beaches, I guess." You mutter to Kie, who also looks displeased at her actions. You need Kie to know you're upset- to take your side even if she doesn't really know what's going on.

"That's gross." Kie says, a sour look on her face now.

"Damn, you're a crazy one, aint'cha?" JJ says, squeezing her shoulders before dropping his arm down her back, grabbing her by the waist. With his friends keeping a close eye on him, he doesn't want them to suspect anything. He finds it hard enough as it is to keep his hands off you in front of them in the soberest of times, forget when either of you have been drinking. He's coping by convincing himself it's you under his arm, not this random girl he's only entertaining to prove a point to any prying eyes. Which, unfortunately, happens to be yours.

"I... I've gotta go. Uh.. yeah." You say, wiggling out from Kie's grasp and stumbling off down the beach, struggling to make distance with your shoes in the thick sand.

Maybe he did mean it when he said that he thinks you're stupid. Maybe he is embarrassed- and maybe this is his immature way of showing you that you're done. That you're not worth it anymore.

"You okay?" Kie calls after you.

"Just have to pee." You make a quick excuse, not looking back to make sure she doesn't see that you're so visibly upset. JJ saw, however.

You make it up to where John B parked the Twinkie, the back packed with sleeping bags and random blankets and pillows in case any of you couldn't bum a ride home with someone else.

You find yourself shaking as the world spins around you and you polish off your cup, collapsing back against the far side of the vehicle and sliding down, curling your knees up to your chest as your body is wracked with your sobs. You can't stop it now. You've lost the boy you knew was the love of your life- who you thought was the love of your life.

You let yourself cry, comfortable enough with your drunkenness and distance from the party that no one can hear you as you crush the plastic cup in your hands, shaking and trying to ground yourself.

You eventually drop the cup, resigning to burying your face in your hands.

"Baby?" Your head snaps up when you hear a familiar voice, and when you open your eyes JJ is kneeling in front of you, reaching for your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. "Y/N/N, hey, c'mere..." He says, his tone soft and comforting despite what you just saw.

"I saw you, J! I saw that! You can't-" You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "You can't come here and act like we're not done."

"What? Baby, no, it's not like that- I just, I didn't want the boys to see me shove her off they'd ask questions. You know me." JJ chuckles a little at the end, trying to cheer you up but failing miserably. "I'm sorry. Hey, look at me. I'm sorry, I took it too far. We're not done, I love you, you know that." He says seriously, locking eyes with you and rubbing your wrists with his thumbs.

You shake your head, laughing slightly. "No- this is my fault, I'm being stupid." You insist. "It's fine, JJ. I get it."

"Shit." He sighs, dropping his head defeatedly. He knows you. He knows how you internalize things and he knew as soon as he said it earlier in the day that he would regret his impulsive answer when he said he thought that sometimes you were stupid. He meant irresponsible; he meant that you don't worry about your own safety as much as he wishes you would, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't articulate that. "You're not being stupid. I was being a dick."

"A little." You admit, laughing softly. You hate fighting, you're tired of it, and you want him to not take your stupid overreactions too seriously. "I am being stupid though."

"No, you're not. You couldn't be as stupid as me if you tried." JJ insists, dropping one of your hands to reach up and brush a tear from your cheek. "I just worry about you and I'm sorry I touched her. To be honest, I'm a little pissed she stole my drink. She's annoying as shit, too."

This makes you giggle, meeting his eyes again. "There's that smile..." He whispers, brushing his thumb over your cheek again.

You lean a little into his hand. It's impossible to stay mad at him, and you know he meant what he said about her. "You know what? Fuck it. Can we tell everyone?" JJ asks suddenly, catching you off guard.

"I- well..." You ponder it. "Do you want to?" You ask.

"This is stupid, isn't it? I want everyone to know we're together. Don't you?"

You nod, smiling softly at him. "It is kind of dumb." You agree.

"Let's skip that awkward conversation and just show everyone instead." JJ nods, satisfied with himself as he lets you go to stand up, holding his hand out to you. "Come on. Let's get you another drink so I can carry you home tonight." He teases, making you laugh as you take his hand and he pulls you up.

"Do you actually think I'm stupid?" You ask with a giggle, walking hand in hand back down to the beach.

"Sometimes, yeah." JJ jokes, making you shove his shoulder with your free hand. "Never any stupider than me, though. That's why we work."

"Stupider isn't a word, I don't think." You laugh, and JJ shrugs in response.

"That's my point proven."

#obx #obx fanfic #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank blurb #obx fic #obx netflix

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morningfears · 7 months

Text

Dark Cloud

Rating: PG

Summary: Ashton is there in a difficult time. (AKA my dad passed a few weeks ago and it's been difficult to understand my emotions so I'm doing what I do best and write about it) Warnings: Death of a parent, bad relationship with parents, abusive parent, self-deprecation, general anxiety, grief, feelings, etc. (Anything else and I'll tag it.) Pairing: Ashton x GN!Reader (Pretty sure GN but if you catch anything, let me know and I'll change it to the correct pairing) Word Count: 3k (not much has changed, honestly)

Though Ashton was not known for his prolonged silence, he had moments of relative quiet.

There were moments of quiet reflection, peaceful bouts of silence where he ruminated on the things he’d accomplished - the things he grew prouder of with each passing day, the things he had yet to achieve but knew were within his reach. There were moments of bliss, comfortable stretches of time where no words were needed as you allowed yourselves to disappear into your own little world, surrounded by love and light. There were moments of discontent, seconds that felt like hours passing in an uncomfortable lull that only amplified the insecurities or worries or sorrows either of you felt.

Some of those moments stretched on endlessly; the blissful quiet and the peaceful contentment. Others never lingered very long and grew fewer and farther in between the longer you spent together. But as you sat in a deckchair almost as old as you in a backyard you’d spent a different lifetime in, one of those moments you hoped would disappear just as quickly as it began enveloped you.

This moment was not one driven by any need of his. There was no rumination on his life, no bliss or discontent. There was no worry about the future or grief for the past. This moment was one he held entirely for you.

Three days had been spent in a heavy hush, a silence that pressed on your chest and left Ashton quieter than you’d ever seen him. He’d been rendered speechless after a quiet midnight phone call from your mother and chose his words carefully in the days leading up to the moment you found yourself desperate to run from.

Though his presence gave you comfort, eased some of the ache in your chest and made the tingling in the tips of your fingers more bearable, his silence only made the overwhelming noise of your thoughts that much harder to withstand.

Unlike nearly everyone that surrounded you, Ashton knew you well. He knew that you’d spent the three days struggling to rationalize feelings that were complicated at best. He knew when you needed guided, when you needed him to ask questions and help cataloguing what you felt. He knew when you needed him to distract you, offering stories from the road to pull you away from the heaviness at hand. But, most important of all, he knew when you needed space.

The moment that enveloped you, the quiet he’d given you in the three days since receiving that phone call, was meant to be comforting. It was meant to give you space to decompress, space to be uncertain, and you appreciated the thought behind it. You were grateful he wasn’t pushing, grateful he hadn’t joined your mother or other well-meaning friends and family members asking how you were doing, but you’d grown tired of the quiet as the still of the backyard surrounded you.

Orange light from the setting sun lit the world aflame and burned nearly as warm as the flurry of emotion churning in the pit of your stomach. It was difficult to catalogue what exactly you felt - mentally, physically; all of it blurred together in one overwhelming ache - and you weren’t quite sure how to articulate that.

Very little about the few days you’d experienced made sense, least of all your emotions, but you knew that if anyone could string together meaning from you stream of consciousness, it would be Ashton.

With a sigh, you slumped deeper into your chair and blinked back the sting of tears threatening to fall.

Every single person you’d interacted with for the better part of two days began every conversation with a barrage of questions; how are you? How are you feeling? What can I do? They all declared how tough it must be, some even claimed to understand exactly what you were feeling. It must be so hard, they cooed, before promising they were there if you needed them.

It was all superficial, at best, but you took the question as a base to begin a conversation you’d been dreading.

“I’m fine, Ash.” There was little chance he didn’t notice the quiver in your voice, even less of a chance he didn’t notice the clench of your jaw and the heavy exhale you released, but he nodded, just the same.

“I believe you.”

Ashton knew that you weren’t fine - not really, not entirely - but he also knew that what you were feeling was more complicated than grief.

Losing a parent was always going to be a difficult experience but losing a parent you’d gone no contact with for reasons out of your control only complicated things.There was no easy explanation for the multitude of emotions clouding your brain and he understood that. Ashton understood complicated relationships with parents just as he understood how difficult it was to grieve someone long before they died.

Everything you felt, every complicated emotion and messy blur of feelings, you knew he would understand. Regardless, it still felt nearly impossible to articulate as you blinked against the sun’s harsh glow.

Few others had seen the toll your mother’s misguided attempts at encouraging a reconciliation between you and your father had taken. It was well-intentioned, you were sure, but ended in an anxiety you hadn’t felt since your teenage years.

From the safety of your shared home, Ashton had witnessed a handful of tense phone conversations. He’d listened as your father threw insults thinly disguised as questions or compliments and belittled you in ways that made his blood boil. He’d watched as you slumped on the couch and gave one-word answers as you willed the conversations to be over. He’d held you after as angry tears tracked down your cheeks and you wondered just what you’d done to deserve this kind of treatment from someone who was supposed to love you.

It made sense, then, why he’d remained so quiet at your side. And instead of pressing for an answer, asking questions that would only make the process harder for you, he waited. He sat quietly, hazel eyes flickering between you and the trees in the distance as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“None of this is for me.”

The declaration felt bitter, dripping acid as it fell from your lips, but it was honest in a way you couldn’t be with anyone else. No one else understood, no one else saw you - really, truly, completely saw you - in the way that Ashton did. Though you felt overwhelmed, anxious and upset, you felt hopeful that he’d get it.

“Funerals are… hard,” you settled on, blinking hard against the tears you willed away. “They’re supposed to be for people you love, people that meant something to you. They’re supposed to give you closure. It’s a final send-off, something that just… marks the end, I guess. You mourn someone that meant something to you but all he was to me was a nightmare. I didn’t lose my dad on Sunday. I lost him when I was old enough to realize what kind of person he was.”

Anger, heavy and encompassing, made it easier for you barrel through the feelings you’d been bottling up. And Ashton, who had been waiting for the storm, sighed. It was heavy with an emotion neither of you intended to explore in that moment but accompanied by him reaching out to take your hand in his own. The weight of it, the heat of his palm pressed to yours, tethered you to the moment. A gentle squeeze helped you remain present as you swallowed the emotion clumping in your throat.

“Everyone here thinks I’m the problem. They think I just up and abandoned my dad. They think I’m a bad person because I haven’t had a relationship with him in over a decade but no one asks why. No one asks what happened to make me leave home and not come back. No one asks why I went nearly fifteen years without speaking to him. No one puts any of the blame on him. No one asks why I went nearly fifteen years without speaking to him. They just asks why I didn’t try harder. But why was it my reasonability? I’m the child here. He was supposed to be my dad. He was supposed to care, to love me, to make me a priority. I was supposed to be important to him but he made my life a living hell. He made me believe no one would ever love me. He made me believe I was worthless. He was a miserable, abusive, narcissistic, son of a bitch but no one acknowledges any of that.”

Breathing grew more difficult with every word you spoke. The weight of every emotion you’d felt in relation to your father pressed on your chest, leaving a dull ache between your ribs as you took a moment to grit your teeth.

Ashton knew what happened. The beginning of your relationship had proven difficult because of it. He had his own issues - his own insecurities and traumas to work through - and had taken yours in stride. But he’d also been instrumental in encouraging you to find yourself. Therapy, both individual and couple’s, was something he’d inspired you to take on and you could see the hurt in his eyes as you felt yourself falling back into an old way of thinking.

However, it seemed that no mater how hard you tried - no matter how much progress you’d made, you felt yourself spiraling as you struggled to come to terms with what you were feeling.

“He told everyone how proud he was of me, that I lived in California and had a good life. But he didn’t know anything about me. He had no idea what I do for work. He didn’t know your name, he didn’t even know we were engaged. He didn’t know anything but he had everyone convinced I was the problem. And I just… it’s not fair. Why did he get to have friends and so many people to defend him? Why did he get to spend his life existing, happy, when I spent years wondering if anyone would ever be able to love me?”

Ashton squeezed your hand gently and you could feel the weight of that single gesture, of his warm gaze burning into the side of your face, but you knew that sparing him a glance would only end with you dissolving into tears. You were on a roll, speaking the thoughts you knew made little sense but had been plaguing you since you received your mother’s phone call, and stopping didn’t feel like an option.

“Sometimes, I wonder if all of this was my fault.” The admission was quiet, your voice dropping to a near whisper and thick with emotion as you laughed quietly, self-deprecatingly. “I remember being so happy when I was little. I remember going out and doing stuff, getting dinner and seeing movies and going to the roller rink. I remember feeling loved. I remember him coming to my softball games and my spelling bees. But then I also remember being ten and wondering if everyone had a dad who yelled at them and threw things at them and made them cry. And I don’t know if I just got older and he got meaner or if I, I don’t know, gained consciousness and realized he was always mean.”

Faint sounds of life began to bleed into the backyard - the noise of your mother and step-father and various family members who’d dropped by with food and well-wishes milling about - but you ignored them all as you inhaled a shaking breath.

“My mom doesn’t remember it but we had an argument when I was, like, fourteen. I have no clue what it was about but I remember her saying that I was more and more like my dad every day. Nothing anyone has ever said to me has hurt that bad. I think about her saying that all the time and I try so hard to prove that it’s not true but it feels like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work to be a good person, I keep seeing more and more of my dad in myself.”

With another harsh breath, this one a desperate attempt to clear your throat of the emotion threatening to choke you, you wiped harshly at the tears that had started falling. Somewhere in the midst of your inner turmoil, there was an anger that you allowed yourself to cry. None of this was worth your anger, your sadness, your energy, but it felt impossible to do anything more than continue spouting a stream of consciousness that you only hoped Ashton could follow.

“While you were on tour, I went to the bar with some friends after a bad day. I wasn’t really in the mood but I ended up having fun,” you admitted, shrugging lightly as you dropped your gaze to where your intertwined hands rested on your thigh. “At the end of the night, though, it was just me and Blake on the patio and we were talking about all the stupid shit that was happening at work. I made a joke about trying to be more positive and he laughed. He said it was no use because I’ve always been a ‘dark fucking cloud’ and that was just who I was. It was a joke,” you conceded, lifting your hand to trace a nonsensical pattern across the back of Ashton’s hand. “But it really was’t. He’s right. I’ve always been a dark cloud and I’ve always been miserable and bitter and angry.”

A quiet laugh, devoid of any humor and sounding just as defeated as you felt, escaped as you shook your head. “All the worst parts of me, all the things I wish I could change, all the things I know make it difficult for people to like me, let alone love me, are parts of my dad. And I just wonder, what happens if I can’t fix those parts? What happens if I spend the rest of my life as this dark cloud? What happens if one day, all my friends realize how miserable I make them? What happens if, one day, you realize that you could do better? You’re such a bright light, Ash, and you could so easily find someone who loves you that’s bright and happy and warm and matches your energy. I worry that I’m going to die alone and miserable and forgotten, just because I’m me; this dark fucking cloud that pushed everyone away.”

Ashton allowed the silence to linger for just a moment, giving you a second to catch your breath and decide you were finished speaking, before reaching out to carefully brush away the tears tracking down your cheeks. From the corner of your eye, you caught the look on his face - a deep sadness you’d never seen from him before, complete with shiny eyes and a frown - and felt a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes.

Though you tried blinking them away, Ashton shook his head. “Oh, honey.” He slid his chair a touch closer, his knee knocking into yours as he lifted his free hand to your cheek. “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better,” he began, quiet but as serious as you’d ever heard him. “I don’t, but I can tell you what I do know.” With gentle fingers, Ashton tilted your head to meet his eyes and, despite the urge to glance away, you held his gaze.

“You are not a dark cloud.” His conviction was clear, certain and strong as he searched your face. “Even when you don’t want to, you try to see the best in people. It doesn’t matter how bad your day is, you always try to encourage the people in your life. You’re the most supportive person I’ve ever met. Anyone who asks you to show up for them, you’re there and cheering the loudest. You push people to be the best versions of themselves. When I’m in my head, you’re the person to bring me back. Despite everything, you’re a good person. You try so hard and everyone can see it. You’re not difficult to like and you’re really not difficult to love. You match my energy, you make me happy, and I’m lucky I get the chance to love you.”

With another gentle squeeze to your hand, Ashton sighed. “None of this is your fault. You were a kid, honey,” he reminded you, careful to avoid irritating your skin further as he brushed away the few tears that continued to fall. “I know all of this is hard. I know you loved him when you were a kid. I know it still hurts, even though he hasn’t been in your life and he hurt you so bad. And I know none of it makes any sense. I can’t tell you not to worry about any of this but I can promise that I’ll be here to remind you of just who you are. I’ll be here to remind you just how loved you are. You’re a good person, honey, and I do love you. On the good days, on the bad days, on every other day; I love you and I’m not the only one. You mean so much to so many people.”

As the tears fell faster, Ashton stood from his seat and tugged you up after him. He pulled you into an embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your body, and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He allowed you to squeeze him tight, body pressed close to his, and hummed soothingly as he waited for you to calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice carrying through the still of the night as he shifted to meet your eyes once more.

“Thank you.” With another soft squeeze to Ashton’s middle, you nodded. “I love you, too.”

“Alright, what d’you want to eat? You haven’t eaten anything all day. And if you tell me you’re not hungry, I’m calling Michael and letting him explain Rocket League, in detail,” he teased, waiting to see if his joke would earn him a smile.

“You decide,” you offered, smiling lightly as you nodded. “I don’t want to make any decisions. I’ll have whatever you get.”

“Okay,” he relented, appeased by the agreement as he wrapped an arm around your waist and began guiding you back to the house. “C’mon, we’ll get you some water and figure it out.”

There was no resolution, no easy answer for the messy feelings you still felt roiling in the pit of your stomach, but you felt a little more at peace. It wouldn’t be a straightforward path, not one you’d be able to navigate easily, but you felt hopeful that you could see a rainbow through the dark clouds with Ashton by your side.

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Author's Note: Honestly, I wasn't sure I should post. But I realized this blog has been here for me in some of my worst moments. Best of times, worst of times, I've written. For 5sos, here on this blog. So, here it is. September was a difficult month. It started beautifully with my 5sos show but got worse. But I'm still grateful for the opportunity to have seen the boys. I do have a fluffy Ash fic I'm working on. Funny how I always return to them when things get rough. Anyway, hope y'all are well!

#5sos imagines #5sos imagine #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin x you #5sos x you #5sos x reader #5sos fics #v’s fics

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