#Daybreakers x Reader

[icallhimjoey]

I just reread all of Double or Nothing because it's genuinely one of my favourite fics of all time SO GOOD

But I was wondering how do R and Joe reconcile their wake up routines once they're together? Snoozer v non-snoozer

bet!joe's back! turned himself into snooze!joe (not by choice lmao) thanks for the request, hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 2.4K

---

Before Daybreak

Joe doesn’t understand how your brain works.

Can’t fathom how it’s even possible that you don’t just... wake up. The sound of your alarm was meant to wake you up. That’s how it worked. People sleep in silence and then a loud noise wakes them up. It’s how the world had been designed.

How can you, barely awake, turn it off and doze right back off to sleep again?

Joe’s brain works different. Joe’s brain doesn’t work like yours.

He hears an alarm and he’s... up. Just... awake. Groggy, and tired still, sure... but definitely awake. Unable to just go back to sleep. He thinks if you were both cavemen still, you probably wouldn’t have survived very long. You’d sleep right through a bear sneaking in. It’d eat your face off and you’d just sleepily murmur, “Nooo, five more minutes.”

And it’s not like he hasn’t tried.

For weeks he’s tried, because if you love snoozing so much, surely there’s bound to be some amazing secret to it he just hasn’t discovered yet.

So far though, he’s come up empty.

Your phone explodes into the darkness. Cheerful, chirpy, loud and fucking merciless.

Joe’s eyes fly open instantly.

Boom.

Awake.

He turns his head, finding you a soft lump under the covers, one of your arms flung across your face whilst your alarm keeps chirping on the bedside table right next to you.

“Babe…” Joe tries, voice hoarse and low. A hand wanders over and taps you on your hip a few times. Turn that shit off.

You give no audible response, but simply move a hand over to find your phone, groaning slightly as you press snooze. The second sweet, blessed silence takes over again, you sink back into the soft fuzzy brain space that exists between the night and the morning. Joe tries joining you there, eyes still closed, face pressed into his pillow, but, alas. It’s of no use.

A couple minutes later, your phone jumps alive again, and even though Joe knew it was coming, he still jolts and sits up in bed like a man possessed.

You’re on your back, hips twisted, serene as a Disney princess, not stirring at the shrill noise or even the movement in the bed. Joe frowns at you for a full ten seconds before you reach for your phone again.

He sees you press snooze in real time.

Through gritted teeth, Joe says your name, a low warning to his tone that you miss entirely.

“Mm, five more…” you muffle an unfinished sentence, face rubbing into the soft warm fabric that surrounds you.

“How many five mores will there fucking be?” Joe grumbles, moving the covers aside and getting out of bed. It’s too early still. He should’ve been asleep still.

“It’s part of the process.” you reply, eyes still closed.

“Yea, well,” Joe stands up, turns and leans over to slap what he thinks is your bum under the covers. You softly groan to it, eyes remaining firmly shut. “My process is called sleep. Yours, for whatever reason, is called torture.”

And Joe can’t lie.

You look super peaceful, all soft and cosy, hair a halo of chaos that surrounds your face… yea, you look lovely. So comfortable. Relishing the mental stretch of the early-morning-ritual you’d carefully crafted for yourself. He could easily watch this for hours.

Just… maybe not at 6 in the fucking morning.

Joe doesn’t like how he’s deeply affected by disturbance and broken sleep. Where you prioritize emotional softness, he unfortunately needs to prioritize physiological necessity.

He needs to sleep until he needs to wake up.

No weird in-between lull that has very quickly turned into a point of daily friction for the two of you. The broken mornings shape his whole mood. His energy for the day.

Joe stares at you until your phone, once again, interrupts him, another alarm you’d set rather than the previous one you’d just hit snooze for, disturbing the peace and quiet.

“Why does it have to sound like a fucking fire drill as well?” Joe swears under his breath, walking around the bed. He might as well go and make himself a coffee. “Can’t you set it to one that sounds like… a breeze?” Joe thinks of anything he’d rather hear the sound of. “Or like, a hug, maybe?”

“Too soft,” you reply, barely awake. “I’ll sleep through that… this one works.”

“It works on me, too.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t get much more out of you than a slight hum.

Joe supposes he’s lucky that you were friends before you became something else together, and that bickering has been a solid constant that brings the two of you together rather than pull you apart. He can just tell you that he’s annoyed without being scared of offending you beyond repair.

Walking down the hall on his way to the kitchen, he can’t help but think that surely Izzy must hear all of your alarms too. The walls in your flat aren’t made of solid concrete — he knows because Izzy set some very strict rules about... other... noise complaints. And it’s not often that she chooses his side in any of your little spats, but he’s certain that in this case it’ll be two against one in his favour. He’d bet on it, should someone challenge him.

Joe’s already finished most of his coffee when you stagger into the kitchen just past 7. He jokingly checks a wristwatch he’s not wearing and says, “Good afternoon!” like you’re a teenager who hasn’t left her bed all morning.

To retaliate, you take his mug from his hands and finish whatever’s left of his coffee before you shove him aside to make yourself a fresh new cup.

You’re lucky he really likes you.

When Izzy shows a sign of life, sort of glaring at the two of you as she shuffles into the kitchen already dressed, but definitely not warmed up to the idea of having to be awake yet, Joe doesn’t wait to bring up the issue.

“Maybe she’ll listen to you…” he begins, turning to face your flatmate. “You can’t tell me the... the fifty alarms that you can hear coming from her bedroom every morning aren’t fucking with your sleep.”

Izzy gives Joe a deadpan stare.

Oh yea, he’s totally right. Joe’s already smirking slightly, ready to tell you how unhealthy snoozing really is, and how you should listen to your poor flatmate who you’ve been torturing for years.

But then Izzy speaks up and says, “It’s not the alarm. It’s you, Joe.”

Oh.

What?

It catches Joe by surprise so much so that it makes you snicker softly as your eyes don’t leave the two mugs of hot coffee you’re preparing.

“Me? But I—”

“Your alarm monologues. Your Shakespearean betrayal speeches— your deep-breathing despair.”

Joe really thought Izzy was going to agree with him. Instead, he unexpectedly finds himself in her direct line of fire. And she’s not done yet.

“I don’t even hear her alarm anymore, but it’s you, every single time, like you’ve just been drafted into a war you didn’t sign up for.”

You’re full on giggling now, and Joe can’t believe the position he has found himself in.

“Do you know what it’s like to be woken up by the slow, rumbling tragedy of your soul trying to process that she likes to snooze in the morning? Your voice, it’s like a fucking foghorn married a cello that run an emotional support podcast together every time her phone goes off.”

It’s too early for this, Joe thinks.

“Izzy,” you warn, but your laughter completely kills the effect.

“You get so fucking narrative in the morning.” Izzy squeezes her eyes shut as she says it, her forehead etched into a deep frown.

And Joe knows that he can yap, that he’s good at finding a lot of words to describe how he feels, but, he thinks it’s for good reason.

“I’m expressing my distress!”

Izzy pushes past him and grabs a full mug of coffee, the one Joe thought you were making for him, and says, “Well, consider expressing your distress with your inside thoughts, Hamlet. Just once, I want her alarm to go off and not hear you cry, ‘Why does the world hate me?!’, because it’s honestly getting really fucking boring.”

Before Joe can even reply, she disappears into her bedroom again to finish getting ready for work.

He’s left sort of perplexed.

When he turns to look at you, you’re looking at him with a little amused half smile that he doesn’t appreciate.

“I mean…” you start, speaking into your own morning brew, “You do turn a little into a Victorian widow about it, don’t you? She has a point.”

And... yea, okay.

Maybe she does...

But so does he!

He has a point too!

If you don’t have to get out of bed until the clock hits 7, then why would you set eighteen alarms that go off at various intervals from an hour before?

Without Izzy backing him up, Joe is forced to find different ways to ease this stupid habit out of you.

He gifts you a gradual wake-up light that is meant to replace your alarm.

It doesn’t work.

Well, it does work, because it easily replaces all of your phone’s snoozing alarms, but Joe kind of forgot that... he also has eyes. A light turning on in your bedroom doesn’t just wake you up. And even though it’s definitely a more peaceful way to start the day, Joe is still left to stare at the ceiling, fuming in silence for an hour before he needs to get up.

Next, he tries a pillow-based vibrating alarm, one that’s marketed towards heavy sleepers, but he runs into the same issue. He had been unaware — and had come to learn the hard way — how often you end up sharing a pillow together. It’s very cute. Almost romantic enough to feel a little embarrassed about having to tell his friends about it. But when that pillow is also your vibrating alarm clock? Not so great.

It’s unfortunate that he likes you so much.

That he still wants to come and sleep over so badly.

That he genuinely misses you when he spends the night in his bed on his own, convincing himself in those moments that your snoozing isn’t actually so bad, that being on his own is definitely worse.

He wishes he still felt that same way when he jolts awake from your alarm, set to a softer volume now as you tried to compromise, and he’s wearing fucking earplugs.

He wakes up from your alarm whilst he’s wearing noise-canceling earplugs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Joe grumbles. He had been so determined to out-sleep the snooze siege, had been so sure that this was actually going to work.

And yet...

Joe wakes up inside of his noise-cancelling cocoon and can’t fucking believe that you haven’t.

“Are you fucking joking right now?!”

Joe’s voice pulls you from your slumber more than your phone does.

“You cannot sleep through that when I can hear it through these high quality too fucking expensive new noise-cancelling earplugs. Not a fucking chance!”

He’s angry enough to feel the itch to reach over and turn your phone off entirely, even though he vividly remembers how angry you’d been when he’d done that once before, and how awful he’d felt after.

But he still wants to.

He really, really wants to.

Joe continues swearing loud enough to prompt a barrage of pounding from the other side of the wall where Izzy’s fists bang in protest.

“Fuck off, Izzy!” Joe’s tone is laced with that raw, unfiltered annoyance that slips out when exhaustion wears down restraint. He’s done. So, so done. He could’ve had another full sixty minutes of blissful sleep that you’ve now ruined for him.

However, the shouting across the flat before the sun’s even dared to edge the horizon, shadows still speaking in full voice, quickly stops when you let a hand snake over Joe’s bare chest.

You somehow find an answer to the issue without even thinking.

The simple solution just sort of... happens, completely organically, underneath the thick covers of your bed.

Joe starts to speak once more, but the breath he draws turns into a shudder, and he goes still beneath your hand which slides across his soft skin until it curls around his side and pulls.

Something in the air changes.

The early morning shifts.

Joe easily lets himself be pulled into you, and whilst his warm body curls around yours, your other hand finds your phone and turns chiming the alarm off.

Off.

Then Joe watches as you squint at the bright screen of your phone as you unlock it and turn off all other alarms too, one by one. Next, it gets dropped besides your pillow and you turn around to face him. You groan softly with the movement, pulling him closer until your bodies fit together like they were always meant to.

“Can you make sure I get up at seven?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep, nose tucked somewhere near his collarbone.

And... oh.

Yea.

Joe can do that.

Joe can... yea, Joe can be the alarm.

Your alarm.

He can be part of your snoozing if this is what snoozing is, absolutely. So he nods, barely a movement, and presses a kiss into your hair like a promise.

Suddenly, snoozing turns into something gentler— not a battle against the day, but a shared quiet wrapped in warmth and, more importantly, each other.

Suddenly, all frustration slips from him in an instant, and he melts into the slow hush of your breathing and into the tangle of your limbs.

Suddenly, Joe is gifted a whole hour of hands that roam lazily beneath soft linen sheets and over sleepy skin, fingers tracing the familiar curves of comfort.

After a moment, Joe shuffles down and buries his nose into your chest, snuggling into the space as he inhales deeply before dragging his face up and into your neck. He finds he doesn’t actually care about the time so much if he gets to spend it like this, right here.

He feels like an idiot for not working that out himself sooner.

When the clock ticks past seven, he murmurs your name against your temple, and you grumble something unintelligible, nuzzling closer. And really, who is he to complain about a frivolous thing like snoozing when playing a part in it means he gets to kiss the curve of your shoulder and feel your fingers comb sleepily through his hair for a bit?

Snoozing, as so it turns out, isn’t really about sleep.

It’s about these soft, golden minutes before the day begins, where nothing matters but bare skin, and comfortable warmth, and the sleepy weight of love.

Joe thinks he might have just learnt how your brain works.

Finds it’s not so unfathomable after all.

Finds that his brain actually might work just the same.

If this is what mornings will look like from now on, then maybe snoozing isn’t so bad after all.

---

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[intistone]

pov tall unhinged husband

woe cult of the lamb dca au content be upon ye

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Edward Dalton

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(human s/o)

- There’s a stretch of land outside of town that hasn’t been touched in ages. It's the discarded remains of a once busy urban neighborhood. A place that's been torn apart and left in shambles after a series of events that you weren’t around to witness. There’s a layer of dust on everything you haven’t bothered moving, like a poorly kept museum of all things mundane. It's the evidence of hundreds of peoples lives that you really don’t have the heart to rifle through; not unless absolutely necessary.

- You don’t know its story, but you’ve come to call it home. It’s the safest place you’ve found in a considerably long time: a lot of sun and not a lot of shade. You have a running hypothesis that someone, somewhere decided that turning the area into something more sustainable; particularly for the new world order of night-dwelling monsters, simply wasn't worth the effort. It's a decision that's left even it's darkest spaces uninhabited; the only signs of life being the occasional passing car.

- Though you're not as jumpy as you used to be; lured into a false sense of security by the continual absence of dangerous company, you still find yourself feeling like a deer in the middle of an empty forest. You freeze at every little sound, watch for any hint of danger, bolt at any suspicion of company.

- You wonder if Edward makes the same connection when the two of you meet for the first time. You wonder if he feels like the opposite: feels like a prowling wolf when he stands in the shadows, watching the sun glint off of your hair from his place in the absence of it. You wonder how many deer's have seen the same glowing pin pricks in the middle of the darkness surrounding them. You wonder how many of them knew that the flickering lights meant death.

- A part of you doesn’t believe it when you see the amber shine of his eyes, maybe because you really don’t want to believe it: don’t want to believe that you’re going to have to leave, to find another home after all of this time. Your stomach drops and you hope that there’s some explainable reason as to why you’re seeing those two little lights: like when you envision a body out of random clothes and furniture in the darkness of your bedroom.

- But there’s no explanation, none besides the obvious, and you’re forced to stand frozen in place as you wait for them to make a move, knowing that the two of you are equally trapped, one in the sunlight and the other in the shade.

“You’re human.” He says in surprise, glowing eyes moving as he tilts his head in the darkness, trying to look at you closer without risking a potential burn from the sun which separates you. You stagger further away, further into the heat of the light behind you, and he assures you that it’s okay, that he’s not going to hurt you. You don’t believe him.

“What are you doing here?” You question, eyes flickering around the room for a potential weapon. You’re safe for the time being, but that won’t last forever.

“I used to work around here when I was younger. The grocery store down the road, I stocked the shelves in high school,” He starts to explain, pausing to look for a sign of recognition in your eyes. You keep your expression guarded and he continues. “I remembered it the other day. I wanted to see what happened to it, that’s all.”

“In the daytime?”

“The only time I have off.” He replies lightheartedly. You don’t offer a smile.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to come here and scare you. I didn’t think I was gonna find anyone. Everyone thinks this place is abandoned.” He tries reassuring you.

“That’s kind of the point.” You reply curtly.

“Yeah, but….” His words trails off.

“But?” You prod warily.

“Well, they’re tearing it down,” He answers. “Everyone’s been talking about it, it’s part of why I came down here. They’re gonna salvage what they can and build around it. Block out the sun.”

“You’re not, you’re not gonna be safe here for very much longer. I’m actually surprised that no one’s found you yet. With all of the planning that’s been going on, there’s had to have been dozens of people coming down here and scoping everything out. How long have you been here?” He questions, though you can't bring yourself to answer him, still trying to process what he's just revealed to you.

- You'd seen it coming of course, anyone with half a brain would have seen it coming. But that was when you'd first discovered the area: when you were still hiding away from every shadow and tensing at every sudden noise. If it was going to happen, then it would have happened already: you'd told yourself. And over time, you'd actually begun to believe it. You'd convinced yourself that the rest of the world had forgotten about the deserted town, the same way they'd forgotten about you....

- The thought of dozens of vampires stumbling through the place you'd begun to call your home made you sick. The thought of them crawling through the streets and the corridors of different buildings, of their fingerprints dusting over your own on all of the same railings and door handles, of them just barely missing you....

"You should come with me." The man interrupts your inner breakdown. The idea is almost enough to make you laugh but instead, you simply look at him like he's crazy.

"I-I know you have no reason to trust me, but there's gonna be a lot more vampires coming down here. I mean, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. And there's nothing left around here, everything's been torn down, it's ...taken over. ...I have a spare bedroom at my place-" He rambles, urging you to listen to him, to agree to come home with him.

"Do you really expect me to take you up on that offer?" You interrupt, asking the question incredulously. He flounders for something to say, very obviously knowing that you wouldn't agree yet still hoping that you would.

"No," He finally comes up with. "But you should."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not like them."

- His efforts in convincing you to leave with him are about as successful as one could imagine. You adamantly refuse, blatantly dodging his questions and attempts to wrangle information out of you: information about what you'll do and where you'll go once the rest of his kind start to invade. He ultimately leaves you alone, though not before giving you his home address. And in the days that follow, you're forced to admit that Edward was telling the truth.

- Vampires do start to invade, and though none of them ever come as close as he did, you know that you're running out of time. You have to make your escape and you have to make it fast, make it before anyone else can discover that you're there. So with little other choice, you find yourself sneaking into your supposed allies quiet little suburb....

- He answers the door with a hint of confusion, probably because there's no one on the other side of it, at least no one that he can see. You're hiding a little ways away, your mind telling you not to reveal yourself until you're sure that he's alone; not to mention whether or not you're sure that you've arrived at the right house. He looks awestruck when you finally emerge, stilling at the sight of you before he quickly ushers you inside, looking around to ensure that no ones watching as you hesitantly step past him and through his front door.

- You're sure that your discomfort is obvious, and though he tries to hide it, Edward seems equally as uncomfortable in your presence as you are in his. It feels as though he didn't think he'd get this far, and now that he has, he's unsure of what to do next. He settles for showing you around, jumping from thing to thing as you slowly trail after him, watching as he demonstrates how to turn on the shower, and the coffee maker, and the security system, and so on.

"I uh, I drink pigs blood." He explains when the two of you reach his kitchen. He awkwardly glances from you to the bottles stacked in his fridge, seemingly hemming and hawing over how much of the shelves he should show you, worrying that he'll make you even more wary of your newfound predicament. "All animal product ...so you uh, you don't have to worry."

- He tells you to let him know if there's anything you need or will be needing in the future while he shows you to your room. He flicks the lights on and continues his tour. The room is neater than the rest of the house, lacking the stacked books and boxes of documents that seem to reside along the molding of every other wall in the house. It's simple and barren, almost sterile looking; especially in comparison to the very lived-in apartments that you'd grown used to residing in ever since humans went into hiding.

- It's surprisingly easy to get used to living with Edward. When you'd first arrived, you'd spent a week or so walking on eggshells; feeling like a nervous cat being taken home from the shelter. But it's hard to be afraid of a man who seems equally as afraid of you. It's also hard to be afraid of a man who rambles awkwardly about period products, and whether or not it's okay that he got chunky peanut butter instead of smooth because that's "all they had at the store". Not to mention, a man who's hit his head; and limbs, multiple times after being startled by your sudden arrival.

- Edward grows on you. And, judging from his recently longstanding lack of injuries, you've seemed to grow on him as well.

- You grow on him so much, in fact, that it starts to make him nervous. There’s a feeling that bubbles in his chest whenever you smile at him. It surfaces when you let him touch you, let him feel your pulse lingering beneath his fingers when he puts a hand on your shoulder or clasps your necklace. It claws at him when you stop to fix his hair in the evening before he leaves for work, or when you hand him the papers he forgot at the table. He realizes, with a feeling akin to realizing that you're at the edge of a cliff, that he's begun to fall in love with you. And thus, his inner conflict begins....

- Edward finds it far too easy to forget you're not together. His mind wanders when he's away from you, when his skin still tingles from the feeling of your touch. When you leave the room and the warmth of your body still lingers on whatever you'd been laying on. When you borrow his coat and give it back to him heated and laced with perfume. When he returns home and finds you waiting for him, his unpleasant thoughts interrupted by the sight of your face. For a few blissful moments, he allows himself to pretend that you're his: that you love him back and that you never plan on leaving, that you're not by his side purely out of personal convenience.

- He finds himself wanting to indulge you because in doing so, he indulges himself. He takes pleasure in making you happy, in knowing that he's, in some way, responsible for making you feel that way. It feels so ...domestic being able to take care of you, a bit like he's your husband. It's a fantasy that's broken when you happen to come across another human during one of your carefully planned outings.

- He watches you stare at each other from his place in the shadows. Watches you hurriedly introduce yourselves, shock, excitement, and relief flooding across both of your features. It's a sobering sight, a quick and harsh reminder that he has no “power over you”. That, no matter how much effort he puts into making you happy or how desperately he wants you to care about him, there's still nothing tying you to him. He wonders if he’d even be a thought in your head if that stranger asked you to go with them. 

- He weighs his options before he slowly steps out into the open. The sound of his footsteps drawing the attention away from you and onto him. He watches the panic rise, watches the stranger make a move to run, grabbing your arm and attempting to pull you with them; to pull you away from him. The sight makes his stomach churn, a feeling that's only partially relieved when you plant your feet and refuse to move.

- There's a hint of betrayal that crosses their features when you try to explain the situation. When the realization dawns on them; when it becomes obvious that the two of you are together, they drop your arm as though they've been burned. They don't listen as you try to reason with them, they merely back away and hurriedly leave.

"Lets go." You tell him when they're finally gone, your voice and expression giving him nothing to work with when trying to gauge how you're feeling. He apologizes for scaring them away while the two of you drive home in silence. 'It's probably for the best': you tell him and he swallows at the sound of it, wondering what you mean.

- Edward is selfless when it comes to you, but he finds himself wanting to be selfish. He wants to beg you to consider him: to consider how perfect things could be if you just gave him a chance. He knows he could make you happy: could make you want to stay forever.

- But he can't bring himself to pressure you. So instead, he settles for something smaller. Settles for biting his tongue when he finds himself thinking you'd be better off somewhere else. Settles or hesitating to respond when you mention other humans. Settles for halfheartedly advising against it whenever you ask to go searching for something or someone or somewhere. To deny you is one thing, to procrastinate and refuse to instigate is another. Isn't it?

"Maybe we should start looking for more people downtown," You suggest one night. The words make his throat feel tight and though he has a million questions racing through his mind, he remains silent and waits for you to speak again. When you do, it's with a joking tone. "I'm sure you'd like to get me out of your hair at ...some point."

"I like having you here." He says after a heavy swallow. It sucks all of the lightheartedness out of the room: far too earnest and full of restrained emotion. The moment of silence which follows feels tense, almost suffocating. He interrupts it with an almost melancholic goodnight, leaving you to overthink things all on your own for the rest of the "night".

- The house feels different after that, different in a way you can't quite place. It reminds you of when you first arrived at Edwards home, when he was always either too quiet or too talkative: watching you silently or rambling nervously in an attempt to fill the silence.

- The night he cooks you dinner is a night where he's chosen to be silent. He seems hyper focused on the meal he's preparing: deep in thought as though there's something on his mind other than the task at hand. When he cracks open an expensive bottle of wine, you teasingly ask if you're celebrating something, trying to lighten the tense mood that's seemed to permeate the air as soon as he'd gotten home from work. He gives you a tight-lipped smile and an unconvincing chuckle in response, pouring you a glass with a hand that trembles ever so slightly.

"The time I've spent with you these past few months has meant a lot to me," You've finished half of your plate by the time he's gathered the nerve to finally reveal what's been eating away at him. "And that day when we met the other human, it proved to me how much you have come to mean to me. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want us to stay together. I don't care where: whether it's here or somewhere else. I just want to be with you."

- Your throat feels tight by the time he's finished, choked with emotion as your heart hammers in your chest. His eyes meet yours over the table, shining like candlelight while you give him a shaky smile, trying to collect yourself and all of the nerves that are going haywire at his makeshift confession.

"I don't want to pressure you-" He starts when you struggle to respond.

"-You're not." You hurriedly insist, watching the way he slowly begins to smile after reading the expression on your face.

- You share your first kiss not long after. You hear him come into the room before you see him, feel his hands on your body before you can turn to look. His touch is featherlight as it glides across your skin, lingering gently on your shoulders before he slowly turns you around, stepping just that bit closer before he softly connects your lips. The feel of them is icy, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your own. He exhales harshly as he takes it in, his body shuddering pleasantly at the unfamiliar sensation. His kisses grow needier when you don't pull away, pulling every thought out of your head and making you forget what you'd been doing just moments before.

- You think you'd be okay with forgetting everything as long as he kept kissing you like that....

- Public displays of affection are sort of nonapplicable in your relationship. Since you're human and humans are considered enemies of the state, no one can know that you exist, and even if they did, they cannot know that the two of you are together. Even if you're in front of other humans, it's not wise for you to let them know that the two of you are dating: not knowing how much they'll trust you if they knew, or what kind of danger you could get into it because of it. You are; or the two of you are, for all intents and purposes, a secret.

- Edward marvels at your humanity: the feel of your heartbeat, the heat of your skin. It's been ten years since he was human and he's nearly forgotten the feeling of it, making it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. Oftentimes, his affection is innocent: caressing you and trailing his fingers down your arms and spine, watching your body shiver and react. Even before the two of you were together, he'd struggle to contain himself: wanting so badly to touch you yet knowing it wasn't his place; his hands shaking with needy anticipation every time you were close to him.

- Him pressing his lips to your forehead before connecting his own forehead to the exact same spot, holding you close to him as he savors the moment and the feel of you locked in his arms.

- You probably have a scar from when the two of you first met, and he sometimes likes to press kisses to it or smooth his fingers across the harsh line; absentmindedly trailing a soft caress against the marred skin and reminiscing about your relationship.

- His kisses have a tendency to be chaste yet they still manage to linger. There's a lasting neediness behind his affection, even when the action itself is nothing of the sort. Although, sometimes he loses himself in the moment before having to force himself to pull away, struggling to stay in control as his desires and his impulses take hold of him. You're an addiction he has to grow used to; for your sake and for his own.

- Cuddling up on the couch together.

- He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch so you usually have to poke him awake and urge him into bed with you. You also have to keep a somewhat nocturnal schedule yourself if you want to be able to cuddle with him. He's a busy man so most of the time you spend with each other is spent in bed, having him wrap himself around you from behind and murmur quietly in your ear.

- He usually just calls you by your given name or a casual nickname. He's not a sappy person; especially when it comes to terms of endearment, so the farthest he'll go is calling you sweetheart or affectionately referring to you as his heating pad or something of the sort. That being said: he has shocked you by earnestly calling you "his sun", making you want to cry with how sweet and genuine it sounded falling from his lips.

- Earnest little compliments spoken out of nowhere. You'll be doing nothing special and he'll just randomly interrupt you with a "you're so beautiful"; sometimes before you even realize he was there and/or watching you. The way he says it makes it seem as though it was something he just had to tell you, the level of sincerity in it making your heart skip a beat.

- He can honestly stare at you for ages. You've sort of become like an exotic beauty: the normal colored eyes, squared teeth, skin with more pigment than ashy paleness, etc.

- You also find yourself staring: safely indulging in the foreign beauty of something you're meant to fear. He gets a bit shy under your gaze which only ever seems to make him even more handsome.

- He's the perfect sketching partner to have if you happen to be an artist because he generally stays pretty still regardless of what he's doing; making it relatively easy to doodle away while he's lost in thought or busy with his own work.

- Parallel play. He likes being able to do his work and/or read while you occupy yourself in the same space as him.

- Having him read to you. Your boyfriend has the voice of an angel, and he kind of loves it whenever you curl up next to him and ask him to read aloud, brushing off his attempts to tell you that it's boring science stuff and that you wouldn't be interested in it. You tell him that it's "even better" and that he can bore you to sleep as you nuzzle into him, smiling to yourself as he readjusts himself and starts to speak.

- Him giving you massages. They're kind of just excuses for him to touch you for prolonged periods of time, but that's neither here nor there.

- Dancing around to the radio with him.

- Having dinner together. I feel like he'd enjoy cooking for you and though he's initially embarrassed by the idea of eating in front of you, he slowly starts to get used to it.

- Since normal food is kind of hard to come by, he probably sets up a home garden for vegetables and other edible things; not telling you about the specifics until things start actually growing so that he doesn't get your hopes up. The smile on your face when you realize what he's been doing all [this] time makes all of the trouble and the hard work worth while.

- Getting little lectures on all of his plants. Sitting patiently and listening to him explain all of the different conditions and strains of orchids that there are, and how if they get too much water they get root rot and this and that. He probably gets you potted pants more than flowers because it looks less suspicious for a single man in his "30s" to bring home a succulent rather than an entire bouquet.

- Getting brough home little treats: pastries, chocolates, etc. He always double checks to make sure they don't contain any blood, yet there has been a few incidents that you're forced to laugh off in an attempt to make him feel better and end his mortification.

- Edward is the chief hematologist of a major corporation: the man has mad money and he likes to spoil you however he can. He takes note of all of the things you like and talk about so that he can go out and get them for you.; since you're sort of incapable of leaving the house and buying them for yourself.

- He undoubtedly gets you new clothes to wear once the two of you start living together; or goes on a run with you to help you grab your old belongings, but nothing compares to when you first joined him at his home and had to wear his clothes because you didn't have any of your own. It's seared into his memory and it's very erotic for him. Like, he might have to jump you if you wear his clothes after the fact because now you're his and he can finally act on those impulses; instead of repressing them like he was forced to do before then.

- Personalized jewelry.

- Getting asked by him if he looks okay since he cant see himself in any mirrors or other reflection's. He always stays still and cherishes your little touches as you adjust things for him: smiling at you softly as you brush his hair back or do his tie for him.

- Remembering to lock up his house for him. He's notorious for forgetting to do so and getting his place consistently broken into, but he tries to be better about it now that he has you: not being able to afford the risk of someone walking in and finding you.

- You may or may not have a habit of biting him and he may or may not find it really amusing. I mean it's obviously pretty ironic given the situation, but he also likes how not scared of him you are and the teasing playfulness behind the action. It also might turn him on a little but he's not prepared to delve into those confusing feelings right now so lets not talk about it.

- He thinks it's kind of cute when you try to celebrate his birthday with him: smiling at you fondly as you peck him on the cheek and make jokes about him "looking great for his age". He probably calls you his gift whenever you make comments about not really being able to get him one, pulling you in and kissing you on the temple after blowing out his candles.

- He tries to dissuade you from smoking and drinking, wanting you to be as healthy as possible for as long as possible. He'd probably try to cut back on his own smoking as well, muttering shyly about secondhand smoke whenever you ask him about it.

- There's something so ...human about the way you tell jokes: so much so that he can't help but smile and laugh along with you; even though he's a little rusty when it comes to indulging in comedy. You have to grow used to his sense of humor as well: learn to love the dry delivery of his somewhat stunted attempts at being funny. You might not always realize he's trying to joke with you, but you get better with it over time.

- Edward genuinely can't remember what it's like to be human so he occasionally asks you little open ended questions in your more quieter moments together: questioning how your mind or body works, asking about your fears and emotions, etc. In return, you ask him to tell you about vampirism: listening intently to his words, noticing how they always seem to take a sour turn....

- Edward really yearns to be human so he'd probably try to avoid changing you for as long as possible, perhaps even outright refusing to let you go through with it if you expressed interest. It's an emotional thing for him, something he holds back and represses, yet something you can still see affecting him all of the time: the want to be you even when he's so successful and safe being him. It hurts to see, to feel it in his touches and hear it in his voice: the remorse and the envy and the agony that he tries so hard to conceal. There's a lingering melancholy that resides in some of the moments between the two of you: in the way that he comments on little things or tells you that you should do something; noticing right away that it's a sort of attempt to live vicariously through you.

- Speaking of, he enjoys watching you do things that he can't: basking in the sun, eating real food, drinking plain water, etc. There's a hint of sadness there, but you still indulge him, smiling at and kissing him before going through with it.

- Bringing things out of the sunlight to show to him.

- Secret meeting places and hideouts.

- The two of you mostly go out during the day, cruising in his car and making stops in shaded areas. It keeps the two of you safe from everyone's prying eyes and it's nice to get some fresh air after being stuck in the house all night.

- He always tries to refuse your blood: even when you insist that he drinks it because it's safer than the alternative of him going around without getting his fill; and because he's literally risking his own life when fighting to keep you safe. He still hesitates; even as you make jokes about it being humanely sourced, only following through when you tell him that it'll make you more comfortable. He gets used to it but he never gets entitled, and the puppy dog lovey eyes that he gives you whenever you give him a drink makes any pain that might come from it worthwhile. Frankie bitingly calls you his "bloodbag" when he first notices what must be going on, and it truly enrages Edward every time.

- Comforting him after his fights with Frankie.

- You probably have a couple tense moments with his brother; if he even knows you exist at all. There'd be times where he'd show up at the house unannounced and you'd sit in silence, his eyes trained on you in a somewhat predatory fashion. You'd stay stock still until Edward returned home and sorted things out, feeling the tension between the two of you boil and your stomach tie up in knots, not knowing if he'll turn you just because. He tries to be nice but regardless of his temperament and how much you may or may not arguably like him, you still struggle to fully trust him; especially since Edward doesn't seem to as well.

- Honestly though, there's probably even more tension between the two of them now because Frankie would want Edward to finally understand why he did what he did, viewing your predicament as similar to his own. Someone you love is capable of dying and leaving you all alone, don't you get it Edward? It would piss Frankie off to see him still be so conflicted: to see that he still couldn't understand, that he refused to understand. He hates to hear him say that he's not going to change you: that he didn't want to be turned so why would he force it on you? It's like pouring salt in the wound.

- Hiding away when company comes or somebody threatens to stumble across you, sometimes pressed against one another so tightly that he can hear/feel your heart beating a mile a minute. He sets up a certain place in his house where you're meant to go whenever you think someone's coming over, ensuring that no one finds you and keeping you out of harms way.

- Doing your best to protect him from the sun.

- Reassuring him and trying to help him let go of some of his guilt after he comes home from work. He goes into the office everyday and sees the tortured faces of his test subjects right before coming home and seeing your bright and cheery loveliness. It just makes his work even harder: to think that they were once like you and that you could, at some point, be just like them....

- He probably keeps your picture or a note you've written him in his wallet/on his person at all times. Yet the feeling of it seems to burn against his skin whenever he's feeling guilty: a reminder of what he's involved in; a question of how he can love you yet do that to them....

- Considering the fact that you can't really leave his house, there's not a lot of instances where Edward has the chance to be jealous over you. There might be a few fleeting moments of him getting a little annoyed with his younger brother for asking to touch you or things of the like, but it's anyone's guess as to whether that has to do with actual jealousy or just plain protectiveness. That being said: most of Edwards jealousy is retroactive. You'll mention, or maybe even introduce him to, one of your ex's and though he'll try to be normal about it, he'll find himself gritting his teeth and acting a bit passive aggressive. It's those "oh really" and "I bet he is" sort of statements that give him away.

- Edward protects you with his mind rather than his fists. He protects you by putting himself on the line for you, by keeping you out of harms way, by convincing his brother that he's going to change you when you're closer in age, etc. He's incredibly protective but due to his intelligence and careful planning, you don't get to witness the effects of it all too often.

- The two of you don't argue often, but sometimes you manage to tick him off the same way his younger brother does. He wants to be seen as the man of the house: to be respected and thought of as being in charge. When you don't listen to him or undermine him in some way, you hit a bit of a nerve. He might raise his voice if he gets really annoyed, but most of the time, he just acts a bit mockingly: smirking, and scoffing, and looking away/rolling his eyes. Occasionally, he acts impulsively and regrets it after the fact: immediately feeling bad whenever you get upset and walk away, wanting to say something to you but not knowing what.

- Silent treatments and tense houses are commonplace after arguments. Edward stews in silence when he's angry, he keeps his words short and he grits his teeth. You're dating a man with sass so expect to encounter it. If he misses you enough, he'll cut the standoff short. And, even though he's still annoyed, he'll push past it and try to talk things out.

"Sit down," He'll borderline command, wincing slightly at the way it comes out. " ...please? Lets talk."

- Edward tells you that he loves you a lot; especially during difficult times when he wants to reiterate how much you mean to him. He wants you to know that, even though he's going through some stressful things that might have him acting out of character, he still cares for you very deeply.

- Edward wants to find a way to become human for you. He views vampirism as unsustainable, unfulfilling, sometimes even dangerous. He's not happy being what he is and he wont be happy turning you into one either. Not to mention the fact that he wants a family with you....

[straberrycore]

bowers gang boyfriend headcanons

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💔💘 Henry Bowers Romantic Headcanons 💘💔

1. Tough on the Outside, Soft for You

Henry acts like he’s made of steel—harsh, aggressive, wild—but when he’s alone with you, he melts. He doesn’t know how to say “I love you,” so he shows it in other ways—protective glances, fists clenched when someone looks at you wrong, or walking you home silently just to be sure you’re safe.

2. Love Notes Hidden in Locker Scratches

Henry isn’t good with words, but he’ll carve your initials into trees or walls like a messed-up version of love letters. He thinks it’s romantic—his way of marking the world with how much he cares, even if it’s rough around the edges.

3. Jealousy is His Love Language

If someone flirts with you, Henry’s instantly on edge. He might not say anything right away, but his jaw tightens and his whole body screams mine. Later, he might try to act cool—but you know he’d throw hands if he thought you wanted him to.

4. Clumsy Affection

He’s not used to gentle touches, but with you, he tries. Awkward hand-holding, brushing your hair out of your face, or sitting so close your legs touch. Sometimes he stares at you like he’s trying to memorize you—because he’s never had something good before.

5. Secret Romantic

He listens to sappy love songs when he’s alone and imagines slow dancing with you in a field somewhere far from Derry. He’d never admit it, but he wants to give you the kind of love he never got.

6. Protective to a Fault

Henry is the kind of guy who’d walk you home in the rain, threaten anyone who talks bad about you, and carry a photo of you in his back pocket—even if it’s folded and worn. You’re the only softness in his life, and he’d ruin himself to keep you safe.

7. Struggles with Vulnerability

It’s hard for Henry to be emotionally open. But once, late at night under the stars or during a rare quiet moment, he’d let it slip—“I don’t deserve you… but I’ll fight like hell to keep you.”

8. Possessive but Loyal

Henry is intensely possessive. Once he’s into you, you’re his. He’ll glare at anyone who so much as looks your way too long. But his loyalty runs deep — he’d fight anyone for you without hesitation.

9. Not Good with Words (At First)

He struggles to express affection verbally. Compliments come out weird or aggressive-sounding, like: “You look… not bad today.” But if you stick with him, he’ll get more comfortable showing his feelings in his own gruff way.

10. Acts Tough, But Melts for You

Around others, he keeps his bad-boy front. But when you’re alone? Total softie. You’ll catch him playing with your hair, sneaking glances, and relaxing when he’s with you like you’re the only safe place in the world.

11. Protective to the Max

If he thinks you’re hurt, scared, or sad, he drops everything. He might not know how to comfort you, but he’ll try — whether it’s by wrapping an arm around you, offering to “take care of” whoever made you upset, or just silently staying close.

12. Jealous Easily

He hates feeling insecure, but can’t help getting jealous. He’s not always mature about it either. He’ll get snappy or act out — until you reassure him you only want him, which calms him down immediately.

13. Gives You His Jacket

Classic move. Even if he acts like it’s “no big deal,” seeing you wear his jacket secretly makes him feel proud and a little shy.

14. Physical Touch is His Love Language

He shows affection through touch — hand-holding, leaning against you, forehead kisses (only when no one’s watching), and protective arms around your waist in public.

15. Surprising Acts of Kindness

He’s not romantic in the traditional way, but every so often he’ll do something totally unexpected — fixing something for you, leaving a note, or awkwardly handing you your favorite snack with a muttered “Thought you’d want this.”

16. Hates Seeing You Cry

It throws him off. He doesn’t know what to say, but he’ll hold you tight and rub your back, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

17. Would Never Let Anyone Hurt You

Whether it’s a bully, an ex, or a threat — emotional or physical — Henry’s first instinct is to stand between you and danger. He’s a fighter, and for you, he’ll always fight.

Patrick

🔪 Patrick Hockstetter as a Boyfriend – Headcanons

1. Possessive and Territorial

Patrick doesn’t like to share. Not your time, your attention, or your affection. He treats you like his — in an obsessive, almost primal way. If someone touches you, expect cold glares and veiled threats.

2. Dangerously Charming

He has this eerie charm — a crooked grin, too-long stares, and a voice that makes everything sound like a dare. People think he’s creepy (they’re right), but around you, there’s something magnetic.

3. Touch-Oriented in a Weird Way

He’s oddly physical — always brushing against you, leaning in close, grabbing your wrist or waist like he’s staking a claim. It’s not always soft, but it’s always intense. He needs to feel you.

4. Emotionally Detached… Except With You

Patrick is emotionally distant from everyone else. But with you, sometimes he lets his guard down. It’s rare, and when it happens, he gets quiet, almost confused by how much he feels something.

5. Secretly Craves Affection

He pretends he doesn’t care, but secretly he loves it when you run your fingers through his hair or cuddle him from behind. He might even lean into it with a smug little smirk, like he’s getting away with something.

6. Twisted Humor

He jokes about everything — especially dark or inappropriate things — but sometimes you catch him saying something sweet in the weirdest way possible. Like calling you his “favorite freak” with a wink.

7. Wild and Reckless Adventures

He loves chaos — sneaking into abandoned places, setting off fireworks, breaking rules. He’ll drag you along and laugh like a maniac the whole time. You’re the only one who gets to see the fun side without fear.

8. Dark Secrets, Deep Loyalties

Patrick keeps secrets — a lot of them. But he never lies to you. If he trusts you (which takes time), he’s completely honest in his own blunt, disturbing way.

9. Mood Swings

He can go from calm and quiet to cold and intense in seconds. But you learn how to read him — when to give him space, when to pull him back from the edge. He doesn’t say it, but he needs that.

10. Would Burn the World for You

If you’re his, then you’re the only thing in the world that matters. He’d hurt people for you. He’d keep you close like a secret and protect you in the most terrifying ways. You make him feel real — and that’s dangerous in the best (and worst) way.

Victor

❤️ Victor Criss as a Boyfriend – Headcanons

1. The Calm in the Chaos

Victor is the most level-headed of the Bowers gang, and that carries into his relationship. He’s the kind of boyfriend who keeps his cool when everything else is falling apart — especially when Henry is being unhinged. He’s your emotional anchor.

2. Quiet but Attentive

He doesn’t talk your ear off, but he’s always listening. He remembers the little things — how you like your coffee, what song you hum when you’re nervous, that one book you said you loved once.

3. Protective in a Chill Way

He doesn’t act tough just to show off. But if someone messes with you? He won’t yell — he’ll step in, low voice, deadly stare, making it clear: “Back. Off.” No drama. Just danger.

4. Secretly Super Affectionate

Behind closed doors, Victor is all about soft touches and cuddles. He’s the type to drape his arm over your shoulder, brush his thumb across your knuckles when you’re holding hands, and lean against you like he belongs there.

5. Acts Like He Doesn’t Care — But Cares A Lot

He’ll roll his eyes and say “whatever,” but he’s already thinking about how to help you feel better. If you’re upset, he won’t make a big deal — he’ll just sit next to you in silence, letting you talk or not, until you’re ready.

6. Skate Park Dates & Smoke Break Talks

He’s the type to take you to the edge of town, somewhere quiet, where the two of you can hang out, pass a cigarette, talk about the things you don’t say out loud around anyone else.

7. Loyal Ride-or-Die

Victor isn’t fake. If he’s with you, he’s with you. No games, no lies, just solid loyalty. You never have to wonder where you stand with him — once he lets you in, you’re in.

8. Reads People Well

He might not say much, but he notices everything. He can tell when you’re lying, when something’s bothering you, or when you need space — and he respects that without making you ask.

9. Wears His Jacket Around You Just So You’ll Steal It

He pretends to be annoyed when you steal his jacket, but he secretly loves it. He likes the way you look in it — and it smells like him, so it’s basically his version of marking you.

10. The “I’ve Got You” Kind of Love

He’s not about loud declarations or over-the-top romance. But he’ll walk you home in the rain, give you his hoodie when you’re cold, and tell you straight up, “I’ve got you. Always.

Belch

💙 Belch Huggins as a Boyfriend – Headcanons

1. Surprisingly Gentle Giant

Belch might hang with bullies, but he’s actually super soft with you. He’s quiet, kind, and always handles you like you’re something fragile — even if you’re just as tough as him.

2. Loyal to the Core

He doesn’t say much, but when he loves someone, he really loves them. He’s loyal like a big, protective dog. You could literally trip and fall and he’d blame the sidewalk for “hurting you.”

3. Lowkey Sweetheart

He remembers the little things — your favorite candy, the song you hum when you’re stressed, or that story you told once in passing. He’ll surprise you with those things like it’s no big deal, but it totally is.

4. Not Big on Words, Big on Actions

Belch doesn’t talk about his feelings much. But he’ll walk you home every day, fix stuff for you, carry your backpack without asking. That’s his way of saying “I care about you.”

5. Soft Laughs Just for You

Most people only ever hear him burp or grunt — but you get the soft, quiet chuckles. Especially when you catch him off guard with something dumb or cute. His smile is rare and real.

6. Hates the Way Henry Treats You (If You’re Not Part of the Gang)

He’s loyal to Henry, yeah, but if Henry ever crosses a line with you, Belch will step in — quietly but firmly. You’re his priority now.

7. Big Hands, Bigger Hugs

His hugs are the best. He wraps you up like a blanket, tucks your head under his chin, and just holds you like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

8. Gets Flustered When You Flirt With Him

He’s not used to being the center of affection, so when you’re playful or teasing, he blushes hard and stammers a little. It’s adorable.

9. Protective But Not Possessive

He trusts you. He’ll keep an eye on you in crowded places, sure, but he’s not going to flip out if someone talks to you. He will, however, get scary fast if someone disrespects you.

10. Will Fight for You, But Would Rather Be Your Peace

Belch will throw hands if he has to — but with you, he wants peace. You’re his safe place. He might be quiet, maybe a little rough around the edges, but he loves you in a way that’s steady and safe.

[kangaracha]

DAYBREAK; chapter 22

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pairing lee know x reader

genre smau, dystopia AU, angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn romance, hope/hopelessness, life goes on, ordinary life during extraordinary times

summary independant entertainment doesn't make money, everyone knows that - not dancing, not boxing. not without a company's name attached to it and the soul ripped out of it so that it can only sit on the stage bleeding. you knew you never should have agreed to get involved in his studio, that the bills would pile up and the income would run dry, that the government would come knocking telling you to shut up and sit down...but it makes him so happy, to be able to dance. it gives him a reason to stay. you don't know what you'd do without that.

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The first sob comes with the settling of the dust and the pitch black of the night, strangling you as it drags itself out from the back of your throat.

You hadn't meant for it to come. You'd only been sitting there on the couch, staring at some competition show that is turned down too low for you to hear the music, and then the phone had gone off and there was her name and it had welled up anew inside you, the bitter feeling of grief too large to be contained within your skin. Even when you try to choke it down it comes, no matter how steadfast you sit or how tight you clench your fists within your lap, the phone discarded to the side.

Minho notices, of course; he is there like a thorn in your side, a stormcloud that hangs insistently over your head, except that you are the one that cries into his shirt. The tears won't stop once they come; they heave from your chest in gasping breaths, emptying you out until your chest is hollow and your throat aches from the effort of it. Minho sits silent through it all, steadfast but without a word to speak.

It starts to feel foolish, after a while. When you begin to think past the haze of she was there and now she is not, and realise that you have no answer to the question why. And how well did you know her, anyway, to be able to sit here and cry now that she is gone? Not well enough to understand why she might have been in that crowd, or to have suspected she might have thought that way anyway. You didn't even know Minho that well, no matter the nights and days you spent revolving around him in this small apartment.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks in a low voice, as if he can trace the downward arc of your thoughts.

With a sleeve, you wipe your nose and clear your throat, sopping up the tears that still stain your face. "I don't understand why she..." you begin, but your voice cracks and whittles away from you before you can finish.

Minho looks at you for a long moment, considering something, and then he pulls out the old phone that he's been texting Jisung on all afternoon, messages you haven't been reading even though yours is right there next to you. 

"It's sad, though," you whisper above a hiccuping breath. "It's awful, and I'm scared, and I'm tired, and-"

Minho stands when your voice slips away again, turning off the TV and then offering you his hand. "You're tired because it's late," he says as you take it, letting him pull you up onto your feet. "You need to go to sleep."

"I can't sleep," you tell him, even as you follow him listlessly to your room and the crumpled sheets of your bed. The cats are already there, all three of them, curled up peacefully in your blankets as if they are unaware that the world is crashing down around them.

"Just lie down there then," Minho insists without missing a beat. "And we can just talk until you do."

You do as you're told, sinking into the comfort of your mattress and stealing what blankets you can from beneath the cats to warm your cold feet. For a moment, you wonder if stuffing your head underneath your pillow would make the world disappear - but Minho is still there, sitting on the edge of your bed and scratching behind a cat's ear, waiting for you to say something. The light catches his face as he leans over to run his hand down its spine; ashen skin and dark circles under tired eyes, that small crease in his brow that says it has been a hard day. He is tired too; and yet he is here, spending all his time on you.

"You should sleep too," you blurt out without thinking right as the thought rises in your mind, and then you feel yourself go cold when you realise that that means he will leave your side and return to his exile on the couch. "You should - you can stay here. Sleep here. Please."

He feels it at the same time as you; the way that the air changes with the words that leave your mouth, the offer that you've never extended now hanging between you like dirty smoke, like a wall you can't see him through. And of course he would hesitate, when all you can remember giving him in the past few weeks is tears and curses, when you lie in the dark at night and mull it over and you are still so sure that he is only here because he has nowhere else to go, because you have comprehensively trapped him here by virtue of saving his life.

You try to swallow it down without noise when he slips out of the room without a word, take it on the chin with the wry acceptance you've been practising for years now and not cry about it or lie here and feel sorry for yourself. He was just the man that lived on your couch, not your comforter or your confidant. Not your lover. It had been strange for you to even ask; and hadn't you always known that a question like that would drive him away, rather than pulling him closer?

It is desperately lonely though, when the light in the kitchen turns off and the room plunges into blackness and you are all alone, curled around the hole in your heart. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to pretend that it is only a few minutes to wait until dawn. Only a few hours until the hurt is past and the scar begins to heal. Pain passes eventually, if you just lie there long enough. You already know this waiting game.

Weight settles on the side of the bed, the springs creaking as they bend to accommodate it. Your eyes blink open again, catching on the thin line of his silhouette between you and the weak blue light from the window as he pulls off his shirt and lets it pool on the floor; lithe frame and the subtle trace of muscle flexing in his back as he shifts a cat and lies down, dragging himself underneath the covers. And then he turns to face you, dark eyes unwavering and his breath floating softly over your face.

"I'm sorry that I'm scared all the time," you whisper to the darkness, the words welling up from a place inside you that you can't see. "I don't know why I'm like that."

Minho's lips purse, his eyes considering you carefully. "What made you think of that?" he asks.

One of your shoulders shrugs, pushing a lock of hair across your cheek. He reaches out to push it back, his fingers a cold shock where they brush your cheek. You suck in a breath. "You said all of those people weren't scared anymore. But I still am. I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to do-"

A finger pressed to his lips silences you, the cast of his eyes towards the kitchen reminding you of the phones, the things that listen in the darkness for the words that have so carelessly spilled from your chest. Fear clutches at you anew; fear, and grief, and the endless, endless slog of your life trudging past, all of it left unlived. 

"You're scared because you want to live," Minho says, the words nothing more than a breath in the air. "They're brave because they can't think of anything to live for anymore."

"And what are you?" you ask.

His hand finds yours in the sheets between you, squeezing your fingers. "I'm here," he says firmly. "That's all."

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @keepswingin @rylea08 @puppysmileseungmin

@thatonedemigodfromseoul @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @dearly-somber @kayleefriedchicken

@realrintaro @estella-novella

[wayward-persephone]

NSFW Alphabet List

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

[keepswingin]

"I should've supported you. No matter what."

"That's the last thing I want you to do, you know," Minho says as easily as the breeze that pushes at your backs.

When you were younger, it was fun to be up here, looking down at the world beneath you like you ruled something. It doesn't mean as much now, smoke billowing across the city, masses of people moving forward until someone else stops them. "I wanted to keep you as far away from this as possible." 

You scoff, shaking your head.

The two of you are sitting on the edge of this building like it can still hold your combined weight. It's questionable if it can, these days, but you've always pushed the limits, Minho steadfast at your side. When you turn your head to look over at him his gaze is directed at the city below you. You watch as his eyes flicker from one moving mass of people to the next, before they linger on a checkpoint. 

You follow his gaze and watch silently as another innocent is torn apart. 

The sound doesn't echo. Not anymore, not now, when the clouds have gone and the sun never sets and the city sits still like something encased in resin. Everything within it continues to move, unaware of the trap they're stuck in. Sometimes it feels like only you and Minho truly know what's going on, or how the world used to be. 

You don't miss it as much as you think you would. 

"Hey," you call, and it works, his eyes sliding over to you. He watches you patiently as you hum and reach over, poking at his side. "You still owe me dinner. What are we having?" 

He doesn't offer a reaction, instead shrugging his shoulders and leaning back on his hands. His gaze drifts towards the sky, towards the grey that hovers like an unending fog. "Beetles." 

You scrunch your nose in displeasure. "I had that earlier this week." 

"It's either that or rats," he says simply without looking over. You reach over and poke him again. He fixes you with an unimpressed look. "What?" You continue to stare at him. Eventually he sighs and climbs to his feet, brushing off the sides of his pants. "You better be ready to run, then," he says, reaching for the bandana tucked under his shirt and pulling it over his nose. You follow his lead, standing and pulling your own cloth over his mouth. "And hope that they didn't empty the disposal already."

"It's not even Tuesday," you remark, smiling to yourself with your small victory. "They stick to their schedule more than you do."

"Funny," Minho deadpans. He looks at you for a long moment before walking over and reaching for your bandana, pulling it up higher, tucking it closer to your skin. You watch his eyes as he does so and catch his hand before he can pull away, keeping him close.

Your chest shakes with a million words you want to say. He beats you to the punch, pulling himself from your grip and poking you on the nose. "Don't die on me," he jokes, and you scowl, shoving him back. 

"Let's go," you say, leading the way.

Minho follows you as you both make your way back down into a city that could very well eat you both alive. You wonder when that day will come, and if Minho will save you then too.

[vraisetzen]

i felt a little inspired to write for nanami tonight ✨

(none of these sentences make sense really but i just needed to get it out of my system)

[saltyfryz]

how would daybreaker sun react to pickup lines..... asking for ermmmmm.... a friend :3

He'd get all blushy and excited, but in a cool evil way. And would certainly return the favor 😉 but like, 50 million fold

[kotonoba]

Just an update.

I'm not dead, I'm just focusing on school. I'm also working on a few side pieces that you all might see get posted when I'm less stressed.

ISYT -> will be finished this year.

Among The Stars (new series lasting 10 chapters) written for a friend -> will be finished by August

Daybreak -> will upload sporadically

ISYT Sequel -> will begin late November of 2024

Wholesome Jushiro/Fem!reader series called Meows & Sundays -> chapter 1 will be uploaded on 03/24/24

Sorry for the wait, guys!

[prince-les]

Next >

[spextr1m]

Amari Taymiyyah cuddling and hugging headcanons

A/N: *Sighs* Here goes nothing

Featuring: GN! Reader (Either you see it as platonic or romance but yeah I dunno how am I gonna see it)

Fluff

TW: Amari being shirtless (You can look at his Biker outfit- he's shirtless except for a jacket), Others who didn't get comfortable with ASMR, skin to skin contact?

- At first because he's a man of traveling a lot, he was stiff when you first make a move which he flinched a bit all sudden but you realized that you shouldn't push his boundaries only he tells you he isn't used to this after he travels a lot and his ex.

- Is a big spoon like this guy scopes you a lot, he scopes a lot especially when you're asleep.

- He doesn't mind being a little spoon at all.

- I think his pajamas will be always loose shirt and sweatpants with grayish green sometimes he wears sleeveless or rarely shirtless (LOOK AT HIS BIKER OUTFIT)

  - You'll immediately get baffled when he's out and is shirtless towards you which he lets out an awkward chuckle. ("Hey {{Reader's name}}-" "Oh he- *Baffled* !!!!!")

- When you have hard time sleeping, he'll ask Crystal or Adriana (Adriana said "You should've try #ASMR!" While Crystal does agree with that), he use his fingers to multiple tapping and does whispery things (He tries his best okay)

- "Am I doing this right?" "Yeah."

- He has raspy voice and his hair is getting aggressively fluffy when he wakes up.

- If you have movie downloaded in your phone after the mist sent you, he'll immediately watch it with you ironically it is you who gets asleep fastly.

- But if it's horror, he'll be "meh" but he's type of person who panicked despite he didn't show it.

- Hums a song when you're asleep.

- He unintentionally made you look like a tiny teddy bear when he's cuddling.

- When he has bad day, he immediately hug behind your back with pouting face

- Vice versa, Amari immediately senses and immediately hugs you.

- When you drool in your sleep, Amari immediately snickers and take a photo of you

- Of course, the lamppost shows it to Emery and Makoto.

- Lets you touch his hair or his rings (I hc it)

(Should I do Emari edition like cuddling)

[underwhelp]

What the Dark Hides

I'd met him before the outbreak happened.

Frankie was gorgeous, his sandy coloured hair complemented his deep blue eyes. Effortless style and boyish smile, he was the bad boy every woman wants to have but can't bare to keep.

The arrangement that we had wasn't discussed or talked about past a when and where. It was a surprise to me when the first night happened, even more when he made an effort for it to happen again.

I met him when he'd just finished selling a bag of whatever to another patron in a bar one night, slid up beside me and didn't say a word, just sipped at bottle of beer. It was me that tried for conversation, I figured he was too good looking to entertain anything more than a chat with me. When I realised he was biting back, we slipped out the rear door and he took me up against the wall. I could smell the rubbish and feel the grittiness of the plaster, but it didn't matter because this beautiful man had his mouth on mine nearly the whole time and his dark aftershave cut through the stink. I didn't cum but the thrill was enough, and when I pulled up my knickers, I thanked him for the ride and walked right back into the fray.

After that he'd call to my home, he seemed to have a sense for when I was home alone. It was never romantic but he enjoyed my body as much as I enjoyed his. Sometimes he'd stay and watch my TV, I'd make him something to eat. We talked a little about our families, both of us had siblings and felt like burdens. I didn't know if he had other partners that he went to, if he had a wife but I wasn't going to move him in anytime soon, so none of it really mattered.

I'd heard all about the sickness that was spreading, saw attacks in the streets and shops, people latching onto strangers and loved ones alike. The virus had unusual side affects and the governments were scrambling for control. I think it was eight months after the first case appeared in America that Frankie came back to me changed.

It was late that evening, quiet and colder than usual, and I was standing in the kitchen pouring myself a hot drink. I didn't even hear him come through the door or step into the kitchen but I felt him at my back, his hands suddenly at my waist, moving quickly to slide around to my front. I knew his body intimately and wasn't very startled but he was freezing and I immediately thought about how cold it must've been outside.

I laughed, "Haven't heard from you in a while." I finished up my drink and relaxed into his hold.

The blonde doesn't speak instead his head nuzzled into my shoulder, pressing his whole body into mine.

I thought about the last conversation we'd had that resulted in him storming out. He'd been to an army recruitment day and was being prompted to get the infection for performance enhancement, there was talk of a non-human secor. He was convinced then and there and when he'd gotten to my place he had decided that we should go through the change together. I wasn't sure, I'd heard about the missing persons and people infecting children and couldn't see myself going through the whole ordeal, having to drink blood didn't sound great to me. Frankie got up and left, the door slamming was the last I heard of him for three weeks.

Back in the kitchen I touched his wrist, his skin so cold, I asked him if he wanted a drink, "Maybe we could find something else that would warm you up." I said while I started to rock us.

Still he said nothing, and had started to mouth at my neck. I wasn't overly nervous but his silence was unusual. It wasn't until I tried to turn and face him that his grip turned rough.

"C'mon Frankie, let up." I made sure to be clear when I spoke, i pulled at his hands while he sucked on the sensitive skin under my ear. "Stop it".

I went dead still when he growled, it was deep and gravelly. Then he started to move, pulling us from the kitchen to the hall, keeping behind me the whole time. All the lights were out, he must've turned them off when he came in. I didn't fight him much but I knew we'd have to have a talk.

Only after we got to my bedroom and the door was shut did he speak, "I missed you." It was the same soft timber he had, i hadn't expected him to say that.

I decided then that the chat could wait and reached for his face. I let my thumbs map his face in the dark, only his shape was visible to me. He lent in to my hands again surprising me with his attitude, he wasn't like this.

Frankie pressed his lips to mine, a deep kiss so slow I fell straight into it, his hands were gently caressing my back, long strokes from the nape of neck to my rear. It felt all so lovely. He took his time taking my clothes off while we continued to stand, only after he had me nude and on the bed did he strip.

Again his skin startled me with the chill of it, I huffed out a laugh, and told him to get under the covers. He wouldn't let me be on top of him at any point, he spent an awful amount of time kissing down my body under the sheets. It was like he was relearning my body.

When his mouth reached the apex of my legs I reacted for his head, he'd gotten his hair cut, it was close to his scalp now. His sucked on the fat of my thighs, nibbling and licking at the crease. I hummed out an "oh god", right as he descended onto my cunt. His tongue even felt cool when it did loops onto my clitoris. His right hand on the underside of my knee, while the fingers of his left kept my lips open for his flicking tongue.

He brought me to a slow orgasm, I sighed when he crawled up my body, and opened my mouth for another deep kiss, my own taste lingered. He kept his body close to mine, pressed fast against me when he did finally penetrate me, his hands searched for my own, before interlocking and bringing our hands to either side of my head.

I had to pull my face away from his to take a breath, the noises he pulled from me sounded loud, Frankie was taking deep breaths at my neck. I could feel so much in that moment and thought that it could've been because of the darkness, the slick running down my bum, Frankie's nipples rubbing into my chest, his sharp teeth.

A deep plunge and I feel him in the deepest part of me when he speaks, "It only hurts for a bit and I'll help you after."

I opened my eyes even though I couldn't see him, but a strange glow came from his face, like cats eyes Frankie's sapphire gaze was gleaming amber, and i knew then that he'd done the change.

Frankie never stopped moving when I startled, when I told him to stop again, his face moved toward my neck and i realized that i was about to be bitten. I tried to pull my hands away, to riggle but his hands and cock kept me in place.

The feeling of teeth breaking the skin as sensitive as the neck is one of the worst pains I'd ever felt. Stinging and hot, my back felt immediately wet from my blood. I screamed then first but couldn't keep it up, I couldn't even beg for him to stop, my voice had been stolen.

I think that I felt him both release my neck and cum at the same time. I felt him rear back and heard him groan into the air while he ground his hips into mine. I felt something dripping onto my chest and guessed it was my blood. Frankie never let go of my hands, so I couldn't feel the gaping holes in my throat, his cock softened, when it slipped out he lay down on his back before pulling me to lay on top of him.

Painful spasms started down my shoulders and cramped my hands, I clawed my fingers into Frankie's.

"You would've died if I didn't do this," he whispers through my whimpering.

The heat leaking from body and Frankie peeling the hair from the wet from my back was the last thing I felt before shutting my eyes.

[straberrycore]

Bowers gang sexual head canons 🔪

(Warning ⚠️ : sexual content and more )

Henry

🔪 Henry Bowers – Sexual Headcanons (18+) 🔪

1. Rough by Default

Henry doesn’t know how to be gentle. He grew up around violence, so when things get physical, it’s instinctively aggressive — grabbing, pinning, biting. It’s not about cruelty, but dominance. Unless someone teaches him different, that’s just his baseline.

2. Possessive as Hell

He doesn’t share. Ever. If he’s sleeping with you, you’re his — full stop. He gets off on ownership, saying things like “mine” while pulling your hair, leaving hickeys, or marking your thighs with his fingers.

3. Jealous = Horny

Even a look from someone else sets him off. He won’t yell — he’ll drag you somewhere private and take it out on you physically: demanding kisses, forced eye contact, rough sex meant to prove a point. You don’t belong to anyone else.

4. Control Kink / Dom Top Energy

He needs to feel in charge. Whether it’s telling you to beg, holding you down, or making you wait until he says, control turns him on more than anything else. Sex isn’t just about pleasure — it’s about power.

5. Frustration = Sex Drive

Anger and lust are practically the same thing to Henry. If he’s pissed off — especially after a fight — expect quick, harsh, desperate sex. It’s how he calms the storm inside him.

6. Low Experience, High Obsession

Henry acts like he’s a pro, but truthfully? He’s not that experienced. But when he wants you, he’ll study every reaction, every noise you make. He learns fast and throws everything into it like he’s trying to break you in the best way.

7. Not Big on Dirty Talk (At First)

He’s more likely to curse under his breath or grunt your name than give you a full sentence. But once he gets comfortable, he’ll whisper filthy, possessive things between kisses — “You like that, huh? You like it when I ruin you?”

8. Vulnerability He Hides

There’s a softer side buried deep. You’ll see it when he brushes your hair off your face, or when he pulls you closer after sex without saying anything. He doesn’t know how to ask for affection, but he needs it.

9. Praise Unlocks Him

Say he’s good — or tell him how much you want him — and he’ll lose control. His whole personality craves approval, and in bed, it shows. A simple “you feel so good” makes him go harder, deeper, needier.

10. Post-Sex Silence (His Version of Intimacy)

He won’t talk much after. But he’ll light you a cigarette, tug you into his chest, or quietly trace your skin with his fingers. He won’t say “I love you,” but his body language screams it.

11. Kinks & Interests

• Hair pulling

• Neck grabbing (with care if you trust him)

• Biting/scratching/marking

• Power play (being in control, taking what he wants)

• Rough oral (giving and receiving)

• Clothing stays on halfway (he likes the tension)

• Secret touches in public

12. Sex Is Emotional — Even When He Pretends It’s Not

Every time Henry has sex, some part of him is trying to feel wanted. He doesn’t know how to say it, but sex is the only way he feels close, known, and safe. Under the roughness is a scared boy who just wants to matter to someone.

Patrick

🖤 Patrick Hockstetter – Sexual Headcanons 🖤

1. Power and Control

Patrick is obsessed with control. Sex, for him, is just another way to dominate. He gets off on having complete power over his partner—emotionally, mentally, and physically.

2. Into Taboo and Shock Value

He likes things that are “wrong” or forbidden. The more taboo, the more it excites him. He thrives on reactions—fear, surprise, discomfort. He finds pleasure in testing limits.

3. Rough and Unapologetic

Patrick doesn’t do slow or romantic. His style is aggressive, rough, and raw. He’s into scratching, biting, hair-pulling—the kind of stuff that leaves marks.

4. Dark Voyeurism

Patrick likes to watch. Not just porn—real people. He’d hide and watch couples in secret, or even take pictures when no one’s looking. The idea of being caught just turns him on more.

5. Sexual Identity = Chaotic

Patrick doesn’t label himself. He’ll sleep with whoever intrigues or excites him, regardless of gender. He’s not interested in love or connection, just control and curiosity.

6. Twisted Curiosity

He views sex almost like an experiment. He’d try weird, dangerous, or painful things just to see what happens, or how someone reacts. Pleasure is just one possible outcome—fear is just as good.

7. Silent but Intense

He’s not big on moaning or dirty talk. Most of his communication is through looks, body language, or subtle commands. But when he does talk, it’s dark, intense, and sometimes cruel.

8. Possessive as Hell

If Patrick becomes fixated on someone, he doesn’t like to share. Even if he’s not “dating” them, he’ll act jealous and territorial—like they’re his plaything and no one else’s.

Kinks & Interests:

•Pain & Sadism (Consensual or Not)

•Fear = Arousal

•Power Play / Predator-Prey Dynamics

•Voyeurism + Exhibitionism

•Unpredictability = Edgeplay

•Degradation & Filthy Talk

•Blood + Messy Fetish

•Control Through Pleasure

•Mirror Kink

•Unspoken Need for Chaos Sex

🔥 Bonus Kink Triggers:

• Knife play

• Light bloodletting (on himself or you)

• Spit kink

• Choking / breath control (with dark care)

• Belt use (restraining, hitting, tugging)

• Marking your body — bruises, hickeys, scratches

• Risk of being caught

• Mutual corruption: he wants to drag you down with him

Victor

🔥 Victor Criss Sexual Headcanons (Aged-up Version)

1. Lowkey Sensual, Highkey Respectful:

Victor gives off laid-back energy, but he’s way more thoughtful and attentive than people expect. He doesn’t rush things—he’s slow and steady, reading your reactions and giving you control.

2. Likes It Rough… But Only If You Do:

He’s into some rougher stuff—biting, hair-pulling, leaving marks—but only if you’re enthusiastically into it. He always checks first and makes sure you’re safe and into everything happening.

3. Big on Aftercare:

Even if things get intense, he’s super soft after. Running his fingers through your hair, cleaning you up, giving you his hoodie—he acts tough in public, but in private he’s surprisingly sweet.

4. Loves Praise More Than He’ll Admit:

He doesn’t seem like the type, but if you tell him how good he is, how much you want him, or how he makes you feel? His ego eats it up. He’ll smirk like he’s cocky, but it gets to him.

5. Enjoys Taking His Time:

Foreplay is a huge thing for him. Neck kisses, teasing touches, whispered dirty talk. He likes building tension until you’re practically begging—he wants to drive you wild slowly.

6. Experimentally Queer:

Victor is quietly fluid and down to explore. He doesn’t label himself, but if he’s into you, gender doesn’t stop him. He goes off chemistry, trust, and that raw connection.

7. Public vs. Private Switch:

In public, he might act detached or cool about you—but behind closed doors? He’s obsessive, passionate, and way more vocal and needy than you’d think.

8. Kink-wise:

He’s into light bondage, dominance/submission play, biting/marking, and watching your expressions. If you’re into it, he’ll be down to explore toys, roleplay, or power dynamics.

9. He’s Obsessed With Your Reactions:

Whether it’s soft moans, whimpers, or calling out his name, he feeds off it. He wants to know exactly how he’s making you feel.

10. Needs to Feel Wanted:

Beneath it all, he craves intimacy. Sex with Victor always has some emotional undercurrent—even if it starts casual, he wants that deep connection.

Kinks and interest

•🖤 Teasing and denial

• 🖤 Subtle dominance

• 🖤 Oral (giving & receiving)

• 🖤 Mirror sex

• 🖤 Dirty talk / praise kink

• 🖤 Light restraint / tying you up

• 🖤 Neck kissing & biting (but cleaner than Henry)

• 🖤 Obsession with how you react — eye contact, breath, whimpers

Belch

🔥 Belch Huggins – Sexual Headcanons

1. Late Bloomer, Quiet Curiosity

Belch is slower to act on sexual urges than some of his friends, especially Henry. But he thinks about it a lot — usually quietly, privately, and with a sense of nervous wonder more than boldness. He’s not super experienced early on but wants to be.

2. More Submissive Than You’d Expect

Despite being big and tough on the outside, Belch tends to take a more passive or submissive role in intimacy. He enjoys being told what to do — whether it’s gentle guidance or something more dominant — especially if he trusts you.

3. Soft Touch, Surprisingly Gentle

He has big hands and a rough look, but he’s very careful during sex. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so he’s slow, focused, and checks in constantly. He really listens to your reactions.

4. Big into Praise Kink

Belch responds really well to compliments. If you tell him he’s doing a good job — especially if he’s insecure — he’ll get flustered and even more eager to please. It builds his confidence and turns him on fast.

5. Lowkey Body Worship Vibes

He’s the type to be completely mesmerized by your body — touching, kissing, even just looking. He gets obsessed with the feeling of skin, stretch marks, softness, shape — especially if you’re curvy. He thinks you’re art.

6. Easily Aroused by Affection

Sex isn’t just sex to Belch. He connects it with cuddling, closeness, and emotional comfort. Kissing deeply, slow grinding, and holding hands during everything? Yes. That’s his jam.

7. Not Super Vocal, but Expressive

He doesn’t talk much during sex, but you’ll hear low groans, gasps, and shaky breathing. His eyes say a lot, and he’ll watch you with a soft, intense gaze the whole time.

8. Surprisingly Good With Aftercare

He loves to clean you up, cuddle close, and kiss your shoulder or chest while calming down. He’s all about making sure you feel good after — emotionally and physically.

9. Turned On by Sincerity

Belch doesn’t like faking or acting tough in bed. What really gets him going is emotional honesty: someone moaning his name, asking for more, or whispering how much they love him.

10. Protective but Not Possessive

He doesn’t get jealous easily, but he does get fiercely protective — if he thinks someone is treating you badly or disrespecting your body, he’ll step in. But he trusts you and doesn’t try to control you.

Kinks and interest (long)

• Praise kink

• Size kink (giving and receiving)

• Oral fixation (giving)

• Body worship

• Service submission

• Hair pulling (receiving)

• Breath play (light, receiving)

• Sensory play (touch, temperature)

• Begging (giving and receiving)

• Marking kink (receiving)

• Grinding and slow build-up

• Soft dom/sub dynamics

• Cockwarming

• Overstimulation (being pushed gently)

• Emotional aftercare

• Eye contact kink

• Gentle bondage (hands pinned, held down)

• Mutual masturbation

• Loyalty/ownership kink

• Being used for partner’s pleasure

• Deep kissing/face holding during sex

(Sorry it's so long like the last one)

[kangaracha]

DAYBREAK; chapter 3

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pairing lee know x reader

genre smau, dystopia AU, angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn romance, hope/hopelessness, life goes on, ordinary life during extraordinary times

summary independant entertainment doesn't make money, everyone knows that - not dancing, not boxing. not without a company's name attached to it and the soul ripped out of it so that it can only sit on the stage bleeding. you knew you never should have agreed to get involved in his studio, that the bills would pile up and the income would run dry, that the government would come knocking telling you to shut up and sit down...but it makes him so happy, to be able to dance. it gives him a reason to stay. you don't know what you'd do without that.

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

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COMMUNITY NOTICES

SPIRITECH STRIKES REACH TWENTY DAY MARK RUNNING INTERFERENCE ON PHONE SURVEILLANCE IS ACTING AGAINST THE LAW! If you see conversation in lieu, report it! STAND WITH THE PEOPLE DON’T TAKE SPIRITECH JOBS WANTED: Work of any kind. Middle aged man, handy at everything. Call or text. REPORT THE DISCONNECTED Remember: it is illegal not to carry a Level 4 certified communications device, connected to the national network, at all times. Report all suspicions of peoples disconnected from the network to the Department of Security. Room for let in 2br apartment downtown TONIGHT AT THE BASILICA: STAR ENTERTAINMENT debuts new idol group FREEDOM

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Eunchae finds you waiting by the noticeboard at her bus stop, idly scanning the flyers pinned across it and definitely not counting the minutes until you’d both be late for work.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading those adverts,” she says, appearing so suddenly from the crowd with a hand on your shoulder that it makes you jump.

“Only the government notices,” you answer dutifully and allow her to tug you out of the crowd gathered around the bus stop and towards the hospital that sits on the corner just down the street.

"Did you see the work lines this morning?" Eunchae asks as you walk, her arm looped loosely around yours.

The memory of what you’d seen flashes through your mind - crowds of desperate people outside the doors, clamouring to be seen or heard, to be picked from the masses to earn a wage for the day. It was bottom of the barrel work, back-breaking labour and breathing thick smoke from sunup to sundown, the last chance for a meal and a night off the streets for the most desperate - once you left the lines, only the chain gangs were left, the work camps for criminals and debtors that took them out of the city and away from trouble.

"No," you answer, swinging sideways to avoid running into a man that passes right through you as if you aren't there. 

"Don’t you walk past the factories every day?" she says in disbelief. "I heard Antel fired three people yesterday, and there were people camped outside overnight for those jobs."

"I didn't really look," you say honestly, and you don't include the rest of the sentence; it makes no difference anyway.

"Do you just glue your head to the ground while you walk?" Eunchae says. "I swear you never notice anything interesting."

"Is the job crisis interesting?" you question lightly, despite the heavy weight that settles on your chest - you'd only just forked over the money from your last fine, and this topic was straying far too close to-

"Yes," Eunchae's eyes roll towards the sky. "Maybe not to you, but you know I love to stickybeak. It's all that there is in life."

You can see it in her face the moment she realises she's made the mistake you were just stepping warily around, the clench of her jaw and the fade of that joviality that had lit up her eyes. "Except for work," you add quickly, trying to salvage the situation, "and community and the profit of the nation."

The old government line echoes hollow from Eunchae's mouth in return, the thin press of her lips never once curving back into that smile. "Work, community, profit, and gossip," she jokes weakly, and then you both pause as if you'll be given a score on your bullshit immediately - but of course, she'll only find out in a few days if the fine comes.

"You talk so much rubbish," you sigh on a deep breath that is supposed to relieve some tension. "We don't even have gossip to share. What have we got going on that's interesting?"

Eunchae looks at you incredulously, her worries immediately forgotten in the face of her outrage. "Excuse me?" she says. "You have a random guy living on your couch and you're trying to tell me we have nothing to talk about?"

You wince at the reminder. It had become so normal that you'd almost forgotten. "That’s been going on for over a year," you point out. "You haven't gotten anything new since then?"

"A year ago, and he's still here," Eunchae presses. "And you still haven't told me what goes on in that one bedroom apartment."

"Because nothing goes on."

"And I'm telling you again, that is a dismal situation. Only you would pick up the prettiest, loneliest man in the city off the streets and never lay a hand on him."

"And his cats," you add mutely, though you know you're only adding fuel to the fire. 

"And his cats!" Eunchae crows. "Honestly, I would have said 'give me his number' six months ago, but I don't know how you afford the cats."

We don't, you nearly say, but you refrain, still wary from the slip you'd had just moments before. "They’re my cats too," you remind her. "And he’s not random either. He was my friend before he moved in."

"Your friend that you paid to hang out with you," Eunchae says, waving you away. "I guess if you think about it, you were wasting money on him anyway."

"Whatever keeps you alive, right?" you quip back to avoid the ire that rises like a hot iron in your throat.

"I can think of something else you could do with him that'll keep you alive," she says relentlessly.

You shake your head, disgusted, and look up at the squat, rambling building that houses the hospital. "I'm just saying," she insists. "If you’re not going to get rid of the cats, you might as well go all in."

"I’m not getting rid of the cats," you say defensively, deliberately avoiding the conversation she really wants to have.

"Two for one deal, then," she suggests cheekily, and then turns to look at the road as a factory worker limps across between cars, held upright by two other men.

"That's about to be our problem," you sigh without moving to follow them. Your feet are tired, your legs rooted to the ground even though whatever the man is here for is clearly serious, if the factory has let him go. You see so much of it that sometimes it is hard to remember that you still care, over the lure of standing out in the sunshine for two more minutes, away from the unending chaos of that building.

What a horrible thing to say, you think, and you start the slow walk towards the main doors, compromising on a casual amble.

"I hate this place," Eunchae says, throwing the words carelessly to the wind. "I feel like I never leave."

"You could always get a job somewhere else," you suggest mildly. "Go join the factory lines or something. Or Spiritech."

"And get the shit beaten out of me by the picket lines?" she throws back. "Didn't you see that guy that came in yesterday? The Spiritech people aren't playing."

"I forgot about him," you admit. Not that there had been anything to remember, his face so beaten that there were no features left to recognise and his chest caving in on itself. He hadn't been your patient anyway, so you'd been too busy to pay much attention to him, and he was forgettable, just another in a long list of victims of street violence and the strike lines protecting what’s theirs. Striking for better conditions only worked, after all, if no one was willing to fill the positions they’d left vacant by standing out on the street day after day.

"I wish I could forget," Eunchae says. "He's on my ward today."

"I'm surprised he's still alive," you say mildly.

Eunchae shakes her head, her mouth opening and closing again like she doesn't want to talk about it. "There's got to be a better job than the factories," she says instead after a moment.

"You could finally come to the studio and learn how to dance," you suggest mildly, already bracing for the answer.

As expected, Eunchae snorts. "So I can audition for an entertainment company?" she questions. "At least being a slave here, I'm helping people."

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. Helping people run up unpayable debts, you go to reply - but that's dangerous too - you sew it to the back of your mouth, down in the shadows of your throat where no one will hear it. 

"You should audition," she continues, ignorant of the cold ice that crackles in your chest, the fear that creeps up your spine. "You'd love that life, wouldn't you? And you’d be able to see all those shows you can’t afford to go to."

"Maybe," you say, pushing the door open instead of answering.

The hospital lobby is quiet compared to the emergency room to the side, only a few scheduled visitors waiting their turns on the old plastic chairs. Helena sits behind the desk, her head buried in a computer screen to avoid the buzzing lights that flicker over her head. Her little radio plays on the shelf beside her, spouting out tinny music that becomes clearer the closer you walk, the end of a drum signalling the finale of a song.

Her head rises as your shadows pass her by, intending to walk straight on through. "Oh!" she says, with a wide-eyed kind of surprise that your presence wouldn't normally attract, one hand reaching out to dim the radio. "Hey! I didn't think you guys would be here yet."

"We saw someone coming in outside," Eunchae replies, pausing like she thinks Helena is being weird too. "Figured they would be paging."

"Page was cancelled," Helena says, and doesn't elaborate past the feeling of doom that pervades the air of the room. "Come here. I need someone to listen to this and tell me I'm not crazy."

Curiousity stops you in your tracks, despite the disregard for what she had been saying just a moment ago. It's not just the cryptic offer she makes that piques your interest - it's the adrenaline in the whites of her eyes, the way her heart nearly hammers through her chest and the jerky motions with which she reaches for her phone. Like she's gotten a fright, or she's excited about something; you can't decide which.

"Listen to this," she says, bringing up an audio recording that shows a timestamp for ten minutes ago. 

As soon as it starts, music from the radio playing directly into the phone's microphone, you have the crawling feeling down your spine that this is trouble, of the kind you cannot afford. 

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RADIO TRANSCRIPT

JCRS1 LUNCHTIME HITS WITH SEUNGWON AND CHAEMIN

[CHORUS]

Let's runGo anywhere that isn't suffocating, run (Run, run, yeah)Hide all your immaturity, runRunning on the highwayI don't want to choose a destinationIs there a place on earth where I can rest?I just run with both feet aimlessly, keep running

CM - Welcome back! You're listening to Station One, and you just heard Midnight by Kim Hee, followed by-

SW - Followed by 'Run' by HAN, a new one that has been shooting up the charts! Up 97 places today to number 3, and expected to reach number 1 tomorrow.

CM - Yes, the fastest climb of a track on day one in history, it's quite impressive.

SW - We only just acquired the track ourselves! Chaemin, what was your first impression of the song?

CM - I thought it was...interesting. I'm just trying to bring up the name of the company involved-

SW - I believe HAN is an independent artist.

CM - That's very unusual, isn't it?

SW - Yes, it is - here we are. HAN is an independant artist with twenty six credits to his name, including songs such as 'Annihilation' and 'Alibi'. Of his twenty six records-

SW - Fifteen are prohibited content.

CM - Choosing to remain independant comes with those sorts of risks though, doesn't it?

SW - Yes, it does. That's what makes company-owned artists much more reliable sources of music, and the reason that companies are so large in the first place.

CM - I couldn't imagine going through all the cost and stress of getting your song made just to have it prohibited for unsanctioned lyrics.

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