#<- this happens in my head its REAL to me

[aninipanin1]

Lap pillows with Isagi? (I can imagine the rest of the guys getting jealous)

WHY HIM?

Notes: RAHHH I love Isagi so much, my loml, hope you enjoy!

"What the hell?!"

"Hm? Did you say something, Yukimiya-san?" You asked, tilting your head at the sudden outburst from the brunette player. You were busy tapping on your tablet, answering emails and other chores you were meant to finish as you ate in the canteen.

It was yet another day in Blue Lock, and the cafeteria was still empty except for you and Isagi until Yukimiya entered the cafeteria and found you sitting on a chair. Oh, but it definitely was not the one that caught his attention. Instead, his eyes glared at the slumbering striker that used the rest of the chairs as some sort of bed, with his head on your lap.

It definitely pissed him off, especially with how Isagi had his arms wrapped around your waist while sleeping away on your lap.

"How long has been here?"

"Oh, you mean Isagi-san? He was having a headache earlier, so I said he could sleep on me if he wanted to. So he did."

"Did he now?"

He swore to god that the veins on his forehead were so close to popping. What the hell was that bastard thinking? The shameless audacity to do this was just appaling to the brunette.

Okay, maybe it was because of the green envy running on his veins because he knows he does not have the guts to do this to you (he has a reputation as the gentleman to uphold) but damn, he did not know thag Isagi can be this...upfront.

Now, maybe it was you who offered to do this. It would not be surprising with your empathetic and caring nature, but are you thag clueless and oblivious, that you can let a random guy rest his head on top of your thighs.

"Damn, Isagi..."

He looked to be comfortable with it, too, softly snoring away and face nearly burying his face on your stomach.

It did not take long before the other guys also entered the cafeteria, and at first, it was all good and peaceful, probably because the exhaustion of practice wore them out. Though, they have yet to see the spectacle Yukimiya was currently glaring at.

But of course, it did not take long before the players searched for you. There you were, sitting peacefully, eyeing your tablet while eating, and on your lap was one Isagi...oh.

Oh.

Oh.

"What the fuck?" Barou let out the coldest curse he ever mustered out as he took in what he was seeing.

"Yeah, what the fuck indeed." Niko blinked, glaring at the slumbering raven haired striker.

"Am I the only who has the urge to grab his hair and drag him out of his position?"

"Nope. Do it, no balls." Otoya answered a pissed off Karasu, who looked about ready to jump someone.

"I think you guys are overreacting..." Nagi pouted, feeling jealous as well, but seeing as he always finds himself resting on your thighs when he is feeling extra lazy, he was not as worried as the others were.

"No, we're not. Isagi is dead." Reo said, not even paying attention that it was his turn to get his food from the machines.

"Y/n-chan! What happened with Isagi?" Bachira hopped to the seat next to you, seeing as the others were still too stunned to overtake it (they would always fight for the chairs closest to you, its like a whole Olympic game itself, believe me).

"Hm? Isagi-san was not feeling well, so I let him rest here!" And as if you could not make them anymore jealous, your hand found itself patting and massaging Isagi's hair to try and help relieve any left over pain from his headache even if he is still asleep.

The whole cafeteria was quiet. It is much too quiet than it usually is. But if you could only stop being oblivious for once, the hawk like glare everyone was giving Isagi was noise enough to scare and bother someone who has mental and common stability.

Too bad most of the Blue Lockers do not have that.

"He must have saved the world to be this damn lucky." Chigiri rolled his eyes, before continuing to eat his meal.

"Are we even sure that the headache is real or its just a ploy of his." Aiku doubted. Damn, now he wants to know how it feels to also lay his head on your thighs.

"Dunno, that's unlike Isagi. But still, no forgiveness on him. Traitor." Hiori sassed. Oh, he is definitely getting back at him at practice when he feels supposedly better.

"Oh, wait. Isagi-san, wakey, wakey. You need to eat to better your headache." You said in a whisper, gently shrugging the boy's shoulder.

With a groan, Isagi opened his eyes before standing up, still a bit groggy from his sleep. As he adjusted, you took that time to get him his food as quick as you can before putting it in front of him on the desk.

"Here, eat up! Say 'ahh'." You raised up a chopstick of pork to him to which the boy blushed at, before shyly accepting the pampering treatment.

"Now I wanna be sick. Come on, someone sneeze on me." Lorenzo commented from another table, moving Niko by his shoulders urging the boy to do something as if he knows how to make someone intentionally sick in the first place.

"Wifey material. For real, for real." Shidou blabbered, being stopped by literally Karasu and Nanase from going over to you and Isagi and doung whatever the weird demon had in his mind.

"Feed me too, Y/n-nie!" Charles hopped from his seat to where you are, which pissed off Rin so much he started chanting some curses and insults under his breath that he looked like he was summoning dozens of malevolent spirits.

"Um...okay, Charles-san. But maybe after Isagi-san, since he is sick." You happily accepted, although a bit confused as to why he wants you to feed him too.

"No one is stopping me from stomping on Charles."

"Kunigami no-"

"Kaiser-san, please don't bully Isagi-san. He was not feeling well earlier." You frowned at the German striker who is once again, acting like the cliche mean girl towards Isagi who just glared back at the man.

"Oh, no. Listen, häschen, I have a score to settle with little Yoichi here." Kaiser, who was not present earlier at lunch, heard what happened through word of mouth, and needless to say, he was jealous and pissed that his number one rival in the sport, is also his number one rival in another area.

"Leave me alone, Kaiser."

"How about you do that first with Y/n? Not be a creep?" The blonde striker retorted back with a smug smile on his face. The rest of the Bastard players just entered the field and did not even blimk when they saw Isagi and Kaiser fighting again.

It was another ordinary Wednesday for the German Stratum.

Meanwhile, you just looked at the tension between the two with confusion, trying your best to understand what they are even arguing about again.

'Is this what they call sexual tension? Well, do they even swing that way?'

ADDITIONAL TIME:

"Repeat what I said again, Y/n." Chris smiled, coaxing the girl who looked at him with understanding and determination to obey his words.

"No man is ever worthy of me. Especially hormonal football teenagers. And...um...what was after that?"

"You...?"

"Oh! I deserve someone who is a man who will take care of me well, instead! And if I don't find one, its better for me to be a single, free lady."

"That's my kid!" The blonde coach laughed loudly, patting your head as you smiled back at him, happy that you pleased your mentor and father figure.

Growing up, your father was not the best paternal guidance you had. He does not care about your emotional and psychological needs, only there to improve your intelligence. He never taught you life lessons about the world and how to survive its cruelty.

But now, it seems like you have many father figures (and a maternal figure) to learn the things you were never taught about before. So of course, you paid the utmost attention to the coaches' words and obey them as best you could.

"You're dooming Y/n to a lonely life?" Snuffy raised an eyebrow at Chris, a little doubtful and suspicious of the English man's words.

"Oh, come on! As a man who has been a teen, I know how most teens' minds work. They have to learn how to be a man first in order to treat the princess right. And I'll be the one to make sure of that!" Chris retorted at the Ubers' coach, which just led to Snuffy sighing before patting your head as well.

"He is right at some points. But don't take most of his advice too seriously."

"Hey!"

I know its short guys but pls bear with me I am experiencing writer's block again rahhhh. I think its because its my summer break and my mind is wired to just sleep and scroll lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed this still though

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[infamous-if]

Out of curiosity how many general plot theory asks do you get and have there been any really wild or funny or like super accurate/ close ones?

Me personally I'm super excited to find out what Sevs hiding and what exactly went down between Blake and G!

I get A LOT. Some are pretty close to the real thing while others are so wildly left field it makes me chuckle. The funniest part is that every time someone gets mad at me over a theory they made up in their head and assumed was true...its always a theory that isnt right lmsjdjsdj

I will say that there's a few theories that have come super close. Sometimes it's all about getting a detail wrong that skews the whole thing but are in the general ballpark.

The wildest/funniest one would be Seven having a secret kid. It also happens to be my favorite. That's the only theory I debunked directly and only because logistically it wouldnt make sense so it was never really in the conversation of being "taken seriously" hahah

You will one day! hehe

[blluespirit]

I was thinking about the southern raiders again and i think one of the reasons i love it so much, is that despite not being in the group for very long, zuko immediately understands what katara needs to do more than anyone else in the group and takes it upon himself to give it to her - peace and to earn her forgiveness.

it's not really about revenge, its about confronting her trauma head on. ripping the monster from under the bed so it can no longer haunt her.

i like that zuko never puts an idea for what she has to do. it's actually aang who brings up revenge. zuko never says that's what she must do, and when she snaps back at Aang that hell, maybe revenge is what she needs, zuko doesn't shut her down either. its absolutely up to her.

the argument between aang, katara, zuko and sokka is telling - aang, while well meaning, can't understand katara's perspective. aang's pain is vast and deep and he has processed/is processing that in his own way, but what works for him, will not work for everyone. zuko sees katara's anger and it resonates with him - that is something he can understand.

I just love that zuko offers to find the man, and then goes all out defending katara's need to confront him. she needs this.

Here's the argument:

KATARA: We're going to find the man who took my mother from me. ZUKO: Sokka told me the story of what happened. I know who did it and I know how to find him. AANG: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish? KATARA: [shakes her head in dismay] Ugh, I knew you wouldn't understand. [begins to walk away] AANG: Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people? ZUKO: She needs this, Aang. This is about getting closure and justice.' AANG: I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge. KATARA: [angrily] Fine, maybe it is! Maybe that's what I need! Maybe that's what he deserves! AANG: Katara, you sound like Jet. KATARA: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. SOKKA: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. KATARA: Then you didn't love her the way I did! SOKKA: [hurt] Katara! AANG: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself. ZUKO: That's cute, but this isn't air temple preschool. It's the real world. KATARA: Now that I know he's out there ... now that I know we can find him, I feel like I have no choice. AANG: Katara, you do have a choice: forgiveness. ZUKO: That's the same as doing nothing! AANG: No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive. KATARA: It's not just hard, it's impossible.

but I also love that because none of this happens without zuko's knowledge.

zuko is just the means to an end, and he's okay with that. What katara ultimately decides to do is up to her;

but zuko is going make damn sure he's there to make sure she's able to make that decision:

they make it to the southern raiders and zuko charges in, deflects the commanders fire and when he asks them who they are, zuko responds perfectly. he's angry for her. he never tries to make it about himself and his actions confronting the Southern Raiders Commander and Yon Rah reflect this:

COMMANDER: Who are you? ZUKO: You don't remember her? You will soon, trust me. [katara starts bloodbending him. zuko looks shocked for a moment, before quickly returning his attention back to the commander] ZUKO: Think back. Think back to your last raid on the Southern Water Tribe. COMMANDER: I don't know what you're talking about. Please, I don't know! ZUKO: [bending down closer to the commander] Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did. [katara realises he's not the man, says as much and begins to walk away. zuko realises he still has a role to play to help katara] ZUKO: [grabs the weak commander and pins him to the wall] If you're not the man we're looking for, who is? COMMANDER: You must be looking for Yon Rha. He retired four years ago.

He does it again when they confront Yon Rah:

[Yon Rha is walking. he stops and turns around once more] Nobody sneaks up on me without getting burned! [drops basket of vegetables and firebends at a nearby bush] sensing no one, he picks up the fallen vegetables and continues on his way. He unknowingly steps on a thin wire, causing him to fall into the mud. He tries to get up only to see a fire blast coming his way which he quickly avoids. Zuko appears before him. ZUKO: We weren't behind the bush. [zuko takes a step forward to threaten him] And I wouldn't try firebending again!

After this, zuko steps back and lets katara handle it in the way she sees fit.

even its inferred that zuko thought it was violence that katara needed by what he says to aang at the end of the episode;

ZUKO: You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer.

the point is he never says it to her and he keeps that largely to himself and when she decides to spare his life, while visibly shocked and hangs back a moment to glare at yon rah, he respects katara's decision and sees that's what she needed:

basically what im saying is that whether you ship them or see them as friends, their dynamic is immediately compelling, interesting and respectful.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch16

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to their connection… do they find a way to fix it?

overall warnings: smut, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity.

chapter contents: ANGST. like the whole thing is angst lol. jungkook cries for like 90% of this chapter. nari is SO fucking angry omg. oc breaks tf down. the chapter weve all been dreading is here </3 idk but its just like super angsty and sad im sorry lmfao

wc: not thattt long

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

a/n: rushed to get this out, and this is like prob the worst part of the story to rush. so im very very sorry if this didnt meet expectations cause it didnt really meet mine, but imma be busy for a bit. but ANYWAYS!! tysm for reading and ILY MWAHH. also pre warning to my smut lovers… there wont be much for a while. LMFAO.

masterlist, < prev | next >

“Jungkook, honey, when will you be enlisting?”

The question lands like a gunshot.

Jungkook tenses immediately. His brain spins.

He knew this was coming.

You see it happen—his grip on his chopsticks tightening, his whole body subtly stiffening, like he’s bracing himself. Like he’s debating whether to lie.

For a fleeting second, he considers lying. The words I haven’t decided yet are right there, waiting on his tongue—

But he can’t.

Not in front of your parents.

Not in front of you.

Before he can say anything, Nari—who has now fully given up on finishing the food your parents have shoved in front of her—speaks up, still looking a little sick.

“Oh, Auntie,” she pauses, tilting her head. “I swear idols don’t have to enlist? And Jungkook—well—he’s definitely more than just a damn idol.”

“Nari! Language!” your mom whisper-shouts.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters.

You snort, but then—

Your dad hums, turning to Jungkook with an easy grin. “You didn’t apply for exemption, did you? Too many idols these days are lazy, trying to avoid it.”

Jungkook’s head is ringing. His hands are clammy.

This was not how he wanted to tell you.

He tries to keep his composure, but his fingers twitch against his jeans as he stares down at his plate, trying—failing—to find the right response.

You tilt your head, and Jungkook exhales, thankful that you’re stalling unintentionally, but his heart aches at how oblivious you are for whats about to come. “Dad, I swear you didn’t enlist?”

Your dad gasps, hand over his heart. “What?! Honey, don’t expose me like that!”

You giggle.

But your dad cuts in. “Nari, honey, they can apply for exemption.” He smirks. “But Jungkook here doesn’t seem like the type, so I doubt he would.”

You let out a breathy chuckle at his tone—but Jungkook? doesn’t even react.

You glance over at him, confused.

And that’s when you notice, he’s staring down at his plate. Picking at his food. Shoulders tight.

Then, finally—

“Yeah…” His voice is quiet. “I didn’t apply.”

A weird, unsettling feeling starts creeping up your spine.

It’s fine, you think. You guess.

You try not to read into it.

Your mom beams. “Oh, how wonderful!”

Your dad nods approvingly. “Good son! It’s only right. Too many try to weasel their way out of it these days.” He claps Jungkook on the back, and Jungkook barely sways from the impact.

You don’t think too much of it at first.

But—

Why didn’t you know about this?

It’s not like you talk about the military all the time, but still. Something like this—you’d think he would have mentioned it.

So, you ask, all casual, assuming, “It’s not soon, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

The whole table listens in, but Nari—now more alert—watches him intently. Probably just as confused as you are. Your parents are still oblivious, still smiling, still talking, but Jungkook—

He’s pale.

Fidgety.

His hand curls into a tight fist on his thigh.

And then, “December 12th.”

That’s-

Three weeks.

Your mom gasps in admiration. “That’s so soon! You must be so prepared, Jungkook, honey!”

Your dad grins. “Oh this is great! We need more like you!”

They praise him. Clap him on the back. Smile and celebrate and talk about how proud they are of him.

But you—

You can’t hear any of it.

Your world has just—stopped.

December 12.

December 12.

That’s in—

Your stomach drops.

Your heartbeat slams in your ears.

Because he’s known. He’s known this entire time. And he never told you.

You feel Nari stiffen beside you.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes on you.

You feel the weight of every moment you’ve spent with him, every touch, every kiss, every look—

And suddenly, they all feel different.

Your mom is oblivious, still smiling.

Your eyes flick to Nari, who is already looking at Jungkook with pure anger.

Jungkook?

Jungkook doesn’t even try to meet your gaze anymore.

He looks down, fingers tightening around his jeans, jaw clenched, face tense.

And you?

You don’t look at him, either.

You can’t. Because if you do. If you let yourself feel—

This whole moment will collapse.

The realization. The pure fucking heartbreak. The slow, suffocating understanding that he’s known all along. That he’s been lying to you this entire time.

Your stomach churns. Your chest tightens. It feels like the room is spinning.

In the background—

Your dad is still praising him.

Your mom is smiling.

They don’t know.

They don’t know that you’re sitting here, staring at the man you’ve been falling for, realizing he let you fall knowing he was going to leave. And he didn’t tell you.

You don’t say anything. Because you can’t.

Because if you open your mouth, you’ll either scream or cry, and you don’t know which one is worse.

You sit there. Expression neutral. Heart in pieces. And for the rest of dinner, you pretend everything is fine.

Because what else can you do?

“Honey this is amazing!” your mom praises. “You should be so proud of yourself sweetheart. Not enough idols do this nowadays. They’re too lazy—but you! You’re different.”

Your dad grins. “Good for you, kid. That’s real responsibility.”

Jungkook forces a smile, nodding politely. “Thank you…”

But. You don’t say anything. You can’t. Because everything in you has just—stopped.

He’s not joking. He’s not lying.

And when you glance across the table. Nari is staring back at you, frozen. Expression blank.

Because she knows. She knows what this means.

You swallow thickly, blinking a few times before finally forcing yourself to react—plastering on a small, tight-lipped smile. Your mom notices. “Oh, honey, did you not know?”

You make the mistake of glancing at Jungkook.

And the second you do, your stomach twists, because he’s looking right at you. And there’s something in his expression—guilt, maybe?

You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

So you tear your gaze away, forcing out a quiet, “No.”Your smile is strained. “I didn’t.”

But your parents don’t notice anything wrong at all. They don’t notice how he’s broken your heart into a million pieces and thrown it onto the fucking plate.

“Oh, sweetheart, you should be proud of him,” your mom says, nudging your arm. “That’s real dedication.”

Your dad nods. “Yeah, not like these new idols. Always finding loopholes to get out of it.”

Jungkook laughs a little, though it’s barely there. “Right…”

You don’t look at him. You don’t dare. The conversation shifts.

Your parents are still chatting away, completely oblivious, but the air at the table has turned suffocating.

Jungkook is tense.

Nari is pissed, sending him quiet but absolutely lethal glares between sips of water she’s clearly no longer enjoying.

And you?

Your ears are ringing.

Every sound feels distant, like you’re underwater, like you’re not really here. Your mom’s voice is coming from somewhere—she’s asking you something, something about your job, your life, your well-being. You try to answer. You swear you try.

But everything in you is screaming to just—leave. Because the longer you sit here, the more you feel like you might snap.

Jungkook keeps trying to look at you. You can feel it, the weight of his gaze burning into the side of your face. But you don’t look back. You can’t.

Finally. After what feels like hours, your parents get up. Your mom claps her hands. “Alright, we should get going.”

Your dad nods. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

You almost sag in relief.

But then, it’s time for goodbyes.

And your parents never leave quickly, your mother—God bless her—takes another ten minutes to actually leave.

They offer to help clean up. “No, Auntie, it’s okay,” Nari says so fast that it’s almost aggressive. She stands abruptly, already stacking plates, ushering them toward the door like a damn bouncer.

Your mom takes her sweet time hugging you, kissing your cheek, stroking your hair like you’re a child. “Take care of yourself, honey, okay?”

Your dad is just as bad, clapping Jungkook on the back, laughing at something he says.

And then—

Right before they leave—

For the first time all night—you look at him.

He stands frozen, stiff as a board, as your dad extends a hand. Jungkook hesitates. And then, slowly, he takes it.

It’s an easy handshake at first. But then your dad’s grip tightens, his free hand coming up to clasp Jungkook’s shoulder.

A grin. A squeeze.

And then, “Treat her right, son.”

Something snaps. Jungkook swallows so hard you hear it.

You almost break. Your vision blurs. Your chest tightens. For a split second, your heart begs you to stop. To not let this ruin everything.

Silence.

Jungkook stiffens beside you, but you don’t even glance at him.

You just—nod.

Then, finally—finally—the door swings shut.

And then—

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Nari screams, running a hand through her hair. The sound shatters through the air, echoing off the walls, rattling your bones.

You flinch—because she’s loud, yes—but also because you feel it. All of it. All at once.

Your entire body crumbles.

Tears spill down your cheeks so fast, so violently, that your vision swims. Your breath catches—hitches—and then you’re gasping.

Jungkook is shocked.

Because this? this is worse than he imagined.

He expected you to yell. To curse him out. To demand answers. But this? This silent, broken kind of crying?

This hurts so much more.

And the worst part? He did this to you.

Jungkook barely breathes. You barely stand.

The weight of it all—the realization, the betrayal, the embarrassment—is crushing you.

Your chest tightens. Your throat burns.

And Nari? Nari is just getting started.

“When the fuck were you planning on telling her this?!” she shrieks, hands shaking, voice cracking. “Were you just gonna disappear one day? Huh? Just vanish without a goddamn word?”

Jungkook flinches.

But he doesn’t speak.

“How could you even come here today?” she hisses, stepping closer. “Meet her fucking parents? You embarrassed her, and I fucking hate you for it, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t fight back.

Because what could he even say? He just—stands there. Takes it.

But his eyes—his eyes never leave you. You, who hasn’t spoken a single word. You, who is just standing there—staring at the floor, trembling.

You, who looks like you’re about to collapse.

But Nari—she isn’t done.

“I actually thought you were good,” she spits, voice shaking with rage. “I actually thought—maybe, just maybe—you weren’t like the rest of them. But this? This is worse.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches. His hands shake.

“Did you plan this all along?” she demands.

“No,” he whispers.

It’s all he can say.

Because anything else would be a lie.

“That’s it?!” Nari’s voice shatters. “That’s all you have to fucking say?!”

And then—

Jungkook moves. Takes a step toward you. Reaches out.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

You flinch. Like his touch would burn you. Like he’s something you need to get away from.

Jungkook freezes.

His heart shatters more than it already has. But before he can even process it—

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!” Nari screams. “SORRY WON’T FUCKING FIX THIS!”

And then— You break.

“Get out.” Your voice rips from your throat, raw, quiet, desperate.

Jungkook stares.

He saw this coming. He knew this was coming.

And yet. Somehow, he’s still surprised.

Because this—this is final.

This is you letting go.

And he can’t accept it.

“Wait,” he chokes, voice frantic, desperate. “Please—”

But you? You just—give up. Your knees buckle. Your body collapses. And suddenly—Nari snaps.

“You fucking heard her.”

And before Jungkook can even think, before he can even breathe, Nari shoves him back.

Pushes him toward the door.

“Go.”

Jungkook is begging.

“Please,” he gasps, trying to look at you, trying to reach for you. “Baby, please—”

But you—

You don’t look at him.

“Don’t fucking call-“ You turn away.

And then, the door slams shut.

The loudest sound in the room isn’t your sobs anymore—it’s the door clicking shut. His scent lingers, his touch still lingers, and the memory of his eyes when he begged you, his voice soft- begging as he called you “baby,” is burned into your mind.

Nari is beside you, her anger radiating, palpable in the air.

Outside

Jungkook doesn’t move. His forehead rests against the door, fingers curled into fists at his sides. His chest is heaving. His vision is blurring.

He’s begging.

Not out loud—no, because he knows that won’t work.

But in his head—inside his breaking, desperate heart— He’s begging.

“Please open the door.”

“Please say this was a joke.”

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

He selfishly hopes you’ll open the door with that same smile on your face. Your eyes swollen from crying, your face puffy, but still, he imagines you pulling him in, kissing him like you always do, running your fingers through his hair the way you did earlier, and telling him, “I’m not mad at you, stupid. You’re such a dumbass, stop crying.”

But, he knows it’s real.

He knows he fucked up. Selfishly, he craves just one more minute, hoping somehow you’ll give in, even though he knows it’s impossible. He should’ve told you. He fucking knows it.

God, he just wants one more chance. Just one more minute to make things right. His breath is shaky, uneven as he tilts his head back against the wood, squeezing his eyes shut.

From inside—

He hears you.

And his whole world stops.

Inside

On the inside, you sit against the door, still sobbing, your mind racing through everything you two have shared. How fucking real it all felt. For him to just end it like that—it doesn’t make sense. You thought you had more time, that you could actually do this with him. But he fucked up. You can’t figure out what else to do, what to think.

Legs curled up, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater, tears streaming down your face.

You shouldn’t be here.

You should be angry, should be yelling, should be hating him with everything in you.

But instead?

You’re waiting.

Waiting for him to knock.

Waiting for him to say it was all a prank, that he somehow set this up with your parents, that this isn’t really happening—

That he isn’t leaving.

But— He doesn’t.

And Nari? Nari sees it all.

“Oh my fucking God,” she snaps. “Y/N, get the fuck UP.”

You flinch.

But you don’t move. You can’t.

“Are you serious right now?” she demands. “Are you actually serious? After everything? After all of this? You’re still sitting there waiting for him like a fucking sad puppy?!”

Your fingers tighten around your sleeves.

Your breath shudders. Because she’s right.

You hate that she’s right. But it doesn’t stop you from wanting him anyway.

Outside

Jungkook can hear everything. The muffled sounds of Nari yelling.

The tiny, broken sounds of you crying.

And suddenly, he can’t breathe. His throat tightens. His fingers dig into his hair as his body shakes, as his mind races. “What the fuck did I do.”

It’s hitting him now. All of it.

The way you flinched from his touch. The way you collapsed the second he walked out the door. The way you haven’t opened it since.

The reality of it all. That he was always going to hurt you. That this was always going to end this way. That you—the one person who ever made him feel normal, made him feel safe, made him feel like just Jungkook and not fucking BTS Jungkook—

You’re gone. And he did it. He did this.

Inside

You wipe at your face, sniffing, eyes puffy, throat raw. But you don’t move from the door.

Even though you know he’s not coming back. Even though you know this is over. Even though you should hate him—

You don’t.

You still love him.

And that’s the worst part of all. Because even after all of this— Even after everything—

You still would have chosen him.

Outside

Jungkook isn’t crying anymore.

Not because it doesn’t hurt. Not because he isn’t breaking apart, piece by piece, on this very doorstep. But because— He feels numb.

Like his body has shut down entirely.Like his mind has accepted what his heart refuses to. Like he knows there’s nothing left to say.

But still. He doesn’t leave. Instead, he sits there. Back against the door. Knees drawn up. Eyes red. Ears straining.

Because he knows he shouldn’t, but he listens. Selfishly.

Desperately.

Pathetically clinging onto the last part of you he has left:

Your voice.

Inside

The silence is loud. It’s heavy.

It hangs over the room like thick smoke—like something toxic, something suffocating, something that lingers in your lungs long after the damage is done. You’re not crying anymore.

Neither is Nari screaming. But she’s still fuming. Still pacing. Still muttering under her breath, hands clenching at her sides, voice low and dangerous.

“He’s dead to me.”

You exhale.

And then—

“Nari, please stop.” Your voice is hoarse. Tired. Defeated. And just like that—

Nari softens. She hesitates for a moment, then sighs, sinking down next to you, knees brushing. Her anger is still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

But right now?

Right now, she’s more concerned about you.

You just laugh. A broken, breathless, manic little laugh, something that barely even sounds like you.

“I think I fell in love with him.” Unsteady. Blurted.

Like you’re just now realizing it yourself.

Like the words are only just now settling into your bones, taking root in your chest, hitting you with full force.

Nari exhales.

She looks at you, something soft behind her gaze.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “You’re just now realizing?”

You don’t answer. You just blink, staring blankly ahead, expression unreadable.

Outside

Jungkook breaks all over again. Because he hears it. Every word. Every breath. And he knows he has no right to. But still. He presses his forehead against the door. Shuts his eyes. And cries. Harder.

——

Jungkook stays longer than he should.

Longer than makes sense.

Longer than is reasonable, considering he’s not even sure if he’s breathing at this point, or if his body is just running on pure muscle memory—just existing on this doorstep like it’s the last place he’ll ever belong.

A door creaks.

A neighbor steps out, and old man who clearly isn’t happy about the commotion, barely sparing him a glance before walking back inside.

And then another.

And another.

And soon, Jungkook realizes, people are staring.

Of course they are.

Of course the guy hunched over on the doorstep, looking like he just got physically wrecked by the universe, is gonna get some attention.

Finally, he forces himself to move. To stand. To leave.

His legs feel like they’re made of lead.

His head is still spinning.

But he shoves his hands in his pockets, pulls his hoodie up over his face, and drags himself away—

From you. From everything.

And he doesn’t look back.

Not even once.

——

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there.

Time doesn’t feel real.

It feels like the air in the room is thick, like something heavy is pressing down on your chest, keeping you in place.

“Was it even…fucking real?” Your voice is sharp. Raw.

Loud enough that Nari actually flinches beside you, turning to face you with wide eyes. But you don’t stop. You can’t.

“Was this his fucking plan all along? Like, what was it? Was it all just—was it just—” You can’t even finish the sentence. You just shake your head, laughing bitterly, the sound more painful than anything else.

“Was any of it real?”

Nari stares at you.

And for the first time tonight—

She doesn’t have an immediate answer. Her lips part, like she wants to say something.

She exhales.

“I fucking hate him for this.”

Her voice is quieter now. Softer. Like the anger has dulled—like it’s settled into something else.

“But I know it was real.”

You freeze. You blink at her.

“What?”

“You’re blind, Y/N,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Stop trying to make conclusions that aren’t there.”

Your chest tightens.

“Then—then why?” Your voice cracks.

And Nari exhales again, looking down.

“He was scared.” And the second the words leave her mouth, the second they sink in, you feel like the ground beneath you just— Collapses.

The room is unbearably quiet now.

Your tears have dried. Your breathing has evened out. Your body isn’t shaking anymore. But inside?

Inside, you still feel like you’ve been hollowed out and left to rot.

You stare at the ceiling, vision unfocused.

You can feel Nari beside you, sitting cross-legged on the couch which she’d dragged you to, scrolling through her phone like she isn’t still raging inside. Like she isn’t still thinking of all the ways she could actually kill Jungkook and make it look like an accident.

“Y/N.” Her voice is firm. You blink.

“Look at me.”

You do.

She sets her phone down, leveling you with a stare so serious that, for a second, you think she might actually be about to lecture you.

And, well—

You’re right.

“There is no way that shit was not fucking real.”

You exhale through your nose.

“Nari—”

“No, shut the fuck up, I’m talking.”

You blink at her.

“Jungkook did not spend all this time with you, did not look at you the way he did, did not literally put himself, his career at risk, just for it to be nothing,” she continues. “Do you hear yourself? Like, do you hear how insane you sound right now?”

You press your lips together.

“He was scared,” she says, softer now. “That’s it. That’s literally all there is to it. He was scared, and he was selfish, and he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to deal with the fact that he had to fucking leave. That’s not an excuse, by the way, it’s just—” she exhales, shaking her head. “It’s just the truth.”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her.

“This was never just casual for him,” she mutters. “That’s not what you should be worried about.”

Your throat tightens.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Nari doesn’t have an answer. She stares at you. And then, “I don’t know.”

The two of you just—sit there.

Exhausted. Numb. Waiting for something—

Even though neither of you know what.

The silence lingers.

It settles into the room like dust—slow, heavy, inescapable.

Neither of you move for a long time.

You don’t cry anymore. Nari doesn’t rant anymore. The rage, the heartbreak, the tension—it’s all dulled into exhaustion, weighing down every inch of your body.

Eventually, though—

“Come on,” Nari murmurs.

You don’t react.

“Y/N.”

A hand nudges your arm.

“Let’s go to bed.”

You exhale.

Then, finally—finally—you move.

You don’t even bother freshening up. You don’t even turn on the lights. But— “No, bitch, you need to take off your makeup.”

You blink, disoriented, as Nari flicks on the bathroom light and drags you toward the sink. “You don’t wanna break out, do you?” she mutters, trying to act normal. Trying to lighten the mood.

You stare at your reflection, and you look…bad.

Your eyes are puffy. Your nose is red. Your lips are swollen from crying.

You just look tired.

Nari wets a cotton pad.

You don’t stop her as she presses it to your face, wiping away the remnants of your mascara.

You don’t say anything when she takes out your skincare, applying it carefully, murmuring little instructions like “Look up” and “This one says…hydration”—

Just like he did.

Your chest aches.

You pretend it’s him.

Pretend it’s his fingers against your skin. Pretend he’s standing in front of you, talking through every step, teasing you for not taking better care of your face.

Nari knows exactly what you’re doing.

But she doesn’t say anything.

She just keeps going.

And when she’s finished, she clicks off the light and pulls you into your room, not giving you the chance to be alone.

You don’t argue.

You just follow.

You both collapse onto your bed, and Nari doesn’t hesitate before wrapping her arms around you.

You cling to her tighter than you ever have before.

She doesn’t say anything about it.

Just lets you press your face into her shoulder, lets you shake against her, lets you hold on as if she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

And even though Nari is always the first to knock out.

Tonight, she fights to stay awake.

She waits. She listens to your breathing slow, doesn’t move, doesn’t shift, doesn’t let go—

Not until she’s absolutely sure you’ve finally fallen asleep

[haikyu-mp4]

Irrestistible – Suna x reader wc 1143 – gn!reader hockey player x figure skater au

“You figure skate, right?” Suna said, a bare-minimum attempt at whispering. The two of you sat in the middle of the library, squeezed between someone who seemed to be on their last straw and someone who did not like history.

His random question brought you out of your self-deprecating thoughts and back into the room, where you had to tutor one of your class’ most obnoxious, lazy, careless, idiotic-

“Yes,” you answered kindly, despite your thoughts. “I do.”

“I know,” he whispered, lips pursed together as if sheepish, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “You’re real pretty.”

Clearing your throat, you strictly kept your eyes on his book on the desk after realising you had stared at his eyes for a little too long. “Let’s stay focused on this, I don’t have all day.”

“Sure, take the lead.”

The next time you met in the library, it seemed that the two of you finally loosened the knot in Suna’s head that insisted he couldn’t do maths. You grinned when he solved one of the more difficult issues on his own, holding up a hand for a high-five and not even caring that much when the sound of it might have disturbed some of the others who sat close by.

“You did so well!”

But the happiness you felt at him accomplishing this wasn’t the only thing that occupied your mind. At your praise, Suna couldn’t help but smile widely, showing much more of his teeth than you could usually see. Your eyes zeroed in, and Suna’s smile fell, lips pursing together to hide his two missing teeth on the one side. “Thank you. What’s next?”

You nodded subtly, registering his avoidance of the subject. “Integrals.”

He groaned, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm dramatically over his face. “The misery never ends!”

You didn’t stop thinking about it, though. A lot of the more reckless hockey players chipped or lost their teeth now and then, but it was usually fixed within the week. What could have happened for him to be missing them still?

Suna suddenly turned to you, putting a finger under your chin so you would face him. “You might as well just ask.”

“What happened to your teeth?” you whispered.

Suna huffed through his nose, and the signature smirk stretched across his lips. “I annoy people, frequently.”

The answer made you chuckle under your breath, gaze falling on his notebook, which proved he hadn’t focused much on the last few problems either. Gulping at his intense stare, you hesitated but asked anyway. “Why haven’t you had them fixed?”

“It’s expensive. My parents already paid for me to transfer here; the scholarship doesn’t cover my own wrongdoings.”

Looking back up, you had sympathy painted all over your face. You weren’t sure how to answer but didn’t have to figure it out as Suna perked up and turned back to his task.

“But one day I’ll be in the big leagues and my smile will be back to irresistible.”

Even though you and Suna were both at the rink many days of the week, you hadn’t run into each other much before. At least, you hadn’t noticed him.

Now, you could swear he was always there. Whether he gave you a short wave when you passed by while he played or winked at you when he saw you skating, you found yourself growing fond of his presence.

This time, he walked up to you after you finished training, slumping down beside where you were switching from skates to normal shoes. “Hey,” he said.

You looked around and noticed there were no other hockey players left, then glanced at the clock to confirm that his training had ended two hours ago. “Suna, did you wait here for two hours?”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face gave away something less careless. “I’m glad you noticed.”

“Why?”

“The other day, you said you weren’t happy they switched our training because you had to walk home late. Thought I might walk you home.”

It sounded like your heartbeat wanted to talk to him, ringing in your ears and pinching its colour into your cheeks. You looked down at your shoe and tied the last lace. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

Suna made it a regular thing, staying around until you finished training to walk you home, chatting about your days and lives, interests and dislikes. It became your favourite part of the day, and your friends commented regularly on how you and Suna sat closer and closer to each other each time you tutored him.

This time, you didn’t get off the ice after training. You skated a couple more laps while the others filed out of the room one by one, wishing your pulse would slow down before you spoke to Suna.

“Put your skates back on.”

Suna blinked, taken off guard by the change in routine. “My skates?”

You confirmed and giggled as he got to it, glancing at you with suspicion. When he got back up, skates safely secured, you ushered him to meet you in the middle of the ice. “Have you ever danced on ice before?”

Pride filled you at seeing the cool-headed Suna Rintaro out of his element. He raised his arms carefully, allowing you to direct his hands to your waist. “Not like you do.”

With careful movements, you moved to the side, and he followed clumsily. His eyes darted straight down to your feet. While he was good at skating, he wasn’t used to avoiding someone else’s skates while moving. “Just follow my lead,” you encouraged.

Your eyes were locked onto where a blush spread quickly from his neck to his ears. He finally looked up as he got into the pattern of your movements. “Am I in trouble?” he chuckled.

You hummed and smiled, leaning closer to twirl the two of you in a circle. When you slowed to a stop, you slid your arms around his neck, and a chill ran through you as he naturally followed and moved his arms around you. “I think I have a crush on you.”

Suna groaned, which disturbed the palpable tension between you and made you question yourself entirely. Oh no, maybe you had misunderstood. Had he not returned your affections? Did you just make a complete fool out of yourself-

“Sublime!” he yelled, tilting his head back so it wouldn’t ring in your ears. You drew a breath and held it, shocked at the outburst yet consumed with happiness at what it might mean.

His head came back down so he could look at you, grin wider than you had ever seen it, with his missing teeth on full display.

You couldn’t help but think that his smile was already irresistible.

masterlist

[shimmerandink]

Braided Bonds

Jinx x Gn! Reader

Fluff

Tags: Jinx x reader, gn! Reader, sfw, hideout, braiding, jinx and reader being cute

Summary: Reader helps Jinx to braid her hair

The hideout is unusually quiet.

Jinx is sprawled out on the floor, her back against a pile of cushions, absentmindedly toying with a strand of her blue hair. The usual chaos, sparks flying from half-finished explosives, music blaring through the walls, manic laughter, has faded into something softer, almost… peaceful.

You sit nearby, watching as she twists the strand around her fingers, eyebrows furrowed like she’s deep in thought. For a girl who thrives on disorder, her hair is a different story, it’s always carefully braided, every strand tucked in place, as if it’s the one thing she can control.

“Y’know,” you say casually, leaning back on your hands, “I could braid that for you.”

Jinx stills. Her fingers freeze mid-twist, and for a second, you think she’s going to scoff, make a joke, or brush you off entirely. But instead, she tilts her head, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something vulnerable.

“You think you can do it better than me, huh?” she teases, but there’s no bite to it.

You smile. “Maybe. Wanna find out?”

For a moment, she hesitates. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she turns her back to you and flops against your legs.

“Fine. But if you suck at it, I’m gonna pretend I never let this happen.”

You laugh, running your fingers through the long strands, feeling the warmth of her resting against you.

As Jinx settles against your legs, you take a deep breath, letting your fingers glide through her long, electric-blue hair. It’s surprisingly soft, despite the chaos she throws herself into daily.

“You ever let anyone do this before?” you ask, carefully undoing one of her braids.

Jinx hums, tapping her fingers against your knee. “Mmm… maybe. But if I say yes, you’ll get all pouty ‘cause you wanna be my first, huh?”

You chuckle. “Not pouty. Just… curious.”

She shifts slightly but doesn’t pull away. “Vi used to do it. When we were kids. Before, y’know… everything.”

The weight behind her words hangs in the air for a moment. You don’t push, if Jinx wants to talk about the past, she will, and if not, you’re not about to pry. Instead, you keep your touch gentle, untangling the strands with slow, careful movements.

“She’d always tug too hard,” Jinx adds after a pause, her voice quieter now. “Said I never sat still. But you’re… nice.”

Your heart tightens at that.

“Well, I’ll try not to pull,” you say softly, beginning to weave a new braid.

For once, she stays still, her breathing even, her body relaxed against you. It’s a rare thing, Jinx, calm, not bouncing from thought to thought, not reaching for a weapon or a new explosive scheme. Just here, with you.

As you work, you sneak a glance at her face. Her eyes are half-lidded, watching your hands move, but there’s something else there, something warm, something unspoken.

“You’re really into this, huh?” she teases, though its usual bite.

“Maybe I just like taking care of you,” you admit.

Jinx goes quiet. Then, after a beat, she huffs dramatically.

“Ugh. Gross. You’re making me all mushy,” she groans, throwing her hands up. But she doesn’t move away. If anything, she leans into you just a little more.

You laugh, tying off the braid and brushing your fingers over it lightly. “There. All done.”

Jinx reaches back, running her fingers over the braid. She doesn’t say anything at first, just fiddles with the end of it, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she turns slightly, peeking up at you through strands of blue hair.

“You’re… really good at that,” she mutters, and for once, there’s no teasing in her voice. Just something quiet. Something real.

You smile. “Told you.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, turning fully so she’s facing you now, her chin resting against your knee as she looks up at you. Her pink eyes shimmer with something playful, but underneath that, something softer, something searching.

“You like takin’ care of me, huh?” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly.

You brush a strand of hair from her face, fingers lingering against her cheek. “Yeah. I do.”

Jinx’s grin falters for half a second, just a fraction of a moment where she lets herself feel it. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she flops forward, wrapping her arms around your waist, pressing her face into your stomach.

“Ugh. You’re making me soft,” she groans, but the way she clings to you says otherwise.

You chuckle, running your fingers through her hair again, this time just to touch, just to keep her close. “That a bad thing?”

Jinx tilts her head back slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. “Dunno yet. Might need some convincing.”

Your heart stutters as she leans up, closer now, her face inches from yours. The air shifts between you, playful teasing giving way to something heavier, something charged.

You don’t overthink it. You just close the distance, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

Jinx freezes for half a second before melting into you, her hands tightening around your shirt. When you finally pull away, her lips are still parted, pink eyes wide, not with shock, but with something almost… awed.

Then, she grins, breathless. “Okay. Maybe soft isn’t so bad.”

You laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Jinx hums, resting her forehead against yours. “Yeah, yeah. But don’t go thinkin’ you can make a habit outta this, ‘kay?”

You just smile, pulling her in closer. “No promises.”

And Jinx? She doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

[cheezb6llz]

Hello! Can I please request yandere Sonic headcannons?

YANDERE SONIC HEADCANONS!!!

-he is ALWAYS around… no matter where you go, Sonic just so happens to be there as well..

“Woah! Fancy seeing you here, Y/N! What are the odds?” (the odds are not low he literally followed you)

-He’s super overprotective, even if its totally unnecessary.. like if someone get’s too close to you by his means, he’s suddenly at your side, arm around your shoulders telling them you don’t need any company right now (besides him!)

-He gets jealous WAY too fast. if you just laugh at another persons joke, his grin tightens. Later he’ll just casually trash talk them..

“Pfft— You really think he’s funny? You deserve better company than that!” (he means himself)

-If you bring up how weird it is that he just ALWAYS knows where you are and just ALWAYS happens to be there, he just laughs it off.

“What, I can’t check up on my favorite person? That’s what friends are for, right?”

-He’s “accidentally” touching you all the time. Hand on your waist, finger brushing yours when he hands you something, pulling you against him when he laughs, his grip always lingers just a few seconds too long.

-He’ll try to make you dependent on him, if you mention struggling with something, whether its school, work, or just everyday issues he jumps at the chance.

“Aww, you don’t gotta worry, I gotcha! You can always count on me.”

-Starts planting the idea in you that nobody else really cares for you, especially not as much as he does.

“I mean, think about it. Who’s always here for you? Who knows you better than everyone else? C’moooon you know the answer!” He nudges you with his elbow.

-Downplays your friendships. If you talk about someone else, he’ll scoff.

“That guy? Hah! I bet he wouldn’t even notice if you disappeared for a while..”

-If you don’t give him enough attention, his patience starts to wear thin. One day you’re too busy to hang out with him, the next he approaches you, eyes sharp.

“Didn’t see you all day yesterday! Made me wonder ir you were avoiding me, you weren’t, right?”

-leaves warnings for your friends he doesn’t like. you never see him do it, but the people you wave to everyday on the street suddenly go silent and avoid you at all costs. You tell Sonic about it, he just shrugs.

“Weird how people just disappear, huh?”

~yippee bonus!! his breaking point and why he decides to take you captive~

It happens when you genuinely try to push him away. maybe you finally realize something is wrong with the way he treats you. when you tell him you need some space, his usual carefree attitude quickly diminishes.

“You need space? From me? Hah! That’s.. funny. Real funny, Y/N.”

You start spending a little too much time with other people instead of him, thats when he really loses it. He watches you with your friends from afar, hands twitching at his sides. The way you laugh with them, you just look so comfortable.. it infuriates him. He starts thinking things would be better off if he just kept you to himself.

That night, he decides on it. He waits outside your home, it’s nighttime by this point and you’re making yourself some dinner. You pour yourself a drink of your choice and set it down on the table, then turning around to plate your food. Sonic sees this as a chance to swiftly run in, drop something in your drink, and run back out. You swore you heard something behind you, but you turn and.. Nothing.

The night carried on as usual, but when your head hit the bed, an unusual heaviness took over your body.. your limbs felt sluggish and your mind quickly fogged. And then, darkness.

That’s when he came in, and gently carried you outside and began his very quick journey back to his place. (He runs at the speed of sound, after all!)

—

i think sonic is my favorite yandere to write now lololol

[bennyboyfics]

frenemies with ben!

What are we || Ben Shelton x tennis player!reader

A/n: love this 🤭

Wc: 1,120

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

-

The tension had always been there. Every time you and Ben Shelton stepped onto the same court—whether as opponents or, God forbid, as doubles partners—the air crackled with something that wasn’t quite rivalry, but wasn’t camaraderie either. It was sharp-witted, competitive, and at times, borderline insufferable.

Maybe it was because you were both young, fiery players with something to prove. Or maybe it was because he had this frustrating way of pushing your buttons—both on and off the court. Whatever it was, it made every interaction between you a battle in its own right.

-

You spotted him the second you walked in. Ben was stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, phone in hand, legs propped up like he owned the place. His duffel bag sat beside him, his tournament credential lanyard dangling off the side. Unfortunately, the only open seat in the lounge was across from him.

Just your luck. You sighed, plopping down in the chair. You didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t need to. The second he noticed you, you knew he’d say something. And right on cue—“Well, well. If it isn’t my favourite pain in the ass.” You exhaled through your nose. “Shelton.” He grinned. “What brings you here? Besides the obvious need to bask in my presence.”

You shot him a flat look. “Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d sit literally anywhere else.” Ben tsked, shaking his head. “And here I thought we were finally becoming friends.” You snorted. “Friends don’t talk that much trash on court.” He smirked. “Then what does that make us?” You paused. Good question.

Because, truthfully, you and Ben weren’t just rivals. You weren’t just two players who got under each other’s skin. You were something messier. Something unspoken. Something that made every exchange—every glance, every smirk, every lingering second after a match—feel like it held weight. But instead of addressing it, you rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair.

“It makes us two people who tolerate each other at best.” Ben clicked his tongue. “Damn. That’s cold.”You just sipped your water, refusing to let him bait you further. Even though, deep down, you kind of loved it.

-

“Best of three points,” Ben declared, spinning his racquet in his hand as you both stood at the baseline. You arched a brow. “That’s not a thing.” “It is now.” You sighed. “You do realise that’s basically just a tiebreaker, right?” Ben grinned. “Yeah, but this one has bragging rights attached.”You gave him a slow, unimpressed look.

“Every time we play, you act like there’s a title on the line.” “Because there is.” He tossed a ball up, casually twirling it in the air. “The title of winner between us. And let’s be real—you’ve been dodging me for weeks.” Your eyes narrowed. “Dodging you? Please.”

Ben smirked. “Oh, so you do want to play?” You hated him. You really, really hated him. Mostly because he was right. “Fine,” you muttered, walking to the baseline. “But when I win, I don’t wanna hear any excuses.” Ben grinned like you had just handed him a Christmas present. “You won’t. Because that won’t happen.”

Ben served first. Big mistake. You had studied his patterns enough to know that his go-to under pressure was a body serve. Predictable. You anticipated it, stepping in early to redirect it down the line. Winner. “1-0,” you said, casually twirling your racquet. Ben huffed. “Lucky shot.”

Next rally, he came in aggressive, trying to overpower you. But you absorbed his pace, slicing a nasty angle that sent him sprinting. He got there—barely—but his shot landed short. You closed in, flicking a drop shot just over the net. Ben dove for it. Missed by an inch. “2-0.” You smirked. “Hate to say I told you so.”

Ben pushed up from the court, eyes gleaming with something between frustration and amusement. “You love to say I told you so.” He wasn’t wrong. But you wanted to put the final nail in the coffin. On match point, he upped the intensity, forcing you into defense with a barrage of deep, heavy forehands.

You barely hung in, scrambling from corner to corner, waiting for your chance—And then it came. Ben hit a rare short ball. You lunged forward, cracked a perfect forehand winner down the line, and turned around before it even landed. Game over. You didn’t see Ben’s reaction, but you felt it.

The weight of his stare. The way the air between you practically sizzled with competitiveness. And when you finally turned back, he was standing there, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “That,” he muttered, “was disrespectful.” You shrugged, all faux innocence. “You said no excuses.”

Ben exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. Then—before you could react—he stepped closer, invading your space just enough to make your heart lurch. For a second, he just looked at you. Not with the usual cocky arrogance. Something else. Something charged. Something that made the heat of competition feel like child’s play compared to the heat of this.

Finally, he huffed out a soft laugh. “You really don’t make things easy, do you?” You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t be fun if I did.” Ben lingered for a second longer—before stepping back, spinning his racquet, and shooting you one last grin. “Next time, I’m winning.” You smirked. “Guess we’ll see.”And with that, you both walked off the court, the battle unfinished.

But the game between you? That was just getting started.

[starryeyedwolves]

Home

The Potter house was warm, filled with the sound of laughter and the clatter of dishes. The scent of Lily’s cooking drifted through the air, and somewhere in the background, James was telling an exaggerated story about a Quidditch match that had never actually happened.

Sirius Black lounged on the couch, long legs stretched out as he twirled his wand between his fingers. Across from him, Remus Lupin sat cross-legged on the floor, a small, pudgy Harry Potter clambering into his lap with all the confidence of a child who had never known a world where he wasn’t adored.

“Moony!” Harry chirped, tiny hands grabbing at Remus’ sweater. “Up!”

Remus huffed in amusement but obliged, hoisting Harry onto his lap. “You’re getting heavier, pup,” he mused, ruffling the child’s messy hair. “James, you’d better start training now—he’s going to be wrestling you into the ground by the time he’s five.”

James turned from where he stood in the kitchen, an arm slung over Lily’s shoulders. “Please, he already wins half our battles. I think he’s inherited your brain and my reflexes.”

Sirius snorted. “A terrifying combination.” He leaned forward, reaching for Harry, who immediately turned and launched himself at his godfather with a delighted squeal. Sirius caught him easily, swinging him up and tossing him just high enough to make his little heart race before bringing him back down into a snug embrace. “Who’s my favorite little troublemaker?”

“Me!” Harry giggled, eyes bright as he clutched at Sirius’s robes.

“Damn right, it’s you,” Sirius said, pressing a smacking kiss to Harry’s cheek. He turned dramatically to Remus. “Sorry, Moony, you’ve been replaced.”

Remus arched a brow. “By a toddler?”

Sirius held Harry out at arm’s length and gave him an appraising look. “A very charming toddler.”

Harry beamed and then, as if sensing an opportunity, reached back toward Remus. “Moony now!”

Sirius let out an affronted gasp. “Traitor!” But he handed Harry over anyway, watching as Remus gathered him into his arms with the same gentleness he did everything else. It was a small thing, but something about the way Remus held him—careful but confident—made Sirius’ chest ache.

Harry, completely oblivious to the weight of Sirius’ thoughts, patted at Remus’ face. “Story?”

Remus chuckled, tapping his fingers against Harry’s back. “Alright, but only a short one. It’s nearly bedtime.”

From the kitchen, James groaned. “Why does he always want stories from you? I’m his dad! I tell amazing stories!”

Lily patted his cheek. “Darling, your stories are ninety percent Quidditch, and the other ten percent is hexing Slytherins.”

“Exactly! Educational,” James argued.

Sirius cackled while Remus just shook his head and settled Harry more comfortably in his lap. “Alright, Harry. Once upon a time, there was a little stag who wanted to explore the whole forest…”

As Remus told the story, his voice warm and even, Sirius watched the way Harry’s eyelids drooped, his small fingers curling into the worn fabric of Remus’ sweater. It was such a simple, domestic scene, but to Sirius, it felt like magic of its own kind.

It hadn’t always been easy—none of them had expected to be here, together, after the war. There had been so many close calls, so many nightmares that could have been real. But they had made it. James and Lily got to raise their son. Remus had a home where he was safe. And Sirius, for all his reckless, wild ways, had something steady to hold onto.

Harry let out a tiny sigh as he finally drifted off, his head tucked beneath Remus’ chin. Remus glanced up at Sirius, soft and knowing, and Sirius reached out, brushing his fingers over Remus’ wrist in a touch that said more than words ever could.

This was home.

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

────────────

"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINALLY NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smuts seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

────────────

A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you

[ajastu]

this is a blog made specifically so i can ramble, so time for another one. Been thinking on n off about the concept of a new game in a beloved franchise letting you down in some way, and when expressing that disappointment crosses a certain line.

Like, from personal experience: i was disappointed by dishonored 2. i swear this has something to do with dragon age, bear with me for a moment. The plot fell flat for me, the trailer basically tells you everything that happens in the game, and it really pales in comparison to the way the narrative was crafted in the first game.

HOWEVER, no matter how much of an essay i could write about the shortcomings i, personally, see with dh2, i can still acknowledge that it was a solid fucking game, with care taken in the production of it, and that a lot of people loved it for the exact things that disappointed me, and they are not in the wrong for it.

this got long, unsurprisingly, so the rest ill put behind a read-more 👍

Whenever i talk about what i think could have been done better in the sequel, it is more of a....thought exercise. Because the fact is, we're never getting the dh2 i really wanted, and so there is no need to get upset or frustrated about it. Might as well have fun analyzing it n getting to the core of what it is exactly that felt off, but not in an angry way? more like....having a fun discussion with a friend. pulling a puzzle apart kinda deal. make it Productive, and not just a feedback loop of negative feelings. Find good things in it, even.

So, when i still see people foaming-at-the-mouth mad about veilguard, im not gonna lie, i feel kind of concerned about the mental well-being of some of them.

The fact is. Veilguard is a solid fucking game. Just, objectively speaking. The level design is (to me, at least) intuitive and fun to explore, it does not feel like a slog (looking at you, dai. that one's open world design gave me the most mind-numbingly boring fever dream once), the battle mechanic doesn't make me want to download a 'skip combat' mod, the faction mechanic is fun and closer to the spirit of dao that dai was*, the plot is coherent and has a Theme, and, despite what people like to say, the lore reveals make sense and are consistent with the previous lore in the series 🤷‍♂️. I genuinely do believe that the whole blight origin thing was already thought out before dao came out. thats just how worldbuilding works, usually.

I have a ranking of the DA games in my head, based on how much i liked them. Before datv, it was as follows:

dao (a game of its time, but one i love immensely)

da2

dai (its decent enough, but it never really grabbed me like the other two)

I expected datv to take 4th place. As it currently stands, it might just share the first place with dao, for me personally.

I remember exactly the moment when it clicked for me that playing datv felt like playing dao (it was the first blackthorne mission). And that moment was very special to me. It is also, perhaps, the only game in the series which really actually made me lose my entire mind during certain story missions, but that one might just be because i saw no spoilers before going in.

It is also so so so important to me because of the way they handled the trans and specifically nonbinary representation.

It might not have been exactly what people wanted, but no game will please every single person. like, i am sure that some people dislike the game for exactly the reasons i like it. And the thing is, neither of us is in the wrong. It all comes down to expectations, and how people handle it when something does not meet theirs.

When i went into dh2, it was after a several years long wait for a sequel. I was so excited! I built up this idea of what the game would be like, and i looked forward to seeing it become real. I had Expectations! And the game did not meet most of them. It does not mean it was a bad game. It was just not what i was expecting. I could sit here and pick at it until i start despising it, but that would be a disservice both to me and to the people who put their time and passion into making it.

Before datv's release, my expectations were as low as they could possibly be (because dai is my least fav game in the series, so i was wary about the next one, and because ive heard of the development hell and the fact they were planning to add micro-transactions to the game at some point etc etc). And i do acknowledge that this played a part in how much i ended up enjoying the game. I gave it a chance while not expecting anything, and it let me see it for what it is: a solid fucking game. a good one, even.

I can absolutely see how someone with certain expectation for da4 could be disappointed by the game not addressing the things they wanted to see addressed, or addressing them in a way they don't agree with. I've been there, even! And the fact that i personally liked datv doesn't mean other people can't or shouldn't criticize it.

The difference here lies in where exactly that criticism comes from, and what it hopes to accomplish, and whether or not at some point it becomes more harmful than useful.

When caught up in the spiral of disappointment, it is important to stop and think about whether this is productive. whether this is contributing something to your life. I am no stranger to chewing a bone**. in fact, i am very predisposed to it. Which is exactly why i make an effort to reflect on whether or not it is worth it.

Because, at the end of the day, no matter how much criticism is being put out into the world about datv, or dh2, or what have you, the simple fact remains: it won't change anything about the game that got released. The effort and emotional turmoil is, ultimately, wasted. It is always better to turn that passion into something productive: fanworks, or an essay (in good faith!) that analyzes your own feelings on the topic and what you would want to see differently, or a whole another game/piece of media entirely. It is important to stop coming from a place of vitriol and hatred, because that will burn you out and leave you feeling worse. You have to make a choice to choose joy in your life.

When you see someone enjoying a game you didn't like, and your first reaction is seething hatred and/or a desire to send death threats, you have to ask yourself: is this really worth it?

You're not going to convince people to stop liking a game. Frankly, why would you Want to do that? What will it accomplish in your life? What will it contribute? In the grand scheme of things, a crusade like that is a very foolish thing to burn yourself out over. Put the bone down, and go get a proper meal 🤷‍♂️

________________________________________________

*i dont think that, with the state the current game industry is in, we will ever get another game with a similar bg mechanic like origins had. too many resources needed for that. but the factions are as close as it gets, in my personal opinion

**meaning, fixating on a topic, especially one that causes some kind of negative emotion

[xichilie]

Hello, God evening, day, morning, night, whatever time you have.

I just wanted to say I love all your work, your fics, art, your ocs

Could I request Brant x female reader she gets and her best friend (you can youse one of your OCs i love them) isakaid into the game and meet brant and his crew, maybe get rescued

Thanks have a nice (whatever time you have)

Hello ♡

I'm very happy you enjoy all my work, and even happier you love my OC's ♡

Brant x (fem)reader

Into the Tides of Another World

Y/N leaned back against the couch, controller in hand, eyes locked on the screen. The latest Wuthering Waves update had just dropped, and she and Micah had been grinding for hours.

“Damn it,” Micah groaned, fingers flying across the buttons. “How is this boss so cracked? We barely dented its HP!”

Y/N laughed, adjusting her grip. “You just have to time the dodges right. Here—watch.”

Their characters darted across the battlefield, dodging devastating attacks from a towering Aberrant. The stormy environment of the oceanic region looked gorgeous, even as their characters got absolutely wrecked.

Micah groaned. “I swear, this game hates me.”

“Sounds like a skill issue,” Y/N teased.

He shot her a glare. “Oh, you’re sooo hilarious.”

But before she could land the final blow, the screen flickered.

The sound glitched.

A low hum reverberated from the TV—deep, unnatural. The room around them seemed to warp, the edges blurring like static.

Y/N’s heart skipped.

“Uh… Micah?”

He turned, eyes wide. “What the hell is—”

A blinding light swallowed them whole.

Cold.

That was the first thing Y/N registered. Bone-deep cold.

Then—

Water.

Rushing, churning, dragging her under.

She gasped, but her lungs filled with seawater instead of air. She thrashed, panic flooding her chest, but the waves were relentless, tossing her like she weighed nothing.

She barely had time to process anything before another force slammed into her.

“Y/N—!”

Micah Called out.

She turned, barely making out his form through the chaos of the storm. He was struggling, just like her, barely managing to keep his head above water.

“We have to—get to the surface—!” he choked out.

But the waves pulled them apart.

Y/N’s vision blurred, exhaustion creeping in as the cold sapped the strength from her limbs.

Was this how it ended?

Just as the darkness crept in, just as her body gave up—

Hands.

Strong, calloused hands grabbed her arm.

Then—a voice.

“Got one! Pull her up!”

A rush of air hit her lungs as she was hauled out of the water. She coughed violently, sputtering, barely able to focus as rough hands dragged her onto solid wood.

She blinked against the rain, chest heaving—

And then, through the haze, she saw him.

Brant.

But not as a character on a screen.

He was real.

Dripping wet, strands of blue and violet hair plastered against his forehead, his usually easy-going expression replaced with sharp intensity. His pink eyes—brighter than she’d ever seen in the game—locked onto hers.

“Well, well,” he mused, voice smooth despite the chaos around them. “Didn’t expect to be fishing anyone out of the sea today.”

Y/N just stared.

Micah, equally drenched and coughing, was hauled onto the deck beside her. He groaned, rolling onto his back.

“I think I’m dead,” he wheezed.

Brant’s crew chuckled. Someone tossed a dry cloak over Y/N’s shoulders, while another checked Micah for injuries.

“Not dead yet, stranger,” Brant said, crouching beside them. His smirk was unmistakable—amused, curious. “Though you do owe me an introduction.”

Y/N’s mind raced.

The storm. The game. The light.

And now—Brant, in the flesh.

She swallowed hard.

“…What the hell just happened?”

By the time ship finally docked, Y/N’s body felt like it had turned to lead.

Her limbs trembled with exhaustion, her mind was adrift in a fog of disbelief, and her soaked clothes clung to her skin like a second layer of ice. Every inch of her was numb—from the cold, from fatigue, and from the sheer impossibility of what had happened.

She wasn’t home.

She wasn’t in her world.

She and Micah had been pulled into Wuthering Waves.

That fact sat in her chest like an anchor, too heavy, too massive to fully comprehend.

A voice—smooth, lilting, carrying an edge of theatrical amusement—cut through her daze.

Y/N barely registered the sensation of being lifted until she felt warmth against her body.

Strong arms supported her with ease, cradling her against a broad chest. Her breath hitched slightly, the lingering chill from the ocean still clinging to her skin.

“Aha, what an honor,” a familiar, teasing voice murmured near her ear. “Rescuing a beautiful castaway with my own hands… truly, fate is feeling generous today.”

Y/N stiffened slightly, her dazed mind finally catching up.

Brant was carrying her.

Even in her weakened state, she could feel the lithe strength in his hold, his arms wrapped around her with a careful but undeniable confidence.

Micah, being half-dragged by one of the crew members, coughed weakly. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t drop her, Romeo.”

Brant laughed. “Perish the thought! A performer never fumbles their most precious prop.”

Y/N groaned softly, too tired to argue, too dazed to do anything but rest her head against his shoulder.

The journey to The Fools’ Elysium passed in a haze.

Even through the murmur of voices, the creak of shifting wood, and the occasional spray of salt air, Y/N found herself slipping in and out of awareness.

Only when the warmth of torchlight replaced the cold, open air did she manage to blink herself fully awake.

The sight that met her stole what little breath she had left.

A cavern stretched out before them, massive and teeming with life.

Glowing lanterns hung from wooden walkways, casting golden hues over colorful tents, scattered crates, and makeshift stages. The scent of woodsmoke and spiced food lingered in the air, mixing with the ever-present salt of the sea.

Despite her exhaustion, Y/N felt a flicker of wonder.

“Welcome,” Brant said, voice softer now, though still carrying its usual dramatic lilt, “to the Fools’ Elysium.”

She barely had time to process the sight before Brant effortlessly adjusted his hold on her.

“Alright, darling, as much as I’d love to carry you forever I suppose it’s time to get you somewhere warm.”

Y/N wanted to protest. She really did.

But the moment Brant set her down onto a soft cot, exhaustion finally caught up to her.

She barely registered Roccia peeking out from behind her oversized suitcase, or the sharp-eyed medic checking her for injuries.

Brant stayed close his pink eyes watching her carefully.

And for the first time since she had arrived in this strange, impossible world—

Y/N let herself rest.

[unlimitedlust]

Cleanse Me With Pleasure - Bill Skarsgard x Reader (part 2) (+18)

(The image above does not belong to me, all credits belong to its owner)

Author’s note:

Good evening my lovely readers, I’d like to thank everyone that liked, rebloged and commented on the first part of this short story, that gave me some extra boost to write this second part faster ✨❤️

I thought this would be a two-part story, but I felt this chapter was getting way too long before I even started the real fun part, so this will be a three-chapter short story.

Stay tuned for the next one!

Disclaimers:

This is a smut story, it’s still light in this chapter, but it has smut. You’ve been warned.

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

I hope you enjoy your time here and if you do, please feel free to leave a comment or just like and/or reblog the story, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing 🥰

WC: 2.7K

Tag request: @paraficwriter

End of Author’s note

-0-

The final premiere was over.

Another city, another red carpet. But this one felt different. The last one.

And this afterparty specifically had a delicious smell of bad intentions. It wasn’t like the rooftop in NYC. Tonight was different. Darker. Closer. Like it was a scene taken out of the book.

You were in a club low-lit by hues of pink, red and purple, the air thick with the smell of expensive liquor and something else you quite couldn’t put a finger on yet.

What didn’t change though was his presence.

Bill was there. Of course, he was.

You spotted him near the dance floor, drink in hand, its ice melting slowly under the warm grip of his long fingers. At that very moment he seemed to be fully focused on the conversation happening in his group, but you knew he was very aware of your presence and your stare.

His quick side-glance while taking a sip of his drink confirmed it.

Your dress was bolder than the last time he saw you. A deliberate choice. A rosé colored silk that clung in all the right places, a neckline that dipped low enough to tempt but not reveal.

Your last conversation, despite being weeks ago, wasn't forgotten. Not by him. Not by you.

In fact, you replayed that moment in your mind everyday, never getting enough of the goosebumps it caused on you.

You caught his stare once again and he held it this time, completely ignoring the commotion in his group as he now wanted you to know you’re the one thing he’s really interested in.

There’s a devious glint in his eyes as he suddenly excused himself and turned away from the group, walking through the crowd before disappearing into a dark corridor.

You knew it was an invitation, a silent challenge.

You just abandoned your glass on the nearest surface and didn’t think twice before following him, eager to find out his next move in the chess game you were playing.

Drunk couples piled up by the walls of the dark hallway, and you took care not to stumble upon one of them as your eyes were glued on Bill’s broad figure walking several steps ahead of you, until a couple, lost in a wild make out session, fell in front of you, forcing you to halt.

You managed to dodge them and as a result you lost sight of Bill.

But you weren’t turning your back now, so you just kept going through the dark hallway, squeezing your eyes, trying to identify him somehow but to no avail.

Until you were abruptly pulled by someone from a door you didn’t even notice was on your right.

The door clicked shut behind you and the half-burned out lamps revealed the man you were looking for right in front of you, your body caged between him and a sink, the weight of his stare making you lick your own lips in anticipation.

“You think you can just walk away and expect me to follow?” Your voice was low but steady, but your pulse wasn't.

His lips twitch, just slightly. And didn’t you?”

“And now?” You murmured and tilted your head, testing if he’d make the next move. Eager for him to do it.

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest, the sound going straight to your core, before his lips finally brushed the corner of your mouth. Not quite a kiss, but the kind of touch that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Last time we met, you challenged me…” His tone was low and hungry “you questioned if I had what it takes to stand up to your desires”

His lips now ghosted over your neck, the tip of his nose grazed your skin in a feather like touch and you tilted your head further, allowing him extra access.

“And yet you are the one coming after me…” He continued.

You met his gaze, the words hanging in the air like an invitation. A small, daring smile tugged at your lips, and you stepped closer, just enough to brush your body against his, feeling the heat radiating off him.

“Maybe I just wanted to see how far you’d go.” You whispered against his lips teasingly.

“You knew exactly what would happen if you followed me” he bit back, the words sinking into you, adding to the delicious ache between your legs.

“Did I?”

A low chuckle came from his chest: “You do now.”

His lips crashed onto yours, stealing your breath away and shattering the last thread of restraint between you. One of his hands made their way up to the back of your head, his fingers sliding through your hair, tugging it lightly while pulling you closer at the same time. his other hand found your waist, fingers pressing into the silk of your dress, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand the smallest distance between you two anymore.

You gasped against his mouth as you felt his hardness pressing on your belly, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before he bit down, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make you hold onto him like you needed him to keep you grounded.

He pressed you back against the sink, his hands roaming, exploring, learning every reaction. The heat coming from him, his scent, the lust oozing out of him, it all consumed you.

And you gladly let it.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, just as desperately, threading your fingers through his hair, also tugging it, earning a low, satisfied groan from deep in his chest. The sound vibrated through you, sending another wave of heat rolling through your body, and you pressed closer, but not nearly close enough.

His grip on your hair tightened and tilted your head back in a command. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

His lips were on you in an instant, hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing along the curve of your throat, each one leaving a searing imprint on your skin. His breath was ragged, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse hammer and your body arch toward him instinctively.

And then his other hand moved. Slow and deliberate. Sliding down the silk of your dress, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, leaving heat in their wake.

He wasn’t in a rush. He wanted you to feel it.

The pressure, the possession, the way he was learning every inch of you like he had all the time in the world.

His hand slid back up, this time by the front of your thigh, intentionally teasing. As his fingers traced upward, they caught the hem of your dress, dragging the silk higher with every inch until he found what he was looking for: the delicate lace of your panties.

He hooked his index finger on it and you felt a sharp tug.

The lace dug into your sensitive clit, sending a shock of friction straight through you, a gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

His fingers then slipped beneath the fabric, brushing over your soaked heat, a deep, satisfied grunt rumbling from his chest as he felt just how badly you needed him.

He coated his fingers in your arousal, rolling them over your clit with maddening precision, just enough pressure to make your breath catch, but not enough to satisfy.

Your fingers clenched in his shirt, desperate, seeking. But before you could beg, before you could even think, he pushed two fingers inside you.

A sharp moan tore from your throat, the stretch, the slow slide of him filling you sending a delicious shudder through your body.

He felt it. Felt the way you clenched around him, the way your body reacted to his every movement. And it drove him insane.

His teeth found your neck, sinking in just enough to claim, never enough to hurt. His breath was hot, uneven against your skin and his body pressed you further against the cool sink as he whispered in a delicious raspy tone:

“You take me so damn well”

His other slid from your hair to your jaw firmly, tilting your face up until your eyes were locked on his, exactly where he wanted them to be while he finger-fucked you.

Your breath hitched as he worked you up so achingly slow it felt like torture. The perfect kind. Every stroke of his fingers inside you and of his palm over your clit sent strong shudders through you as his other hand kept you pinned exactly where he wanted you.

“You feel that?” His voice was low, sinful, his lips brushing against yours. “How close you are?”

You bit your lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. But he felt it anyway. Felt the way you clenched around him, your body betraying you. And he loved it.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot with devastating precision, and your whole body tensed. So close. So close you could taste it, your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt it building in your stomach, ready to snap.

Until a loud flush broke the trance and his fingers stilled inside you.

Oh, God.

A bathroom. He had pulled you into a damn bathroom and you were so lost in him you hadn’t realized that up to this point.

You let out a strangled gasp as he pulled his hand away completely, the loss of him hitting like a slap.

Your eyes snapped open, blazing, but he only grinned, slow, dark and victorious. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked your arousal off of them, tasting you with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Not yet.” He mouthed silently, calm and collected, like nothing was happening between the two of you seconds ago.

And with that he was gone. Left you trembling. Aching. Unsatisfied. And that’s exactly what he wanted, for now.

Just in time he’d left the bathroom, a woman stepped out of the stall a few feet across from you, a knowing smirk on her lips as she headed to the sink next to you to wash your hands.

“I didn’t mean to ruin it, I’m sorry” She apologized quickly before leaving the bathroom.

After the woman left, you took a moment to collect yourself, but it was useless. Your heart was still racing and your legs still felt like jelly. You splashed some water on your face and smoothed your dress in a vain attempt to shake off the way your body was still humming for him.

The bass of the music vibrated through the floor as you stepped out of the bathroom, but it might as well have been white noise. Your body still hadn’t caught up with reality.

Your lips felt swollen, your skin hypersensitive, and your dress - God, your dress - still bunched slightly where his hands had been.

You adjusted it quickly once again, forcing your legs to carry you back into the party. Back into the world where none of it had happened. Where you hadn’t just let Bill Skarsgard fuck you with his fingers and leave you craving more.

“There you are!”

A familiar voice snapped you out of your daze and you turned just in time for William to grab your arm and tug you toward a booth where the rest of your group had gathered.

You slid in, hoping no one would notice the stupid look on your face.

But of course your hope was short-lived. The moment they laid their eyes on you, they stopped their conversation.

“Alright, spill” Amanda demanded.

“Spill what?” You tried to run from it but they’d never let you.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “Your hair looks like someone had a very good time pulling on it”

“Not to mention your lipstick and that angry mark on your neck” Jonathan added.

Laughter bubbled inside you, half nerves, half amusement. You shook your head, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t letting this go.

“You little minx,” William teased, shaking his head in faux disappointment “We let you out of sight for like what? 10 minutes…”

“More like 30” Jonathan corrected.

“… And you come back looking like a plot-twist”

“Oh come on” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of a drink they offered you, your cheeks still feeling hot with their inquisition.

But the worst was still about to come.

“Who was it?” William deadpanned.

“Was it him?” Amanda suggested without a name, but everyone knew who she was implying.

“Who?” You tried and failed once again.

“We’re not stupid, you know?” Jonathan rolled his eyes and then the three of them had their gazes fixed somewhere beyond you, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

But you did it anyway.

Bill’s gaze was already waiting. Dark. Intense. Amused.

It dragged slowly down your face, lingering at your lips like he could still feel them beneath his own. Then lower, a knowing flicker of his eyes over the shadow blooming on your neck before they snapped back up to your eyes.

You inhaled sharply and your friends noticed.

“Holy shit” William whispered, eyes darting between the two of you.

“I knew it,” Amanda breathed, victorious.

“Just stop it, you guys are ridiculous” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment but you ended up joining their laughter eventually.

As the night finally wound down, your friends gathered their things, still chuckling amongst themselves, throwing you the occasional knowing glance.

You exhaled, relieved to be moving on before they could push further.

But then you felt a shadow looming beside you and you knew who it was straight away. You looked up and his gaze was softer now, but no less dangerous. Still dark. Still amused.

“Leaving already?” Bill’s voice was smooth, a hint of something playful beneath it.

William snorted. “Yeah, before the sexual tension between you two starts charging us cover”

Amanda and Jonathan barely stifled their laughter.

You wanted to sink into the floor. Instead, you forced a smirk.

Bill leaned in, hands still tucked in his pockets, utterly unbothered. “Actually,” he mused, gaze flicking toward your friends before landing back on you, “I was wondering if you guys could borrow her real quick”

Your stomach flipped.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Real quick?”

Bill barely blinked. “Yeah, obviously, I just need to talk to her for a second.”

A beat of silence. Then William cackled. “Oh, that is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Jonathan shook his head. “If you’re gonna steal her just do it for once.”

Amanda smirked, nudging you.

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms. “I guess we do have a lot to talk about.”

Bill smirked. “We really do.”

William rolled his eyes. “Unbelievable. Just go.”

Jonathan waved you off. “We’ll see you tomorrow. That is if you can walk.”

“Oh, she won't” Bill retorted, earning their laughter in return.

Your entire face burned, but Bill only chuckled, guiding you toward the exit with an easy and possessive hand at your lower back.

Your friends’ laughter followed you out the door. And then, once you were out of sight, Bill’s voice dropped to something lower, something meant just for you.

“You didn’t actually think I was letting you leave without me, did you?”

Bill’s hand brushed your back as you both stepped outside, the night air hit you, making your skin tingle, but it didn’t compare to the electricity between you two.

The Uber pulled up, and Bill opened the door with a casual grace, following you in before closing it with a soft click. The space between you felt small, suffocating, his gaze fixed on you, warm but intense, as his left hand landed on your thigh, unable not to touch you.

The car ride felt too long, the silence too heavy, until finally, the hotel came into view. In the elevator, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the air thick with unspoken words.

The moment the doors opened on the top floor, he moved ahead, unlocking his room and then stepping aside, giving you the darkest of smiles.

“After you”

[inardescere]

Only twice.

"I told you, it's not easy to get out of the city." Rafayel gives him a look, and if he were feeling less tired, he would be pouting and giving him a time. "Most Lemurians in Whalefall city haven't even seen the sun before, not even once, in their life. We're not to go out the city walls, and when we do, we don't stray too far. Going up on land means meeting with you humans, and from experience, we know that doesn't bring us any fortune. Lemurians have no interest in warfare, and we would like to keep it that way." To keep trouble away, to keep humans from noticing them on most days and fending for themselves in the depths. Right now, humans couldn't reach Whalefall City, but the elders seemed adamant that their greed knew no bounds and that one day- if they were to go against these rules, they would come for them no matter how deep their city lay.

But that was exactly why he had wanted to see it. The forbidden, colorful light different from their colorless pale rays.

Suddenly, a shadow is cast over his face as Caleb barges right into his personal space. Something he seems to be making a habit of. The Lemurian thinks he should stop him, or at least remind him what it meant to have their own space- but he gets a finger on his nose and it surprises him into silence, eyes going from his finger up to the other's. Again, it seems like he has something to say and Rafayel decides to let him, to see what was spiraling in his head now. Then, he goes on the most... cheesy spiel that has his voice locked in his throat, his breath stopped while Caleb continues to let his own beautiful eyes roam. Like the ocean meeting the edge of the sky. If that was what he thought of the Lemurian's eyes, how would he feel knowing that he found the man's eyes just as captivating? If Rafayel was the ocean, Caleb reminded him of the endless skies. The same pink hue that dusts the clouds as the sun makes its way down the horizon as if sinking into the depths of the sea. The color of twilight as pink turns maroon and then this brilliant shade of purple as the sky turns dark and stars trace the endless space. The cosmos was trapped in his eyes, and every time light hit those irises it reminded him of the first time he saw that mesmerizing beauty of light flowing like waves so far from his reach-- the one thing that kept him staying afloat for hours drawing lines between each sparkle.

Then Caleb's hand moves, tracing over the moles on his skin that he had never specifically cared to note as if they were something beautiful, comparable to the glistening stars in the real sky. That they thought similarly of each other was a secret he would keep to himself. But the artistic nature in him screams that Caleb was the sky, space, the source of reflected light that dyed the colorless ocean, giving it its various shades. Thick, heavy lashes brushed against his cheek as his eyes lowered and hid them from his view. If Caleb were to look a little to the side, he would spot the red hue spreading on his ears- a clear sign that his talkative nature was starting to get to him. Unnerve him, and peel away at the walls he built to reveal just another living being that feels shy at such unabashed poetry.

Hopefully, the closeness kept Caleb from seeing it all.

"If you wish to brave the darkness of the ocean at night, unable to see even your hand in front of your face, unable to hear through the pressure of the deep sea, and tossed around like floppy seaweed by the currents as the tides shift- I give you full permission to try. Don't come swimming back like a coward and tell me I didn't warn you if you do." Rafayel huffs, giving his leg a light nudge. Stop teasing or he'll contemplate throwing him out there just to see what happens. Just as he thinks that they will get to sleep, Caleb is talking again, another spew of such... Honestly, it doesn't seem like he's trying to gain something from Rafayel at the moment, but his words are sinful. "Is this how you got to my people..." he whispers, wondering if this was why they seemed so fond of the human that came suddenly out of the blue. A sweet-talker through and through. "You aren't the only reason. Don't get too much an ego." He nudges, burying his nose in the other's hair and breaths calming. "But... you can do whatever you want. Look at the sky, or look at me..." His words drawl, and soon he's breathing softer, falling into a light nap.

The next day, Rafayel works for several days without a break, busy as the elders bring him around and ask him to do his studies and rituals, overseeing matters in the city and such. Normally, he didn't even have to be involved but it was just that one time of the moon's phase where he would be dragged about. At this point, Caleb might as well only see a tired God and never see anything else. By the time he's done and given freedom once more, he spends a whole day sleeping off his fatigue. The young Lemurian has no idea what the human had been doing while he was forced into labor. It was the next day, as Rafayel slept belly down in his gigantic bed when someone knocked on his door. "Your Eminence, Sir Caleb is asking to enter-" and before he can finish, Rafayel is waving a hand, a tiny blue fish swimming excitedly towards the door and through the tiny gap, twirling around Caleb like a child. The show of his emissary is enough to have the guard pull away, leaving Caleb free reign to enter his room without anyone to stop him.

Well, Rafayel will be in bed, face buried in his pillow. Good luck waking up an incredibly sleep-prone man.

"careful what you wish for. you might find i'm hungrier than you think." there's a playful chuckle leaving his lips, fingers grazing along rafayel's wrist, tracing patterns that only he could decipher. the flirty game actually comes naturally for caleb, even though he was not seeking for anything else at the moment, it was amusing for the captain to find someone who replied back with the same tone and intensity. rafayel didn't seem to give up easily either, so whatever this little game was, caleb knew was going to be a long road until both of them reached a level of trust comfortable enough to let out their fragility. even though, that seemed to be happening now, sharing thoughts and experiences only feed the empathy between them.

the single thought of trust and vulnerability lingered in his mind. those were concepts he had buried beneath layers of duty and survival. and yet, here was rafayel, an unknown god unapologetically peeling back those layers with every shared glance and every sly smile. caleb's expression softened after hearing about sunsets, his minds starting to drift to countless memories of painted skies with hues of fire and gold, and he takes a moment to stare back at rafayel, realizing he could almost see those hues reflected in rafayel's eyes, a yearning that mirrored his own. "you have only seen it twice?" caleb murmurs with disbelief in his voice, tinged with something deeper as once again he decides to break the distance between them and invading his personal space, poking at his nose with the tip of his index finger. "don't you have mirrors here? i can perfectly see a sunset in your eyes. it’s like... staring into the last moments of a sunset, the kind you can’t help but get lost in." he leans closer, to get a better look. "the pink reminds me of the sky just as the sun dips below the horizon—soft, warm, and fleeting, like a whispered promise. the blue? it's the calm after, where the world slows and you feel a sense of quiet settling in, like the ocean meeting the edge of the sky. the way the colors shift and blend. it’s not just light; it’s alive, untamed, like it’s daring you to reach out and see what happens if you get too close. it is a captivating gradient, much like the fleeting moments of dusk where the world feels both alive and at rest. aaaand those—" he smiles, his fingertip hovering over rafayel's moles in his face. "those are scattered stars breaking through the twilight. almost as if the sunset has its own constellation, written just for me to follow."

though, he is not even able to finish his entire idea, as he tends to speak a lot, as the sudden tug completely catches him off guard. caleb finds himself leaning against rafayel's sholder with a laugh, the closeness as natural as it was unexpected. he doesn't pull away and doesn't hesitate this time either. instead, he allowes himself be, just for a moment, with no walls or false pretenses.

"aw, you tell me to go see the sunset but then back up? coward." caleb tilts his head, eyes meeting rafayel's once more with a spark of determination. "alright. when the time comes, i'll take you to see one that will burn itself into your memory. i promise it will be something you'll never forget, no matter how many lifetimes you live." a promise much to himself as to rafayel. for now though, the weight of exhaustion tugging at them both. "but you have to promise me something. when i take you there, you'll let me see the way you look at the sky. i want to know what it feels like to be the reason someone sees something beautiful."

[randomfandomss]

Through Thomas’s Eyes

Inspired by the fic Divine Revelations of Love by Piersanti.

Read it here

[scoutguest]

I FORGOT TO ACTUALLY SAY ANY OF MY HEADCANONS ok real quick off the top of my head you're not getting explanations you just have to believe me

edward and riza from fma. aoyama from bnha. takashi from natsume yuujinchou. yuzuki and chieri from stl maybe also shima.. jason from cotc. shawn from psych. several from riverdale but especially jughead. chai hfr. several from dbd. aand so many that im forgetting rn

some of these i have evidence or more in-depth explanations for but for the most part its just vibes. like if a character is secretive about their past and uncomfortable around other ppl or something. the god's honest truth is that you could tell me you headcanon almost any character as an SA victim based on nothing and i would still believe you because being an SA victim is not a personality trait its just a thing that happens to people and it can happen to anyone. so if i listed a character here its just because they stand out to me at this very moment rn as someone who might have been particularly affected by SA in the way that they behave and interact w the world

also while im on the topic of my weird special interest (SA in fiction and how the topic is handled) you all are invited to tell me about the character you headcanon as SA victims

or recc media you think handles the topic in an interesting way.. as long as its not fetishy/sexualized or overly explicit