#this song was like. the only thing keeping me sane

[toastermelody]

come on let's feel like garbage!

[lycanthropthy]

will never understand people who bought a guitar and dont play it. what do you mean you cant get yourself to practice. i have to play music or my brain starts to ooze out of my ears

[ghostighostly]

shout out to songs/artists/albums with names that dont fit on my screen gotta be one of my favourite genders <3

[sweetlemontart]

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

masterlist link

Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath. 

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on. 

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease. 

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago. 

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend. 

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification. 

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck. 

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan. 

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious. 

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by. 

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier. 

"Is that it?" you asked him. 

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head. 

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you. 

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest. 

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name. 

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. 

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes. 

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further. 

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show. 

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal. 

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more. 

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow. 

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to. 

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit. 

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut. 

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge. 

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in. 

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much? 

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend. 

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it. 

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer. 

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising. 

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants. 

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.  

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light. 

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you. 

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet. 

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum. 

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back. 

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath. 

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes. 

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips. 

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening. 

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all. 

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better. 

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him. 

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh. 

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips. 

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole. 

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt. 

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit. 

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up. 

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow. 

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt. 

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name. 

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know. 

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle. 

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy. 

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it. 

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours. 

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp. 

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt. 

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow. 

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

 "Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him. 

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full. 

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess." 

"W-What?" you squeak out. 

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans. 

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest. 

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you. 

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin. 

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air. 

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?" 

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs. 

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst. 

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors. 

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind. 

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance. 

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry? 

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes. 

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again. 

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high. 

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet. 

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it. 

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal. 

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck. 

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing. 

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk. 

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly. 

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out. 

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago. 

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair. 

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind. 

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?" 

 "Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes. 

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..." 

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—" 

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once. 

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head. 

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush. 

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open. 

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer. 

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him. 

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath. 

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..." 

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly. 

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his. 

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss. 

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine. 

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes. 

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice. 

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek. 

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. 

© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved.

[maxivstappen]

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. “Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

[jeonghantis]

✧ — HEAVEN ANGEL (y.jh)

PAIRING ⇝ yoon jeonghan x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

beautiful, everyone had called you. the compliment lost its charm on you, knowing fully well it’s paid only for the surface-level appearance you kept up and nothing else you had to offer. irritating, he had called you. you let him fuck you.

TAGS ⇝ uni!au, fratboy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a dash of angst (oopsy!).

WARNINGS ⇝ language, fem!reader (she/her), houseparty scene (not exactly detailed), gossip, explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI!), bathroom (mirror) sex, unrequited crush (or is it?), reader has commitment issues, reader is kinda mean, mentions of p*ss and sh*t but not in a sexual manner, just for jokes.

WORD COUNT ⇝ 4.1k words.

note: funnily enough, i had two requests specifically for house party sex with yoon jeonghan. i lost the ask for them both (accidentally deleted while my laptop glitched). i am insane. and before anyone asks, yes there'll be a part two/prequel :) and also this is somewhat connected to my upcoming cheol fic. so i hope you stay tuned! proofread by the star of my life @cheolhub. sar fr put up with every version and my constant anxiety over every paragraph. i couldn't have done it without them. i love u so much. @szakias was also helpful in keeping me sane as i wrote this out 🙇 i love u so bad. loosely based on the song heaven angel by the driver era. don't think it'd go with the fic but you know :)

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated.

explicit tags under the cut.

EXPLICIT TAGS ⇝ semi-public setting (bathroom sex while there's a party), unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, dumbification, teasing, petnames (angel), degradation (whore, bitch), dacryphilia, marking, briefest thigh-fucking, clit stimulation, cumming inside, squirting, light overstimulation, (a little) aftercare.

A strange rumor went around the campus. A rumor of a person whose beauty was so out of this world that it was terrifying. 

Unreal. Everyone had said. You won’t be able to look her in the eyes! 

But beyond that angelic beauty was a personality so sour, no one dared thought to approach her. Those that tried their luck had it beaten right out of them and they came to hate her to hide their broken hearts.

What a bitch, they had said. Does she think she’s all that?

Yoon Jeonghan, for one, thought they were being overly dramatic. It was a strange and interesting phenomenon how gossip can evolve to add in such theatrics. It was like living in one of those regency novels his sister owned which he had perused over on one particularly boring day. Had these people really had nothing better to do with their lives? Were they trying to live in a novel of their own? Jeonghan never understood them, neither cared for these kinds of things. He’d much rather form his opinions. He had better things to do than to dabble in such frivolity. 

What a stuck-up, one would say. What better things could Jeonghan be doing that puts him above everyone else? 

Oh, fucking the subject of the rumors of course. 

“How irritating,” Jeonghan sighed, abruptly ceasing his thrusts inside you to harshly yank you back by your hair. 

You yelp, a deer in the headlights, when your neck is forcibly craned back, made to look up at his looming figure. You looked pathetic from where you were pinned against the wall, exposed breasts pressed flush against the cool tiles and your mini skirt flipped upwards to reveal the swell of your bare ass flattened against his hip bone.

“I said to keep your voice down,” he tuts. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?” 

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer out, throat raw and chest heaving. 

“Are you?” He mused with a raised brow, mocking and unbelieving. 

You couldn’t meet his gaze, or at least you tried to. Jeonghan liked to make eye contact, he once told you, for he loved to see your sanity visibly ebb away from your eyes, leaving you a mindless, glassy-eyed whore. You had not reached that stage, not yet, not when some semblance of your being remained clear in your gaze, dilated pupils fearfully wavering back and forth between his simpering face and the bathroom door where a rather large, booming frat party laid beyond.

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his grip on your hair, forcing your eyes back on him. He leaned forward until he’s breathing your air, and all you could do is stare up at him pitifully with quivering lips. “Or…” he starts, his lips twisting cruelly. “Do you want them to hear you? Want them hear how good you’re being fucked right now?”

You remain silent, the lump on your throat bobbing as you swallow hard. But your walls tighten around him and Jeonghan couldn’t help the curve of his lips.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Jeonghan sighed, releasing his hold on you. A lithe finger curls a lock behind your ear, the gesture jarringly affectionate from his prior cruelty, before his mouth moves to hover over it, his warm breath tickling. “You moan loudly when I tell you to shut up. You shut up when I ask you questions. Have I fucked you stupid already? Or have you always been stupid?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you know what to say?” Jeonghan laughs. “A renowned bitch, known to reject her admirers without so much of a second thought, now reduced into this pathetic bitch in heat. What would everyone else think, hm?”

His derogatory spats clamored down to your bones, making you shake with emotions that you couldn’t quite place with your hazed mind. At one point, with the last bit of pride you had left, you’re irritated, and it’s shown in the twitch of your eye and narrowed gaze. Then there’s embarrassment, shown by how your face warms and flushes. There was no denying how fucking dazed and desperate you had been, that much was true, and the demeaning tone of his voice did its job of filling you with shame. The twisted part of it all is that you enjoyed every minute of this ridicule thanks to pure, carnal desire. You couldn’t care less about what other people would say about you, what matters now is when the fuck would Jeonghan move his dick inside you. 

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he wanted his answers. His last question was rhetoric. You knew. He knew. And yet he looks down at you with cruel expectancy masked in the sweetest, angelic smile that has fooled so many, and had once fooled you. 

“I-I don’t care,” you say, deciding to be honest. “Who the fuck cares what they think?”

“Oh, but I’d like to know,” Jeonghan said. He hums for a moment, looking you over in consideration, before speaking again. “But you’re right. They don’t matter right now, do they?” 

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

And Jeonghan watched, amused. He wasn’t done speaking. “But I’d at least like to know what you think.”

You blinked. “What?”

Before you could question him some more, Jeonghan pulls out of you, leaving your weeping cunt fluttering around nothing. You cry out, high and broken, from having pleasure ripped away with such cruelty. Jeonghan ignores it and his own throbbing problem as he goes to peel you off the wall with a rough tug on your arm. He has you by over the sink, has you staring at yourself through the vanity mirror. Jeonghan casts a smile at you through the reflection, his gaze weighted as he drinks in the sight of you as well.

Jeonghan had to admit, the rumors weren’t all baseless. You were stunningly beautiful, there was no denying that when anyone with functioning eyes could see it. The way you carried yourself tells him you’re well aware of it too. You held confidence with a raised chin, an allure with your own posture and stance even in this vulnerable position you were forced in, looking as disheveled as you are with tufts of your hair sticking out in every direction, framing your flushed face. Your blouse had been carefully unbuttoned despite how desperately urgent you both had been for each other the moment the bathroom door shut closed, but the rush was evident in how your bralette had been roughly tugged down enough for your perked breasts to spill over. Jeonghan had been anything but kind to your skin, having left angry red splotches blossoming all over your chest; you weren’t either on his, knowing if Jeonghan had craned his neck enough from behind you, they’d find similar markings on his throat, though considerably less in quantity.

Jeonghan also looked considerably less damning. He had not made moves to remove any of his upper clothing and so he remained presentable with his black varsity over a loose white shirt. Even his long hair had not looked loosened from where it’s tied up. But below, away from the mirror’s sight, his dark jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped for his curved dick to spring out freely, for it now to rub over your ass teasingly.

“So?” Jeonghan asks. “What do you think of yourself?”

You glare at him through the mirror. “Fucking awful.”

“Of course you’d see it that way,” he laughs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “For me, I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

It’s your turn to look unbelieving, but your pulse rouses. 

Jeonghan grinned. “Ask me why.”

You reluctantly indulge him, “Why?”

“Because you finally look fucking awful,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. You turn to glower at him but stop when he lifts a hand to trace a line over your chest, mapping out the marks adorning you with a nimble finger. “And because I’m the reason for it.”

“A little vain, don’t you think?” You remark, albeit breathily, your face heated.

“I can be proud of my work,” he quipped, pressing his smile against your skin. He looks you over once more, taking in every detail down to the last freckle, and something deep in him thrums sweetly. “And I had a beautiful canvas to begin with.”

“How charming,” you sighed, derisive, as you threw your head back against his shoulder so you could look at him with batting lashes. “Can you fuck me now?”

“But I mean it,” Jeonghan murmured and relented, reaching around you so he could press a roughened finger over your swollen clit.

 “Mean what?” You ask, but you’re barely listening, not when your focus is narrowed to the deft circles he’s making on your sweet nerves.

Jeonghan guides his length between your thighs, letting it glide languidly right under your weeping and throbbing cunt at a lazy pace. His lips are still curled, his eyes bright when he gazes down at you before he’s responding, “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Sincerity was not something you’re used to when it came to the ever sarcastic Yoon Jeonghan, and yet here it was, bleeding into his tone in its purest form. Never in the entire three months of sleeping with him had he ever complimented the way he had just now, and if he had uttered any, it was quickly followed with ridicule or said with ridicule.

Good, he called you when you were obedient.

Cute, he called you when you were crying.

Beautiful. It was new. From him at least. 

It was a temporary moment of clarity in your lust-addled head as you blink at him, making sense of what he had said, making sense of the warmth that starts to bloom throughout your chest. And temporary it remained as Jeonghan led his cockhead right back to your entrance, pushing himself in without so much of a warning, and the bare grasp you had on lucidity loosened.

You gasp out loudly, doubling over the bathroom counter as your walls tense and quiver painfully from the sudden breach, but still yield around him nonetheless. Jeonghan was quick to catch you, to force you right back up with his long fingers encircling your throat. 

“Again?” Jeonghan barked out a laugh but it’s hoarse. “You really want everyone to hear you.”

“I c-can’t help it,” you whined, your head resting weakly against his shoulder, warm breath puffing over his marred skin. 

Jeonghan looked unimpressed. “Well, help it.”

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when he starts driving into you with no sense of leniency, your body thrown fully forward and voice shaking from the repeated impact that clatters your bones.

“You’re horrible at this,” he cackled. He grips at your hips this time, pulling you hard against him, balls slapping heavily against your ass. He's practically pulling and pushing your cunt onto his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve for him to enjoy. Each decadent slide of his length in your heat draws out breathy grunts from him, his head drunk with pleasure.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head is thrown back to reveal flushed skin stained with tears that drip from closed eyes as you try desperately to hold yourself up with palms flat against the cold marble counter. There was nothing else for you to do but feel it, feel his cock stretch your pussy, its silken insides practically making way for him with each piston that has you crying out more in volume and pitch.

“Open your eyes.” His hot, staggered breath wafted over your ear. His thrusts ease its pace, slowing into something more languorous and teasing. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

You whine but your eyelids flutter open. Glassy, unfocused eyes find Jeonghan.

A devious smile splinters across his face. 

There you are.

“Please,” you whimper, your hand reaching to paw at his nape. 

“What is it, angel?” His tone is sweet but it rolls off his tongue sharply. “I n-need - ”

Jeonghan laughed cruelly. “I don’t think you’re in the position to demand something from me when you can’t even listen to my one demand.”

You grab at the ends of his hair and rock your hips back into him, fucking your cunt right on his dick in a faster, but struggling, rhythm. 

“Hannie,” you mewl. “You feel too good. Please, please, just fuck me. I can’t help it, I just - Please? I’ll b-be good. Just please fuck me, Hannie.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away to your pleas, allowing himself to revel in the broken desperation you display with an amused smile and delighted throbs made inside your velvety walls. Perhaps Jeonghan should be used to this sight now. He’s seen you in much messier and miserable states, ruined you far worse than he had now. And yet he’s plenty invigorated than he’s ever been, pure excitement searing his veins.

What would everyone else think, hm?

Jeonghan thought it was rhetoric. Jeonghan said it didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t. It did. 

“I don’t think you can be good,” he began as a hand inches forward between your legs, “But if you’re going to be loud, then at least use my name. That way, everyone will know who’s fucking you so good.”

“H-Hannie!” You mewl, oh so pitchy, as your frame jerks from the brush of the roughened pads of his fingers on your clit, pleasure flickering up your abdomen so wildly that you could not easily bear through it. 

“There we go,” he crooned, pride gleaming in his eyes. Jeonghan was much too familiar with your body by now, so it’s easy when his hips brings back its pace, fucking at your insides at an angle so the length of him glides over your sweet nerves with each impact. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob out like a mantra, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his brutality, your channel tightening around his throbbing girth. “Ngh, Jeonghan, right there! Oh my god - !”

The nectar that leaks out of you coated his shaft with an amazingly significant amount that makes the slides so much easier and louder, the wet noises bouncing off the four walls and meshing with your own cries of his name like he wanted. It was almost enough to drown out the muffled music of the party that seemed many worlds away now.

Jeonghan soon enough joined in this sinful chorus, letting out panted moans of his own. Some were incoherent but when it wasn’t, it was mostly your name, just in case everyone couldn’t tell who was screaming his name like a wailing prayer. How he’s managed to keep himself restrained and sane for this long was a strong feat in itself. Your everything put him in a trance, every touch of you—nails, fingers, and obviously your tight cunt, was a little too much, it was dizzying. 

Even at your seemingly waning state, your hips somehow finds itself moving back against him, undulating with the same force and rhythm. You’re driven by the tightness both in your chest and in your abdomen, white flashing across your vision the more you keep up your pace, your moan becoming more muddled as your thoughts were. And when balance fails you, having you bow back down and lean all your weight on your forearm, Jeonghan inclines with you, his chest pressed right against your back and you could feel his raging heartbeat that very well matched your own.

“How are you holding up, angel?” He chuckled and pressed his face against your neck, his breathing hard and warm on your skin, as his thrusts become more shallow. “Doing okay?”

“I-I’m close,” you whimper. “Please, Hannie - ”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered back as nails dig crescents on your waist, muscles flexing as the intensity of his strokes inside you extends once again and remains at the same tempo. He doesn’t know what came over him the next moment, his senses just completely overtaken and all he could do was be at awe at all this perfect bliss you’re bringing him, and only him. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathed. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for everyone, angel, you understand that? You’re mine.”

There it was again. The clarity. The warmth. It all happened in a single moment.

You turn your head and stare up at him. Jeonghan stared right back at you. A completely indecipherable expression confronts another.  

Where it had been temporary then, it intensified now. Where there had been questions, suspicions took its place. 

Then came fear.

Jeonghan catches a glimpse of it in your eyes and for the very first time, his stomach sank at the sight of it. 

But his facade is flawless. It comes too naturally before he’s fully aware—a sweet curl of lip, the faintest crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He’s fooled too many. He could fool you again. 

Jeonghan takes advantage of your moment of daze to toy once again with your clit, and is relieved at how immediate your body reacts. 

“Ngh, J-Jeonghan!” You keen high as you reach a hand to cup over to where his fingers flicks and pinches at the delicate bud, pressing down on him for added pressure to alleviate your own self. Oh, how embarrassingly easy it was for your thoughts to be completely overwritten by your own lustful desires, but as you have learned, it always prevails, doesn’t it? 

Your thighs seize up from the overwhelming pleasure crawling up your spine; while your rhythm falters from it, Jeonghan’s is relentless even when his own breathing turned ragged and his body strained from the effort. It all becomes so much so fast; the feverish heat spreads under your skin, tightening up coils in your abdomen, but your frame is trembling, as if a chill settled so deeply into your bones. 

“Hannie, Hannie, I’m going to -”

“I know,” Jeonghan grunts as his face falls in the juncture of your neck, lips pressed right over your pulse point. He can feel your walls start to restrict around his twitching girth, and it did little to aid his own self-control. “Let go for me, angel. C’mon. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.”

And you do. With the most shrilling wail, you come, your warm release spilling onto his cock and, much to your surprise, squirting onto themselves, their clothes, and his hand. 

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan marveled under his breath. If he could burn a memory into his brain, this would be fucking it. Just you shivering and quivering around his dick. Your back prettily arched back with tits hardened and perked. The fluids spurting all over yourself and him so shamelessly and so intensely until you're convulsing back down on your front from it all. 

Watching this whole brilliance of you, just reminded Jeonghan of how lucky he truly was to have you like this, to be able to make you this fucked out with crossed eyes, pupils blown wide out of proportion. Hidden concerns were washed away by this single glance, replaced with nothing but gratitude, pride, and true bliss. And with all that and a poorly thrown out warning, he’s thrown over the edge. A moan is punched out of his gut as he’s releasing inside you with one last valiant thrust, his cum white and hot as it spurts and paints your walls.

And poor you having to tolerate this continued abuse of your insides that pushes you close into the sphere of overstimulation. You’re spent, fatigue already ebbing into your consciousness, but you stay still for him, letting him use you for all your worth until the last few twitches of cock, until the last few spews of his cum is fucked back into you.

For the next few moments, only a dulled bass fills the air as two heaving bodies try to steady themselves. When the remnants of carnality wane, Jeonghan finally pulls out of you, your channel left with nothing but their shared release dripping out of you, beading down your legs. There’s a crack of a smile thrown your way through the reflection just as you feel a light tap made over your cunt. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the gesture. And to rock back into it.

“If I clean you up,” Jeonghan began, eyeing the puddle on the floor, “could you help me with the rest of your mess?”

Now you did roll your eyes. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Hey, I just thought I should ask. It’s a lot.” 

Your face warmed up. “Forget it, I’ll clean myself up. You clean the floor.” You move to lift yourself up from the counter, but catch yourself as your muscles start to strain, limbs shaking. 

Jeonghan raised a brow.

You winced. “Can you help me over to the toilet?”

 “Need to piss it all out again?” He jests and takes a hold of your arm to gently pick you up. 

You sneered. “That wasn’t piss, asshat.”

Jeonghan laughed. “I know it wasn’t. But it was hot as hell.”

“Shut the hell up.”

That only made him laugh again.

Then came a knock, a very aggressive one.

“Yoon Jeonghan, are you done fucking in there?” Said a male voice beyond the door, sounding just as irritated as his knock was. 

“Ah, damn,” Jeonghan muttered quietly to himself, then raised his voice at the door, “There are other bathrooms, Cheol!”

Choi Seungcheol, you now recognized Jeonghan’s fellow frat brother, responded right away. “All occupied! Can you hurry your shit up?”

“No!” said Jeonghan, but he’s quick to guide you over next to the toilet with an arm now encircling your waist; you tell yourself this was just a helpful gesture, but there’s no helping how your skin heats up under his touch. From where you stand leaning against the wall, you watch him rush around the bathroom, first cleaning himself up and shoving his dick back in his jeans before he throws a clean towel down on the floor to soak up your mess.

“I’ll leave first,” Jeonghan explained as he sauntered back to you with soap and another fresh towel in hand, setting them down where it’s within your reach. “I’ll appease Cheol first and buy you some time to clean up.”

“Is he always so impatient?” You asked.

“Always,” he sighed, “but once I explain, he’ll understand. I don’t know why he’s fussier than usual though.” 

“Maybe he needs to shit.”

“Shitting at a party? That’s disgusting of him.”

“He has no respect for the partygoers out there.”

You exchange grins with each other. 

Then another round of knocking came around.

“In a minute!” Jeonghan called back, trying to sound calm but his face was scowling. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you again, “Are you sure you don’t want any help? Now I just want to make him wait.”

“Go,” you tell him and wave him off. “He sounds like he’s about to kick the door open. I’d rather not have that.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Jeonghan turned to leave. Your heart lurched from your chest.

“Jeonghan?” You call out before you could stop yourself.

He looked back. “Hm?”

“Do we…” You didn’t know what to say, how to phrase it. “Should we talk about it?”

It was miniscule, but you caught his wince. “Talk about what?”

“About what you said?”

“Angel, I said a lot of things.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You said - ”

Another loud knock, quickly followed by Seungcheol yelling. “Jeonghan! Hurry up!”

Jeonghan let out another sigh, a mix of annoyance with a tinge of relief. “We’ll have to talk about it another time.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jeonghan - ”

“We will talk about it,” he said firmly, his tone spoke of sincerity, but his face said otherwise. “Just not now. Not yet.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. 

He tried for a smile, perfectly saccharine. You saw right through it.

“Fine,” you relented.

Jeonghan gave you a grateful nod of his head and made a move to leave again. You watch again with the strangest restriction in your chest.

“Cheol, you have got to learn patience,” Jeonghan said once he cracked the door open.

“And you have got to learn to be quiet,” the disembodied voice of Seungcheol parried back. “I’m sure the people passing the hallway could hear you both.”

“Well, we were trying to get the whole house to hear us.” Jeonghan spared a quick glance your way and grinned. You wanted to punch his teeth in.

Seungcheol groaned. “Of course you fucking were.”

Jeonghan laughed and finally stepped out of the bathroom. “At least I’m getting my dick wet. You haven’t been with anyone since - Oh, I spoke too soon. Cheol, you sneaky son of a - ”

The door shut closed behind him, leaving you all alone, and you buried your face in your hands.

© jeonghantis. all rights reserved. do not re-publish, translate, plagiarise, edit any of my work on any other platform.

[venusacrossthestars]

Carnival

Summary: You love your boyfriend and you love the edits of your boyfriend that are all over TikTok, however your dirty little secret is soon shared.

Pairing- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

wc-923

warnings- not proofread, at all. Carnival by Kayne West is the song in question, one sexual innuendo at the end, swearing and FLUFF

f1 masterlist

You were no stranger to TikTok and the editing trends that made their rounds. You have seen your fair share of edits or both real and fictional men. You have even come across a few of your boyfriend and they were, well a sight to see. The first time you liked one with your main account, that had sent the comments and the poor editor into a frenzy. 

You wanted to interact with the fan base, especially the ones on TikTok without acting liked a crazed girlfriend who thirsted over her boyfriend publicly. So you did what any sane person would do and you made a fan account for your own boyfriend, you never posted anything just liking edits and commenting on how wonderful the edit was. 

Charles had no idea and to be honest you didn’t really want him finding out. This was your dirty little secret, something you only looked at when Charles wasn’t home. How was it that these editors were so talented. Putting together a bunch of random clips, the coloring, the transitions, the song choice, all of it was beautiful. 

The song of choice at the moment was Carnival and you weren’t complaining. Your entire saves was filled with edits of Charles to this song. You have probably seen hundreds and you ate it up everytime. 

It was a random wednesday and Charles was off doing his workout and you had thought that there was no better time than to open TikTok and go scroll through your saves. Too lost in your own little world you failed to notice the front door open a close, signaling that Charles was home. 

The only thing that Charles could hear throughout the apartment was a song he wasn’t familiar with. ‘Go Go, go, go, go Head so good, she a honor roll She'll ride the dick like a carnival’. What the hell were you watching? 

Coming up behind you Charles could see his own pictures flash across the screen to the song. He watched as you scrolled down and to his surprise it was another video of himself to the same song. 

“What are you watching?” Charles ask. 

You nearly screamed at Charles’ voice, not expecting him to be back so soon. You turned off your phone and flung it across the couch, “You’re home early!” 

“No, No, No. We aren’t changing the subject. What were you watching?” 

“Nothing…” you say sheepishly. 

Charles raises an eyebrow at your tone, “Are you sure?” 

“Mhmm,” you hum out, “Absolutely sure.” 

Charles moves next to you on the couch and grabs your phone. You go to reach for it but Charles is quick to grab it back. “I think I know what you were doing.” 

“Charles,” you groan out “Give me my phone please.” 

Charles continues to hold it out of reach, no matter how you move or where you move to, he is one step ahead. “Not until you tell me who that handsome man was on your screen.” 

“Charlie, stopppp.” You groan out, “It’s embarrassing.” 

“Then I’ll just have to keep this,” he says, pocketing your phone. 

“Fine! I was watching edits of you!” 

Charles giggles out at your admission and you hide your face in your hands, heat creeping up your neck. 

“I want to see,” Charles says, “show me your favorites.” 

“Wow, someones is a little vain.” 

“I’m not the one who was watching edits of their significant other.” Charles teases. 

“Well now I don’t want to.” 

“Mon amour, please.” Charles begs and you turn away from him. You won’t fall victim to his pleading eyes this time.

“Mon amour. Mon cheri. Please my love. I’m not making fun of you I swear.” 

You could never hold your resolve to Charles’ pleading, “Fine, can I have my phone?” 

Charles hands you your phone and you are quick to unlock it. You exit the edit you were currently watching to scroll back up to the top of your saves. 

“I made a separate account to like and comment. One time I liked with my personal account and I think I nearly sent the editor into a early grave. I wanted to interact with the fans but I thought you might think its strange for your girlfriend to be liking thirst edits of you.” 

“I think it’s adorable,” Charles says, pinching your cheeks. You swat his hands away in embarrassment. “But y’know you can thirst over me anytime, right?” 

“Of course I do, it’s just these edits do something to me. I can’t explain it.” 

“Well let me see.” 

“Fine,” you scroll down to where you know the edit is, “This one has been real popular lately. There are more to this song, the one that was playing when you walked in earlier, I really like them.” 

You hold your phone to at an angle so that Charles can see the edit play out. He sits in silence for the whole thing and once it loops you pause it and wait Charles reaction. 

“Wow,” he pauses, trying to think of what to say next, “people really make edits of me to songs like this.” 

“Yes and I don’t blame them. You are very sexy.” 

“I can see why you watch them. If there were edits of you I’d be watching them all the time. Can I see another?” 

“Sure.” You scroll down to another Carnival edit and you watch as Charles is encaptured by himself. 

“Well the song got one thing right-you do ride dick like a carnival.” Charles chuckles out. 

“CHARLES!” 

taglist- (crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you)

@arieslost @spookystitchery @tpwkstiles @oliveswiftly @morgonjinn @herondalism @softieekayy @deprxssed-loser @noreri @boiohboii @im-on-a-hellavator @captainchickadee @whatever7justchillin @outerudeth @jscircuit @loveyatopluto @saiteliites @asparklysoul @missmontiopath @helanahaadock @froggybij @slaygirlbossworld @vee2004dee @tennisloversblog @slvtforredheads @senna13sworld @hellobeauty-06 @jaxx-7 @anastasiamoony @reguluscrystals @gr1mes-cc @yoooooooogiiiiiiii @sharlsworld @janeholt3 @valtkitty @wondergirl101ks @georgeparisole @m4dyl @janegxi @amberpanda99 @itsmeimthedissapointment @jah0700 @non-binaryandy @sarahskomal @anedpev @xqwiser @apllo-axolotl @h34rts4maisey @anonymousjo @megsmclaren @charizznorizz @decadentlightchaos @adelinemack @bwormie @bonbonvz @hoodshair @bunbun9396 @fangirlika @vex-et-soleil @sillylittlegooselings @hlhclh @stvrlec16 @omgsuperstarg @luanasrta @its-cat-eyes @taytaythirteen @marekmybeloved @rqlstefanny @nickxcorpse @olivyamarvelgirl @violyn20 @emisaxols @thesouistone @hangmandruigandmav @embonbon

[hoeforalbedo]

Dolly (Finale)

Demon Alastor x Demon Housewife!Reader

Tw: Alcohol, Club, reader referred to woman, murder, rushed work.

Note: It’s kinda rushed. I tried. I was watching a school play and it was Chicago so I thought why not start it off at the club. I was also going to write a smut but it wouldn’t save so I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Last part was literally taken from Hannibal 😭😭

———————————————————————

Loud sounds of the trumpet ring throughout the club. It’s not the modernized type of clubs. No, flappers gather around dancing to the music with others at the dance floor. It’s almost as if everyone gathered together to learn the choreography as they all seem to dance in unison.

“Whiskey?” A small lady asks, holding a glass cup.

“I’m good Mimzy,” You smile. You lean back on your chair.

After years of loneliness, you’ve finally come to the end of your days. It was no natural death. Even in old age you found yourself feeding off the high you felt from murder. It was the only thing keeping you sane, ironically.

One moment were falling back onto the ground, the second you were greeted by the gold pearly gates. “Welcome to Heaven. Name please?”

“Hi, I am Y/N L/N, I believe I would not be on that list,” You smiled.

“Is that so? Surely I fine mannered lady like you should be on the list.” The angel hummed and looked at his list. “How odd, your name isn’t here.”

“I hope not, it isn’t. I’m very aware that murder is a huge sin,” You chuckled.

“Oh. . . Well then-“ You found yourself falling once more.

“My dear wife can’t handle her liquor well,” The static voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Oh Alastor, you know I’m not one for alcohol,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll take that, Mimzy.”

“Oh you two are truly a match made in hell,” The short flapper laughs.

“Hell?” You smirk, looking at Alastor.

“Truly.” Your husband answers, taking your hand and kissing the back of it.

“Oh I’ll leave you demon couple to be. I don’t plan to be a third wheel. Ta ta~!” The flapper waves, getting lost in the crowd.

“I believe we have time,” You look at him mischievously.

“I believe we do!” Alastor looks at a certain direction of the club, eyes landing at a man sniffing some substance. “I wouldn’t want to waste the night, especially since my wife dressed all pretty for me. Care for a dance?”

You jump up from your chair. “Why I thought you’d never ask!” You smile as Hit the Road Jack through the speakers. The song is very much after Alastor’s time however he found that he enjoys his music.

The two of you get to the dance floor. He places his hand at the small of your back and swing in sync with the music. He takes the lead, spinning and twirling you around.

“How I missed this!” You scream over the music.

“I’ve forgotten how amazing you are,” Alastor compliments, hooking your leg around his waist.

“Dancing was one of the many things I’ve missed.”

Alastor slowly dips you low to the ground before pulling you back up. “The day I took you dancing, I knew I was in love.” No, actually his mom suggested he take you dancing although he was taken off guard when you managed to keep up with him.

The demon lets go of your hands, letting you shimmy around him to allow you to have a clear view of what’s going around the club. He then takes your hand, pulling you back in and guiding you to twist your hips while kicking your feet.

It’s amazing how in synch you two are with how fast the song is. At the same time, the both of you are keeping a lookout for the man that you both could not bother to know the name of.

“Alastor,” You suddenly say darkly, looking over his shoulders.

“Allow me.” He managed to maneuver you both in the dancing crowd, spinning and twirling along with them.

“How dramatic you are. We could have walked!” You chuckle.

“Well you know me, I am one for theatrics. I trust you can handle the rest?”

“Of course dear!” You smile. He twirls you one last time and you spin much farther than you should, causing you to bump into a man who ends up spilling his drink on him.

“Shit you woman this is expensive!” The man yells.

“Oh I apologize! How clumsy of me,” You apologize profusely, taking your handkerchief out and trying to dry the liquid. Your doe eyes look at him innocently, looking full of regret.

“Well I’m sure I can forgive you, if you give me your. . .” He scans your body, taking in the black dress that is modest yet perfectly hugs your curves. Your cleavage peeks out just enough to leave the rest for the imagination. “Yeah, how about you offer me your body for the night.”

You look at him with innocent confusion. “I’m afraid I can’t do much for a night. A laborious task of cleaning the stain of your suit would take me a couple hours at best!” You play coyly although you know he intends to sleep with you.

“I- you know what, how about you come with me. I’ll show you a good time,” He smirks.

“Oh that’s just the experience I’m looking for!”

“Perfect.” The man leads you out to the back of the club. Your back is leaned up against the brick walls as the man gets very close to you.

“I’m not sure how this is more fun compared to dancing.”

“How did an innocent thing like you get into hell?” The man chuckles, taking your wrists and pinning it over your head.

“I lied just a little bit,” You answered.

“How naughty,” He hums, about to burry his face into your neck until he was simultaneously pulled back by shadow tendrils.

“I’m sorry for my vagueness. I lied about murdering someone,” You smile then walk to Alastor’s side.

“Who the fuck ar- Fuck,” the man’s eyes widen realizing that the one holding him captive is none other than the radio demon he had messed with a couple days prior and that you are associated with him.

“Am quite aware that I allowed for this to happen, but I still hate the fact that someone touched what’s mine,” The radio demon says menacingly, the filter in his voice going in and out.

“Alastor, sweetheart, how about we save this for the broadcast,” You mutter to him, putting your hand on his chest. “It was the plan after all, right?”

“Why you’re right, my dear. Well then!” He wraps an arm around you and teleports the three of you to his radio station.

“Oh fucking hell. Come on man! I don’t even know who this bitch is! Spare me!” The guy begs.

Alastor’s head spin towards the man while the rest of his body remains still. “This bitch is my wife and I will not tolerate your demeaning words. However!”

The man sighs in relief. “I do not fight my wife’s battles so my dear, do as you please.”

“Gladly. I was thinking meatloaf for tonight,” You smile as you glide towards your poor victim with a butchers knife.

“Good afternoon to my fellow sinners of hell! It is I, Alastor, accompanied with my lovely wife for the first time.”

“Hello!” You say cheerfully as you chopped the man’s fingers, a scream filling the studio.

“Today there will be music, dancing,” His filter disappears, “screaming,” his voice goes back to the usual, “and all that jazz so sit back, relax, and enjoy.” Another scream resonates through the air as Alastor plays some peaceful music. He then turns to you who has been chopping off the man’s external parts. “I hope you’ve left some for me, ma chere. I’m still rather irked from earlier.”

“Oh he’s still very much alive, see!” You say, pulling the man’s cheek to force a smile on his face.

“Lovely. I hope you don’t mind a bit more blood, my dear.”

You chuckle, “Oh I’m by far very used to it.”

He kisses your forehead, “What a doll you are, me cherie.”

“Only for you.”

“Just fucking kill me already!” The man begs.

“Gladly,” Alastor says, voice deep without any filter.

———————————————————————

“Smells delicious dear,” Alastor kisses your head.

“Of course! We made it together. Is Charlie and her father almost here?” You ask as you place the last dish down on the table.

“I believe-“ A knock is heard. “They are here now.”

“Let’s hurry and greet them!” You say excitedly, taking your apron off and putting it away.

The two of you open the door with bright smiles.

“Hello you two!” You greet, hugging the both of them.

“Well hello,” Alastor says, less enthusiastically as he glares at Lucifer.

“Well if looks could kill,” Lucifer begins only to be interrupted by his daughter.

“Well I’m glad that we were invited to your home, although of course we always have space at the hotel, and I feel so bad for coming empty handed,” Charlie speaks almost as if she’s being chased by something by how fast she speaks.

“That’s absolutely fine. My wife really only ever eats the food she or I prepare,” Alastor says. “Shall we?”

The father and daughter find themselves walking past the living room where deer heads are posted above the fireplace. Once they get to the dining room, the vibe is much more homey.

“You can tell who decorated what in the house,” Lucifer snickers.

“Wow! These all look delicious!” Charlie’s eyes sparkle at the food.

“Please have a seat!” You say.

All of you begin eating, making small talk. “This tastes good. What kind of meat is this?” Lucifer asks curiously.

“Rabbit,” Alastor answers.

“He should have hopped faster.”

The couple look at each other. You smile, “Yeah, he should have.”

———————————————————————

Tags: @notsentimentalll @mixplara @futureittomainn @karolinda007-blog

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + two

authors note: holy shit, i didn't expect so many people to be interested in this story! thank you all so much for the kind comments. this one is heavier than the first, but the following should be a little lighter.

i also just want to clarify something that a few of you mentioned: roman will not be abusive in this story. i know that's a plot used frequently, but it's not my thing, so i just wanna make that clear. :)

he is an ass though.....for now.

also, please, please, please heed to the cw/tw's! i will update them to reflect the content of each update. it's up to you, the reader, to prepare yourself properly by reading them to avoid being triggered.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, a scene of torture, depiction of ptsd, trauma responses (panic attacks), mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief line of dialogue referring to past childhood sexual assault, trauma response due to past childhood sexual assault

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 7k

“You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

If Solana was capable of feeling and experiencing any emotion other than sadness and fear, she would laugh. 

She would laugh because no one sane truly thinks that they can kill the head of the table, least of all someone like her. But, it really does settle in that her father and brother truly believe that she, of all people, can do something like that.

Can take someone’s life. 

Just the thought alone unlocks a new level of dread and terror. 

Eyes watering, she shakes her head, protesting. “No. I—I can’t do that. I—I won’t.”

Rarely, if ever, does Solana push back on what she’s asked or told to do. It only results in more severe beatings that lead to ER trips vs having to patch herself back up in her bathroom. She’s accepted that acquiescence is always a better alternative. But this….this she can’t get behind.

Wes smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Solana knows exactly what’s about to happen next. Stupidly, she tries to escape, climbing up on her feet and making it centimeters past Wes when he fists her hair, yanking her body back. She hisses in pain and starts to cry and protest as he drags her across the first floor of the house.

“No! P-please! I–I’m sorry!” She begs, all the while Xavier follows lazily behind, keeping his cigar near his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Wes snaps. She cries, heartbeat sporadic, so much so that it’s becoming difficult to breathe. That’s one of the worst things to happen considering what she knows is about to occur. He kicks open the bathroom door, and sure enough, the tub is already full and ready.

“No…..” Wes shoves her toward the tub, kicking her in her back to force her to the knees, Solana’s head banging against the side of the tub. She can only blink two or three times before water is burning her eyes, filling her mouth, drowning her.

Solana flails against Wes whose strong hand holds her down under the water by the back of her head. It’s a wasteless effort, trying to fight against him, when her energy would be better spent trying not to drown.

Not that Wes will allow that. He’s adept at bringing her to the edge of unconsciousness, pulling back just in time to taunt her. And that’s exactly what he does, pulling her head back, finding a level of enjoyment at her violent coughs and tears. 

His favorite form of torturing her.

She’s not sure how long it lasts, only knows there’s a tremendous amount of relief when he finally lets her go long enough for her to plant her palms on the ground to gather herself. 

Xavier, who stood there watching the whole time with pleasure, walks towards her. Solana gasps and moves her body back against the tub, wanting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

His face is blank, no emotion in his eyes. “You either kill Reigns.” Solana’s eyes shut as Xavier caresses her wet cheek. “Or we kill you.”

It’s impossible to hold back her tears, as Solana breaks down in front of her father and brother, the both of which simply walk away with an astounding amount of indifference. 

They slam the bathroom door shut, allowing her the privacy of at least deteriorating without their judgmental glares. 

Pulling up her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she sobs into her thighs, confused as to just how in the hell she ended up in this situation.

Solana isn’t a killer. Has never even had the desire to kill anyone. Not even the two men who just made it abundantly clear that her only two options are to kill or be killed.

Just how all of this is supposed to work is beyond her. Roman is a boulder of a man, body covered in ropes of pure muscle with a kill count that rivals some of the world’s leading assassins. She’s barely 5'1, can’t seem to get the scale to budge no matter how many diets she tries, and trembles in the presence of anyone who has an XY chromosome combination.

Many have tried to kill Roman, and all have failed, meeting gruesome, torturous deaths. 

What chance does she have?

————

Any prayer sent up requesting some type of divine intervention to stop this unholy union is either denied, ignored, or planning to be answered at a much later date and time, because the next two weeks speed by faster than the speed of light.

Solana’s days are filled with wedding preparations that require little to no of her say in what she wants. Not that that’s any different from most things in her life.

Granted, there’s a small part of her that mourns when she’s presented with her wedding dress.

The dress she doesn’t want to wear for a wedding she doesn’t want to have. There’s an alarming lack of autonomy that suddenly feels so much heavier and suffocating despite it being a consistent, dominant theme in her life.

A large part of her recognizes how it’s probably largely due to the whole reason why all of this is happening.

Her father and brother want control of the bloodline.

Objectively speaking, she can see why this would be a goal. It’s everyone’s goal. To have control and power over the most powerful crime family in the entire continent. Maybe beyond. The Bloodline’s true stretch has never really been made public, per se. She’s certain that’s partially what makes them so dangerous. One can never really know who is a member and who is not, who has ties and who is an enemy.

A secret that gives them a forever advantage.

The day of the actual wedding, like everything else, comes much quicker than Solana feels prepared for. Truthfully, she doesn’t feel prepared for any of this, doesn’t want any of this, but much like most things in her life, her wants and desires don’t matter.

No one cares to hear them, and no one definitely cares to respect them. 

On the day of the wedding, shortly after arriving at the church, she’s left alone in one of the back rooms. Someone mutters something about the makeup artist and hairstylist to come in shortly before slamming the door and leaving her by herself. That’s mostly a bad thing. Being alone with the thoughts she’s been having lately……they typically don’t result in anything good. 

Overwhelmed and in her head too much, Solana grabs her purse and takes out the latest journal she’s been working out of.

And she writes.

Dear Mom,

Today is my wedding day. I should be happy. You should be here. None of that is the case though. The truth is that I feel so empty. This won’t turn out well. I either try to kill Roman and he ends up killing me as a result or I refuse and dad and Wes kill me.

There is no outcome where I make it out of here alive.

And mama, I know you always told me to never forget that life is a gift, but mine isn’t. It hasn’t been since they took you from me.

And truthfully……I don’t think I really care anymore.

Life is hard. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I’d rather be with you instead.

The knock on the door startles Solana as she hurriedly moves to close up her notebook, stuffing it back in her purse as she calls out for whoever is on the other side to enter. The door slowly swings open as Solana quickly swipes at her eyes, feeling the burning of pending tears.

She can’t let them see her cry though.

No matter how badly she wants to.

While Solana expects another set of hard eyes and an indifferent scowl, she’s met with a woman around the same age as her with half her head shaved, the other side full of dark purple hair that grazes her shoulder.

“Damn, got the right room on the first try. Let’s fucking go.” Solana stands up as the woman walks over, adjusting the black makeup kit on her shoulder. “I’m Bayley.” She extends her hand out for a handshake, and Solana takes a second to reciprocate, caught off guard by her relaxed disposition. The way her smile meets her eyes, not a trace of irritation or disgust in having to assist her.

Solana has only had minimal interaction with representatives of the Bloodline, namely the women who accompanied her at the tailor shop and made comments, most likely about her, in their native Samoan. Nina always taught her daughter not to assume, but it’s hard to not believe cruel things are being stated when they’re conjoined with pointing, eye rolls, and curt exchanges when they needed Solana to move a certain way.

So Solana, understandably, is cautious. 

“Solana,” she shares, shifting in her seat.

“I know,” Bayley snickers, placing her makeup kit on the counter and starting to lay out products. “I’d be a bit of a shitty makeup artist if I didn’t know who the bride was, am I right?”

Solana doesn’t say anything. The silence doesn’t come from a place of rudeness but rather continued confusion. She can’t comprehend why this woman is being so nice to her?

If Bayley is bothered by the lack of responses, she does a damn great job of not showing it. “Now, I have a couple ideas of what look I think I wanna go for with you, but as it’s your big day, what are you thinking?”

That…..that is what triggers another one word responde. 

Cautious, she asks, “me?”

Bayley pauses in the midst of starting to pick out foundation options and leans back against the counter, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “Arranged marriages suck ass. You already don’t get to pick who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. The least you can do is pick out some makeup.”

There’s something so insanely comforting about her otherwise simple words. Something freeing and liberating about being given an option, even if it’s about makeup. For the first time today, Solana actually smiles.

“I—I like neutral colors. Gold…maybe would be okay too.”

And just like that, the deep smile that revealed the dimple in Bayley’s right cheek returns. “Great minds think alike. That’s exactly what I was gonna go for.”

“And—” Solana adds, voice an octave lower, insecurity creeping back in. “If—if you could cover the scar as best you can.”

“What scar?” Bayley gives her a wink before finishing up the laying out of products. “I got you, girl.”

It’s not very often, if ever, Solana feels beautiful. And even when those once in a blue moon moments occur, they’re fleeting or surface level, typically dashed by a cruel comment from her family. But today, standing in front of the mirror, makeup completed, hair done, and dress on, she actually feels beautiful.

The first time she tried on the dress, it was an unpleasant experience for a variety of reasons, on top of the fact that she hated the style. Strapless and form-fitting with a sweetheart neckline. Solana hates her arms and especially bringing too much attention to her chest and body in general.

But conjoined with the hair and makeup, she actually doesn’t immediately want to turn away from the mirror when she sees the outcome.

Bayley comes behind her, still wearing that smile that Solana is now convinced, despite the odds, is genuine. “Reigns is a lucky bastard. You look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Solana really does mean it when she offers a sincere “thank you.” Bayley’s positive energy is exactly what she needed. It doesn’t change anything, but it definitely does help her not to be consumed by thoughts she hasn’t had since she was a teenager.

“Hey, uhh, I’m sure being married to Mr. Tribal Chief himself means you’ll probably have to make appearances from time to time, hold his arm and shit.” She hands Solana a small piece of paper. Unfolding it, Solana sees numbers scribbled down in red ink. A phone number.  “Ever need glam again for any of it, hit me up. Or even….even if you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Solana’s voice is stronger this time, firmer, the small act of kindness traveling such a long way. She holds up one side of her gown to walk over and slide the paper in her purse. 

She’ll make sure not to lose it. 

There’s a hard knock on the door that reminds her where she is. Reminds her that people like Bayley are anomalies. One doesn’t get to experience kindness for too long. Not in her world. 

Solana honestly didn’t expect her father to walk her down the aisle, didn’t see it as something he would have any interest in nor find an exciting opportunity. And those two reasons are very much true, but his desire to issue last minute warnings outweighs both of them.

Xavier’s frame fills the door as he looks at Solana from head to toe. Instantly, he’s scowling with disapproval. 

“Why is her hair not down?”

Solana was partially worried about that. She knows her father has always told her she needs to keep her length so that she can always wear her hair down as it helps to “hide how fat your face is.”

She doesn’t know how wrong or right he is about that, but she’s wanted to cut it for ages, being unable to do so because she knows it’ll upset him.

Bayley, however, doesn’t seem to give two shits about Xavier’s disapproval. “Updo’s are typically better for formal events. Granted, up or down, she still looks beautiful.”

Solana can’t tell entirely if Bayley is defending her work or Solana. Either way, she has a tremendous amount of respect for this woman who doesn’t seem to give two shits about who Xavier Miller is.

If only Solana could do the same.

Xavier cuts his eyes in Bayley’s direction but says nothing, instead walking over to Solana and whispering in her ear. “You should have started your fast three days ago instead of two. You still look fat. Hold your stomach in as you walk down the aisle.”

Any relief or peace felt from her interaction with Bayley is dead the second those cruel words leave his mouth. As soon as he entered the room, really. But Solana doesn’t have time to be sad, because he moves to drop her veil over her face and loops his arm with hers. 

He walks her out of the room, depriving her of a chance to tell Bayley goodbye and thank you again. 

Xavier leads her down the hall, a left, and then a right before they’re standing before the double doors that lead to the sanctuary. She wants to ask for a second to gather herself, feeling the panic starting to rise, but Xavier barks for the guards standing outside the door to open said door.

And they oblige without protest.

The veil is more opaque than she remembers, partially obscuring her view of Roman and the others who wait for her at the end of the aisle. There’s a sea of people on either side of the pews, many and most, Bloodline members. But, she can’t focus on that.

All she can focus on is the low, warning voice of her father. “You will please him and do exactly as he asks.” What other choice do I have? “Earn his trust. We will tell you the rest when the time comes.”

Solana would give anything for that time to never come.

And once they reach the end, before he frees her hand for Roman to take it, he snatches the chance to put on a good display of faux love, leaning over for a hug. Solana instantly tenses at his touch.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he whispers and pulls away with a smile that has her empty stomach knotting.

Swallowing, Solana channels her focus back on Roman. Like the past two times she'd seen him, his hair is neatly pulled back, but unlike those exchanges, he’s dressed to the nines. Expensive, designer suit, all black, the only red in his appearance, the red Ula Fala he wears around his neck. Representation of his status as Tribal Chief, his role in his family’s dynasty.

Solana can admit that he looks good. Very good.

If only everything else just wasn’t so bad.

Roman has no reaction at unveiling her, and Solana can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. She’d like to just say he has no reaction to anything, really, but that’s untrue.

He’s notorious for his angry reactions to the most minute situations sometimes. 

So perhaps no reaction is the best reaction she can receive.

Still, it unsettles her. Has she upset him already?

The two of them are directed to kneel by the pastor, or maybe Shaman, or maybe just an official. She’s not really sure, but whoever he is, he wastes no time in starting with the formalities of the wedding. He says many things, but Solana’s mind is elsewhere, not that it’s an intentional avoidance.

Her father reminding her of the fact that she hasn’t had anything to eat for two days is suddenly bringing on the extreme exhaustion and weakness she’s pretty sure she’d managed to put on the back burner in exchange for mental anguish. 

She’s so incredibly tired. And it feels impossible to be present for the vows or to stand when she’s prompted so by the officiant. It’s even more difficult to stay cognizant enough to acknowledge what’s being asked of her, forced of her, with a set of “I do’s.”

But, it’s when a knife is pulled out that her face pales, flashes of numerous, previous exchanges where that little piece of silver was used to mentally and physically terrorize her. Roman somehow notices this and quietly murmurs, “relax. It’s tradition.”

Before she can speak, the officiant continues. “Now, as are the ways of our ancestors, we shall seal this union before God, family, and all with blood.” Roman offers his hand, palm faced upward and nods at Solana to do the same. Reluctantly, she follows, eyes shutting, not wanting to see whatever is about to happen next.

“Careful,” Roman warns. She’s unsure who it’s directed to, but it’s followed by a brief, burning pain across her palm. She’s been cut, nothing major, but enough to draw blood. 

Her hand is moved followed by instant, coarse, warmth. Eyes opening, she sees that her and Roman’s hands have been joined together.

“In the eyes of the ancestors, you two are now officially bound to one another not just by law, tribal and government, but blood. A curse be placed upon anyone who dares interfere with this marriage.” Separating their hands, Roman takes the red cloth and wipes her palm before his own, tossing it to who she recognizes as his enforcer/cousin, Solo. “And now, you may kiss the bride.”

For whatever reason, probably several good ones, Solana hadn’t thought about this part. The part where Roman would have to touch her, would have to kiss her, in front of everyone.

There’s a quick increase of anxiety and panic that ensues when Roman takes her hand, pulling to force her to angle her body toward him. Her heart is smashing against her chest with the weight of a ton of bricks. 

But just as quickly as the anxiety rushed in, it’s gone because Roman’s head dips lower to hers and his lips are on and off her faster than she can process, than she can freak out over.

She’s unsure about this brief interaction, a possible indication he’s just as uninterested in this union as she is. 

A business arrangement.

That’s what he called it.

That’s what he called her.

Even her hand in his as he leads her down the aisle, stoic expression the polar opposite of one would expect for what should be the happiest day of someone’s life.

She wonders if he views this as the exact opposite.

Because Solana certainly does.

————

Despite her best efforts to power through, the weakness gets worse and is complicated by a sort of dizziness that makes Solana partially grateful her arm is linked with Roman’s. She tries not to show that she’s leaning more on him than her own two feet, not trusting them to give out on her.

But, this man is perceptive as hell, she should know this. One doesn’t get to be where he is, accomplished all he has by being oblivious. 

He’s escorting her into the reception area, already lively and full of people, most of which she doesn’t know, many of which she’s not sure she wants to know. 

But instead of leading her toward an individual or group of individuals, he pulls her to the side, asking in a low but steel voice. “What’s wrong?”

Solana stills. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Trying her best to do damage control, she answers in as firm a voice she can muster. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tire……” Free hand to her forehead, Solana only recalls her eyes briefly closing before her body sways into something hard and firm, arms around her, holding her up.

Roman says something, calls for someone, but Solana is solely focused on centering herself. 

A woman is suddenly standing before her with a deep, beautiful complexion similar to her father’s. However, that’s where the similarities stop, because this woman and her bold makeup is absolutely stunning. 

“You don’t look well,” is the first thing to leave the woman’s frowning mouth.She takes the back of her hand to Solana’s forehead and offers what could be perceived as a sincere, sympathetic smile. “Girl, when was the last time you had something to eat?”

Solana manages to answer, unfortunately being honest when she should probably lie. “Y-yesterday, I think. Maybe—maybe the day before.”

A deep frown falls on her face, but Roman is the first to speak. “Why the fuck haven’t you been eating?”

It’s the irritation and anger in her voice that makes her wince, but Solana can’t account for what makes her eyes dart over to where her dad and brother are watching closely. She does her best to redirect her gaze before Roman notices, but it’s a stupid thought.

He sees everything.

His expression turns dark as he mutters something she can’t hear and then directs the woman. “Naomi, take her to get something to eat.”

Naomi. That’s her name. For some reason, it just fits her. Naomi places her hand on the small of Solana’s back, gently taking her from Roman’s grasp as she starts to guide her away. “Come on. There’s definitely plenty of options to choose from.”

Meanwhile, Roman sets his sights on another goal, knowing Naomi will see to it that Solana is taken care of.

Xavier isn’t a hard man to find. He’s laughing it up with some of the other guests at the wedding who aren’t members of the Bloodline per se, more along the lines of allies. Not that Roman gives a shit. His stride is intentful and purposeful, Solo naturally flanking at his side, Xavier’s gaze falling on them with an insincere smile.

“Ahhh, the groom. Congratulations—”

“Why wasn’t she eating?” All Roman has to do is nod for the other men to disperse, and like ants, they do just that, leaving him alone with Miller and his boy.

Xavier steps forward, lowering his voice and clearly playing up the facade of a concerned, loving father. “I believe she said something about looking her best on her wedding day. And as you can see, Solana is not a small woman. She probably thought that was the best and quickest way. Poor girl.”

Roman has this thing he likes to do sometimes when people think they can get one over on him. He likes to tap into the deeply rooted part of himself that can maintain his temper, keep him from acting on his emotions, and instill some well crafted self-control. He puts all of that on the back burner in favor of something else almost equally enjoyable.

Playing with his prey.

Roman knew five minutes into the conversation with Miller that the man’s death would come at his hands. Preferably sooner rather than later. Xavier is the type of man Roman hates the most. The kind who fails in all important areas of his life and spends the rest of it making others miserable for his shortcomings. The kind of man who refuses to see the simpleton he has for a son yet seems keen on turning him into a mafia head.

It’s almost comical. The amount of delusion.

Wes also decides to answer, chin jutted, shoulders straightening. This actually is humorous to Roman, the fact this kid thinks that he comes off remotely intimidating. That shit may work on his sister, but not the Tribal Chief. 

“Solana’s a grown woman. She does what she wants.”

Xavier shoots his son a warning look. A look indicating that he can’t believe Wes would be foolish enough to challenge the man before him. “Wes….”

This only brings a smile to Roman’s face. He steps toward him, vowing in Samoan. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” His eyes dart toward Xavier. “The both of you.”

Solo also steps forward, asking in their same native language. “Want me to handle this for you, my tribal chief?” 

Roman shakes his head, advising in a deadly calm voice. “Patience, Solo. I’m going to have my fun first.” 

Xavier is visibly irked by the conversation happening in front of him that he can’t understand. But, he does a decent job hiding that irritation. “Perhaps I should go check on her—”

Roman extends his arm, blocking the man. “No.”

Xavier pauses. “What?”

Roman is suddenly ready to get the fuck out of here. He promised his cousins that he would go the day without killing anyone, but this fucker is pushing it. “She’s my wife. I see to it that she’s fine.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, but he covers it with a tight smile. “She is my daughter.”

“The same daughter you knew was starving herself yet did nothing about it?” Roman’s retort is blunt and to the point. He may plan to play with his prey, but that doesn’t mean he can’t call this man out on his bullshit along the way.

Xavier paints on a face of shock and indignation at Roman’s accusation. “I did—"

Roman is directly to the point, advising in a way that makes it clear there’s no room for debate. “Solana is my responsibility now. Any issues she has, I will handle. Any threats she faces, I will eliminate.” One glance at Wes shows that the younger Miller is struggling to control his temper, hand clenching and unclenching at his side. The impulsive side of Roman wants the kid to try something. This will be a beating he’ll enjoy. Thoroughly. 

The kid is as insufferable as his father.

Roman refocuses himself, talking and directing his conversation to Xavier. “Solana will be unavailable for the next few weeks.”

Roman swears he can see the vein forming in the older man’s forehead. “What? Why?”

“She’s a member of the Bloodline now. She must get familiar with our ways. Any messages you need to relay to her will go through me.”

It’s partially true. But mostly, he wants to fuck with Miller. A man who obviously gets off on control needs to be humbled, Roman knows it must kill Xavier to be humbled by someone younger and more accomplished than himself.

He’s also certain Solana won’t be heartbroken by not being around her abusive piece of shit family. 

“I don’t—”

“When she wants to.” He gestures to Solo, explaining, “Solo will accompany her for any outings she has outside of the estate. That includes your home as well.” 

Roman is certain Solo, if not for his adept skill at maintaining a poker face, would be looking at him with surprise. He’s yet to discuss this with his enforcer, but Roman’s word is law. So however his cousin feels about it is irrelevant. It’s painfully obvious Solana is incapable of keeping herself safe, hence her need for protection.

Solo would be the perfect person for just that.

Xavier clears his throat, wrinkled hand adjusting, loosening his tie. “Is that really necessary?”

“As my wife, she now has a major target over her head. I won’t take any chances.” Roman’s smile is mocking. “This is your daughter, right? Surely, you don’t want me taking any chances.” Roman adds on, partially to continue to twist the knife but also because it’s the truth. “I will keep her safe.”

Regardless of how he feels about this marriage, Solana is now a part of the Bloodline. That means, just like for anyone else in his family, he’ll protect her with his life. It’s his duty to do so.

Xavier’s deep complexion is tinged red. The man is fired up. But still, he knows better than to express that rage to the man in front of him. “That is—-was—-her home. What safer place is there to be?”

Now, Roman is getting pissed off. It’s obvious by the faded bruises and pure terror that Solana exhibits in the presence of her family that she’s anything but safe with them. 

Roman steps towards him. “With me.” Tired of these games, he gets straight to the point. “These are not suggestions. They’re orders. Orders you will obey.” He searches Xavier’s face for any signs of indication that he’d be stupid enough to try something. There’s nothing there. “Am I understood?”

With a clenched jaw, Xavier answers. “Yes.”

Roman’s intense gaze burns into him, his undisputed authority surely a thorn in Miller’s side. “Yes, what?”

“Yes…..my Tribal Chief.”

Roman smiles. Pleased with his assertion of dominance, he turns away, venturing off to find his bride.

Time to get the fuck out of here.

————

Solana spends much longer in the bathroom than necessary. She halfheartedly expects for Roman to come beating on the door, demanding for her to come out and fulfill her wifely duties.

But that moment never arrives, so she values every second of time she’s granted to prepare herself for what she’s refused to think about the past two weeks.

Her wedding night.

Solana knows what’s going to happen, what has to happen, but it doesn’t do anything to help the terror she feels in every corner of her body.

The shower water blends with the tears shed at the thought of what she has to do, the act she can’t even think about without her chest tightening.

She hoped that reminding herself this wasn’t that, that this isn’t that, would help. But, it doesn’t. Because this is Roman Reigns she’s about to be intimate with.

He��s not known for being gentle in any area of his life, and bedroom activities certainly can’t be an exception. That’s when her anxiety grows even stronger, especially as she forces herself to dress in the red lingerie that was provided to her.

The silk robe included provides a slither of comfort, and she makes sure to tie it so it covers as much of her body as possible. A silly act considering Roman will rip it off, along with everything else, the moment he gets her onto the bed. 

It’s only when she’s certain she’s stretched out every bit of patience this man is capable of offering that Solana decides she needs to leave the bathroom. Upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.

So without an ounce of hope that anything moving forward will be remotely good, Solana hits the light switch and opens the door.

She finds Roman sitting almost slouched in his chair located in the corner of the room. He’s lazily scrolling on his phone when his eyes lift and land on her. She stills. There’s a brief second of a delay when he hits the button on the side of the phone and stands up. 

Solana refuses to focus too much on the fact that he’s about as covered up as she is, wearing only boxers.

Because of his size, it seems he’s across the room directly in front of her in a matter of seconds. Eyes taking her in from top to bottom, he asks, “you good?”

Far from it. 

Regardless, Solana nods.

If only that worked for the head of the table.

She gasps quietly when he brings his hand to her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I don’t do non-verbals.” His eyes search her face for something she can’t identify. “Words.”

Blinking, she answers with a low, “y–yes.”

He pauses and then demands, “lay down on the bed.”

Solana licks her lips and makes her feet move over to the mattress, climbing on top and clenching her eyes shut as she lays her head back on the pillow.

Her fingers mess with the material of her robe, trying to distract herself from the sound and feel of him climbing on the bed. She doesn’t need to be looking to know he’s above her, intense eyes probably studying her.

His deep voice sounds at the same time she feels his finger glaze across her clavicle. “It’s just sex.”

If only that was true. 

Still, she manages to nod, eyes and mouth snapped shut.

Solana takes in a deep breath that makes her stomach cave when Roman’s lips are pressed against the soft skin of her jawline, moving downward at a tantalizingly slow pace at the same moment his hands move to her robe. 

She releases another shaky breath as her robe comes undone, revealing so much skin, so much of her she’d do anything to keep hidden away.

A thin sheen of sweat is starting to form all over her body. The room is suddenly much hotter than she remembers. There’s difficulty paying attention to what’s happening because her mind is taken to another place, another time.

A much much darker place and time. 

And suddenly, she’s not in Roman’s bed. It’s not him hovering over her, not his mouth on her neck or his hands on her body.

It’s theirs.

His stench is strong and almost sour, breath tinged with alcohol. “You’ve got some fire in you, girl.” A sinister smile reveals yellowish teeth contrasted against pale, dehydrated skin. “But, I like it when they fight back.” His strong fist connects with her jaw, forcing her head to the side and nearly knocking her unconscious. “Rob, come hold her down for me.”

Solana tries her best to stop it, tries to keep it at bay, tries to do what she’s never been able to do prior to this moment but somehow thinks this will be different. It’s a stupid thought, because moments later, she’s hyperventilating, her body feeling like it’s on fire. 

“No!” 

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, Solana shoves them, Roman, whoever, off of her, scrambling to climb off the bed. She’s standing in the middle of the room, doubled over as the demons overcome her.

Hand to her chest, she starts clawing at her neck. 

Deep down, she knew this is what would happen, knew that she’d fall apart the second he started to touch her. 

What she didn’t expect was a set of firm, calloused hands forcing her upright, carefully holding her arms away from her neck where she’s certain she just drew blood. And she definitely doesn’t expect Roman’s intense gaze on her, studying her with what one might consider to be concern.

But, Solana is too caught up in her panic attack to know for certain if it’s concern or not as she realizes that he’s talking to her.

His voice is distant but eventually travels close enough where she can make out words. “Breathe.” She’s still gasping for breath, trying to find that place of regulation as he continues to speak to her in an almost soothing manner. But, that can’t be possible. This is Roman fucking Reigns. Nothing about him is soothing. 

“Look around the room. Tell me five things you see.” 

Solana doesn’t know how, why, or even where she finds the wherewithal to be present for his directions, but she is. She’s even able to follow through. Eyes moving around the room, the first thing she lands on are the double doors leading to the balcony.

With speech still almost an impossible thing, she lifts her arm and points in that direction. 

He doesn’t even turn to see what she’s pointing at. “Keep going.”

Confused but also not wanting to make things worse by being disobedient, she scans the room, settling on the dresser. Solana points again.

Roman’s eyes bounce from her eyes to her mouth. “Three more.”

At some point in this random exercise, Solana’s breathing began to regulate, so much so that instead of pointing to the chair in the corner of the room, she whispers, “the c-chair.”

His voice grows seemingly softer. “Two.”

The next thing to catch her attention is the painting on the wall, and it’s after she does so, Roman provides her with a reminder that she still has one more. And when she points to the ceiling fan, he provides another set of directions, tasking her to identify four things she can touch.

She struggles initially, realizing she can use herself, going on and identifying several and actually feeling various parts of herself, like her hair and robe. 

And when she’s asked about three things she can hear, it’s only then that she realizes something she’d missed in the midst of following his guidance. 

She realizes that she can breathe.

Solana can actually breathe. That anchor isn’t on her chest, weighing her down to a state of unconsciousness, that heat that made her feel like flames were lapping at her body is extinguished. 

She almost….she almost feels calm. 

While panic was the dominant emotion not even 10 minutes prior, confusion is the primary emotion now. 

And it's with partial confusion and partial recognition that she acknowledges softly, “I’m okay…”

He doesn’t say anything, and it’s in that brief time of silence that Solana tries to process what just happened. Having suffered from panic attacks since she was a child, she’s never been able to calm herself down, never experienced one as short as this one. 

But he….he just changed that. He just helped her through it.

Shaking her head, she stammers, “how….how did you—”

Solana didn’t realize he was still holding her forearms until she looks down. Roman suddenly jerks and steps away from her, forcing her arms back at her side. 

Instantly, she’s contrite. He seems….disturbed. Triggered, almost. “I’m sor—”

“Quiet.” Solana watches with just as much confusion as he moves across the room, dressing himself, back towards her, like he’s physically unable to look at her. There’s a level of aggression in his movement, a wave of irritation radiating off his large being. “Why—why are you….”

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but she definitely thinks it.

She wants to know why he’s leaving, even if it should be painfully obvious.

Truthfully, Solana doesn’t quite understand why she’s suddenly wondering why he’s leaving. It’s obvious she can’t do what needs to be done. More importantly, she doesn’t want to. Him leaving her alone should be sweet relief.

But it can’t be sweet relief because while it may fix one issue, several others are created.

She was told not to upset him.

He’s upset.

She was told to please him.

He’s far from pleased.

She was told to do whatever he asked, and she’s done the opposite of that.

So far, Solana is failing. She’s failing miserably, and that can only lead to one grisly outcome. 

“Where are you going?” Asking while holding her robe closed over her body, she weakly reminds, even if it kills her to do so. “We—we have to—”

“You think I’m dealing with that shit again?” Roman snaps, finally turning to look at her. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you having a nervous breakdown.”

His words, while true, leave a sting. It’s also a bit confusing. How is this the same man who only minutes ago talked her through her panic attack with such patience and compassion.

She suddenly feels even more embarrassed and stupid.

“But, we’re—”

“I can get pussy anywhere, preferably without the headache of dealing with someone clearly unstable.” Solana still isn’t quite sure how to take his sudden change in demeanor. Roman finishes dressing and curtly informs, “the room on the end of the hall on the right is yours. Don’t still be in mine by the time I get back.”

“When are you—” The sound of his heavy double bedroom doors slamming in the wake of his exit prematurely silences her question. 

It’s only when she’s certain that she’s alone that Solana breaks down again.

He’s upset.

She’s upset him.

Nothing ever good ever came out of an angry man. Not for her, at least.

Her mind creates and races with a million and one thoughts regarding not about where he’s going but what will happen when he’s returned. She wants to believe he’s going somewhere to work off his anger, but experience has proven she’s the way that men work off their anger.

Roman indicated that day in the library that he wouldn’t put his hands on her, and while she wanted to believe he was being honest, this was also before she pulled this. He has every right to be upset, but that anger and not knowing what will come from it….it terrifies her.

It terrifies the shit out of her.

Falling to the floor, legs against her chest, she sobs into her legs, one thought and only one thought on her mind now.

What the hell did I get myself into?

[theglassesgirl]

Calypso vs Antinous: A Tale of Two Villains

I know this is such a weird topic for me to come back for after not blogging for months, especially I’ve never spoken on this fandom here, as opposed to TikTok. But precisely BECAUSE tiktok is so limiting, even if you make various videos on a topic, someone won’t have all the context and the comment system of that app is pure ass so here I am

Calypso and Antinous are two (out of three!) of the MAJOR villains in the Wisdom Saga, however, both these villains have produced polarizing discourse that has fascinated yet confounded me. On Calypo’s end, she is a villain who many are made upset by when she is interpreted as the villain she is (in varying degrees). On Antinous’s end, he is a villain who many are made upset by when he is interpreted as anything BUT the villain he is (in various extremes). What on earth happened here?

I’ll try to dissect what has transpired as i have come to understand both situations.

PLEASE try to read through the end, but if you like, you are also more than welcome to just focus on one section if you don’t care for both discourses or how i think one affects the other. I totally get it. KEEP IN MIND, that i might speak about something you haven’t PERSONALLY seen, but as i often say in fandom, just because YOU didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it didn’t HAPPEN. It adds context to why/how certain fans are reacting as they are. You could be in one camp, and never have seen what the other camp has, so at any point where youre reading and saying to yourself “is this a thing that happened?” Consider that it did indeed, happen, and you are welcome to expand your knowledge on the subject.

ANY comments that go “you have no idea what your talking about/this isn’t true/i’ve never seen this/when did this happen(sarcastically)” will not be answered and you will be blocked, because it is clear you are not actually open to discussion. You’ve made up your mind about these characters and topics, and my time, at least, is valuable.

GENUINE questions like “I didn’t know this/when did this happen (genuine)/can you explain this point more” are more than welcome. I will absolutely entertain character interpretation as well, so long as we’re not trying to “convince” one another, as that isn’t the point of this post. These are two villains who i find fascinating and am wondering why are being treated so differently in discourse spaces.

For Calypso:

I truly and HONESTLY believe that because Calypso is a unique (and lovable! Mind you!) villain, it had led to many of her newer fans to feel uncomfortable with her role in the story. I have seen numerous sides of her discourse and have come with a few iron-clad rules: it is ONLY acceptable to call someone out if they are harassing Wangui, calypo’s VA (which has NOT happened as i am writing this out) OR if an anti-calypso comes into SOMEONE ELSE’s post saying anything like “if you like calypso then you condone her actions” because as what we sane people know, that is just a silly fallacy, OR if they start shit in a cosplayers/fanfic writer/fanartists comment section. ASIDE from these instances, i will be speaking on what none sense has transpired about how Calypso is portrayed in the Musical within her first song, and her future song, because BOTH have been used for utter bias.

A few things to debunk:

FIRST Calypso is NOT cursed to fall in love with anyone who comes across her island. That is a Percy Jackson ONLY addition that has no bearings on her actions in the musical or the original poem.

ALSO though Calypso CANONICALLY RAPES Odysseus for seven years in the original poem, the CHILDREN from that abuse only really exist in secondary sources/works. They NOT in the original poem.

Having said that:

The Ambiguity of Calypso’s actions in both of her songs means that everyone is right when they speculate on what she has done. Odysseus was trapped on her island against HIS will for seven years. He is canonically seen refusing her advances, trying to kill himself, and begging her to let him go and leave him alone. These are UNDISPUTED facts. As such, regardless of how YOU personally choose to interpret Calypso actions, she will always have a CANONICAL victim in the musical. I feel people are forgetting Odysseus when they speak on Calypso and that’s the whole point of her existence in the poem and the musical.

This leads directly into WHY there has been arguments about Calypso’s character. In the POEM, she very much sexually assaults Odysseus for seven long years. He is seen crying nightly and begging to be free. In the MUSICAL, Jorge has decided to leave the situation ambiguous - which, i have seen, does not sit well with current fandom culture. NEW fans of Calypso seem to be very adamant about NOT interpreting Calypso as a rapist, in levels that range for they’re just not comfy with it so decided not to head canon her as such, to other very concerningly speaking about rape survivors in such a way to justify liking a villain when you dont HAVE to justify liking a villain at any point at all ever.

Let’s break it down.

Those who just don’t like the idea of Calypso being a rapist in the MUSICAL are valid. It’s very easy to block and avoid those who have chosen to explore this aspect of her in the musical because they can and are allowed to. I am very pro-finding a space in fandom where you can talk about Calypso without HAVING to mention she might have raped someone. She’s still a villain for having kept Odysseus captive for seven years, but it’s not important. You are more than allowed to love villains, and without the rape aspect, Calypso’s villainy boils down to her physiological and emotionally torturing Odysseus while physically kidnapping him. That’s still ALOT of bad stuff to unpack, if you so want to. You could also not want to! It doesn’t hurt anyone, and anyone who says it does is not being intellectually honest.

The PROBLEM that I’m seeing, is that many of her newer fans…DONT want Calypso to be seen as a villain. At all. Which…is not how fandom works, I’m sorry to say.

While some EPIC fans have interpreted Calypso of being manipulative / selfish even in their most sympathetic analysis of the story (and the current song), others are treating these interpretation as wholly incorrect and somehow a form of harassment. The main caveat to this reaction appears to be, as TikTok puts it, “That Calypso DOESN’T SA Odysseus on the musical”

As we have pointed out, Calypso canonically rapes Odysseus in the poem, while it’s ambiguous in the musical. As we have ALSO pointed out, the ambiguity of the musical allow ALL INTERPRETATIONS to be correct. Something about the RAPE aspect of Calypso’s characterization in this musical, however, is the primary reason this discourse has happened.

Now, as i have said earlier. You are in your RIGHT to not head canon Calypso has a rapist in the musical. In the same vein others also have a RIGHT to head canon Calypso AS a rapist in the musical. But from what I’ve seen, it’s when others interpret Calypso as a rapist that newer Calypso fans leave comments about they’re not “interpreting the story correctly” and not “Judging calypso based on Jorge’s vision” and at first i found it funny…now it’s a bit concerning.

There are two instances that come to mind. One tiktoker made a video where she was in tears saying that it made HER SAD that people were “judging Calypso wholly based on outside sources material” which is disingenuous. As i have said before, even without the RAPE aspect of Calypso, which i will go further into what her newer fans consider “rape”, she is still an antagonist within the musical - she is a villain who keeps Odysseus against his will. To claim that they are calling her a villain for that reason alone is a blatant and useless addition to the discourse. I did not care for it at all. It would have been MUCH MORE constructive for this tiktoker to say that even though Calypso is a villain, the sexual assault is up to individual interpretation, and as all interpretations are valid, it’s better to find people who agree with your head canons rather than start fights with people who don’t share yours. This tiktoker very poorly worded the discourse as a one-sided thing where one side is wrong, and that is simply not true.

ANOTHER tiktoker, who wisely turned off comments because such discussions are impossible on the app, worryingly claimed that a line in Not Sorry for Loving You was absolute PROOF that Calypso did not “rape” Odysseus so it was wrong to interpret her as such, because, and this is a loose quotation “i don’t think Jorge would make Odysseus say something like that HAD Calypso done that to him” which unfortunately leaves fandom discourse into REAL WORLD victim discourse. Holy shit. The line she is referring to is when Odysseus calms Calypso down when she is in the middle of explaining her actions by saying “Calypso i love you, but not the way you want me to” to this tiktoker, it seems illogical for a rape victim to every say these kinds of things to their rapist…which is….NOT it. At all. Fiction, as beautiful as it is, is meant for you to QUESTION “huh…how would this impossible fictional scenario work? What makes this compelling?” It is NOT meant for you to attribute your REAL WORLD assumptions onto a FICTIONAL SCENARIO in order to justify you liking a villain character when you dont HAVE to justify it. You can like Calypso! It’s only weird when you make real-world comparisons like this because a rape victim can and HAS said as much and even more to their rapists in known history. *bonks you* dont do what this person did! Fiction allows you to explore situation that would be traumatizing outside of it in as safe and consensual way! You CANNOT and should NOT ascribe your personal biases on sensitive topics for FICTIONAL characters. That’s not how this works. “real victim wouldn’t x, so fictional wouldn’t y” is a ludicrous statement! You can’t back it up with facts! “Fictional victim does x, so i wonder if there ever would be a situation where a real victim would do y, and would like educate myself on the topic” IS what fiction was made for! OPENing your mind, not closing it for stupid reasons.

But it got me thinking. BECAUSE these fans anchor their arguments on the rape of Odysseus, even when they themselves DONT consider it, what exactly do they consider rape, and why is that ONE act Calypso may or may not do the ONLY reason to call her a villain when she is one, regardless.

Well, I’ve seen a lot of back and forth. Some anti-calypso’s are okay with the idea that Calypso is more of a “kissy-face” monster, a silly villain who, having no concept of what actual love is and what your supposed to do with someone you love, thinks hugging and kissing is the only thing on the table. It still makes this version of Calypso something of a sex pest and is still in line with sexual assault as we see Odysseus is miserable. The gravity of the situation is based entirely on funny fanfics to Odysseus canonically trying to kill himself because of Calypso’s affection. This interpretation (shockingly enough) is also hated by some new Calypso fans.

Because from what i have gathered. “SA” as used in TikTok, had been boiled down to a literal forced insertion of Odysseus’s dick in Calypso’s vagina. Not the literal words “sexual assault” which is an umbrella term for multiple things. But in this discourse “SA” has JUST been used for the ACT of rape itself. That is what new Calypso fans think is criminal. That is what they entirely base her villainy on. Because we will NEVER get confirmation on whether this happened, it’s impossible to engage with some of the newer fans, who dislike attributing Calypso with the villain title because of this one thing and this one thing alone. Any other line, from Calypso saying “and I’m sorry if i pushed you, or if i came on too strong” in her next song, or even her saying “in bed we will climb” is, for some reason, not grounds for others to be allowed to interpret her as, at the very least, assaulting Odysseus physically and sexually in a way without having to have actually raped him. It boggles my mind. Truly. But every argument i have seen has boiled down to the newer fans saying “welllllll, we dont know the context, and Odysseus said —“ when i have already explained that none of that matters. All interpretations are valid. You CANNOT say with certainty that she did or didn’t rape Odysseus. That’s the POINT. You can’t PROVE either, stop TRYING to, it’s YOUR choice and your interpretation can be backed by lyrics/official animatics, but it is hardly an absolute.

It has become a GROWING problem that in videos where Calypso is portrayed negatively, there are at least a dozen newer calypso fans who have to bring up how she is sympathetic, and therefore, not a villain. Which is not true. She is the MOST compelling villain in the epic musical, thus far.

These “fans” say that she absolutely didn’t rape Odysseus which is theory, not fact. And not a theory that can become fact. In the same way that saying she absolutely did rape is can not become fact. They appear to believe everything outside of this hypothetical act, nothing else she does is deserving of her title as a villain, and start arguments in non discourse posts about all the ways she’s sympathetic when it goes hand in hand with what makes her a compelling villain antagonist.

There’s also a newer cope saying that it’s all Zeus’s fault anyway, which has NO bearings on the conversation as, again, despite Zeus being a dick and allowing Odysseus live while not necessarily enabling him returning to Ithaca, it’s still up to Calypso on how she acts towards HER captive. And she straight up chooses violence lmao. Athena asks for “Devine intervention” to an impossible situation, regardless of if it was Zeus’s actions that led to it, it’s also up to him to “untie apprehensions” because Calypso, being a goddess, has complete control over whether Odysseus can leave and SHE won’t. She has to be ORDERD to. By a HIGHER power. Zeus.

Such argumentations as “well if YOU were in Calypso’s situation, wouldn’t you also do the same” are useless fallacies to get into, because you are NOT a goddess who owns an island and is in possession of a man who does not love you. Even if you were, guess what, it still makes you the antagonist. A villain. A knowing one or not.

In fact, since I LIKE interpretations that Calypso isn’t psychologically torturing Odysseus ON PURPOSE, i go as far as to say that her being a genuine goddess who wants love is in fact…..so much more painful, narratively. Because that means she is INCAPABLE of ever being a good person. Her loneliness and fear of being unloved makes her utterly blind to Odysseus’s misery. She HEARS him saying constantly that he misses his family, that all he hears are screams, and that SHE doesn’t know him, but she in turn CANNOT get passed this because she is, at her core, unable to, and thus accidentally triggers him constantly, is delusional about her island being paradise, AND convinces herself that her love is real (when it is not) and that Oddy will love her back if she keeps trying.

THAT is what you call a compelling villain!

As in all Calypso stories. There is NEVER a moment of clarity where Calypso realizes “if i actually love this person, i should let him go” in the musical HERMES is tasked in telling her to let him go. And she, as in all her other stories, goes on a tirade to explain/justify her actions, however you wish to see her being manipulative or honest. Regardless of how you choose to SEE calypso, at the end of the day, she has NO RIGHT to be upset at Odysseus because he was her captive. And REGARDLESS of whether Odysseus’s words are interpreted as him forgiving her, or just placating her, at the end of the day, he is her victim and she ends her next song upset that he is willingly leaving her once he got the chance. With absolutely no hope of him returning her feelings. It’s not his job to make her feel better, she IS an antagonist, and you are allowed to love her no matter how that might upset others. It is ONLY a problem when you take it to such extremes that you are in other peoples comments acting as if Calypso is a real person who needs defending. You are more than in your right to block people who come into YOUR videos accusing you of somehow being a bad person because you like a bad person. That’s not how fiction works.

Once again. My analysis of the Calypso debacle is that for some, calling Calypso a villain upsets them. Because they like her, and they are uncomfortable with the idea of liking a villain. This is a personal grievance that shouldn’t boil into fandom. Know your truth, have fun. You CAN make silly calypso videos. Many have. Her song is a bop, the meaning of the song is hilariously dark compared to the composition. Jorge did his job VERY well. Too well, that the idea of liking Calypso feels either / or when it’s not. TRUST that i would not be on the side of anyone who says “if you like calypso, youre evil”, but I HAVE seen a pattern that because Calypso is likable, than several people have made it their confused mission to tell everyone who is “mean to her” that “if you DISLIKE calypso, YOU are evil”. That’s bizarre to me. Calypso does enough evil actions in the musical to warrant that title regardless of the reasons for her actions, whether she is being purposely malicious or unconsciously so due to her lack of socialization. Being weird about real life SA survivors for a fictional character is never acceptable. For or against Calypso, whether she is a rapist or not, it is up to YOU to find like minded people who share your interpretation, not to argue with people who disagree with you in their own space. She isn’t real. Get over it.

ANYONE WHO HARASSES WAGNUI, COSPLAYERS, OR GOES INTO POSITIVE CALYPSO INTERPRETATION SPACES TO BE PURPOSELY MEAN* ARE WRONG. Otherwise. Leave them alone, they are as valid as you are. “Defending” a character is a waste of time when you could be creating for them. Calypso is a compelling villian antagonist regardless of how uwu or vile you choose to make her. Thus is the beauty of fiction.

(*purposely mean, would, logically, be someone calling you an idiot or a rape apologist for headcanoning her in a positive way. The ideal interaction with a negative calypso interpreter would be “i dont see her this way, but i understand/like your headcanon”)

WHICH BRINGS US TO Antinous:

Hilariously enough. Antinous has the complete INVERSE problem as Calypso, which was also detailed in her section for fairness sake at multiple points, and this problem is much easier to understand. Antinous is a villian antagonist in the musical Epic, and in his debut in the wisdom saga, he is shown (like calypso) to be in direct opposition to Telemachus and Penelope’s goal.

He alludes to sexual assault much more clearly than calypso. He calls Penelope a tramp to her son’s face AND suggests he let them into her room “so [they] can have fun with her” which is in the same vein as calypso saying “soon in bed we will climb” to Odysseus later on that “you (Odysseus) are mine all mine” in her own song. Like calypso, it is told to us that Antinous has been having this kind of vibe for FIVE YEARS* (a fan pointed this out to me! read here🙏🏼) as opposed to calypso’s seven years. Everyone is, usually, in agreement that Antinous is a villain in the wisdom saga and in the overall Epic musical.

Antinous’s VA is ON TikTok, and has spoken about how happy he is that fans consider him a talented person who did a spectacular rendition of such a villainous character. AND YET.

Inversely from what we saw in the Calypso section, where some of her fans are against the notion of her being portrayed as the antagonist she is, for Antinous we have MANY fans claiming that others are not ALLOWED to portray him as anything BUT an antagonist. Unlike with Calypso, where people circularly argue that her allusions to sexual assault are “too ambigous” and lead to much senseless debate on whether you’re “allowed” to like her or call her a villian, with ANTINOUS, there is this claim that he ABSOLUTELY is alluded to sexual assault and therefore, cannot be liked or treated as anything other than a villain.

As i have discussed AT LENGTH in Calypso’s section, this argumentation is pure fallacy.

There have been NUMEROUS thirst videos that have rightfully said that DESPITE the actions of the character, they still think Antinous is hot and likable (the Gaston affect, if you will). Even WITHOUT the disclaimer, it is OF COURSE understood that Antinous fans are NOT rape apologists. That is a ridiculous assumption that serves only to kill any interpretation that someone else can rightfully have.

It’s utterly devoid of nuance or actual knowledge of how to play within fandom and interact w characters.

There have been SEVERAL posts calling Antinous fans delusional for liking him and “reminding” the fandom that he is a bad guy. This serves no purpose and is utterly useless to the discourse. Antinous being a bad guy is not debated. This is factual. It doesn’t (or shouldn’t, because we cannot speak in absolutes) hurt anyone’s feelings to see an Antinous videos depicting him as the villain he is. Like with Calypso it is ONLY acceptable to call someone out if they are harassing Ayron Alexander, Antinous’s VA (which has NOT happened as i am writing this out) OR if an anti-Antinous comes into SOMEONE ELSE’s post saying anything like “if you like Antinous then you condone his actions” because as what we sane people know, that is just a silly fallacy, OR if they start shit in a cosplayers/fanfic writer/fanartists comment section.

Otherwise. Who cares that someone is saying Antinous is a villain? Block the no fun police and enjoy analysis from others who choose to see him purely as what he is, if you want. If you dont, block them to, it’s your space. You have a RIGHT to headcanon Antinous however you want, even make up AUs for him where he’s nice or lives and gets a happy ending, SO LONG AS you’re not in other people’s posts going actually Antie is my uwu child and he did nothing wrong. Cuz then youre just being dumb. And annoying. Fandom is already impatient with genuine disagreement, being a smart ass gets your head dunked in a toilet. I used to think this was common sense.

(And in case you didn’t read the Calypso section, or didn’t see enough of it there, this IS the appropriate response to people who address newer fans of her as rape apologists too, its in her section, i just also thought it was important to touch on the stranger phenomena of her other fans refusing to call her a villain because it makes them personally uncomfortable - it’s very interesting as Calypso is a female antagonist while Antinous being a male antagonist is being treated very differently for the same subject. In any case, it’s a disservice to either character and Jorge’s narrative to get upset about the very real fact that BOTH of these characters are villain antagonists.)

The very CURRENT discourse surrounding Antinous is that he was recently shipped with Telemachus.

The animator for Apollo’s section of God Games was harassed to such a point that she had to make a public apology regarding her ALTERNATE UNIVERSE scenario. And i, personally, think that’s bullshit.

There have been accusations that she was being insensitive to sexual assault survivors, and that she made a dark joke, all of which she addressed in her apology IN ADDITION to her explaining that she is ALSO a survivor of child sexual assault. She took down her work. DESPITE all of this, there are still others who continue to harass her, and claim that they dont want “a rape creator” in THEIR fandom. To those people: you don’t speak for any of us. In the same way you can claim not to believe that the animator is a survivor, i have no reason to consider your concerns in any way shape or form as being in service of victims. It is absolutely not your call, when blocking and scrolling on will ALWAYS be an option for YOU.

Even in the event someone writes Antonio’s fan fiction keeping his canon personality and characterization in a non-canon divergent way it is not grounds to harass people.

In addition to this animator, there have been SEVERAL Antinous shippers who have expressed disappointment that she was essentially harassed into a corner, as they also liked the ship and the AU she created. These people are NOT “weird” they are allowed to express themselves creatively, and if you disagree, dont even bother with leaving any sort of response — i wont read it, my time is important. Stay in your echo chamber. Even if it wasn’t an AU, and someone wants to write for Antinous as he is in the narrative, they are more than allowed to do so. Dark fiction isn’t going to traumatize you or give you cooties. Grow up.

I am MUCH more willing to ride with Antinous shippers than i ever will be with fans who attempt to control how a character is interpreted by others. Because to ship Antinous with anyone, AU or otherwise, you have to have an UNDERSTANDING of why this would be a compelling thing to write/make fanart for. He is an evil character, and it would be FASCINATING to see him in fictional scenarios that (like in the calypso section) lead us to as WHY this would be an appealing and interesting take on someone. It’s OKAY to do it in fiction. He isn’t REAL. It’s not hurting EVERYONE. And more so than with calypso, it IS understood that Antinous HAS victims in Penelope and Telemachus There’s no senseless debate on what he is, a villain, no one is arguing he is a uwu babygirl so please sympathize w him, it’s inherently understood even among his FANS.

This is why find Antonio’s and Calypso’s discourses so polarizing. Because no one is getting offended or arguing that Antinous only acts villainously because of some tragic backstory or sympathetic reason. It would be absurd to.

That’s the appeal of a lovable villain. Because like Calypso, Antinous IS lovable, but in such a different way that you have fans treating both characters as if they’re polar opposite when at the very LEAST, there’s on the same bracket, just different ends of them. Telemachus/Penelope and Odysseus’s plights are being MIRRORED in parallel.

THAT is what floors me about these two discourses. That they are functionally THE SAME yet are being treating as if they aren’t. I’m positive that there is an Antinous fan who detests Calypso in the same way there is a Calypso fan who detests Antinous. These are called biases. Once you KNOW your own bias, it is up to YOU to act right according to them.

You are responsible for your OWN fyp.

The Epic fandom had yet to experience such backwards discourse as this, and I wouldn’t expect Jorge or any of the VAs to dignify such trivial discourse with a response. If you’re the type to bring it up to them, you’re being awful. The popular fandom Epic tiktokers are already way too involved as it is. And even they are getting things wrong.

It almost feels remiss to say that in the NARRATIVE of the musical, both Calypso and Antinous are villian antagonists, while outside of the narrative they become dolls you can play with however you like, so long as we are not in each others comments being obtuse. I don’t expect any of my essay to even make it to a larger part of the fandom. But i HAD to get my ideas written down, because if you don’t see someone else connecting the dots you have, you have to present them yourself. Very “can’t we all just get along?” But hopefully, not as insufferable nor one-sides as others might have been. I tried to bring up ideas/points that i have not seen discussed about these two villains and why they seem to connect and go hand in hand.

Why is Calypso, as a female antagonist, given more grace than Antinous, a male antagonist, who is very firmly given none at all. It very well could be just how they were presented, and if so, ask yourself WHY these villains were presented so differently. What purpose do they serve? What are they trying to accomplish? These are questions more suited for actual fandom collaboration that is being drowned out by circular arguements. It feels like homework, instead of knee-jerk reacting to interpretations unlike your own.

To ME, these two characters are two sides of the same coin. (though I DO think it’s funny that the NEUTRAL phrase to refer to either character is “I hate them BUT” because in reasonable fandoms, this is understood inherently….but in this fandom such decorum seems to be lost? For some reason?? Wisdom saga has brought out a lack of wisdom, I fear.) This is the kind of purity culture that suggest you can’t LIKE a character of their a villain, so you go out of your way to argue they aren’t, or that no one else should like them: that’s bonkers. You might disagree and it might even upset you, but that’s a you problem to have.

Having said that, and if you are POSITIVE that you want to engage in conversation with me, you are welcome to do so.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, brief mention of alcohol/drinking, pining, a little angst

summary: steve meets you at eddie’s show and even though you’re feeling a little weird and nervous about what you two are doing, you ultimately decide that there’s a first time for everything

CHAPTER THREE | ❝𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅❞

Fall Semester 2015

Eddie was good. Like, really good.

So good that you had to keep reminding yourself to not ogle at his hands on the guitar, seamlessly moving from chord to chord, or focus too hard on the almost too pretty sound of his voice. 

You silently wondered— as he and his band finished out the last few moments of the song they were rehearsing— if you would be feeling this way as you watched him practice if you didn’t have the biggest crush on him. Or maybe this would’ve ended up being the moment you realized everything, instead of that moment happening in his dorm room just a few weeks ago.

You still hadn’t decided how to tell him, you also still weren’t sure if you even wanted to tell him at all. If you said something and he didn’t feel the same way, you had a feeling that it would mess everything up between you and him, and ultimately ruin this friendship that felt so important to you. 

Therefore, you were leaning more toward never telling him how you felt, or at least waiting for the perfect moment to do so. However, you didn’t know what would necessarily deem a moment as “perfect.” Maybe one day it would just feel right to finally utter the words to him? You weren’t entirely sure. 

For the time being, you pushed those confusing thoughts to the side, and in this moment you simply focused on the final notes of the song being played out, marking its end, and then Eddie placing his guitar down. 

“You guys are really good,” You said from where you sat barely five feet away because of how small the garage was; you couldn’t remember if this was Gareth’s place, Jeff’s, or Doug’s. “Like, really, really good. It’s actually kind of insane.” 

Eddie smiled at you. “I think you’re our number one fan now.”

“I feel honored to hold that title.”

He walked over to where you were sitting. “You wanna come with me to get the pizza?”

His question was one that you didn’t need to outwardly respond to because the answer was obvious. You simply nodded as you stood up from your chair and walked with him to his van. 

You’d go anywhere with Eddie— and that fact was the main reason why you were currently spending your Saturday in his hometown two hours away from your guys’ college, instead of holed up in the library studying for midterms. 

“I think I get it,” You said, gazing out the window as he drove and watching the small empty fields and random houses pass by in a blur. 

“Get what?”

“Why you wanted to leave here,” You answered, turning to look at him even though his eyes were focused on the road. “It’s so small and quiet. I honestly can’t even imagine you growing up here.”

“There was a record store across town that I really loved, and it was probably the only thing that kept me sane growing up,” He briefly explained and you nodded. “And my uncle. And the guys too. We’ve been doing the whole band thing since middle school.”

The thought of an eleven year old Eddie singing and playing guitar sounded quite adorable to you. 

“That’s so cute.”

Eddie laughed. “Cute was not what we were going for.”

“Sorry, what I meant to say was, that’s so cool and rock ‘n roll.” 

“Solid save.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You have to take me to your hometown next,” He said, taking a brief look over at you as he kept driving. 

You shook your head. “Definitely not gonna happen, and not just because we’d have to take a two hour plane ride to get there.”

“Come on, I brought you here.”

Just for a second, you let yourself think about the suburban town you grew up in states away; a town that you also couldn’t wait to get out of because, just like Eddie’s, it felt way too quiet and small. You tried to briefly imagine him walking down the streets you used to walk to get to school or the park that you had liked to spend most of your free time at reading, but you couldn’t see it. You could barely even see yourself doing any of that anymore. 

“This is different. You want to come here,” You told him. “Aside from my parents, and that’s only sometimes, there’s nothing that makes me wanna go back to my hometown.”

You tried your hardest not to think about how actually saying that out loud made you feel a little sad. 

“So, no band with old friends that makes you wanna go back most weekends?” Eddie asked, purposefully trying to lighten the mood, which you were grateful for. 

You gave him a small smile. “Nope, none of that.” 

That was why you liked him, he read you well and knew the right moments to shift any conversation. 

There was a part of you that wanted to just admit to him how you felt right there in his van. Let the words leave your lips and simply see what would happen. 

But then he was pulling into the parking lot of the pizza place and the moment felt effectively over. And a part of you was glad for that. 

It wasn’t that difficult to pretend that nothing had changed for you and that you still only saw him as your best friend. You honestly found pretending to be the easiest thing to do. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

“Robin just texted me saying, “Tell Eds I’m there in spirit. When in actuality my spirit is dead because this essay is killing me.” So yeah, she’s not coming tonight.”

“Damn, so that means I won’t hear her overenthusiastic “woo’s” after we finish every song.” 

You playfully smiled at Eddie. “I can take over that job for the night if you want.”

“That would be great,” He responded, smiling back. “We need to prove that we have at least one excited fan.”

“Okay, then I’ll make sure to take my job as your number one fan very seriously tonight,” You told him before taking a sip from your drink and then placing it back atop the high wooden table you two were standing on opposite sides of that was a bit wobbly. “I swear we always somehow end up at this specific table.”

“Either that, or they’re all fucked up.” 

“True,” You said and nodded, but you had a feeling that it was probably the same one because you and everyone always ended up occupying the same cluster of tables that were to the right of the small stage— a stage that was currently set up because he was performing in less than twenty minutes. 

You had shown up with Eddie and the rest of the band an hour earlier; which was pretty much a routine when it came to the biweekly gig Corroded Coffin had here. Aces was one of the few bars in town that was actually not frequented by college kids because they were really strict about their carding policies and could spot a fake ID from a mile away. However, Rick, the owner, loved Eddie and the band, so exceptions were made for them; and by extension you and your other friends too.  

You texted Robin back “Your screaming will be missed<3,” and then got a notification for a text from Steve that said, “Just parked.”

“Um, Steve just got here, so I’m gonna go out and grab him.”

“Okay,” Eddie said and then shook his head in what seemed like both disbelief and surprise. “I still can’t believe how good Friday night went for you two.” 

“Yeah, I’m surprised too. I didn’t expect this to happen,” You told him, which technically wasn’t that much of a lie. You really hadn’t expected that night to lead to you fake dating Steve barely a day later. 

The cold night air immediately hit you when you walked outside, even the jacket you were wearing wasn’t enough to keep you warm, so you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Steve. You were suddenly glad that you opted against wearing a skirt tonight and decided to settle on a pair of jeans. 

It was a solid three minutes of you looking both ways down the street and waiting for Steve to eventually come into view. And when he finally did, you met him halfway. 

“Jesus, how far did you park?” 

“Way too far.”

Steve fell into step with you as you walked back to the front door. You noticed him look up at the faded sign that had the bar’s name on it and then it seemed as if he realized or remembered something. “Aren’t they really strict at this place?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” You answered with a quick shrug before grabbing his hand to keep him close to you as you walked past the small-ish line of people waiting to get their ID checked and get into the bar. You gave a quick smile to Jacob, the bouncer and also Rick’s brother, who was letting you through with no hesitation. “Thanks, Jacob.”

Steve let out a breath of a laugh once you two were fully inside the small and darkly lit bar. “Okay, that was actually pretty cool.” 

You were about to respond to him with some playful joke about how getting into this place both for free and without an ID was probably the coolest thing about you, but then your eyes were on Eddie. He was saying something to the guys as they headed over to the packed bar and then he was left alone at the haphazardly pushed-together tables. Suddenly, you felt nervous and also a bunch of other things that were entirely indecipherable at the moment. 

You turned to look at Steve. “Okay, so, um, how thick are we laying it on right now?”

Instead of answering your question, he seemed to sense your nervousness, so he gave your hand that was still holding his a quick squeeze. “Just chill. Don’t worry.” 

That honestly didn’t do anything to calm your nerves or make you not worried about what you two were about to do. But, it was also weird because even though you were nervous, you didn’t want to back out of doing it. 

“Where is he?” Steve asked.

You simply nodded in the direction of the table Eddie was standing at. 

“Okay, come on,” He said and as you two walked over to the table, he readjusted your hands so that they were intertwined, which made holding hands with him feel a thousand times more intimate. And that was probably exactly why he did it, you realized. 

“Hey,” He greeted Eddie with a smile. 

“Hey, man,” Eddie responded. “Cool seeing you here.”

“Yeah, glad I can finally catch a show.” 

You stopped paying attention to what they were saying, and it wasn’t really on purpose, it was just that all you could focus on right then was Steve’s subtle movements— his hand pulling away from yours and him shifting closer to you so that he could drape his arm around your shoulders instead. He was so smooth and easy with it, meanwhile you were contemplating if you seemed too tense or if your face looked uncomfortable. 

Maybe some practicing would’ve been good before jumping into the deep end of this whole thing. But, what would practicing have even entailed? Steve holding your hand or keeping his arm around you until you felt completely normal about it? That sounded almost too embarrassingly stupid. 

He had done pretty much the same things Friday night on your date— you remembered him holding your hand and wrapping an arm around you during the movie and feeling entirely okay about it; he had even kissed you that night and initially, you had been completely okay before you got too in your head about everything— but this, for obvious reasons, felt entirely different. The point now was to look super into it, and you felt yourself slowly folding under the pressure. 

“Did you tell him about game night?” 

It took you a second to realize Eddie was talking to you because your mind was in an entirely different place right then. You barely even heard the question he asked you. 

“Yeah, she did,” Steve said, saving you. “I’ll be there.” 

“Great, we’ll actually have even teams for once,” Eddie said to you.  

“Talia’s gonna hate that. She loves being referee,” You responded, finally finding your voice and actually managing to feel the tiniest bit normal for a moment. 

“No, she won’t because she’s gonna have the best Pictionary player on her team.” 

You rolled your eyes at that because you knew he was referring to himself. “Vickie is the best at Pictionary, actually.” 

“Okay. Second best.”

“I think Robin’s second, but you’re definitely third because me and Talia are equally bad at that game.”

“Fine, I’ll take third,” Eddie responded. “Unless Harrington here has a secret talent?” 

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m terrible at drawing.” 

Eddie smiled at that. “You two will make a great team then.” 

“I think our bad drawing skills will cancel each other out and we’ll actually end up being really good,” You said, mostly kidding with your words.  

“Or we’ll be worse,” Steve said. 

“It’s very sad to see that you have no faith in us,” You joked, looking up at him, and he only laughed in response.

He and Eddie went into talking about an assignment for the class they had together, and you attempted to pay attention to their conversation, but your mind went right back to overthinking everything. You wondered whether or not things looked real or if it all seemed entirely forced and out of place. 

Steve was doing pretty much all of the work right then at making this newfound relationship look believable, and your only job was to pretend that you were happy to lean into his touch and to make it seem like you were at least a little enamored by him, which was easier said than done. You were now discovering that acting wasn’t your strong suit. 

They continued talking for the next minute or two before Eddie was saying that he needed to head on stage. “I’ll see you guys after.”  

You nodded and said a simple “Good luck,” and then he walked away, joining Gareth, Jeff, and Doug on stage. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding. 

“You okay?” Steve asked once Eddie was out of earshot. His arm dropped from around you, but he still stayed close. “I know we shook hands on it and everything, but we really don’t have to do this. It’s fine if you wanna back out.”

“No, I’m okay. I just didn’t expect this to feel so weird? I don’t know if that’s the right word, but yeah… I swear I’m fine, though, I’ll get better at,” You briefly gestured between you and him. “This whole thing.”

The last time you were so outwardly physically affectionate with someone was years ago; a high school relationship that ended just as quickly as it had started. You weren’t used to this anymore, and maybe it was dumb to think that it would be easy to do it, especially with someone you didn’t really even know that well.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve reminded you.  

“No, I want to. Honestly,” You assured him, and surprisingly that still felt mostly true.

“When’s game night?”

“Tomorrow,” You answered, forgetting that that had been brought up in the conversation with Eddie. “It’s a once-a-month thing we do at the apartment.”

“Got it,” He said with a nod.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t wanna. It’s mainly just three hours of all of us screaming at each other,” You briefly explained. “That’s the reason why we only do it once a month. Friendships would be ruined if we made it a weekly thing.”

“Sounds deadly.” 

“Very much so.” 

“Also, sounds fun.”

You let out a laugh. “Didn’t peg you for a masochist, Steven.” 

He ignored that. “Do you want me to come tomorrow?” 

You took a moment to actually consider his question. Everyone else was gonna have to meet him eventually, especially if you wanted to make it seem like you “really liked him,” so maybe it would be best to just rip off the band-aid and do the introductions sooner rather than later. 

“Yeah, I do,” You ultimately answered. “You should come. I think it’ll be good.” 

Before he could even say anything in response, the band started playing and every conversation happening in the small bar became drowned out by the music. You bopped your head and softly sang along to the songs you knew, which were pretty much all of them aside from a few new covers they decided to do. And you, of course, loudly applauded and excitedly shouted after every song, just like you told Eddie you would. 

“Wow,” Steve said at one point, mouth close to your ear so that you could hear him over the music. “It’s so obvious that you like him. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to witness heart eyes in real life.”  

You playfully nudged him. “Shut up.” 

You had a feeling that he was mostly joking with his words, but still, you couldn’t help but think, Did it really look that obvious? 

You turned to look at Steve and were about to ask him what exactly looked so obvious and how was he so easily able to notice something that Eddie somehow never had. 

However, you immediately noticed that his attention was on a girl across the bar who was looking right back at him with a matching smile on her face. 

“Keep it in your pants tonight, Harrington,” You told him, elbow bumping his side again. “And until the end of February too.” 

“I know. Sorry,” Steve said, looking away from the girl and back at the stage.

“Y’know, I was mostly joking last night when I said that not dating anyone this month would probably be hard for you. But, now seeing that it actually is hard for you, I’m just concerned. There are tons of support groups that you can join to help with this problem,” You said, trying your hardest to keep a straight face as you said your words, but ending up smiling the entire time. 

“Ha ha,” He said sarcastically, which only made you smile more. 

You focused back on Eddie, listening as he said that he was about to perform what would be the last song of the night. You shouted happily in anticipation and smiled at him when his eyes met yours. 

Once again, you couldn’t help but wonder, Was it obvious?

At some point during that final song, Steve placed an arm around you again, and it surprisingly didn’t feel all too weird that time around. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 27

ao3 link| part 1, part 24, part 25, prev part

A week goes by and Eddie’s able to stand for almost a minute. Legs trembling after thirty seconds and knuckles white as they grip the walker the nurse brings in. But he does it. Sits back down with a teary smile as everything starts to feel like him again. Fighting through the new pain of his muscles stretching to their full capacity again, trying to revel in the fact that he’s getting better.

He's still limited to what he can do. His muscles are slowly gaining back their strength, and his joints vary in their stiffness between the days. Physical therapy is going to start soon. Hopefully to help with the tenseness of his muscles. And maybe the numbing and the nerve pain.

The true health of Eddie’s nerves is still undetermined. The doctors say they had to do some reconstruction during the many surgeries Eddie went through when he first came in. Supposably, it went well. Supposably, Eddie should regain full motion of his limbs. But reality, is that they won’t know until Eddie’s muscle mass comes back.

Until they can’t blame the lack of motion on muscle atrophy.

Wayne knows it’s coming. Can feel the diagnosis in his bones. He knows that there will be a day that Eddie picks up a guitar again, and can’t do it the he used to do. Can’t play the solos of his favorite songs, unable to move his fingers fast enough. Might get so frustrated in it that he gives it up entirely. Permanently lose the one thing he’s loved all his life.

The house won’t rattle with practices that go well past midnight. And he’ll never come home from Garreth’s garage with the excited energy again. The one where it buzzes off of him and onto Wayne. Joy permeating his soul just seeing his boy so passionate about something.

Eddie’s going to lose a part of himself, and Wayne doesn’t have the heart to witness it.

“Henderson,” Eddie excitedly yells when Dustin and Steve walk through the door. “Look at this.”

Eddie pulls the walker closer and gets his legs beneath him. Pulls himself to a standing position just like he did a few hours ago.

Wayne sees the way Steve’s arm twitches out when Eddie does. How his feet move an inch closer. Ready to rush forward at any moment. To catch Eddie if he falls. Rigid concern mapping his face. Falling to a relieved smile when Eddie sits back down on the bed.

Dustin shares the same concern, before he starts to smile. “Woah. What was that? Like a minute?”

“I know right,” Eddie exclaims, proud of himself. “Yesterday I could only stand for thirty seconds, next time you see me I’ll be able to walk without this thing,” he reaches out and shakes the walker. “I’d bet on it right now.”

Wayne wouldn’t. Neither would Eddie really. But this false optimism, this high hope, its what’s keeping him sane in all this. Keeping him in the light at the end of the tunnel.

Dustin finally settles himself. Starting the long explanations of how his day went. Trying to keep Eddie in the loop while he’s stuck here. Limited to his knowledge of what goes on outside these walls.

All while Steve stands tense, leaning against the doorway. Arms crossed and fingers anxiously tapping on his elbow. Staring at Eddie like he’s cracking right in front of them. Breaking and unable to stop it.

Wayne subtly asks him if he wants to pull up a chair. Really trying to not have weight behind his words. But Steve notices that he’s picked up something off. That something is weighing heavy on Steve’s mind.

Steve refuses, as nonchalant as someone can through gritted teeth. Dustin looks up, and asks if everything’s alright. If he needs to go home and take his meds. Steve lies to him and tells him that he’s fine.

The afternoon passes by, and Steve continues to stand there like a bodyguard. Ready for the defenses. Until he checks his watch and tells Dustin it’s time to go. When the stiff line if his stature softens just slightly. Enough for a show.

“Here,” Steve hands Dustin a few quarters. “Go get something from the vending machines, I’ll meet up with you in a second.”

The tenseness returns as soon as Steve shuts the door after making sure Dustin was walking down the hall.

He turns toward Eddie, crossing his arms again. “You’re getting better?”

The statement is still laced with question. As if he’s confirming before saying anything. For what reason, Wayne doesn’t know.

Eddie looks at him confused. “Well, yeah. That’s what I was showing you before.”

He starts to fidget, sensing the tenseness in Steve’s voice.

“But you’re feeling better. More like yourself again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a long question. “Steve, what’s up?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Steve spits. Fast and cruel.

Wayne wants to stand and push him out of the room. Eddie doesn’t need whatever this is. Doesn’t need whatever taunts will fly out of Harrington’s mouth. Insults or sneers. He had hoped that Harrington was beyond all those tricks.

But before he can even open his mouth, Eddie bites back. Not so defenseless anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t follow the plan. As soon as things got bad, you were supposed to get Dustin and yourself out of there. Not just Dustin.”

Eddie snarls. “Whatever, I get it Harrington.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Steve says it all with a point that would go right through Eddie’s chest if he were close enough.

Wayne’s convinced they forgot he was even there.

“I told you not to be cute. I told you not to be the hero. We didn’t need that. We had enough close calls already, we didn’t need another one. We didn’t need you to-.”

“To what, play the hero. Cause that’s your job, isn’t it? King Steve Harrington, strong man. Waltzes into danger without a second thought to come out the hero on top. Can’t deal with the fact that someone else is capable of it.”

Pain leeches to Steve’s expression. “That’s not it at all.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Eddie’s volume keeps rising in intensity. “You weren’t there, Steve. You couldn’t make the call, so I did. Not my problem you can’t deal with someone else being the hero.”

“I can’t deal with losing anyone else to this goddamn town,” Steve yells. Shocking Eddie silent.

Steve’s demeanor falls from its anger. Into a place of fear and a sorrow Wayne can’t quite place. His eyes pleading for Eddie to understand the words he can’t say.

He turns to the door and rips it open.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie calls out softly, trying to get Steve to turn back around.

But it's too late. The door clicks shut as Steve leaves.

tag list (capping at 100, only 4 spots left): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello there! before i begin, allow me to express how much i love your work! i've only recently come across the KoH fandom, and your writing has kept me, say, well provided for with all the reader x king baldwin fics and headcanons HEHE. so yes, thank you for the work that you do. <3333 as for my request, it was inspired by a song (the dream academy's version of "please, please, please let me get what i want", with the original by the smiths). i was thinking that it's mainly from king baldwin's perspective, wherein he's already in acceptance of his fate due to his leprosy. so that consumes most of his thoughts, only driven by his responsibility as king to keep moving. but he's not actually living, if you catch my drift. like, he has this "if death takes me now, i'll let it" sort of mentality. but then he meets reader (i'll leave as to how they met and eventually got closer up to you ^^) and his entire world changes drastically. met with this sudden change (and the newfound will to live) which begins to conflict with his time quickly running up, he prays fervently one night, begging that he will be given a second chance, to be able to spend the rest of his life with reader (hence, the song ^^). i was thinking that this is primarily angst, but if fluff will be added to it, that would be a wonderful addition too ^^

i hope this was comprehensible enough. again, thank you so much! i'd love to see how you'll interpret this in your writing! i simply can't wait ><

♧ Please Let Me Get What I Want - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Sheedle!! Thank you so much for this beautiful request, along with your constant love and support. Your words really mean the world to me 🫶. I hope this is what you had in mind for the fic! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: THE IMAGE I USED FOR THIS FIC IS MF PERFECT CAN WE APPRICIATE THAT FOR A MINNUTE

TW: Leprosy

As the sun began to peak above the horizon line in the distance, the streets came alive, signifying a new day in Jerusalem.

The sunlight crept across the stone floor of the royal chambers until it reached the large, plush bed where the king of Jerusalem slept soundly. Baldwin’s eyes blinked open at the feeling of warmth on his face.

For just a moment, he was at peace. His body didn't hurt and he felt no pain. But this moment did not last long as the dull ache began to spread around his body once again.

Baldwin groaned and turned over onto his back as he came awake slowly. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. The same ceiling he had stared at so many times before.

Sleep was the only escape now. The only time he didn't feel weak or tired was when he lay in bed after a long day, finally getting some time to himself.

But in actual fact, he didn't want time to himself. What Baldwin wanted more than anything was a wife. But not just a wife, a companion.

He often thought about this and had come to the conclusion that it would never happen. No woman in the kingdom would agree to marry a leper. Certainly not any sane woman at least.

Someone who he could share his deepest, innermost thoughts with.

Someone who could show him love.

Someone who he could love in return.

As he lay in bed once again awaiting the arrival of the physicians to clean his wounds, Baldwin let this thought consume him once again.

He often pretended he had a wife. Not obviously though, just subtle little things that gave the illusion of a woman's comfort.

Baldwin turned his head to the pile of pillows that lay on the other side of his double bed and sighed. Every night, he would stack the decorative pillows that adorned his bed for aesthetic purposes beside him and lay on his side, just right so it felt like somebody was holding him.

If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could pretend to feel the warmth of another right next to him. 

At this point, Baldwin awaited death and when it came he would welcome it with open arms. It wasn't just the illness that plagued him, but terrible loneliness as well.

He felt as if the last few years of his life were nothing more than wasted potential and with so much time alone to think, he couldn't escape these thoughts. As the physicians filed into the room and began to work gently on his frail body, the thoughts remained.

It wasn't until Baldwin was informed about the arrival of princess y/n and her family that the horrible thoughts of death left his mind. His interest sparked at the mention of her name and the name of her father, who had gone down in history for winning many battles in his youth.

Their family would be staying at the castle as they searched for a husband for the young princess y/n. She was the same age as Baldwin and was known for her gentle kindness and beauty.

That was all he knew of her.

Deep down in his heart, the young king secretly wished that he would be the one to marry her. But he knew that was simply impossible.

Possible technically, yes. But would she want to? Absolutely not. In his mind at least. 

And when he layed eyes on her for the first time, it was clear he never had a chance. She wasn't just beautiful, she was a work of art. Truly stunning in every possible way.

Her hair, her eyes, her lips. She was perfect, she was gorgeous, and she was… staring right at him? With a small smile and rosy cheeks.

Her bright eyes twinkled in the sun when she looked his way, causing him to blush behind the mask. He simply couldn't tear his gaze away from her and it seemed that she couldn't do the same.

After dinner, Baldwin was just leaving the physicians quarters to retire to his chambers for the night when he was startled by y/n standing right behind a corner.

Noticing him jump, y/n chuckled. “I'm so sorry your majesty, it's only me” she said, her voice soothing as she placed a delicate hand on his arm.

The touch made Baldwin’s heart race even faster than it already was.

“Oh it-it's quite alright princess. I'm just a little on edge is all. Long day” he tried desperately to steady his heart, especially when she blinked slowly and looked into his eyes with what appeared to be adoration. But it couldn't be, right?

The two got to talking as Baldwin offered to escort her to her chambers for the night which she gladly took him up on the offer.

They spoke of her marriage and how she hoped to finally find a husband as she had been so lonely. In turn, Baldwin spoke of his own misfortune in finding a partner.

“I don't know why no one has asked to marry you princess. You're wonderful” Baldwin told her as they reached her door. Y/n chuckled, blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You're too kind my lord. I could say the same about you, you know. I mean, look at you! You're a beautiful young man” she said, her voice gentle and kind.

Baldwin felt surreal.

Nobody had ever said something like that to him before. Not since the disease had ravished his body at least.

Sensing his bashfulness, y/n smiled and placed a hand on his masked cheek.

“You need not be so hard on yourself Baldwin. From what I have heard, you are a strong leader and a brave one too. My father holds much respect for you and I do too. But after this interaction, I hold much more than respect for you and I hope we can speak more tomorrow” the princess said with a smile.

Baldwin took her hand in his, holding it to his chest.

“I would love that more than you will ever know, princess”.

The two said their goodnights and retired to their chambers, each with a warm feeling of anticipation for what the next day would bring.

But the young king couldn't sleep. His mind was flooded with different scenarios.

Maybe she did want to marry him? But if she did, their marriage would be short and surely childless. Wouldn't that put her off being wed to him if she were to spend half of her life as a widow?

That night Baldwin prayed and prayed to God on his knees for a second chance. For a second chance at life, to be wed to y/n, to live a normal life with her.

He begged until he couldn't think anymore. Staggering over to his bed, Baldwin fell into a deep sleep. Morning came in no time.

--------------------

The following morning, Baldwin awoke as usual. But something was different.

He felt happy, he felt excited and looked forward to the day ahead.

He got out of his bed on his own and dressed himself before the physicians arrived, who were shocked to see him so mobile without immense pain so early in the day.

Y/n was much the same.

Since first laying eyes on the young king, her heart belonged to him. Before seeing Baldwin for the first time, the idea of marriage disgusted her. She didn't want to end up like her friends, forced into a relationship with a man far older than her who controlled her every move.

But after seeing and speaking to him, the idea of marriage seemed amazing. He was so kind and sweet but he seemed so sad.

She wanted more than anything to be the one who would make him happy. She knew of his leprosy as many did but that didn't bother her in the slightest. All she saw was a kind and gentle soul in need of love.

When y/n arrived at Baldwin’s chambers, he was overjoyed to see her. They spent the entire day together, talking and laughing, walking around the courtyard and playing chess. 

By evening, neither wanted the day to end. Neither wanted to leave each other's side at all for that matter.

But one good thing happened that evening and that was Baldwin requesting her hand in marriage (with the blessing of her father of course). Y/n grinned with delight and accepted without hesitation.

As the two spoke together on the couch in Baldwin’s chambers, the sun sank below the horizon leaving the kingdom in peaceful darkness.

Baldwin had removed his mask, revealing his bandaged face to her.

Much to his delight, y/n did nothing but compliment him and stare lovingly into his eyes for the whole evening.

As time went on, the young king felt himself growing more and more tired. His eyes struggled to remain open, but he didn't want his soon to be wife to leave.

He wanted her by his side, forever.

Y/n noticed this and smiled at the sleepy expression he wore while she spoke.

“You should get some rest, your highness” she said softly, placing a hand on his thigh.

“But I don't want you to leave,” he replied, his voice suddenly small. Her heart broke for him. So many years feeling alone and unlovable.

Y/n thought for a moment, “I have an idea!” she spoke after a second.

Baldwin looked up at her with curiosity.

“Why don't you get into bed and I will hold you until you fall asleep, then I will leave. Then we have no risk of being accused of adultery!”

A large grin spread across Baldwin's face, it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. “That would be perfect!” he exclaimed.

Baldwin got changed and climbed into bed, laying down on his usual side of the bed. But this time, he tossed the decorative pillows to the floor.

Y/n climbed into the bed beside him, “just get comfortable and I will hold you” she told him, her voice filled with love.

Baldwin nodded and turned on his side away from her, snuggling into the covers with a smile. Y/n waited a moment, then wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him closer so his back was pressed against her chest and her head was resting slightly above his, his blonde curls tickled her nose making her giggle with happiness.

“This is everything I have ever wanted,” the young king whispered, his voice gentle and sleepy.

“Likewise, my love. Just rest now, I will just be in my chambers when you wake” y/n replied, pressing a kiss to the back of his head.

Baldwin nodded and yawned, burying himself further into her arms. The young king was fast asleep in no time, lulled into rest by her warmth.

The single sound of a soft snore broke the silence. The quiet sound of rest told the princess that it was time to leave. As much as she didnt want to, she had to.

Unwrapping her arms carefully so as to not wake him, y/n stood and went to leave. But she couldn't, not yet.

Walking over to Baldwin’s side of the bed, she smiled down at his sleeping form.

Y/n bent down and kissed his forehead lightly.

“I can't wait until every night can be like this my darling. Rest well” she whispered before turning to leave.

Retreating into the night with anticipation for what the next day would bring.

[eddiezpaghetti]

Okay, so my experience with Stranger Things is a weird one.

I didn't care when it first came out, started to watch it out of "might as well" in 2020, wasn't interested in it enough to make it past S2, forgot about it outside of going "oh, hey, cool, there's a lesbian in it now, I guess," in S3, got really annoyed when "Running Up That Hill" got popular from it because it was a song I listened to on fucking loop after one of my best friends died in high school and I fully expected its appearance in the show to ignore the whole survivor's guilt theme of the song (and was very happy to learn later that it did the exact opposite of ignoring the lyrics), saw people drawing Eddie, suddenly got a lot more interested, watched just the fourth season like a fucking psychopath because I was seriously only there for Eddie, then got interested enough to start the show over properly, having mostly forgotten what I did watch of the show before.

And let me tell you something from the perspective of someone who started with the complete fourth season, who wasn't there from the start, who wasn't tainted by ship goggles or this internal battle of hope and despair, who wasn't theorizing about what the painting could be or expecting Mike and Will to kiss when Volume 2 happened or rooting for Mike and Eleven's relationship to go down in flames or whatever the fuck. Just someone who went blind into Season 4.

It's really fucking obvious that Will and Mike are gonna be endgame.

Like holy fuck. It's so fucking blatant I don't even know why people are nervous.

No sane fucking person would shoot this scene this way if they wanted the audience to care about El and Mike as a couple. Despite being all blurry in the background, Will's reaction to what's happening here is smackdab in the fucking middle, clearly showing that the important part is what's going through his head here. What he's feeling. It's like the opposite of that scene from Kingdom Hearts II where Sora and Riku reunite and Kairi just fucking vanishes into the aether while it's happening because, despite the fact that she was standing between them when the scene began, she doesn't matter to the scene, so she's just kind of gone when the camera angle changes. Will could have been behind one of their heads, or so far in the distance he blends in with the background, but he's not. He's so obvious that despite being massively blurred out, he's still the first goddamn thing you look at. What, you think that's an accident? You think he's in the middle of this dramatic fucking scene because of a mistake? He basically has a big flashing neon arrow pointing at him with "THIS IS THE POINT" being screamed through a megaphone.

And then this?

They're paired up like they're taking fucking prom pictures. Each one of these pairs is so fucking close to one another and so fucking far from everyone else. It's not, "Oh, they're standing vaguely near each other in a group shot," it's fucking Noah's Ark out here. Again, there's no way to take this as an accident. It's not just a framing issue. If they wanted to make the shot look balanced while still not hiding anyone else behind El, they would have scattered people around much more naturally. Even if they wanted to keep Nancy with Jonathan and Hopper with Joyce, there's so much room on that hill for three people to stand on El's left and three on her right. But they didn't do that. They put Mike and Will together on purpose in the most obvious way possible.

Like I get that coming up with crackpot theories is fun in and of itself and I'm not blaming anyone for having fun. I totally get the appeal of arguing a point and reaching for every stupid little thing to pull into it because it's like a game, okay? I've done that. But if you're trying to actually convince someone (whether it's someone who wants to believe or someone who's pissed at the very idea that Mike and Will could be in love), stay away from blue and yellow lights, stay away from costume design, stay away from the existence of closets in backgrounds. And don't worry about whether Mike's gay or bi when he's in love with Will either way. I'll give you a little tip about persuasion: You're only as strong as your weakest argument. Even if you've got strong stuff in there, too, the person you're trying to convince is going to dismiss anything you say as complete insanity the second you start going on an entire tangent about the shape of a character's fucking pocket.

Sometimes, clothes are just clothes. Sometimes, there's a closet in the background because it helps establish that a character is in a bedroom. Sometimes, blue and yellow are just a couple of colors that look nice together. And sure, it might be set designers and costume designers and cinematographers smirking and winking at the audience from behind the camera. But if the show was just those things, instead of those things in the context of everything else, they wouldn't be saying anything of note.

But this?

This tells a story all on its own. Someone with no context can look at this and automatically assume that each paired person is standing with someone they care about deeply, seeking comfort as they watch some sort of disaster unfold. And yeah, romantic couples usually come in twos, and we live in an amatonormative society, so that's going to be the first association anyone makes seeing a bunch of people paired off.

It's the same reason you look at this

And go, "Oh..."

"Those two are probably a couple."

And I genuinely don't understand how people could have watched S4 Vol. 2 and gotten scared. Because as someone who went in with no investment whatsoever, I just looked at these two--

--and went, "Oh, those two are a couple. Good for them." And I moved on. Shut up about the trees for five seconds and just see the forest for what it is.

Oh, and if you're still nervous? Little thing from a storyteller here: You don't leave a hanging thread like "Will confessed his romantic feelings for Mike by projecting them onto El, but Mike either didn't understand or at least didn't say he understood," without coming back to that later. That's Chekov's gun hanging on the wall, babes. It's gonna fire at some point. If Mike was going to reject Will's feelings, if they weren't relevant, they would have had that discussion in Argyle's van. There'd be no reason to leave you in suspense.

[dreamings-free]

Weird how y’all don’t want Louis to come out from under the shadow of the band and to be known as a solo artist. He’s still referred to almost exclusively as Louis from 1D… and playing a setlist that is 1/3 covers is not helping him overcome that. He will always play 1D songs, we all know that, but 3 out of 13 songs is excessive and you know it. And before you say some bs like “there’s nothing wrong with being known as Louis from 1D”…. There is when he’s so much more than just the band and the songs he wrote when he was 22. It’s possible to honor the band and be proud of his past while also wanting him to move on from it.

There’s also the added annoyance that everyone always just assumes that all his fans only like him because of the band and that he hasn’t been able to gain any fans through his own music. It doesn’t piss you off when his crowds are described as directioners? Playing festival sets using that many 1D songs as a safety blanket is just playing into that stereotype and it does him a massive disservice.

the issue here, anon is that unlike you louis isn’t embarrassed about being 'louis from one direction'

it’s funny how you guys keep accusing me and other (sane) people of not liking louis for who he is and yet here you are belittling him for his past and for being proud of his past achievements?!

and no I "don’t know it".. that is not the hottake you think it is. the thing is you are way way too hung up on some of the songs in his setlists being 1D songs. who cares? fans who know (and love) those songs are happy to see them reimagined to fit with louis’ current style. people at a festival who might recognise some of his songs as being 1D will probably just think 'hey I know that one but this guitar heavy version is cool!' people who aren’t familiar with 1D won’t even know they’re 1D songs and will like or dislike them regardless..?!

also louis clearly chose that setlist because every single song is A BANGER in a live set. people at festivals are often drunk and exhausted and if they happen to stumble into louis tomlinson’s late afternoon set they’re gonna fall asleep if he pulls out songs like chicago or saturdays. thinking the megamix with its slow intro is gonna work in the bright afternoon sunlight.. have you even been to a festival? louis and steve crafted this setlist because they know through years of experience (and a heavy dose of good taste and simple common sense) that this setlist is gonna keep a mixed festival crowd engaged. I've seen people complain about WDBHG and honestly if you can’t understand the sheer genius of giving that perfect pop song a rock makeover AND adding in that little baba o’riley bit.. which soo many people in a festival crowd will recognise - I’m sorry but you don’t deserve the magic that is the combined tomlinson-durham mastermind!

and finally because that comment really piss me off; how tf are 1D songs "a safety blanket" while in the same breath you're saying new listeners won't like him.. because he's associated with 1D. again, it's not me who doesn't like louis for who he is, is it?

[dameronology]

moment's passed (matt murdock)

summary: based on say don't go by t.swift (x)

warnings: excessive use of the f-word. angst.

this is one of the from the vault songs that just fucking HITS me. i have been crying to this since it came out tbh. i hope you enjoy xx

-jazz

You had Matt Murdock.

Until you didn't.

Things had been sweet at first; he was a weathered lawyer who needed some light in his life. Somebody to come home to; somebody to properly love for the first time in his fucking life. It wasn't like the high he was chasing with Eletkra Natchios, or the familiarity he'd sought out with Karen Page. He got both things from your relationship, but you were...different. You gave him highs; you could make him feel like he was home and on a rollercoaster all at once. It was a feeling Matthew wanted to keep for the rest of his life. He would have been stupid not to. But wasn't that the thing about Matt? He was incredibly smart, but also incredibly fucking stupid. Almost bound to take someone for granted. He'd done it with Foggy, hadn't he? 

Five years. That was how long you made it before cracks began to appear in your foundations. You'd loved Matt for his Daredevil side at first; maybe he could go too far, but he'd always known when to stop (right?) and you admired him for it. For his bravery, for his candor, for the way he protected the city. It was like a dark and sexy secret that you prided yourself on keeping. It tied you together. You were part of it now. You were the person that Matt could come to about his darkest fears and worst nights. You were the person whose side he would curl up into during the night, craving someone to protect him for once. There was always the worry that he would go into deep and truly lose himself, but every time Matt found himself on the precipice of doing so, you would be there to hold him back - to keep him sane and to stop him letting Matt Murdock and Daredevil blur into one person. 

You were only a human being, though. So was he. Matt could save the city and everything in it but you couldn't save him from himself. Save him from coming home at 6AM - your agreement had always been 3AM at the latest - and sliding into bed beside you without a word, or save him from waking up in a bad mood and refusing to talk to you about it. No matter how many times you begged him to just spend one night in, or to not leave himself three hours to sleep before work. It all fell on empty ears and that hurt when he had fucking super hearing. Comforting cuddles at night turned into whispered touches and soon, those touches became backs turned to one another. Long conversations turned into polite niceties than eventually faded into silence. The happy relationship - breakfast together in the morning at the table and takeouts on the sofa at night - became a burden. A horse you were both flogging because staying together in silence was slightly less terrifying than whatever the alternative that left you alone was. Soon, you were the only one flogging said horse. Matt had dropped his stick a long time ago and turned away. He'd walked into the depths of Hell's Kitchen and you weren't sure he was ever coming back. 

This wasn't your fault. Maybe it wasn't his fault either but hell it was his burden to bear. You'd done nothing but love and support him and what did you get in return? Silence. Iciness. Long, tense moments of forced conversations. 

You got used to it eventually. Every night, he'd come stumbling in at 4,5,6AM, skin littered with bruises and wounds; some from that night and others reopened. Matt's skin was thick with scars now. They were forming a new Daredevil suit across his arms and legs and back and there was no taking it off. It was always there. Always a reminder. 

Matt was laying with his back to you; you watched with open eyes, as his breathing went from shallow and tense, to something a little deeper and softer. He was falling asleep. Tough fucking luck, Murdock, you thought, it's time to talk. 

You brushed a hand down his back - Matt arched like a cat, suddenly waking.

"Hey, Matty."

He sighed heavily. "I was sleeping."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were-"

"- I'm tired," Matt huffed. "Go to sleep."

"I'm tired too," you murmured. Tired of this. Tired of this silence. Tired of you.

"Sleep too, then."

"I will," you whispered. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm working all day. Probably late."

"Okay, goodnight," you said. "I love you."

Silence. 

The morning came and still, Matt barely spoke to you. He ghosted past you in the morning, hands fumbling for a clean shirt and pants. His shoes were pulled on and coffee made, and he was out the door before you'd even risen for work. That was purposeful. He never left earlier than 8AM and it wasn't even gone 7:30. Maybe he didn't want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to talk to anyone that wasn't you - which was funny, because you'd barely had a conversation in weeks. 

You had lunch with Karen later that day, about four doors down from the Nelson & Murdock office. Whatever dalliance she'd had with Matt was in the past - you two were good friends. She was level-headed and candid. You needed that in a friend. She always said what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to. 

"So, I'm gonna see this guy for a second date, I think," Karen was saying something. You were gone, eyes blankly staring past her. "But I'm not sure, because - hey, are you listening to me?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm sorry. I had a really shitty night."

Her face fell with concern. "What's going on?"

"Matt's losing himself to his night job," you admitted. "I haven't had a proper talk with him in fucking months. I don't think he's touched me since people liked James Corden, Karen. Do you know what a long time that is?"

"Jesus," she muttered. Without another word, she pulled out her diary and flicked through it. "Look, it says he's got his whole afternoon wide open today. He went home at midday I think."

You faltered slightly. Either Karen was mistaken or Matt was a fucking liar and had fed you bullshit about being busy this afternoon. The worst part was that you knew Karen never made mistakes when it came to her secretary job. She had a Pinterest board for everything and her Google calendar synced up to ten different devices. She probably wasn't wrong and lying to you, although a new development, was pretty in line with how Matt had been lately. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. The thing that sealed your relationship's fate.

"I..." you muttered. "Okay. Will you hate me if I ditch early to go and talk to him?"

Karen shook her head. "No. Go."

That subway ride was the longest of your ride. It felt like every stop was twice as long; like every red signal lasted ten years. Had the walk from the platform to the barriers always been this long? Had the street from the station to your apartment been this stretched out? Your feet had never hurt more as you sprinted up the stairs from the lobby to your apartment. The door was on the latch - Karen was right, he had been home - and you booted it down with ease. Matt jumped up from the sofa as you did.

"What are you-"

"- you're a fucking liar!" you snapped. 

There was a lingering silence for a moment. Matt was a man of few words but he had very rarely found himself speechless.

"I'm done," you muttered.

"Done with what?"

"I'm done with you," you said. "I'm done with us. With this shitty relationship. Do you know how long I've been trying? How long I've been begging you to give me some kind of attention? Months, Matt. I've been dying for MONTHS and you haven't cared."

"I haven't been ignoring you-"

"- please don't lie to me," you cut him off again. 

The silence returned. You might have been half way out the door for months but Matt had been the one holding it open. The worst part was that you loved him to your very core and if he just said the words then - stay, don't go - or even any fucking word in the human language that hinted at a glimmer of hope, you would have thought twice. Maybe your apartment was a ghost town now but it was haunted with what used to be. Maybe there was a chance to go back to that. Just maybe. You would take maybe. 

The seconds passed. One, two, three. You counted them as they went, right up until you hit sixty. The dreaded one minute mark. That was more than enough time to beg. You could have done it in thirty. But he'd said nothing. The silence now said more to you than Matt had in the last three months. 

"Do you have nothing to say?" you quietly asked. 

"Right," you murmured. "I'm really done then."

"Just...think about this?" Matt said. His voice wavered slightly. There it was. The thing you'd been wanting to hear. It was just one minute too late. 

"Moment's passed, Matty,"