#IS THE UNIVERSE FUCKING AROUND WITH ME WHAT THE FUCK

[yslbooten]

┊. ❝ bloody hell.

❞ pairings ⨟ ❞ mark!variants x vamp!reader

❞ idea ⨟ ❞ the mark variants finally reunite with their vampire darling, not knowing that this universe the vampire y/n didn’t have a relationship with mark in this dimension

❞ notes ⨟ ❞ the readers gender isn’t really stated unless you take the nicknames “ darling, baby, buttercup.. etc “ as gender affirming. slightly nsfw but no sex scenes shown ( yet. )

˖ ࣪◞ omni-mark

“ who the hell are you?! “ Yes, that unmistakable sassy demeanor that the other Mark had missed so much came rushing back to you, evoking memories of the way your fangs would pop out in the slightest hint of amusement or irritation. “I’ve came back for you; don’t you remember me, baby?” he said, his voice dripping with a mix of charm and desperation. Confusion washed over you like a tidal wave. Why on earth would you ever consider being with Mark? In this dimension, he was happily dating your best friend, Atom Eve, so why was this doppelgänger, looking so much like the fearsome Omni-Man, making these bizarre declarations? “ I don't know who you are but you aren't this worlds mark! I’d never have a relationship with you, especially in this suit you are wearing “ the disgust in your voice dripped like venom, but that did not stop the identical mark from walking over to you. Hearing the heavy footsteps and the news channel broadcasting with screams and a voice telling everyone a war is going on made your mind blank, baring your teeth at the man walking over to you. You were stuck in a situation you knew you couldn't run, backing into the hard wall you groaned in annoyance. Practically your body was being pressed against the doppelgangers “ god did I miss this “ he said in your ear, his husky voice made you going, no! That was wrong he was dating Eve not you “ back off “ you said faintly hands pressing against Mark’s chest. Your nails which everyone said look like fancy beautiful claws scratched against the man possibly drawing blood, tinting the nude nails of yours decorating it with a splash red look “ cmon baby let me see those fangs, me and you both know we were made for each other “ feeling a muscular leg between your legs had drawn a gasp out from your throat eyes slightly squinting from the friction. Intentionally you bit your lips obeying the request to show your pearly fangs “ attagal/boy “ tough hands roaming your body had distracted you oh so much, everything had happened so fast you couldn't even see that another one of the marks were watching you too.

˖ ࣪◞ hood-mark

“ there you fucking are “ You whipped your head around, your heart racing in your chest, desperate to catch a glimpse of who was the person who spoke. To your astonishment, mark stood in the doorway, decked out in the most bizarre costume you’d ever seen. He wore a blue hood over his face that you’d only see with the mask on or without.“Mark, what on earth are you doing in here?” you exclaimed, your pulse quickening as a mix of confusion bubbled inside you.. Behind that strange mask, a sinister smirk crept across his face, sending shivers down your spine. it. “ did ya miss me doll “ he said with opening arms walking over to you, the look of disgust being plastered on your face made you back up from the man “What are you doing?! “ he said slightly angry with a sudden, sharp motion that had clearly irritated him, the man lunged forward, shoving you violently against the cold, unforgiving wall. His hand clamped around your throat, fingers tightening like a vice, cutting off your breath and leaving you struggling for air. The intensity of his grip sent a rush of panic coursing through you, the rough texture of the wall digging into your back as fear clouded your vision. “Get your slimy hands off me “ you gruffed piercing your nails into his biceps “ oh fuck yea! “ throwing his head back slightly his grip on your neck didn't wear off, did he get off to you piercing him? What a fucking weirdo. “ I missed when we used to do this, we’d fuck after every single argument “ With your eyes widening in shock, you instinctively raised your hand, preparing to slap him as a reflexive reaction to the embarrassment his bold statement had caused. The heat of humiliation rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel your heart racing, battling between anger and disbelief at his audacity. “ unt unt unt pretty blood sucker, we can fight and fuck later when I'm done destroying this dimension, yea? “

this fic was really short so I'm sorry!! Resources by @oathem ,, do not steal my work repost if wanted

[thewritetofreespeech]

Steak & Blowjob Day

Mark Grayson x gn!reader

plot: I'm a devote feminist, but this boy needs a break. [smutty nonsense]

-------------------------------------

Mark tipped his head with a loud moan as [Y/N] took all of him down their throat again. Thank God they were at their place tonight.

When [Y/N] asked him to come over for a date night earlier in the week, Mark was of course excited. They tried to see each other as much as they could, but with their schedules and threats to the universe not really keeping an accurate time piece, they’d had more cancels than successes recently. Tonight, Mark made sure everything was covered and that he could spend time alone with his partner.

He even showed up super early. Which he knew was lame but he was just so excited to see them. When they opened the door for him Mark immediately stepped in and wrapped them in his arms. Breathing the first sigh of relief he felt like taking in weeks along with the scent of their shampoo.

“Happy Steak & Blowjob Day.” They told him as they hugged. To which Mark pulled back with a laugh as he asked them ‘what?’, and they responded with an eye roll, “Rex told me about it.”

They both knew not to take everything Rex said at face value, but [Y/N] told him that, just for today, they’d stick with tradition.

Mark insisted that they didn’t have to do anything for him. He didn’t want them to feel pressured into giving him anything, unless they wanted to. But, [Y/N] insisted that they wanted to and, “you’ve been working so hard and had so much to deal with.” It was honestly just nice to be acknowledged for that. “Let me pamper you for a change.”

Which brought them to where they were now. Mark seated at the table, his shirt pulled up towards his pits with his belt and fly open, and [Y/N] on their knees in front of him. The suction around his cock felt amazing! They were pretty active now at this point in their relationship, but still every time [Y/N] sucked him off he saw stars. And he had seen actual stars now.

“Fuuuck baby…” Mark groaned as he reached out to touch their hair.

They moan and take him in faster. Bobbing their head up & down over his cock. “Oh fuck!” He wheezed. “I’m gonna--!” He tried to warn them but the change in friction caught him too late and he came in their mouth. Luckily [Y/N] didn’t seem to mind.

They pulled off his cock, still hard and wet, and looked up at him from the floor. “You want your steak rare or medium?”

“Uh…mid rare?” Mark was embarrassed to admit that his cock jumped a little when they asked that. He liked to consider himself a modern, evolved man but god that was hot.

[Y/N] smiled and kissed his knee before standing up and heading to the kitchen. Maybe they should listen to Rex more often, Mark thought briefly. No. No. That was probably a bad idea. This time was good though.

[losers-clvb]

meeting the family soldier boy x female!reader

summary: you take ben to meet your crazy family. you're a bundle of nerves, but ben assures you everything will be fine. he just has to keep his mouth shut -- a nearly impossible task for the supe.

content: swearing, mentions of sex, ben may be slight ooc (he's just not craycray right now), mentions of ben and reader's respective pasts, fluff, surprisingly respectful ben (but he's still makes his own comments.

word count: 4.6k

note: i went a little off-the-rails with this one. i envisioned it as yapper reader from it will come back and talk too much, but there is no outright connection with her. i'm in love with what i've created here, so expect more of this family.

m.list

“Ben.” You groaned out his name, again, when you felt his hands on your hips, again.

Seems like fifth time was the charm, because he backed off.

“You’re no fuckin’ fun.” He muttered with his usual I-need-to-get-what-I-want attitude, rolling his eyes. You swore he was worse than a teenage girl with his small temper tantrums.

“We’re already running late.” You flicked your eyes to the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Which, I’ll remind you, is your fault.”

“Didn’t seem like it was my fault when I woke up with your hand around my fuckin’ cock.”

Maybe part of this, a very small and insignificant part, was your fault.

“Yeah, well, I woke up to it poking me in the back.”

Tousling your hair to try to get it to go the right way -- whatever direction that was --, you felt his eyes rake up your body.

“Not my fault my girl is so damn sexy.” He took a step forward, prompting you to spin around and stick a hand out to stop him.

Ben pouted -- actually pouted -- at your rejection.

If it were any other day, a day that didn’t include you practically biting your nails to the bone in anticipation, you would have been happy to get back into bed, maybe move to the couch or, Ben’s favorite, the bathroom sink so you could watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.

Unfortunately for you both, home was hours away, but your family was just a quick drive across town.

Lucky you!

“I told you to watch that mouth, mister.” You waggled a finger at him, narrowing your eyes to show you meant business.

“ ‘Damn’ is hardly offensive, doll.”

“I’ll show you how offensive I can be if you keep it up.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” He reached for you again. The swat to the back of his hand was instantaneous.

“Behave.” Your voice was stern, but the swallow after betrayed it. “Please.”

It wasn’t as if you were embarrassed of Ben. No, you didn’t give a shit if the old lady at the grocery store thought he was too touchy, or if your boss thought he swore too much.

But this was your family.

The people who raised you, who had to deal with your awkward phase of only wearing green for an entire year, the ones who teased you when you had your first crush. Their opinions mattered, even if you knew some of your aunts were far too judgy.

In theory, the fact that Ben was a supe worked to your advantage. America’s Son as your boyfriend, what girl wouldn’t love to bring that home to mom and dad?

Then the drinking and drugs and stubborn fucking attitude reminded you of all the reasons why they wouldn’t like him. Not to mention the fact that he was older than your grandfather.

Oh God, your grandfather. The eighty year old was going to hate Ben. He had hated your first boyfriend, who was top of his class at the nearby university. Though, perhaps the old man had a point, seeing how you had found the dickhead in bed with his professor.

“You ready, doll?”

Ben’s gravel woke you from your thoughts. He knew you had been thinking too much. He always knew when you were thinking too much. You inspected yourself one last time before nodding.

“I guess.” You sighed, swiping up your purse. You allowed him to sling an arm over your shoulders, but sent him a warning glare when his fingers fiddled with the strap of your dress.

“No need to worry, sweetheart,” he held the car door open for you, kissing the side of your head, “parents love me.”

You climbed into the car and frowned up at him.

There was no way parents loved him. He was the kind of guy they warned against, the one you brought home to spite your mother when she mentioned settling down.

“Don’t look so fuckin’ skeptical.” Ben scoffed when you just looked at him with your I don’t believe you face. Ignoring the amused smile on your face, he sauntered to the driver’s side of the car, slipping in.

“You’re telling me that you, Mr. Fuckin’ Weed and Whiskey,” you imitated his voice on “fuckin’”, he rolled his eyes, “have gotten a girl’s parents to like you.” The last part of your sentence came out with a laugh of disbelief.

“I’ve got it in me.” Ben defended, making another point pop into your head.

“You’ve never had to do this before.” You scoffed, the realization that you had no idea what to expect from this making your anxiety grow.

“Doll, I wasn’t worried about meetin’ mom when I had ‘em bent over the counter.” Ben tried to dismiss while pulling onto the road.

“Yeah, that makes me feel so much better.” You muttered, chewing on your lower lip. He did a double take, eyes flitting from the road to your nervous expression.

Clicking his tongue to get your attention, he brought his hand up to cradle your chin. He wiggled his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to release your skin to allow space for the intrusion.

“You may be my first, but I promise, you’re gonna be my last.”

The words washed over you, coating you in a peace you hadn’t known until you met Ben. He liked to do this, remind you of his love without actually saying it. You’d heard the words a total of two times in your relationship. It never felt like they were missing, not when he held doors open and spoon-fed you soup when you were sick.

His thumb retracted once he was sure you were calmed. Tangling his fingers in yours, the drive was filled with a comfortable silence, something Ben had taught you to be okay with.

Part of the reason why you were so hesitant to introduce him to your family stemmed from your childhood.

Where Ben had been raised as a nuisance, you had been cherished since day one.

Birthdays were filled with off-key singing and cheek-kisses from relatives. Talent shows were another thing in themselves, three rows of chairs taken up by cheering. Siblings grouped together to fight when school bullies dared to mess with you. Your aunts worked around the clock to knit a blanket when you went away to college.

You didn’t want him to see what he had missed out on.

“Christ, doll, you didn’t tell me you were loaded.” Ben chuckled when the looming farmhouse came into view. You made a face, knowing damn well his father had been far wealthier than your family.

Still, you couldn’t deny the fact that your parents weren’t exactly living paycheck to paycheck.

The family farm had been in business since… well, you weren’t all too aware of the specific year, just that the creaky floorboards on the porch had been placed by your great grandfather.

Summers were spent playing in the cherry trees, plucking the sweet fruit from the branches whenever you pleased. No one lived on these acres of land full-time, opting to share the space. Cousins and friends-of-the-family drifted in and out of the farmhouse throughout the months, ensuring there was always fresh lemonade in the fridge.

All of your firsts had happened in the barn off to the side of the property; first steps, first kiss, first time having sex -- though you would take that last piece of information to your grave.

“Don’t touch the good china,” you warned teasingly, a warm smile blossoming on your face when your cousin, Lina, sprinted for the car.

She was younger than you by about ten years, you taking on more of an older sister role in her life. She was a good kid, you told about everyone you came into contact with.

Ben hadn’t even shifted the car into park before you were jumping out to wrap your arms around her. She squealed your name into your hair.

“I missed you!” She pulled away, bouncing on her toes while you looked over her.

“Is that my dress?” You asked. It was something you hadn’t worn in years, but you would have recognized the light blue material anywhere.

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Yes.” She admitted sheepishly, looking to the ground.

“I knew it!”

“You left it in the upstairs closet! What else was I supposed to do?” She was on the defensive, a hand on her hip. You laughed and ruffled her hair, causing her to grumble out a complaint, but her own giggle cut through it.

“Who’s this gorgeous girl?”

Ben stepped up next to you, a basket of cookies in one hand while the other rested on the small of your back. Lina immediately blushed, and you didn’t blame her.

Anyone who was attracted to the male species would blush if Ben called them gorgeous.

“Lina-bug.” You answered, making her scrunch her nose up at the nickname.

“I’m not five.” She complained, sticking her tongue out at you despite the words.

“You’ll always be five to me.” You promised, curling into Ben out of pure instinct.

It was at that moment you noticed something dark, almost bruise-like peeking out at you from the collar of Lina’s -- your -- dress.

“What the hell is that?” You demanded, poking at the spot.

Lina paled, pulling away from your grasp. Her eyes flicked from you to Ben, blushing when she realized you both knew exactly what the hell it was.

She wasn’t a child, having turned seventeen just the month before. It was still far too young to be doing anything of this nature, anything that left a hickey on her collarbone for the entire family to see.

Ignoring the larger quantity of much darker marks littering your inner thighs, you opened your mouth to lecture her on why boys were stupid and not worth her time.

The call of your first and middle name made the breath choke in your throat.

“For your sake, I hope my ears just need a good cleanin’ and I didn’t just hear those words come from your mouth!”

Aunt Mavis was bounding her way across the yard, wearing her signature yellow sunhat. You cringed, a memory of the woman flushing soap into your mouth as a child for calling your brother a beach -- you hadn’t heard the word correctly -- flashing through your mind.

“Watch your mouth, doll.” Ben mumbled to you, teasing you with your earlier words. You grumbled out a warning to him.

Lina took the distraction as a chance to get the hell out of there.

“Look at you!” Mavis beamed, throwing her arms out like she hadn’t been ready to lock you in the potato cellar just a moment earlier. “My great-niece, the most beautiful girl in the world!”

Nevermind the fact that she called everyone the most beautiful. It was one of the things you loved about her. Sure, she may be old-fashioned in her childhood punishments, but she loved her family wholly.

You inched toward her, biting down on your tongue to keep from gasping at the subtle slide of Ben’s hand to your ass.

Mavis engulfed you in her rose-scented perfume, squeezing you tight enough to juice you like a lemon. Her eyes must have caught onto the tall frame of the man behind you, because, in an instant, she was standing toe-to-toe with him. You blinked.

C’mon, Mav, you thought, silently urging the woman to say something, anything.

On the spectrum of intensity, she was quite tame. If she didn’t like Ben, there was no hope.

“You’re trouble.” Mavis waggled a finger at him, a teasing smirk tilting onto her face.

It wasn’t a hardcore stamp of approval, but it wasn’t a dismissal, either. You took it as a win, letting out the breath you had sucked in the moment you laid eyes on your aunt.

“Only if you’re askin’ for it.” Ben responded, winking.

Oh my God.

You dropped your jaw, heart stuttering as you thought of all the ways Mavis would berate him.

Only, Mavis didn’t look offended.

She let out a hearty laugh, wrapping her arms around Ben’s torso.

“I like you.” She announced, pulling him in tight.

Ben drifted his eyes to you, smirking.

I told you so, they said.

Not my mom, yours responded.

He had won over one aunt, albeit a very influential aunt, but the real work would begin with the others.

With the intent to officially introduce him to her, you opened your mouth. A pang of sweet drifted to your nose, making your eyes flutter shut.

“Cherry rolls?” You breathed out, sighing slightly. It was an unconscious thing, something you had to thank her for Pavloving you into stopping at the first scent of the baked good.

“This one is practically a bloodhound when it comes to dessert.” Mavis tutted, jabbing her thumb at you.

“You made cherry rolls?” You were getting impatient with her teasing.

“Well, yes.” Mavis answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re your favorite.”

It had been years since you had one of Mavis’ cherry rolls. She’d come up with the recipe herself, quickly using it as a tool to get the kids’ energy out on long days. She would send you and your siblings out with baskets, tasking you all with plucking cherries from the trees. It was long work, especially when the three of you could only reach the bottom branches.

The end result?

Heaven.

You would gorge yourself on the sweet if it didn't mean being bloated for the rest of the week.

Once you moved to the city, your opportunities for eating it were, well, zero. You didn’t have the skill to make it, and every family event was missing either you or her. It broke your heart some days, not just because you missed the taste; you missed the memories it brought back.

The fact that Mavis had so obviously made them with you in mind -- though you were sure the other nieces and nephews had begged for them as well -- had tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Aurora sprung up like a weed, you’ll never believe it’s her.” Mavis babbled, grabbing your hand to guide you to the house. You, not wanting to leave behind the reason this get-together was happening, looped your pinkie around Ben’s, dragging him along.

“And Betsy is on this health-kick, but I swear on dear Rufus’ grave,” Rufus the dog, “that she’s swiping cookies from the jar.”

The worn-wood steps of the wrap-around porch creaked a complaint when you three ascended, as they had for as long as you could walk. Every year, Uncle Jerry promised he would find a way to fix them. And every year, he would be passed out on the porch swing, a beer in one hand, a hammer in the other, the steps remaining untouched.

Deep down you hoped they would always make a noise. It was the soundtrack to your dreams; creaking porches, leaves fluttering in the wind, the creek water’s constant flow.

“Oh. My. God.”

You knew the voice without even looking. Your cousin, Evie, who had nudged her way into the aunts’ circle after turning thirty.

Her words triggered the mob, pulling them from their juices and shit talking to swarm your man. They crowded around him like a flock of chickens -- clucked about just like them as well.

“Look at his hair-”

“Nice facial structure-”

“Thought he’d be taller-”

The poking at his arms and chest was when you stepped in, shooing them off. If you were less kind, or if Ben had made another smart-ass remark, you would have left him to the rolls.

He should feel honored, really, that you were choosing to save him instead of diving into the still-steaming plate of rolls on the counter.

“Back off, ladies. He’s mine.” The words were teasing, knowing that these women loved a good piece of eye candy around.

Ben made a show of throwing his arms over two of your aunts, hugging them in close.

“Aww, c’mon, doll,” you swore they all swooned at the pet name, “there’s enough of me to go around.”

“There certainly is.” A voice in the group murmured suggestively, making the others giggle.

You cut a glare over them, trying your best to be intimidating. Everyone in the room knew it didn’t work. Where your siblings were compared to wolves, growing up everyone called you a bunny. Not even a fully-grown rabbit. A bunny, you know, cute and fluffy and unable to scare even a fly away. Yeah, that was you.

Ben watched over your attempts, an amused smile and raised eyebrow making you frown. He chuckled and stepped over to you, pulling you into his arms.

“Aww…” The chorus cooed from behind him.

He bent his neck down to kiss you, lips moving against yours with a stifled passion.

“Aww!” This was practically a squeal. In your mind, you saw your Aunt Hilly pull out her phone, snapping pictures of the scene. She was a self-proclaimed photographer, though her equipment consisted of a beat down iPhone and the occasional flashlight.

“I know my girl doesn’t share,” Ben mumbled to you when he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. You smiled up at him.

“That is disgusting.”

You spun on your heel to face your little brother, Peter. Not that he was little anymore. The boy -- he’s a year younger than you -- stood taller than you, the same height he had sprung to in middle school seemingly overnight. You scowled at the stupid bunch of hair on his upper lip.

“You’re the one with a caterpillar on your face.” You poked a finger in his face. A noise of surprise came out when he moved to bite at it. There had been a time when he really did bite your finger, leading to an early morning trip to the emergency room for stitches. You still had a little scar running across the knuckle.

“Ladies love this caterpillar, Buggy.”

You frowned at the nickname. Buggy. It made you feel like a little kid again, but you also couldn’t ignore the spark of warmth that came with the familiarity of it all.

“I promise you, they do not. And don’t call me that!”

“They do-,”

“Can you two stop bickering and set the dang table?” Your mother’s voice cut your brother off before he could dig himself deeper into your irritation. It was all in good fun, you would go from yelling in each other’s faces to laughter-filled bike rides in a matter of minutes while growing up.

“Momma!” You ran to her, nearly knocking the older woman over with your hug. You ignored the new wrinkles at her eyes and the peek-through of grey hairs. She wasn’t allowed to get older.

“No makeouts in the kitchen, honey.” It wasn’t the first time she had said it, and you doubted it would be the last -- whoever Lina was spending her time with would learn soon enough.

“We weren’t making out.” You defended, sounding all too much like that teenager that your mother had to drive to college.

A smile crinkled the edges of her eyes again and she smoothed down your hair.

“I love you.” She mumbled. Her eyes flicked behind you, where Ben was being examined by Peter. It was a wordless thing, simply eyes scanning your boyfriend like he was an alien that had been beamed down.

“This is Ben.” You explained, lacing your fingers into his. With all the chaos, you hadn’t noticed his silence.

While he had made his occasional comments, he was more watching it all go down. You bouncing around the place, so happy and free. Your family teasing you with warmth and love in their words.

It was the kind of place he had dreamed of being in as a child -- not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“Mmm, right…,” Your mother hummed, looking him up and down. She knew Soldier Boy -- everyone did -- but she was more interested in knowing how Ben acted, how he treated you.

You could tell her a million times he’s perfect, so nice and she would never believe you. You were too kind -- maybe her fault for raising you to be as such -- and you would let love cloud your judgements.

When you called to say that her favorite supe from her childhood was your new boyfriend, she felt that ache come on. Vought tried their best to cover the scandal Soldier Boy would get into, but as she grew, your mother reflected on both his words and actions, finding them to be less respectful than she had once thought.

“Momma, stop starin’ him down.” You almost whined, stepping further in front of Ben to shield him from her gaze. It didn’t do much -- Ben towered over you.

To make you feel more important, he rested his hands on your shoulder, the one holding your hand never letting go.

“Benjamin-,” your mother started, but you cut her off.

“Ben.”

“You hurt her and you’ll figure out what we hide under those cherry trees.” Your mother hissed lowly, a contradiction to the sweet smile she gave the two of you after them.

You paled.

“I’m keepin’ our girl safe ‘til the end of time, ma’am.” Ben responded. You could hear him holding back a chuckle. You watched her give him a simple nod, like they had come to an agreement, and turn back to whatever task she had pulled herself from.

“She’s joking.” You laughed nervously up at him. I hope, you refrained from adding.

“She’s a spitfire like you, doll.” Ben gave you a chaste kiss. You melted into him.

The onlookers you called family were back to their own stories, chittering coming from all directions. You caught on to a few names and places, noting the tone in which all of them were said.

“Do you like them? Or do I need to redownload Tinder?” You added that last part as a way to mask your anxiety. Ben saw right through it, as he did with most things you did. There wasn’t anything you could get past him, though it worked vice versa.

Ben didn’t know about all the times you sensed his aggression before he even opened his mouth. He didn’t know about the way you would walk an extra block on the way home just to pick up his favorite biscuits because you knew he was having a bad day. He didn’t know because you liked knowing something he didn’t.

“You keep that damned thing gone.” He grumbled, pulling at your hips. You snorted out a laugh, remembering the look on his face when he had stumbled upon a dick pic -- a very unasked for dick pic -- from some guy. It was before you were officially dating, and you hadn’t actually opened the app in months, but that did nothing to stop Ben from reminding you exactly how much of you was his. Spoiler alert, it was all of you, and his actions left the two of you panting and spent.

“They love you. They must be good people.” Ben shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I love them, and I love you, I just want you all to get along.” You sputtered out, playing with the fabric of his shirt under your fingers.

You’d said I love you many times to him, yet it never stopped the bloom of warmth in his stomach.

God, you were turning him into a soft-ass man, pussywhipped beyond belief.

He’d hated it at first, trying to turn you away for who knows how many weeks in the beginning. You’d never stopped coming back, crawling into his lap, and saying the words again and again until you were whimpering them into his ear while he thrust into you. He’d learned to let you care for him, ignore the bubbling hatred for anything lovely in his life.

“I know.” He breathed, soothing you with the familiar gruff of his voice. You curled into him, letting him hold you until your brother yanked at your arm, complaining that he had to do everything and you always get away with not helping.

Dinner skimmed by without much of a problem, aside from Ben’s immediate reaction to your father’s barbecued meats.

“Holy shit.” He had moaned. You were grateful it was somewhat quiet, only catching the attention of the youngest of the cousins at the adult table. The thirteen year old looked at you with wide eyes, a bashful giggle bursting out. You had shushed her and, after some very skillful manipulation -- you had no idea where she had learned how to do it --, you were signed up to bring her dress shopping for her middle school’s fall dance.

Now, you were stuck on dish duty with your sister-in-law, something that was only bearable because you found common ground in complaining about your sister’s odd habits. You were listening to her complain about how your sibling left a full dishwasher without starting it when the boisterous laugh of Ben’s caught your ear.

“She brought home this… guy.” This was your father, who immediately got along with Ben upon meeting him. You tried not to think of things they had in common. You didn’t want to be dating your father.

“He wouldn’t look at us, he kept sticking his hand up her shirt at dinner, and, the worst part, he ate everything with soy sauce. Even Marcie’s,” Marcie was your mom, “mac and cheese.”

Oh God.

He was telling Ben about that horrid boyfriend you had when you were twenty. You, thinking he was the love of your life despite every conversation being about him, brought him home for a family dinner. It was smaller than this whole thing, but still held your immediate family, including your grandfather, who, now, was sitting out on the porch with Ben and your father.

“Sounds like a real asshole.”

You choked on your breath, sending you into a coughing fit. Of course he couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. It was the end of the night, you were so close to freedom from your fairly conservative family, yet Ben had to silence the entire house, children and all, with that fucking word.

Everyone stilled, even if they weren’t on the porch, even if they had only caught the ass part.

All eyes pointed in your grandfather’s direction. The old man didn’t take well to swearing, not with the way his parents had raised him. Your father slipped up sometimes, but never so obvious as Ben had. You cringed in preparation for the lecture on why Ben was the worst person alive and why you needed to find a new boyfriend.

You tilted your head to get a better view out of the window just as a smile wrinkled the skin around your grandfather’s eyes. He let out a gravelly laugh, eyes twinkling like Ben was simply an old friend he had lost touch with.

“The biggest.” Your grandfather agreed, raising his glass of whiskey in Ben’s direction before taking a sip.

That was the last blow to your nervous energy, turning that anxiety into mush. You let out a relieved breath. The family went back to their gossiping or bickering or whatever else they had gotten up to.

You rinsed the last dish, leaving it to dry on the towel near the sink before joining the three men on the porch. You silently settled into your favorite seat -- Ben’s lap --, cuddling into his chest while he held you.

It was a good day, all of your family finally becoming familiar with each other.

Ben had thought it before the dinner, but now he knew. This was his family as much as it was yours. He couldn’t imagine a better place to belong to, a better place to raise up a couple of kids, with you by his side.

jensen ackles taglist: @arcannaa @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery

soldier boy taglist: @sl33pylilbunny

[prlssprfctn]

In his quest to be the most annoying brother ever, Jason realizes there are a lot more vigilantes in Gotham meaning a lot more people he can steal their costume and impersonate as.

Steph and Cass "borrowed" his motorcycle for a date. He's always wanted to be Batgirl, and he's got three iterations to choose from.

Tim stealing the last of the dessert. The original Red Robin is back in town.

Duke thinks he safe during the day but then news of another Signal, who doesn't even have the same powers as him, is running around town.

Dick can only be somewhat grateful because he isn't murdering people as them, but Damian is worried he's next.

Context: Jason dresses up as Robin in Teen Titans #29, as Nightwing in Nightwing #118-122, and Batman in Battle for the Cowl + Injustice. Red Robin was given to him by alternate universe Batman in Countdown to Final Crisis #14.

giggling—

chances that your vigilante persona would be stolen by Jason Todd is not low. definitely not zero. beware.

imagine if Bruce uses this to manipulate kids, lmao. and Jason hates to accommodate his father, but his role as the annoying brother is more important than any beef with his father. if he gotta be a material for manipulation just to make everyone miserable... well, the crown fits.

Bruce: Tim—

Tim: no, stop. i am doing what i want, and you cannot control me, i—

Bruce: you know, i have a Red Robin suit made just for Jason. i think he would love to try it on.

Tim, gulping: that's low. even for you.

Bruce: but it works.

Bruce: you still need to apologise to that kid from your school. you both made a mistake. once he apologises before you, you do that too, alright?

Damian: no.

Bruce, sighing: well. alright.

Bruce: JASON

Damian, panicking: FINE, FINE. DON'T CALL TODD.

Duke, storming inside the Cave: hey, B, what the fuck did i do???

Bruce: hm?

Duke: why Jason is pretending to be Signal.

Bruce, frowning:

Bruce: ...oh

Bruce: i think i was sleepy and mixed up Dick's name with yours when i was complaining to Jason.

Duke: MAN

Dick, sitting next to him: wait WHAT

Steph, sighing: you know, i think someone needs to explain Jason that there is such a wonderful thing as a cosplay...

Cass: you want to?

Steph: uh, no. that's fucking fun. you?

Cass: no. that's really amusing.

Steph: btw woke up today after a nightmare that i was B's Robin again... think we can ask Jason to pose as Batman any time soon?

Cass: sure.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

As a trans man, the shit I've received for being myself is insane.

I've gotten from women the "all men are bad" shtick far too many times for me to bother counting. I've been told that I'm perpetuating the patriarchy by existing as a man and that I'm only transitioning to be part of the patriarchy and to, therefore, perpetuate abuse against women.

I've been told I'm abusing women just by merely existing as a man.

I am constantly fed the "testosterone makes you aggressive" line and I've been told more times than I can count that testosterone will give me cancer, I've been told I can't touch a woman ever again or else I'm no better than "all men", etc.

First off, nobody is inherently good or bad for what they are. It's the actions we as individuals take which define such things. "Good" and "bad" are highly subjective and relative in and of themselves, and I would know. I fucking studied to be an ethicist.

My whole thing is to be as altruistic as I possibly can be.

That's one of the main drives of an ethicist. To be altruistic. To discover what THE greatest good is. I don't necessarily strive to benevolent, though that would be ideal. But any ethicist knows that benevolence is a personal act which is not universally or even entirely individually achievable due to individuality and free will, as well as many nuances of the worldly conditions and happenstances we encounter as human beings.

In addition, the patriarchy does not see me as a man. I've referred to myself as "Schrodinger's Gender" before because I am not given the right to participate in patriarchy (not that I want to at all) because of the fact that I was born with female anatomy and with a female label slapped on my existence from birth. I'm not a man to patriarchal men, despite the fact that I entirely present male, act male, and live as male, and will continue to do so forever. But again, I don't want to be patriarchal. I don't want to participate in or perpetuate patriarchy. I'm all for equity as a whole.

But to TERFs in particular, I exist as an affront to womanhood because I've betrayed such an existence. I've defied the sanctity of women, for lack of a better explanation, by transitioning to male and giving up this "sacred existence" of womanhood. I made a reply some long while back explaining better when the ideology of the "divine feminine" was being tossed around how this contributed to the perpetuation of hate against trans men as well as threatened trans women because it classified them as men which they are not. They're women. Trans women are women PERIOD, and anyone disagreeing is free to block! I'd be glad if you did!

To transphobes, both men and women, I am a traitor and a wannabe. Men see me as the wannabe, attempting to participate in a "men's world" seeking the privilege cis men have, and women see me as the traitor and wannabe equally, having again betrayed women by transitioning, and trying to fit into a "men's world" and have the cis man privilege all the same by transitioning.

What's more? Testosterone never made me more aggressive if I'm honest. It doesn't inherently do this, and my personal theory of why folks associate testosterone with aggression is because cis men are so heavily perpetuated as being angry and violent that nobody stops to assess men's mental health the same way they do women's, so said aggression caused by hormonal shifts (increased testosterone) is never addressed and handled properly. Again, personal theory, I have zero evidence to back that up.

To be totally truthful, I had a lot more aggression before I went on T because I could not handle living the life I did, being forced to exist as someone I'm not.

I vividly remember sitting in my 6th grade science course FUMING in my seat for days upon days on end as I stared at the ceiling ignoring the lessons, ready to explode like a goddamn bloated lithium ion battery, all because I was so pissed that I had to live as a woman when I felt so much like a man.

Since starting testosterone, my overall aggression has become so incredibly well-managed that I took an entire turn from who I was and became a kindhearted, open, joking and loving dude that a lot of folks value for my kindness. I handle the aggression I do still have in healthy ways by working with therapists who've taught me incredible outlets such as creative writing, journaling, art, exercise, etc. Every day I wake up and hug my kitty gently and kiss him half to death, every time I come through the door it's the same thing, I'll literally find a stranger and compliment their cool shirt or outfit if it catches my eye, etc.

The whole world became beautiful and admirable to me once I transitioned because I was able to open myself to other emotions besides anger and hate. This is part of why I love photography and architecture and history of societies long past. There's a beauty in everything, there's a passion to be had in everything, and I think that's wonderful.

And overall, I'll be fucking DAMNED if I ever abuse somebody. I endured enough of that shit by the acts of both women and men, especially women if I'm honest, that I'd never dare perpetuate such a cycle myself. There's a reason I've volunteered endlessly to help animals in need find homes, there's a reason I've cooked for homeless people and given things to strangers in need, there's a reason I'm always trying to help every single individual person I come across regardless of whether I know them or not and it's because I've experienced so much cruelty from others that I want people to know there is good in this world and I will be that good until I'm fucking dead if I have to, even if I'm the last light to fade from this earth.

Plus, I don't want to touch anyone without their consent. Doesn't matter who that person is, if I'm offering a hug, high five, fistbump, kiss, anything. Unless I'm given permission from the person themselves, I'm not gonna touch anyone. That's just creepy, it's annoying, and I personally freak the fuck out if someone touches me without my consent and I'll go into fight or flight immediately if they do. So yeah, I won't touch anyone, man, woman, enby, agender, etc. unless I'm given their express permission first.

The point is that the women who tell me these terrible things about being a trans man, and trust me I've received far more transphobia at the behest of women instead of men, are the exact folks who believe all men are inherently evil, which, again, nobody is inherently good or evil. We're born neutral beings with a clean slate and free will to act as we desire. They're the very folks who think that men = bad and women = good. And I'm fucking tired of it all. I truly am.

There is nothing bad about transitioning to male, and anyone is free to see me however. I don't need their approval or disapproval to exist.

But trans men are not inherently evil, or patriarchal, or abusers. No man ever is. And all the same, no women are inherently pure, good, perfect, and holy. No woman will ever be.

I've met cis men who are the kindest dudes who'd go to the ends of the earth to help troubled children that nobody else wanted to deal with and so they find ways to constructively assist those kids. Cis dudes who stand by women in need to put shitty men in their places by calling them out and railing on them for their abuse. Cis men who've taught folks self defense and saved the lives of women and children by doing so because said knowledge got them out of terrible situations and allowed way for the law to finally put their abusers where they belong.

Likewise, I've met cis women who have pulled bribery and manipulation to get off scott-free from legal situations including abuse against men. I've met cis women who've beaten me and many others up physically to the point three folks I know went to mental hospitals multiple times as the result of one woman with myself almost being a 4th, and one is still in the hospital a decade later due to this. I've met cis women who've psychologically and physically abused their boyfriends and their children, you name it and I've seen it all.

We're flawed beings because nobody is perfect, but the whole point is to be the best good you can be. And anyone, no matter their gender, sex, sexuality, etc., is capable of this.

Gender and sex do not determine worth or moral value, nor do they determine health, emotional standing, etc.

Being a good person is an active choice to make.

Make the choice to be that good person. Don't be a transphobic piece of shit.

cis women treat trans men the way they complain about men treating them, and sometimes worse.

I could elaborate, but I'm out of spoons rn tbh.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕊𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕖♡

♡ Pairings: fratboy!jaehyun x chubby!fem!reader, fratboy!johnny x chubby!fem!reader, fratboy!nct members

♡ Genre: college au/angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: Jaehyun has made it a habit of playing with your heart. One day he loves you, the next he hates you, with nothing in between. Growing tired of his games, you find your attention drifting somewhere else. Toward his roommate and frat brother Johnny to be exact.

♡ Word Count: 10k-ish

♡ Warnings: jaehyun's a fuckboy, nct frat is full of fuckboys actually, two couples having sex in the same room (not an orgy), unprotected sex, a lil spanking, partying, kissing, drinking, casual/meaningless sex, sexual fantasies, fingering, heartbreak, pet names (baby), mucho crying, & that's all my loves

♡ A/N: I started this fic months ago but I posted a pretty unfinished version of it because I was just not in the best space so I decided to go back and give my lil fic the love that it deserves. If you've read it before, there's new sections thrown in the mix and it now has an ending. If you've never even knew it existed then I hope you enjoy reading. I'm low key considering making this a series ✨NCT frat boy cinematic universe ✨ I've also gotta thank @anyamaris for always being there to read things for me and @tofethee for being the literal reason that I remembered my lil unfinished fic existed xoxoxo

It was exciting at first. 

Weekends at the frat house partying with Jaehyun. No rules. No limitations. Everything a girl could want just waiting to be given to her if she asked. And the sex? The sex was incredible. Jaehyun could be a real asshole sometimes but he always knew how to make you cum so hard your ears were ringing. 

You knew from the start that it’d be delusional to think you were anything more to him than a pretty face and a dependable fuck. Jaehyun’s killer bone structure and gorgeous features make him what one might imagine a fairytale prince to be. All the girls on campus dream of being with him and he knows it. He loves it.

That man has an ego bigger than his cock which is unfortunately rather large. There’s so much of himself floating around in his head that there’s just no room for anyone else. Still he has his endearing moments, ones that make a girl feel special, and that’s what keeps you coming back when you begin to think better of tolerating his bullshit.

That’s why you’re here tonight, knees digging into his mattress, cheek pressed to his pillow, as he fucks you from behind. You feel it, the force of his hips snapping against your ass, his cock pulsing deep in your core. But it feels like nothing. It’s like getting a tooth pulled after the dentist has numbed you up real good. The force of the movement is there but the feeling’s gone.

A few feet away another bed creaks as a girl you’ve only met once or twice rides Jaehyun’s frat brother Johnny like one of those mechanical bulls. This isn’t abnormal. During these parties sex happens any time, anywhere, and that almost always includes being in the same room together. But you can’t help feeling like a pervert for stealing a few glances of the adjacent couple.

Jaehyun never formally introduced you to Johnny. Come to think of it, he's never formally introduced you to anyone. It was Johnny who introduced himself one night when you’d had a few too many drinks for your own good and ended up hunched over the toilet with Jaehyun nowhere to be found. 

Johnny sat with you for hours making sure you were hydrated and feeding you snacks until he was sure you were okay. You can’t for the life of you remember what was said. You can only recall that you felt comfortable and safe with him. It was enough to make you develop the tiniest crush that’s only been made worse by how sweet he’s been to you since.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, interrupting your train of thought. Almost simultaneously Johnny begins to caress the other girl’s hips. There’s so much tenderness in the way he touches her and you envy it. You wish Jaehyun could give you even a fraction of that. Just once. Pulling the girl in for a kiss, Johnny wraps his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. With her head nestled in the side of his neck, he cradles her gently as he lifts into her at a slow, rhythmic pace. 

You imagine that’s you, not being hammered into but actually feeling something, and magically the friction of Jaehyun’s cock rubbing your walls feels good. In fact, far better than it ever has before. You let out a moan, a whisper, “Aah, oh god.” Jaehyun takes notice of it, loving the way you clench too much not to hit that sweet spot again and again. He’s so distracted by the delicious jiggling of your body, his vision curtained by messy dark brown hair, that he can’t see that he isn’t the only one captivated by you.

But you notice. Johnny’s staring back at you now, his eyes glued to yours as he takes in all those pretty faces you make. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you either. He and Jaehyun were roommates long before you came into the picture. Johnny’s seen more than a few girls naked in Jaehyun’s bed but you’re the only one he’s cared to sneak a peek at. The crush you have on him is so mutual. How you never picked up on it he doesn’t know but it’s oh so obvious now.

The longing behind Johnny’s eyes is immense, luring you further into his gaze until he’s all you see. Setting your bodies on autopilot with your respective partners, you begin to quietly explore each other. Your minds indulge in every dirty thought you’ve had about each other. Thoughts you’d suppressed out of fear that you were doing something wrong. You find yourself getting wetter than you’ve been all night, walls dripping twice as much as they hug Jaehyun’s cock.

“Damn, you feel so good, baby” Jaehyun praises, planting kisses down the middle of your back. He shifts to a position he knows will have you trembling and you let out the sexiest moan. So sexy it makes Johnny’s cock twitch inside of the other girl, heat washing over both of your bodies. 

“You’re so fucking cute” Johnny whispers in a way that seems to be for the girl in his arms but is meant for you and only you. His face lights up like the 4th of July at every broken moan or arch of your back. You can tell how badly he wishes the pussy warming his cock right now were yours and you get the filthiest rush out of that.

As the pressure inside of you reaches its peak your legs begin to shake, knees threatening to give out from under you. A faint smile creeps across Johnny’s face and he mouths to you, “Cum.” And you do, as if on command. Burying your face in the pillow, you bite down on the fluffy cotton and let it fill your cheeks. It’s a gag of sorts, a desperately needed one incase you should cry out the wrong name on accident.

You know in your heart that even by frat boy standards you’ve crossed a line. You’ve stumbled into territory there’s no coming back from. But when it feels this good it’s difficult to want to turn back anyway. 

“You’re overreacting. It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You know this to be true, Jaehyun isn’t your boyfriend, but it hurts all the same to wake up to him texting another girl. Your heart sank when you rolled over this morning, still in his arms, to find him making plans to meet up with her tonight.

It was so blatant, he didn’t even attempt to hide what he was doing, and maybe that’s what hurts most of all. You thought he cared enough about you to at least pretend he wasn’t playing the absolute fuck out of you. It’s clear now that you thought wrong. 

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shout, gathering your things from the floor, the sheet from his bed still draped around your naked body. 

A fully dressed Jaehyun casually searches the dresser for his keys, the smile on his face so cocky you want to slap it off. “Right, I’m going to the gym. You know how to see yourself out right?” 

Picking up one of your heels, you channel all your strength into throwing it at his head. “I never wanna see you again!” 

Jaehyun opens the bedroom door in time to take cover behind it, the heel of your shoe leaving a dent where it would’ve hit him. “Ooh, feisty” he teases, cracking the door to throw you a wink, “Save some of that for next time, hmm?”

There’s so much you want to say but none of it will change anything. He walks away from you like it’s nothing and that’s precisely what you feel like. Nothing. Unable to hold back anymore, you burst into tears where you stand, gathering up some of the sheet to sob quietly into. You can’t recall the last time you cried like this. A chest tightening, nose dripping, lip quivering type of cry that makes you want to double over in pain. 

“Hey, come here” a voice whispers, the rasp of sleep still hanging over it.

You feel a tug on the back of the sheet and turn to see Johnny sitting up in bed, one hand rubbing his barely open eyes while the other clings to the sheet around you.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up” you apologize, too embarrassed to make eye contact, “I’ll just get my things and—”

“No, come here” he insists, pulling you closer to his bed, “Come lay with me.”

Something in you says to resist it—you shouldn’t be crawling into bed with Jaehyun’s roommate—but Johnny’s already taking you by the hand, guiding you down into the empty spot beside him. No words are spoken as he pulls the soft blanket over the two of you, tucking it at your side to keep you warm.

His head hits the pillow, heavy lids closing, as he pulls you into his chest. There’s tension at first, on your part only. A hesitance to allow yourself to fully relax into the gentle embrace you’ve been desperately pining for. But the longer he holds you, his palm massaging your lower back in soothing figure eights, the more you soften.

“You don’t deserve this, you know?” he finally says when your tears have subsided and your breathing has evened out enough for you to speak. There’s exhaustion in those words as he says them, giving the impression that this is something he’s wanted to ask you for a long time. 

“Is this gonna be a lecture?” you sniffle, nervously patting the tears from the dips between his muscles, “Because I really don’t need a lecture right now.” 

Johnny laughs, letting out a yawn, “Nah, it’s too early for a lecture. My brain’s not heated up yet.” 

“Not heated up yet? What does that even mean?” you giggle, leaning to look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion. Johnny opens his eyes, staring back at you with those starry brown orbs, and you’re transported back to the way you felt last night. If you thought his gaze made you want to melt from afar, it’s reducing you to volcanic ash at this distance. 

“Well, it’s like, when you first wake up your brain’s cold. Your thoughts are all jumbled so you’ve gotta wait a little, let it heat up” Johnny explains, the tips of his sable hair kissing your face.  

“You’re, uh…” you stutter, searching for the perfect word, “Really…interesting? Yeah, you’re interesting, Johnny Suh.” 

The most genuine smile takes over that handsome face as he lets out a joyful squeak, sincerely flattered by your comment. “Yeah? Well, so are you. You’re really interesting and cool and cute. I did mean that last night. You are cute.”

You tuck your head, trying to hide a smile of your own, but Johnny caresses your cheek, bringing you right back. “Why do you let him treat you like that?” he asks without the slightest bit of judgment. Your smile fades as you contemplate a question you aren’t even sure you know the answer to. You file through 1001 possibilities before coming to the raw, painful truth. 

“I was trying to prove something, I guess” you confess, feeling an odd sense of relief at admitting this to him and yourself. “I thought if I could attain the unattainable it’d be proof that I was special.”

Johnny scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Jaehyun? Unattainable? I could fuck him if I complemented him enough.” 

“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better” you huff, beginning to regret that moment of vulnerability. 

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that he isn’t one of those people that can appreciate when they have something special.” 

You shrug in defeat, letting your fears fall freely from your lips, “Yeah, I don’t know if any guy can at this point.”

“So you think we’re all the same?” he asks, tilting your head to let your lips brush his. His lips are like static, making the little hairs on your arm stand on end. Your heart’s running a marathon and the butterflies in your stomach are throwing fits. This can’t be happening. Only it is.

You swallow hard, inhaling the scent of the fresh morning air meddled with his cologne. “Well, I…I mean no one’s really shown me any different.” 

Johnny presses his lips to yours, lingering there for a moment to savor the warmth of your kiss. “Can you give it some time?” he whispers, fingers charting a course across the curve of your hip to take your hand into his. 

“It or you, Johnny?” you ask, silently begging him not to say a thing if it’s not something he means.

“Hmm,” he hums, bringing your hand up to gently kiss your inner wrist, your palm, your fingertips, “Me.”

Your phone vibrates in your hand, Jaehyun’s name flashing on the screen. 

You’d think it was a bomb by how delicately you’re holding it, careful not to breathe too hard out of fear that it’ll somehow answer the call. It’s the 5th time he’s called today, probably the 9th in the last 24 hours, but you can’t bring yourself to pick up the call. There’s nothing he can say that the dozens of unanswered text messages he’s sent in the last week haven’t already.

He didn’t mean to talk to you that way. The girl he was texting meant nothing to him. He hadn’t even gone to see her that night. He only cares about you. Only wants you. If you just give him the chance he’ll prove it to you. Just pick up the phone. Just let him see you. 

“Block him” your best friend AJ whispers, sneaking up behind you. 

“Fuck!” you scream, nearly jumping out of your skin. You thought that the walk in fridge at work was the perfect place to hide but you only managed a couple of seconds without being caught.

AJ giggles, hugging you from behind, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, girl. I just saw you sneaking off and you know I had to check on you. I mean it though, you really should block him. He’s never gonna change.”

You let out a long, heavy sigh knowing there’s no way to deny the truth. In the past you’ve made excuses for him. You’ve cried in her arms too many times to count. You can’t justify it anymore. Not to her and not to yourself.

You shove your phone down into the pocket of your apron, your mind set on blocking him as soon as your shift’s over. “You’re right. He can be some other girl’s problem. I’m over it.” 

“See, that’s what I like to hear. Now that he’s out of the way, you ready to scope out some new cuties?”

You’re too familiar with the mischievous look on her face. You’ve seen it a million times before and it means trouble every time. “AJ, what are you talking about?”

“Well, these guys just came in looking for you. They asked to be seated in your section and they’re hot, like…” AJ fans herself dramatically, “Hot.”

You roll your eyes, pretending not to be interested, but you both know that you’re faking it. “Which table?”

“That’s my girl!” she cheers, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you out into the chaos of the busy kitchen. 

15 seconds. That’s how long you’d known peace. It seems short but that’s an eternity during dinner rush. Sometimes it gets so hectic here that you hardly have time to catch your breath and it’s shaping up to be one of those nights. 

“Table 7, off you go” AJ hums, ushering you out into the main dining area. 

You turn back to ask her questions. Did they give a name? Did they say what they wanted? Any defining details other than “hot”? But one of her tables is waving her down and she’s already scurrying off to help them. It’s up to you to solve the mystery now and there’s only one way to find out.

Smoothing out your clothes and straightening up your hair, you make your way to table 7 as casually as you can, trying not to seem too eager to greet the patrons that await you. 

“I don’t care about food. I need alcohol” one of the guys whines, flipping through the menu in search of the drink section.

“Who fixes a hangover with more alcohol?” his friend laughs, raking his fingers through his long brown hair. 

“You can fix a beer hangover with wine. I’m pretty sure.”

“I feel like that’s not true” you say as you approach the table, “Actually, no, that’s definitely not true.” 

All conversation halts at the sight of you. AJ was right. They are hot, every single last one of them, but especially the one seated closest to you, his eyes beaming as he stares up at you. 

“Hey” Johnny sighs, his voice light and floaty. 

You feel your cheeks warm, an unexpected shyness overtaking you, “Hi Johnny.”

“Hi Johnny” the guy next to him teases, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

Johnny elbows him in the side, never taking his eyes off of you, “Ignore him. He was dropped on his head as a kid. That’s Jungwoo” He points to the two across from him, “That’s Doyoung. Yuta.”

“Nice to meet you” Doyoung smiles, reaching out to shake your hand, “We’ve heard a lot about you. Johnny won’t shut up about you actually. You know—”

Yuta throws an arm across Doyoung’s shoulder, covering Doyoung's mouth with one hand, “Can we get a couple of waters to start?”

“Uh, sure, no problem. I’ll be right back” you nod, pretending that Doyoung’s little slip up hasn’t left you feeling all fuzzy inside. Johnny talks about you to his friends? Something like that hasn’t happened in so long that you almost forgot what it feels like. 

“Wait, one more thing” Johnny says, jumping up to block your way before you can leave. 

You giggle at the urgency in his movement. You’d think you were going to war in another country instead of just a few feet away to grab some water. “Sure, what’s up?” 

Noticing that he might’ve seemed a bit too excited, Johnny tries to calm down but his cool image is already shattered. He can’t go back. “I just wanted to ask what time you got off work tonight.”

You glance over at the clock hanging from the wall near the entrance, “Hmm, like, another two hours.”

Johnny takes your hand, nervously fidgeting with the delicate silver ring on your finger. “There’s somewhere I wanna take you tonight. Would it be okay if maybe I hung around and waited for you?”

“You’re gonna sit here for two hours and wait for me?”

“Well, yeah, we still have to order our food and I’ll just eat really, really, really, slow,” he says, leaning into you until your lips just barely brush. “Okay?”

You’re at work. He can’t be this close to you. It’s unprofessional. Yet you don’t move an inch out of his way. You can hear your heart beating in your ears, your body so flush with heat that you’re on the verge of begging someone to crack a window in here.

“Yeah, okay” you whisper and he presses his lips to yours, unable to resist his intrusive thoughts. Not even this once.

The kiss is quick. Quick enough that not everyone could see—quick enough not to get you in trouble on the clock—but the tingle that it leaves behind lasts the rest of your shift. It’s enough to make you forget all those missed calls and text messages. You’re floating on a cloud, your head so lost in stolen glances and passing contact with Johnny that your shift’s over before you know it and he’s taking you by the hand, leading you across the street to where his car awaits.

“Have fun you two!” Doyoung calls back as the others split in their own direction. 

“And Johnny don’t say anything stupid!” Jungwoo throws in. 

“Yeah, don’t do that thing you do where you like a girl and your palms get all sweaty” Yuta teases. 

Johnny hurries you into the car before his friends can say anything else but you can still hear them taunting him, even as their voices fade down the street. Hopping into the car Johnny lays his head on the steering wheel, letting out a huff of frustration. “I’m going to kill them. Every single last one of them.”

You reach over to rub his knee, putting on your sexiest voice, “I happen to think sweaty palms are very sexy.” 

Johnny turns to look at you, a moment of silence passing before he rewards you with the exact laughter you wanted to shake out of him. “Sexy, huh?” 

“Yes, actually” you swear, batting your eyelashes, “I love a man with good…perspiration.” 

“So you’re cute and you’re funny” he muses, “Guess I’m doomed.”

“Doomed? To what exactly?”

Johnny shrugs, looking you up and down, giving himself time to take you in. He’s always thought you were gorgeous. Any time you came to the frat house all dolled up he couldn’t take his eyes off of you and even now, dressed in your work clothes with not a drop of makeup on, he can’t think of anything more beautiful. Is it even possible? 

Snapping out of it, he clears his throat and sits up straight. “It’s nothing. Forget it. You ready to go?” 

Curious but not wanting to press the issue you just snap on your seatbelt and nod, “Mmhmm.”

You’re even cute when you’re taking safety precautions. It’s sickening. He wants to lean over and kiss you again, maybe for a little longer this time, but he knows if he does he’ll never leave this spot so instead he starts the car, fighting to keep his mind on track. Truly a task when he’s next to you. 

At first the ride’s quiet. Not awkward. Just quiet. Neither of you knows what to do—how to act. You’ve exchanged a few texts here and there since that morning you crawled into his bed. You’d even seen each other in passing on campus, shared a few brief hugs, but you hadn’t been alone together since. Are you really doing this? What is it that you’re doing anyway? It’s a question that you both want to ask but somehow it seems too soon. 

“Only serial killers drive in silence. I need music” you blurt out and Johnny laughs off your comment, happy to finally meet someone as random as he is. 

Digging in his pocket, he pulls out his phone and hands it to you. “Here, it’s connected to the car. Play whatever you want.”

Cradling his phone in your palms like a newborn baby, you stare at him in shock as his lock screen awaits a code. 

“020995” he says, waiting for you to tap in the digits. When you don’t he repeats it, slower this time, “02…09…95.”

“Huh?”

“The password. To my phone.”

The information hits you on a delay, only adding to your shock. “You’re giving me the password to your phone?”

“Yeah, how else will you use it?” he asks, unsure what exactly has you so confused. 

Not wanting to make the moment any more awkward than it already is, you tap the numbers into his phone, navigating his apps until you find the music. The anxiety is nauseating. The last time you looked at a guy’s phone you ended up crying and you never want to feel that way again. But Johnny seems so calm, so totally unbothered by you having his phone, that your worries begin to subside. After all you’ve been through it’s easy to think that every guy has something to hide but maybe, just maybe, this one doesn’t. 

Pushing your insecurities to the back of your mind, you settle into your new job as the resident DJ and find yourself having fun—actual fun—for the first time in a long time. It’s enough being in the car with him, jamming out to your favorite songs, sharing stories about concerts you’ve been to, that you aren’t even concerned about the destination. It isn’t until you’re pulling into a spot off the side of a pitch black road that you begin to wonder where exactly he’s taking you. 

Johnny hops out of the car first, circling around to the trunk for something. You crack your door open, just enough to get a peek at him. “I know I joked about that whole serial killer thing but—”

“Turn the flashlight on” he instructs, ignoring your second implication of him as a killer. 

Flipping on his phone’s flashlight, you shine it in his direction to find him standing there with a blanket. He slams the trunk closed and approaches you, leaning against the back door, “I definitely brought you out here to kill you. Death by a really cozy blanket.”

You slip out of the car, hesitantly scanning your surroundings, “Then what are we out here for, hmm?” 

“Just hold the flashlight straight and trust me for a few minutes” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you through what slowly reveals itself to be a park. 

There’s trees and benches. A few trails leading in each direction. Wooden signs are painted marking which way to go for camping and where to find the small creek you can hear rushing nearby. You’re grateful to have worn sneakers to work. A pair of heels would've never survived the stone pathway you have to traverse to make it deeper into the woods and closer to wherever he’s taking you.

You remain silent for a few minutes, doing your best to trust the process, and just as you’re about to question this plan of his the hard stone beneath your shoes turns soft and grassy. The trees break open into a small clearing where the moon beams down, brightly illuminating the world below. You gaze up at the sky in awe. You’ve never seen the stars this vividly before. They seem so close that you could touch them. 

“It’s so beautiful” you gasp, nearly tripping over the blanket as Johnny begins to lay it out behind you. 

“See, told you I wasn’t trying to kill you” he teases, kissing you on the forehead, “I come out here sometimes when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I figured you might be pretty overwhelmed too lately so I thought it might be nice for you.”

Johnny takes a seat on the blanket and you slip down beside him, your eyes still fixed on the stars. “I didn’t know you were the stargazing type.”

“Surprised?” he asks, gently stroking your cheek.

Without a second thought, you lean into his touch, letting yourself enjoy the sensation of his skin against yours. And just like that you can’t be bothered with the stars anymore. He’s all you can see. All you can feel. “I’m surprised by a lot of things when it comes to you.” 

“Like what?”

You know that you should be careful with your words but you can’t control what comes out of your mouth next. “Like why you’re doing all of this. Why you even care about me?”

Johnny sits with your question, giving it as long as it needs to truly sink in. “Remember that night you came over and got sick?”

You cringe at the thought of it, “Oh god. Unfortunately, yes. Tell me that has nothing to do with this.”

“You weren’t as bad as you think” he swears, “I’ve seen much worse, trust me. I know you might not remember a lot about that night but you were there for me too. I wasn’t in the best headspace then and I didn’t really wanna go to any of the guys about it then I found you and it was, like, comforting to be with you. Once you stopped throwing up.” 

“Johnny, please” you whine, burying your face in your hands out of embarrassment. 

Johnny pulls your hands away, trying to hide his laughter, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Messing with you is fun. But seriously, it felt nice being with you and every time I saw you after that I just kept finding things that I liked about you until I couldn’t avoid the fact that I had to have you even if you were his.”

“I was never his. He never owned me” you make it a point to say, “You could’ve had me whenever you wanted me. You only had to say it.”

Tucking his arms around your waist, he brings you onto his lap, your legs resting on either side of him. His hands find their way to your hips, smoothing over your pleated skirt to feel the softness of your bare thighs. Your breath catches at the pad of his thumb gliding over your inner thigh, inching your skirt up.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, letting yourself be drawn into eyes that reflect the moonlight so gorgeously you might as well be staring right at it. “Johnny…” you gasp, feeling his cock harden between your legs.

The friction between his pants and the moistening silk of your panties has you on the verge of moaning. Thumbing your clit through the fabric, he coaxes that moan right out of you just in time for this tongue to invade the space between your lips. Your fingers find his hair, tangling themselves within it as you raise your hips, giving him all the space he needs to tuck your panties aside.

You were so wet the other night, wet enough that he could hear it, but feeling it himself is beyond his wildest dreams. You’re so slick, so soft, like the petals of a flower after fresh rain. Droplets of your arousal coat his fingertips as he pets your entrance, sinking his fingers into you deeper and deeper with every stroke. Your moans dance off of your tongue and right onto his as you rock back and forth in his lap, mindlessly riding his fingers. 

“Can I keep you?” he whispers, curling his fingers into your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly, “I’ve wanted you for so long and I…I need you to be all mine.” He stares you dead in the eyes, meaning every word that he says. He wants you and he won’t share you. Not with Jaehyun. Not with anyone. 

“You can keep me. I’m yours. I’m—aah” you whimper, your pleasure only heightened by his need, “All yours.”

What are you even saying? What are you doing? Falling onto your back. That’s what. Lying on this blanket with your legs spread and your back arched, watching the night sky twinkle above you as Johnny’s fingers drive into you while you pledge your pussy juice drenched allegiance to him. 

Somewhere in the car, buried in your purse, your phone’s vibrating again. Another missed call from Jaehyun. But you’re too far out of his reach in more ways than one. Further than he could ever imagine. 

You fight. You cry. You get back together again. 

Fight. Cry. Get back together again. That’s the way things have always been between you and Jaehyun. He knows it isn’t healthy but, in his own twisted way, it’s the only way he can trust that you care about him. There’s no justification for it, nothing you did to him in the past that warrants such cruel and unusual punishment.

Jaehyun’s addicted to the rush of getting back together. The desperate, passionate moment when your bodies collide after a week or so apart. Both of you too filled with need to care about what tore you apart in the first place. He can only get that with you, he only wants it with you.

But this time he took it too far, did a bit too much in his attempt to make you jealous, and now you won’t even speak to him. When he knocks on your door your roommate lies and says you aren’t there, refusing to open it more than a crack to shoot him down. Every call goes to voicemail, every text message left undelivered, and on the rare occasion that you run into each other you treat him like a ghost. 

Seated on the sectional couch at the heart of his living room, Jaehyun stares into the void of faceless partiers swarming the frat house. The beer cradled between his fingers has the top popped off but he’s barely been touched. The chattering of his frat brothers scattered across the couch might as well be miles away. 

A girl in a black mini skirt sneaks up behind him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, “You look sad, baby. Need me to cheer you up?” She licks her lips, planting soft, wet kisses down his neck the way she did a few nights ago when he was in need of some rebound sex that more than failed to satisfy him. 

Jaehyun pats her on the arm, shrugging her off, “Thanks but, uh, no thanks.” 

“Wait, what?” she frowns, arms folded across her chest, “You’re joking right?” 

Scooting closer to Jaehyun, his frat brother Taeyong places a sympathetic hand on hers. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t think he wants to play with you anymore." 

At the other end of the couch their brother Yuta raises his beer, winking at the girl, “But I will. I volunteer!” 

“Fuck you, Jaehyun and your asshole friends!” the girl huffs, storming off into the crowd. 

“Wait! Are you sure?” Yuta calls out after her, “Don’t you know what they say about Japanese guys with long hair? We’re perverts. The best kind!”

“Did she say fuck her in the asshole?” Doyoung asks, his ears turning red from one too many shots. 

“Who’s getting fucked in the asshole?” Mark asks, flopping down beside Yuta on the couch. He’s younger than the other guys, probably shouldn’t be here, but they all have a soft spot for him, especially Yuta, so he gets to stick around. 

Yuta pouts, laying his head on Mark’s shoulder, “No one, sadly.” 

“Can you guys not be pigs for two seconds? Grow up” Jaehyun snaps, chugging down his beer so fast it makes him dizzy. 

“Ooh, someone’s cranky tonight” Taeyong teases, “What’s got you so uptight? You’re usually the worst of us.” 

Doyoung pours himself another shot, taking a quick, adorable sip of it. “She blocked him. On everything. Won’t even talk to him. So sad.” 

Jaehyun’s tempted to throw the empty bottle at Doyoung’s head and, unlike when you threw your shoe at him, there’s no way he could miss the shot. But Mark swoops in, wedging himself between Jaehyun and Taeyong to provide some comfort. “Aww, man, your girl broke your heart? I’m sorry. Hugs?” 

As Mark embraces Jaehyun, Yuta scoffs at the display. “His girl?” Yuta laughs, “Hardly. He fucked her. By that standard mini skirt was his girl too.” 

“Oh and her!” Doyoung adds, pointing to the curly haired girl in the corner.

The others pile on, making a game out of spotting girls Jaehyun’s slept with. Jaehyun snatches free of Mark’s hug, refusing to sit through anymore of this. He’s ready to storm off himself but doubles back to clarify something. “She’s not like them, alright? So respect her or I’ll hit you so hard every meal you have until next semester will need to be through a straw.” 

Taeyong throws his hands up, leading the others in easing up on Jaehyun. “No problem, bro. We were just fucking with you. We’ll respect her—or whatever” 

“Uh, excuse me, am I interrupting something?” you ask, clearing your throat. The sound of your voice makes Jaehyun’s heart skip a beat and when he turns around to find that pretty face staring back at him, his heart all but stops. 

“N…no, we were just, wh…what are you doing here?” he stutters, a glimmer of emotion showing through for the first time in a long time. “I thought you hated me.”

You knew this day would come. It’s going on 3 weeks of evading any form of interaction with him but you knew that one day your luck would run out. You’d have to experience this moment. This conversation. The feelings you had for Jaehyun haven’t subsided easily. It stung to accept that he could never feel for you the way you wished he did but it was easier to let go when you had someone soft and loving to land on. 

Johnny hasn’t been your rebound, he’s been the furthest thing from it. You adore being with him. He does all the things you ever wanted a guy to do. He’s silly in ways you don’t always get but that’s just a part of his charm. He’s thoughtful and patient, never making you question if he has eyes for any girl other than you. You don’t hate Jaehyun. You don’t even have the time to when Johnny exists. 

“Hate you? No but have you—” you begin to whisper, burning under the spotlight of his frat brothers’ gaze. The ones that know already know but it’s clear they haven’t dared to speak up either. “Have you talked to Johnny?” 

Jaehyun’s a statue, rendered immobile by his confusion, “Talked to Johnny about what?”

“Baby!” Johnny cheers, popping out of the crowd to sweep you up into his arms, “What are you doing here? I told you I’d come get you.” 

“I know but my roommate was headed over here so I thought I’d save you a trip.” You try to clue him in that something’s happening but he’s showering you in so many kisses that you ultimately give into it, giggling like the happiest girl in the world. 

“Johnny, people are watching” you finally manage as your feet meet the ground again, Johnny’s arms secure around your waist. 

“Baby, I don’t care about people—” Johnny stops himself short, noticing precisely which people you happen to be referring to. 

The sadness on Jaehyun’s face tells you that he and Johnny haven’t talked about this. Not once. You catch yourself feeling bad for him, knowing the pain he feels oh too well. It’s the same pain that he dished out to you without remorse or reason and the thought of that turns your empathy into satisfaction. Revenge, bittersweet but successfully acquired all the same. 

“Jae, I’m sorry, really” Johnny apologizes, approaching Jaehyun to make peace but peace isn’t of interest and apologies aren’t enough. 

Jaehyun barrels past Johnny, nearly knocking him down in the process, “Fuck it, you can keep her. Have fun.” 

“Wait! I’m really—” Johnny calls after him, torn between chasing down his friend and staying here with you. 

Patting him on the shoulder, you give him a tender peck on the lips, encouraging him to go ahead. “Johnny, I’ll be fine. Just do what you need to do.”

“Are you sure?” If you ask him to stay he will, no questions asked, no second guessing. If chasing after Jaehyun means hurting you he’d never do it in a million years. 

You crack a gentle, reassuring smile, “I’m sure. Now get out of here.” You playfully push him on his way and he kisses you on the back of the hand before letting go, rushing off after his friend. 

Jaehyun deserves a bit of pain for all he’s done to you but in both of their absences it sets in that maybe he isn’t the only one being hurt in all of this. Imagining how hurt Johnny would be at losing a friend, you feel the sudden weight of guilt the likes of none you’ve ever had to bear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Especially not here in front of everyone.

“Aaah, a good old fashioned love triangle. The tragedy! The heartbreak!” Mark says, head thrown back dramatically.

Taeyong tosses a pillow at Mark, shushing the younger man. Mark catches it, cuddling it in his arms like a plushie. “What? I like love stories. I wonder, how’s it gonna end?”

Yuta grins at you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “Yeah, cutie, you’re the one they're gonna kill each other over. You tell us, how’s it gonna end?” 

Wiping your increasingly sweaty palms on your dress, you feel the spotlight on you growing brighter and you can’t stomach it. You take off out into the night, navigating the minefield of passed out partiers to get across the front lawn. Yuta’s words echo in your mind, “You tell us, how’s it gonna end?” Like you have all the power. Like you’re the only one responsible for any of this. How’s it gonna end? You have no clue but you wish that the ending, however bad or good, would come already.

It’s not fair. 

You should be at a movie theater right now cuddled up beside Johnny eating overpriced snacks. Instead you’re standing in the frozen section of a fluorescent lit gas station contemplating which freezer burnt pint of ice cream you’ll drown your sorrows in tonight. The adult thing to do would be to go back to the party and face this problem straight on. Or you could demolish the snacks piled into your arms and drown your issues.

“The second one, for sure” you decide, fumbling with the freezer door handle to retrieve your ice cream of choice. 

“Is there another party going on that I don’t know about?” Jaehyun asks, watching you from the end of the aisle. You groan, abandoning your ice cream mission to get as far away from him as possible. He steps in front of you, blocking your path, “I’m not stalking you. I promise. I just needed some air and I—anyway, let me help you.”

Jaehyun skips over to the ice cream, popping the freezer door open. He pokes out his lip, eyebrows furrowed in as he scans the options. “There we go” he grins, plucking your favorite ice cream from the shelf on the first try. You’ve never explicitly told him which one it was and you try not to be impressed by the fact that he cared to take note of it.

“Come on, I’ll pay for it” he insists, leading the way to the register. It takes him a few steps to realize that you haven’t followed and he spins around on his heels to find you staring at him in disgust. “What I meant to say was, may I pay for your things, my queen?” A group of passing girls giggle as he bows to you with all the elegance of a man who’s in the presence of royalty. 

“Cut it out. You’re embarrassing me” you whine and he responds with a twirl that brings him closer to you, the already defrosting ice cream jumping from hand to hand. 

“Aah but I just want the queen to be happy and I do hear this is her favorite.”

“Oh, I’m a queen now? And what does that make you? My royal court jester?” 

Jaehyun stares into your eyes, his expression turning severe, “If that’s what you want me to be.”

“It’s a little too late to be what I wanted you to be, isn’t it?” you shoot back, your voice trembling more than you’d like it to. 

“I don’t know, is it?” He asks you the question like his whole life depends on your answer.

He’s always been the one who had the upper hand, standing over you, his whimpering prey, with a knife to your throat that could end you at any time. It’s strange to be on the other end of it now but, unlike him, you’re prone to taking mercy on poor, wounded little animals. While you may not have it in you to strike the killing blow, you’re content to let him lie here and bleed out. 

“You know what? Suddenly I've lost my appetite” you say, emptying your snacks into his arms, “I’m sure there’s enough girls in your phone to share that with.”

This isn’t some melodramatic exit where you walk away expecting him to follow you. Running into him in the first place wasn’t the plan. Yet you’re barely out of the gas station parking lot when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand on end and you just know he’s trailing behind you.

“Will you at least let me take you home? You shouldn’t be walking alone. There could be psychopaths out here!”

You pick up speed repeating to yourself, “Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t—”

“I love you!” Jaehyun shouts for the entire block to hear. It’s his voice but those can’t be his words. Fueled by rage, you ignore your own advice and turn to confront him. 

“Take it back!” you demand, refusing to accept his profession of love. Of all the things he’s ever done to manipulate you this has to be the lowest he’s gone. 

“No, if I mean it then why should I?” 

“Because you’re lying! You’re a liar! It’s what you do. It’s what you always do!” you scream, the anger you’ve held in for months overflowing. 

“Okay, I am a liar. A liar and a piece of shit who couldn’t commit to you cause I was too afraid of getting hurt so I hurt you first” he admits, “And that’s not for you to fix. Maybe I need fucking therapy, I don’t know, but I do love you.”

“That’s not enough!”

Jaehyun sees you motion to leave again and grabs your wrists, locking them at your sides. “Then tell me what’s enough and I’ll do it. It can’t be too late for us. I’m falling apart without you.”

Tears run hot down your cheeks and he cradles your face, kissing them away. It feels nicer than you want it to, more calming than repulsive. You were out, done with him forever, and look at you now, standing under the streetlights melting into the palms of his hands. But this time is different from the others and far more dangerous because for once the liar isn’t lying. He loves you and it means it. Why the fuck does he have to mean it? 

“I know this is a lot right now and you don’t have to decide. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me drive you home. Let me take care of you. Please?”

A tragic side effect of being around Jaehyun is the way that you magically find yourself right where he wants you. You know better than to accept his offer. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this man, let alone in his car, but you blink and you’re in the passenger’s seat, his hand on your thigh as he navigates the familiar streets leading back to your dorm.

Snapping back to your senses, you push his hand away, refusing to so much as look at him as you stare out of the window losing yourself in the glow of the street lights. Even when he pulls up to your dorm, you storm off to your room without a word, praying that he’ll just go away.

If you don’t talk to him he can’t say things that mess with your head. If you don’t look at him he can’t pull you in with those eyes…with that gorgeous fucking face. Navigating the halls of your building, you tell yourself not to look back. Just make it to your room and this night will all be over. You’ll be on the other side of that door and you can pretend that this never happened. 

You breathe a sigh of relief when you finally push the door open, flinging yourself into the safety of your room only for your moment of peace to be shattered in an instant by the sound of footsteps following closely behind you.

“I didn’t say you could come in” you snap, stopping Jaehyun before he gets ahead of himself. 

“I just wanted to say hi to my son. I haven’t seen him in weeks” he pouts, hands clasped together, begging for mercy. “Have a heart.”

“Whatever” you groan, too exhausted to argue any more than you already have, “You’ve got one minute then you need to leave.”

Jaehyun gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, slipping past you to get inside. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Slamming the door behind him, you kick your shoes off, counting down the seconds in your head. When you said a minute you meant it. 60 seconds exactly. Paying you no mind, Jaehyun heads straight for the fish tank in the corner of the room where a single, golden fish swims around a tank decorated with coral reefs and shiny glowing pebbles.

He taps at the glass, making kissy faces at the fish inside. “Sup, Mister Bubbles? Long time no see. I missed you.”

It’s sickening and unfortunately adorable how attached Jaehyun is to that little fish. He won him for you at a carnival when you first started dating. You chose to name him Bubbles because of those tiny bubbles he kept blowing on the ride home. Jaehyun had insisted upon adding the “Mister” to make it more official and you let him have his way. 

Jaehyun picks up the container of fish food tucked beside the tank. A special exotic blend he purchased at some upscale pet store. “You got the child support I sent, I see.”

You giggle despite yourself, throwing in a fake cough to cover it up, but it’s too late for you.

“I think I just made your mom smile” he whispers to Mister Bubbles. 

“No, I just had something in my throat” you snap, “Anyway, your minute’s up. Get out.” 

“Strict woman” he sighs, sparing one last incredibly dramatic glance at his legless son. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, yeah?” Mister Bubbles blows a few bubbles which Jaehyun takes as a ‘yes’ so he turns to you next. “And you’ll let me know if you need anything too?”

Joining him by the fish tank, you snatch the food from him, returning it to its rightful place. “We’re good.”

He watches you for a moment, picking apart your expression, your body language. All the things he knows how to read so well when it comes to you. “If you aren’t good, promise you’ll tell me? If he isn’t good to you—”

He reaches out to bring you closer and much to your frustration you don’t pull away. You don’t even flinch. Instead you’re overcome by the same feeling that left you speechless in the parking lot. Your body seems to vibrate where he touches it, longing for more. It…misses him? You miss him?

“Please don’t do this to me” you beg, close enough now that every breath makes your chests meet. “You can just let it go. You can just leave.”

You say that like it’s so easy. Jaehyun’s never been able to do that when it comes to you. That’s what always scared him so much about his feelings for you. No girl has ever had a hold on him this way. He could throw anyone away, replace them like it was nothing, but not you. You’ve always been irreplaceable and the dumbest thing he’s ever done is let you go. He won’t make that mistake again.

 “You’ve always had the cutest cheeks, you know that?” Jaehyun sighs, cupping your cheeks. He leans in closer to get a better look, his gaze dancing across your features, “Your nose too and your lips.” 

His thumb traces the bow of your upper lip and you shiver at the contact. The nearer his lips are to yours, the faster your pulse races, your own body betraying you when you need it most. The chance to stop him passes, the quickest millisecond of your life, and he’s kissing you like it’s the last time he ever will. And maybe it is. Maybe he’ll never get to taste the sweetness of your lips again and all he’ll have left of you is what lingers behind but, if that’s really what this is, he can’t let this go to waste.

When he finally breaks from the kiss you’re left breathless, trying to make sense of the mess of emotions swarming your heart.

“All I ever wanted was for someone to love me” you say, your voice ripe with pain.

Jaehyun can see the damage he’s done to you, it’s written all over your face, and it breaks him in ways he never knew it could. “And you deserve to be loved. I hate myself for ever making you believe that you didn’t but if you give me the chance to fix this I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know how special you are.”

You must admit he has a talent for it. He knows how to string words together and make them sound so pretty a girl could forgive all the tears, all the shouting matches, all the numbers in his phone. But you aren’t so sure you’re that girl anymore. 

“Baby! Are you there?” Johnny shouts, knocking at your door.

Your blood runs cold at the reality of your situation. Johnny’s out there probably worried sick over you having disappeared from the party and here you are in the arms of the man you were supposed to leave behind. 

“I can answer it” Jaehyun offers, Johnny’s sudden appearance clearly triggering something within him. He takes a step back, heading for the door, but you jump in front of him, pushing him back with enough force to nearly knock him over. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

In your anger you speak louder than you should’ve, throwing your hands over your mouth at the realization. Any movement out in the hall pauses and you stand still, wishing to gain the power of invisibility just this once. Slowly the knob turns, the door inching open to shine the light of the hall over the shadows of your room. You don’t want to turn around but you have to. Johnny’s standing there, you can feel it, and you can’t just leave him like that. He wouldn’t do it to you. 

Facing him is like a knife through your stomach. You want to drop to your knees and cry. You’ve only ever seen Johnny laugh and smile. All he’s ever done when he glanced in your direction was bubble with joy but “joy” is nowhere near what he watches you with now.

“Johnny…” You reach out to touch him but he pulls back. He’s not in the mood to be touched by you right now and it wouldn’t be fair to blame him. 

“I was coming to check on you to see if you were okay but…” he glances behind you at the space where Jaehyun waits, far too close to you for comfort, “Looks like you’re all good in here, huh?”

“It’s not like that.”

“No? Then what’s it like? You’re too busy to answer my calls but not too busy to be here with him. What’s that like?”

“I get it, you’re pissed, but I can’t let you talk to her like that” Jaehyun says, irritated by Johnny’s tone of voice. 

Johnny laughs, taking a few steps towards Jaehyun, “Let me? You can’t let me do anything. Everyone else might be afraid of you but I’m not. You can’t beat me. We both know that.” 

Jaehyun shrugs, unbothered by the threat, “Why don’t we find out?”

“Shut up! You aren’t helping!” you shout, throwing him an icy glare, “No one’s fighting! We just need to calm down! Everyone calm down!”

“You’re the one that’s yelling right now, baby” he whispers and you swear you could choke the life out of him. 

The sound of Jaehyun calling you baby is enough for Johnny. If he stays any longer he doesn’t know what he’ll do and he doesn’t want to find out. “I hope you two are happy together.”

Jaehyun leans back against your dresser, content to watch Johnny walk out that door. Only you aren’t. You run behind Johnny, throwing your arms around him before he can leave. 

“Johnny, don’t leave” you weep, painting the back of his jacket with tears. You hold him so tightly that your arms dig into his stomach and he can barely breathe. “I mean it, it’s not like that. I don’t want him. I want you.”

You can’t see the shock on Jaehyun’s face but it’s in his voice loud and clear. “You what?” 

Johnny grabs your arms, gently prying them away, “Doesn’t seem like he knows that.” 

“I want to be with Johnny” you say to Jaehyun without hesitation.

“What do you mean? After everything we talked about? After everything we’ve been through? I told you that I loved you. I love you!”

He keeps using that word—love—but you aren’t even sure he knows what it means. In fact, you’re positive there’s no way he ever did. Your heart broke to see Johnny hurt because of you. You instinctively want to protect him—to do anything in your power to make it right because that’s what you do when you love someone. You choose them because the risk of losing them is too unbearable.

“In all the time we were together you never let me have anything, Jaehyun. Just let me have this one.”

Jaehyun wants to ask if that’s really what you want but you’re clinging to Johnny’s hand with such desperation that he knows it’d be a waste of breath to ask. You want one thing, just one, and it isn’t him. 

It’s strange to see him leave. You’re so used to regret pooling in the pit of your stomach each time he walks out of your life that the absence of it is odd but you don’t miss it. It’s freeing and the feeling that takes its place—the longing to be with someone new—is infinitely sweeter. Still, this is no time to celebrate. Even in Jaehyun’s absence, Johnny’s back remains turned to you, his body language cold and tense. 

“Johnny” you whisper, tip-toeing around him, “Say something.” You search his eyes for any sign of warmth for you but it’s like he’s hiding it, too afraid to let it show.

“Do you love him?” he asks plainly, “Please don’t lie to me. I just…I can’t do this if you still love him.”

You think back to when Jaehyun kissed you. It stirred up so many feelings inside of you and every single one of them was for Johnny. “I love someone but it isn’t him.” 

Johnny’s cheeks redden, the warmth you were in search of returning little by little. “Wh-what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that I love you, Johnny Suh. If that’s okay with you” you smile, petting his cheek. 

“I mean, yeah, it’s more than okay. I lo—”

“Ssh” you say, placing a finger over his lips, “You don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I just wanted you to know.” 

Johnny swats your hand away, pulling you into him, “I love you too. If that’s okay with you.” 

You just smile, a fluttery sensation invading your body, “Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It’s perfect.”

Johnny backs you up against the door, locking it tightly as it slams shut behind you. He lulls you into a slow, passionate kiss that slips every broken piece of you quietly back into place.

There’s no confusion. No fear. No wrongs that need forgiving. All you ever wanted was someone to truly love you and now you’ll never have to doubt that you’ve found someone who does. 

[lexirosewrites]

Day 12: Mating/Bonding

for @stmarchmm

The truly fucked up thing about it is that Eddie has been looking forward to this day for months.

Well, if he’s being technical about it, he’s been daydreaming about his and Steve’s bonding day since his sophomore year of high school.

There was a time in Eddie’s life when he would doodle “SH+EM” in his notebooks during math class, happier to plan an impossible future than learn how to graph slopes.

Maybe that’s why he failed his senior year twice.

He’ll never tell Wayne that the first time was actually on purpose.

Okay, sue him, he had a silly, embarrassing, massive fucking crush on the younger boy and he wanted to be in the same classes as him.

The second time Eddie failed, it was entirely because he couldn’t stop staring at the omega long enough to learn anything worth while.

Steve was worth failing for.

Wayne might have had some strong words about it if he knew, but it seems Eddie got away with that mortifying bit of trivia.

As it is, he managed to hide his fruitless crush for quite a while. At least until it wasn’t fruitless anymore.

In fact, it’s been very fruitful!

So much so that they’re holding a bonding ceremony today in front of all their friends and family in just a few minutes.

Eddie is going to commit his life and love to Steve, promise to protect him and their pack as alpha, and take a vow of faithfulness, til death do they part.

And that scares the absolute shit out of him.

Don’t misunderstand him, Eddie loves Steve beyond measurable words! He’s absolutely wonderful.

Steve is the most beautiful omega alive with the biggest heart and the tightest, wettest, juiciest pus—

He’s getting off track now and he has to focus.

Because if Eddie can’t get himself together and get out in front of a packed chapel in just a few minutes, it’s going to look like he doesn’t love Steve.

He’s afraid of lots of things in life.

Demobats, Robin, Dustin’s baking skills, Robin, ending up like his father, and most importantly, Robin.

But never of loving Steve. That’s the only thing he’s ever been 100% sure of.

And yet he is frozen in fear.

“Ed, it’s just about time to get things started. How ya feelin’ in here?”

Thank fuck for Wayne.

The only man (aside from Steve) who has ever been able to understand him.

Eddie doesn’t need to say a word about his current panic. All he has to do is turn to his uncle and his face says it all.

Wayne speaks fluent ‘Eddie.’

“Son, what’s on yer mind? That sweet boy of yers is getting all dolled up for ya right now and yer mind clearly ain’t there.”

“I’m going to do something to fuck this up and Steve won’t love me anymore,” Eddie blurts out.

There’s no point beating around the bush.

He’s been thinking about it all morning. Maybe longer than that. Maybe ever since Steve accepted his final courting gift and subsequent bonding proposal.

Part of him thought their entire courting was a cruel joke the universe was playing on him anyway.

Life has never been very fair to Eddie. He doesn’t waste time crying about it or whatever, but shit has always been unnecessary rough and he’s used to that.

But this was truly insane.

A perfect omega like Steve Harrington has no business even talking to an alpha like Eddie, let alone being courted by him.

The only reason he’d even started courting Steve is that Robin threatened to break his arm if he didn’t “man up and ask him out already, you lovesick loser!”

Robin really scares him.

But it had worked and they’ve been going steady ever since.

Every day feels like a dream and every morning Eddie wakes up expecting to find that it really was all a dream and he’s back dozing off in math class after doodling their initials in hearts again.

It’s a nightmare.

No, loving Steve doesn’t scare him, but the idea of potentially losing him terrifies Eddie.

“Well now, I think you’ve had too much time thinkin’ by yerself, kid. Ain’t a damn thing that could pull the two of ya apart, far as I can see. A sturdy axe and strong arm couldn’t split you boys up.”

Wayne’s words of wisdom always come from a place of love. And a simple explanation of life the way he views it.

Eddie’s not entirely sold on it yet, but he wants to believe that there’s hope for them.

He wants—no, needs— a life by Steve’s side more than anything else.

“That’s all fine and dandy, Wayne, but what about when I do something stupid and he realizes what kind of dumbass he’s mated to? What if he starts to hate me and he’s stuck with me?” Eddie challenges back.

Wayne sighs, coming forward to straighten the wrinkled lapels of Eddie’s jacket.

He meticulously smoothes them out from where Eddie was pulling at them nervously.

“Do you remember that time ya were supposed to pick Steve up for the movies and ya forgot ya had band practice that night?”

Oh god. That was one of Eddie’s lowest moments in life.

They both cried that night.

“Yeah, of course I do. I left Steve waiting in the rain and I felt terrible about it! Is that supposed to make me feel better or are you telling me that I’m right and I shouldn’t go through with this?”

Wayne gives him a look.

It’s the one that says he should shut up and listen.

He does.

“Ed, you’ve fucked up before. Ya left him in the rain, ya spilled ketchup on his favorite yellow shirt, ya tried to trim up his hair and took a big chunk out of it instead.”

Eddie wants to crawl under a rock and wait there until he’s dead and nobody can find him ever again.

“Yes, I get it! I’m stupid and reckless and I hurt the people I love! This pep talk sucks ass, Wayne.”

His uncle finally smiles. Such a weird old man. Proof that he’s a Munson.

“You’ve done just ‘bout everything ya can do to fuck things up and Steve still wants to be your mate, son. He loves ya.”

Oh.

Hmmm.

Yeah, that’s true. He has fucked up. On numerous occasions.

Never on purpose, but Steve has always forgiven him graciously regardless. That’s the kind of man he is.

Wayne wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him close for a tight hug, like the old days.

“Steve isn’t going anywhere. He’s made that clear. Now ya need to honor that decision by pulling yer head out of yer ass and showing him that he’s making the right choice today. Go get yer boy, Ed,” Wayne whispers emphatically.

Eddie has to wipe away a few stray tears first.

Then he struts into that chapel with his head held high, a new confidence in his step.

When Steve walks down the aisle to meet him, he’s as beautiful as ever.

Clothed in pure white and a natural blush that makes Eddie want to do nasty things to his omega.

He’s ready for forever.

“Hi, baby.”

[ladyycherryy]

Hey, I really loved your mark bar fanfic I was wondering if you could write one where it takes place in the university but instead of a bar it’s a party and Mark can’t help it but get jealous and possessive of you. And if you don’t mind, can you probably make it smutty? I’m so down bad for that man. 😊🫣

Ask and you shall receive 😏🔥 Jealous Mark at a party? Oh, it’s about to get real messyyy ,

Never written smut before so this is my first time. Understandable if you dont like this. ill rewrite it😘😛

CONTENT WARNINGS + afab reader, smut, mature language, explicit adult content

Lewd Lovers’

The pounding music vibrating the walls and floor. People were everywhere, packed into every corner of the house. Laughing, talking, the scent of alcohol mixed with sweat.

 And the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air.

 You’d excused yourself from william and amber.

“I shouldn't even be here” You think to yourself while stepping away for a second. Going down the dark hallway towards the quieter side of the house. 

Just to breathe.

Just to think

And before you even realized Mark was already there.

“When did he get here?”

He grabbed your wrist as you passed by, you barely had time to turn around before he pulled you into the shadows. Down the hallway and into a dark corner beneath the staircase

“Mark–” 

He was already pinning you against the wall, one hand to the side of your waist. His gaze was sharp and focused on you and only you.

 You noticed him checking you out, 

The way that deep V-neck provided a perfect view of your breasts, and that stupid mini skirt showing off your legs. 

“What are you doing? You whispered in shock.

“Can’t stand seeing those pricks eye-fucking you out there” Mark snarled, his eyes staring into yours.

“Every dumbfuck in that room thinks they’ve got shot with you.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart beating fast. As Mark’s fingers dug into your hips.

“Mark you know–” you paused, feeling the hard bulge of his cock against his jeans, the heat of it seeping into your thighs. 

Mark couldn't help it.. But the need to touch you, to fill you, to claim you as his.

“I cant fucking standing it anymore.” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, slowly placing sloppy kisses on your neck.

His teeth then start nipping at your lower lip, his other hand gripping your jaw. Tilting your head back to deepen the kiss as his knee pressed more in between your legs. 

You pull back from the kiss breathing heavily.

“Mark.. someone could see us”

But Mark didn't seem to care and focused on claiming your mouth and body.

Mark slid his hand under your skirt, his fingers touching your inner thigh. Slowly going up until he felt the damp fabric of your panties. Pushing them aside and going into your slick folds.

“You’re so wet for me already” he coos into your ear. His fingers rubbing along your slit before circling your sensitive clit. He pushed in two fingers knuckle deep into your pretty pussy. 

Pumping them in and out at a slow and steady rhythm.

Teasing till you were trembling with the need of more. He could feel your slick walls fluttering around his fingers. 

“Mark–!”

“That's it, baby. Let me hear how much you want it” His thumb pressing circles against your throbbing clit.

 Mark captured your pink glossy lips, swallowing your moans and whimpers.

The risk of being caught only heightened his arousal, showing everyone who you belonged to.

Mark’s finger plunged deeper, stretching and hitting that magical spot inside of you, your walls clenching around his finger. Drawing him in further

“Fuck you’re dripping so much” he groaned against your lips. 

“Such a little needy thing aren't you ?”

“Bet you've been thinking about my cock all day, imagining how good it would feel splitting you open.” 

He pumped his fingers harder, faster , you threw your head back and saw stars from how good it felt. The wet sloppy sound of your pussy and lewd moans filled the air, his palm grinded against your clit with each thrust.

With a low groan , Mark removes his fingers from your wet swollen cunt. Ignoring your whine of protest he quickly undid his jeans.

“I'm gonna make you mine, right here where anyone could catch us.” 

The sight of you - cheeks flushed , lips swollen from his kisses..  Makes him go feral. 

Putting your legs around his hip. His cock sprang out of his boxer, bright pink tip with pre-cum leaking. 

“Beg for it, baby. I wanna hear those pretty lips tell me how desperate you are for my cock”

“Mark, I–... I'm yours.” your breath hitches as you slowly feel him push his tip inside.

He began to push forward slowly, letting you adjust to his size as he sank deeper inch by inch.

“Ah! Fuck, Mark.” Whimpering as you clutched onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist tighter. 

“Nngh~", so tight... Like this sweet little pussy was made just for my cock.”  The feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him was indescribable. Growing tighter by the second as your climax approached.

The sound of your moans roused Mark, urging him to increase his pace. his hips slamming against yours, cock hitting deeper and deeper into you, The obscene slap of skin on skin, the way your pussy shaped his cock. Mingling with your moans and cries of ecstasy. 

Mark could feel your walls start to quiver and spasm around his cock, And you could feel his cock pulsing and twitching as both you and his orgasm finally overtook, your cries muffled from under his hand.

Slowly, Mark pulled out of you, watching with a smug grin as a trickle of his cum followed, dribbling down your inner thigh. <333

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you love me right, then who knows?

for @steddiesongfics inspired by the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

also on ao3

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 1,782 words | cw: unprotected sex | tags: friends with benefits, dom/sub implications, dom eddie, sub steve, top eddie, bottom steve, breeding kink, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, love confessions, idiots in love

🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻🫄🏻

Steve knows better than to be seen with Eddie in public. Word will get back to his parents and he’ll be shipped off to a cousin’s house or some university states away that he wouldn’t have gotten into without bribery involved.

He only sees him late at night, at his trailer or in the woods, and he makes sure his car is hidden or parked a good distance away.

He gets fucked good.

Eddie knows every button to push, every word to say, every name that gets under his skin.

Well, except for one thing. One thing Steve would never tell him about.

***

He is desperate to get fucked in his own bed. Like, if he could be wet for it, he would be. Actually, he is a little wet for it. His dick is leaking, rubbing against his boxers uncomfortably.

Eddie is busy tonight or so he says, had to cancel their not-date at the last minute after Steve was already a little worked up from thinking about Eddie holding him down in his backseat and fucking him, not letting him come until he’d already gotten off. He could get himself off, but Eddie didn’t say he could.

And he always listens to what Eddie says.

There’s a tap on his window and he jumps. A shadow passes and he hopes it’s the tree branch that he keeps meaning to get trimmed.

Another tap. Steve gets out of bed and rushes over to the window.

If he’s gonna die, he’s gonna face the killer head on.

“Jesus, Stevie, it’s freezing. Can you unlock the window faster before I lose the dick you love so much?”

Steve does as Eddie asks because he always does. Cold immediately seeps into the room, following Eddie like a shadow.

He kicks off his boots and throws off his jacket as Steve closes and locks the window.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He whisper-yells.

“My appointment canceled! I figured you could still use a goodnight fuck,” Eddie’s charming smile usually wins him over, but his heart’s still racing and he feels a shiver wrack through his body. Eddie’s smile falls. “Or not?”

“I’m not gonna be your second choice, Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie!” Steve takes a deep breath. His mom is asleep in her room, probably passed out from too much wine. “You can’t just show up to fuck me because you’re bored!”

Eddie crowds him against the bay window.

“You think I came here because I’m bored?” Eddie grits out between his teeth. He’s mad.

Steve likes getting under his skin a little.

“You think I’d ever choose to meet other people in the woods for anything other than selling drugs to buy you nice things? You think I wouldn’t spend every waking second buried in you if I could?” Eddie’s breath is hot against Steve’s parted lips, his eyes nearly black. “You think I’m not always thinking about being with you?”

Steve gulps. He shakes his head.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?”

He doesn’t. Or he doesn’t let himself think that far. He convinces himself he’s just the best fuck Eddie has, not that he’s actually special to him.

“You have no idea how bad I wanna take you away from here, find us a cozy little house, find a real job. I’d give you everything,” Eddie’s hand wraps around his neck, fingertips resting against his pulse. “A ring, an RV, a white picket fence, 2.5 kids. Anything.”

Steve whimpers.

“Don’t tease me,” Steve says. He doesn’t like this kind of teasing.

Eddie’s lips are bruising against his, and his hand tightens around his throat. Steve knows what to do if he doesn’t want this.

He moans into the kiss.

“Not teasing. You’ve got me so wrapped around your finger and you don’t even fuckin’ realize it,” Eddie growls against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Wanna give you everything. Anything. Name it, it’s yours.”

Steve feels lightheaded as he answers, “Want a baby, gimme a baby.”

“Yeah? You want me to knock you up?” Eddie plays along because he’s a good sport, even if he doesn’t mean all this, even if he’s just playing a game with Steve. “Bet your parents would hate that. Their precious angel unwed and pregnant with the local drug dealer’s baby.”

Steve can’t think, can only nod as Eddie pushes him down so he’s sitting on the bench of the window. He’s leaning over him, towering in the darkness of the room.

“You’d be the perfect little housewife, wouldn’t you? Probably drop to your knees the second I get home from work, supper on the stove, belly so round you’d need help getting back up,” Eddie grins against his neck, he feels his teeth against his pulse. “Maybe I’d fuck you so full, you’d have twins. How many you want me to give you, baby?”

Steve moans again, and Eddie covers his mouth with his hand. Steve’s dick jumps in his boxers.

“Hush. We can’t wake your mom up. Not until I’m done filling you up.”

“But-“ Steve’s gonna play into this. It may be the only time he gets to experiment with this thing that’s been nagging at him for weeks, months. “Will you still wanna fuck me once you’ve knocked me up?”

He knows he sounds ridiculous, knows he probably looks ridiculous with his round eyes and pouty lips. Eddie likes when he gets like this, though.

“Baby, I’m never gonna wanna stop.”

He’s naked seconds later, legs thrown over Eddie’s shoulder as he eats him out on his knees. For all the talk of Steve kneeling, Eddie’s always the first to worship. Steve’s head falls back against the cold glass of the window, sharp enough to remind him he needs to be quiet.

Eddie’s licking into him, pushing fingers in until Steve’s squirming so much he’s nearly bent in half.

“Need you,” he pants. “Fill me up. C’mon, please.”

His back and neck will be sore tomorrow, but he’s used to compromising positions. At least there’s a cushion under his ass.

“I’m gonna give you what you need,” Eddie slides his cock into Steve as he talks. No condom; it would ruin the illusion. They go without every time now. They didn’t really talk about it, but Steve knows Eddie takes safety seriously. He wouldn’t do this if he was worried about anything. “Gonna fuck you ‘til it takes.”

Steve whines as Eddie drills into him, not giving him any time to adjust. He likes it like this; hard and fast. There’s less time to think about how much he loves him.

He gets lost in it, like he always does, letting his mind wander to the possibilities that aren’t really there. He wonders what would happen if he could get pregnant. Would Eddie still play into this so much? Would he let him?

Eddie’s hand on his cock takes him from his thoughts.

“Look at me.” Steve does. He loves him, he hates what’s coming. “You’re gonna come first. Heard it helps.”

Steve keeps playing along because this is what he wanted. Isn’t it?

He wanted to explore this strange part of him, and Eddie didn’t even know before tonight, but he’s playing his part like he’s coming for an Oscar. Maybe he’s into it, too.

“C’mon, precious boy,” Eddie hums against his lips before he kisses him. “Come for me.”

It’s the way he says it, precious boy. Like Steve is precious. Like he loves him, too.

Steve’s legs are shaking as Eddie’s hips stutter and stop, his cock pulsing inside him. He feels some of his cum dripping, somehow escaping despite how tight he is. His neck is bent at a weird angle and it aches, but he’s not gonna be the first to stop this.

Eddie always is.

Eddie kisses his chest, right above where his heart is trying to beat through his skin. It’s softer than Steve’s expecting.

He pulls out and helps Steve up, walks him to the bed. Steve doesn’t want him to leave, but knows he won’t stay.

Eddie watches him, Steve can feel his attention through his closed eyes. It’ll be gone soon, so he basks in it, rests one hand on his stomach and one above his head.

Eddie breathes out shakily.

His hand comes down to cover Steve’s over his stomach.

“Think it worked?”

Steve’s eyes shoot open. His heart stops.

“Don’t tease me, seriously,” Steve sounds breathless, a little scared.

Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead. “I’m not teasing you. Didn’t know you were into this.”

“Me either,” Steve admits, still shocked this is how his night’s going.

“I meant it, ya know.”

“What?”

“All of it. I’d give you anything. If you wanted a dozen kids, I’d find a way to start tonight,” Eddie swallows around the words, sounding and looking more nervous by the second. “I’d steal you away and we’d live in some rundown apartment until we saved up enough to buy a house a few towns over. I’d build a swingset in the yard and plant flowers for you to look at.”

Steve giggles, rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to keep-“

“Steve.” Eddie’s tone makes him shut up. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Okay,” he’s so quiet, he isn’t even sure he spoke it aloud.

“I meant it. I want you tonight, and tomorrow, and the rest of the tomorrows I’ve got, which will never be enough. I wanna figure out how to make a life for both of us.”

Steve has to be dreaming. Eddie’s fingers tighten around his.

“You climbed on my roof,” Steve says dumbly. He just realized Eddie’s never come to his house, never taken that step before. It felt like crossing a line. “You came to me.”

“And in you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but a weight is lifting from his chest, a smile growing on his face.

“You meant it.”

“I wanna have more than backseats of cars and behind a tree. I want you always, everywhere, any way I can have you,” Eddie lifts his hand and kisses his fingertips. “All the ways I can have you.”

Steve’s already given himself in more ways than Eddie even realizes. He belongs to Eddie, has belonged to him for a while.

“Then have me. I’m right here. Been right here.”

Eddie stays. It’s probably not smart because his mom’s been known to walk into his room much too early to ask stupid questions about his plans for the day.

It’s hard to think about that when Eddie’s wrapped around him, keeping him from falling anywhere but deeper in love.

[esspeon]

biker!nanami wears a suit alright? He rides to work whenever he can and he’s not oblivious to the eyes of his female coworkers locked onto him. He’s very aware that they think he’s eye candy —you can look but you can’t touch— a pretty simple and universal rule, or so he thought.

So when you asked if you could ride with him he scoffed in your face. He was known to be a gentleman but women knew better than to even have the audacity to ask to ride with him. “What? I’m serious. I think your bike is cool.” You’d say, joyfully and he lifted a brow as he finished putting his helmet on. “Ugh, you’re lucky you’re cute and I have an extra helmet.” You smile, putting the black shoei helmet on before he tightens it for you. “Ever rode one before?” You’d say shake your head no and he speaks again. “Alright, ima sit. You put your feet on the peg and lift your left leg over to sit. You can either wrap your arms around my waist and lean on me or hold the tank.” With that said, you climbed up on the R1 and put your arms around his waist before he took off.

You didn’t think seeing your nice coworker Nanami in a suit with a helmet on and riding as his backpack would turn you on so much but boy were you mistaken. Your hand moved slowly down toward his clothed cock but before you could do anything he grabbed your wrist with his leather clad hand “tsk, can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you darling?” Kento speaks, coming to a stop. “I’m afraid not, sir. You’re just too damn irresistible.” That sentence alone earned you a one way ticket to heaven as Nanami scoffed again and made a u turn, going back towards his apartment instead.

“Little brat needs to be taught a lesson, eh?” Kento chuckles as he grips his tie —the one he bound your hands behind your back with— just a tad bit tighter as he pushed his cock relentlessly inside of your sopping wet hole, dripping with a mix of both yours and his cum. “What a pathetic little bunny you are, just the perfect stress relief I needed. M’gonna pump you full of my cum, hm?” He says breathlessly, spanking your ass a few times. The whimpers and moans you let out as you tightened even more around him were so sinful he swears he’d end up in hell from just the sound of it but it’d be worth it. “Hah- you liked that? Liked me saying I’d fuck you so full of cum you’d be leaking? Such a whore f’me huh?”

[tacobacoyeet]

not the time | a.d., p.z.

a/n: few things to say. first of all, i got way too into writing this and i don't know if i like it or not yet, but we'll see. secondly, i gave up after i was done and decided not to proofread. oops! if you're like me and you like to listen to music while you read, i suggest loyalty by kendrick lamar ft. rihanna. yes, i'm linking it. finally, not related, but please send me requests or asks or whatever! just fill my inbox with literally anything!

warnings: SMUT 18+, cheating, cursing, everyone is messy, i'm still not entirely sure if this fully makes sense, not proofread!

It was just the four of you. You, Art, Patrick, and Tashi.

Not in some perfect, effortless way. Just the four of you… together. Training, sharing meals in the Stanford Athletics Dining Hall, fucking around, orbiting around each other in ways that weren’t always easy to define.

You were with Art, Tashi was with Patrick. That was just the way it was. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated.

Patrick had always been technically better than Art. He had the trophies to prove it: from the little stuff back at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy to the Junior US Open win. He had the natural talent, the aggression, the game that always just looked effortless. But Art? Art was the workhorse. He stayed longer on the courts, pushed himself harder, chased an invisible finish line, constantly. That’s why he, unlike Patrick, had chosen to play college tennis before going pro. He was convinced he needed to be better, not that he was too good to have his name attached to a university.

Tashi? She was the untouchable one. The best of all of you, of everyone, really. She was destined for something bigger, something far beyond your little group and Stanford and all of the stupid, tangled emotions that none of you had the words for yet.

And then there was you. Stuck somewhere in the middle of it all.

You and Art had just happened. No grand declarations, no dramatic tension. You were together because it just made sense. You understood each other. The way you both trained like you had something to prove. The way you both felt like you had to fight for space in a world that didn’t quite want to give it to you.

Patrick and Tashi were different. They were volatile, all sharp edges and unspoken resentments. Their constant, tiny arguments were what made them who they were—small, stupid things that started over footwork critiques and ended with Patrick trying to sigh, suck it up, and apologize while Tashi kicked him out of her dorm. But they understood each other in a way that made sense, too. She was the only one who truly made him feel challenged. He was the only one who ever gave her the chance to get angry.

It should have been simple.

But sometimes, Art looked at Tashi in a way that made your chest tighten. Sometimes, when he spoke to her, his voice softened in a way it didn’t with you. And Patrick… he never said anything, but you could always feel the way he looked at you, like he was trying to burn you into his memory just so he could pretend he had you. 

You ignored it. Until you couldn’t, anymore.

---

“And now… your 2002, 2005, and 2006 NCAA Women’s Tennis Champions. Give it up for STANDFORD TENNIS!”

You and the rest of the team step onto the court, several of you waving to the crowd, smiling. Tashi doesn’t. It wasn’t abnormal for her to do that, but what was a little off was the way her eyes scanned the crowd for Patrick, gaze steely as she noticed the empty seat next to Art. Your boyfriend, Art, who was too busy frowning at his phone to look down and blow a kiss at you like he normally did at your matches. That’s when the feeling of impending doom started to fester in your gut. But you ignored it. Like you always did.

Not much later, you’re watching from the bench as Tashi absolutely demolishes Sally What’s-Her-Face from Pepperdine. She’s making it look easy, like she’s barely even thinking about it. But you know her better than that. She’s not thinking about it at all.

You can almost sense it before it happens—the way she doesn’t catch the barest hint of spin on the other girl’s ball until the last second, the way she tries to overcorrect mid-swing, the sickening snap that seems to echo around the court as she falls to the ground, clutching her knee and crying in a way that is entirely foreign for someone as stone-cold as Tashi Duncan.

You can feel the bile rising in your throat, the nausea in your stomach again. But before you can rush to confront your friend, your boyfriend is on the court, resting her head in his lap. You would’ve laughed at how stupid he looked hurdling over the net if your head wasn’t spinning so much. Where the hell is Patrick? You clench your fists, forcing yourself to breathe. 

Now is not the time.

---

Later that night, you’re standing in the corner of the sports therapy room. You may as well have not been, though. Tashi had Art. He sat by her side like an obedient little chihuahua, convinced he was being a guard dog when he really just looked fucking desperate. But you didn’t say anything. You just watched him. The way his jaw was clenched, his eyes trained on the ground like he had a million things to say to her but no clue how to say them.

After a while, Patrick appears in the doorway. You watch Tashi’s face harden as she sees him open his mouth to speak. 

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Out. Out. O—”

“Tashi, Tashi listen! Please! ”

“OUT!” You would’ve been taken aback by the anger in her voice if Art didn’t open his mouth next.

“Patrick, get the fuck out!”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment as you look at Art, in disbelief that he was even capable of portraying anger to that level. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else. Something cold and dangerous in Art’s voice that you had never heard before. Patrick looks around the room, eyes wide. And then he swallows, jaw tight, before he turns and walks away.

You, ever the pacifist, always the one to smooth things over, couldn’t stop yourself from following him. Patrick might have been a lot of things— arrogant, reckless, a complete pain in the ass— but you had never seen him like that before. So… defeated.

He was already halfway down the hall when you caught up.

"Patrick."

He didn’t stop.

"Patrick, slow down—"

"Don’t." His voice was low, rough.

You reach for his arm. He jerks away.

"I don’t need the fucking pity, okay?" He turned to you then, eyes flashing. "I already got my ass handed to me in there, I don’t need you coming out here to make me feel worse."

"I’m not trying to make you feel worse," you said softly.

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"I just—" You hesitate. You didn’t even know what you wanted. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Patrick let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

"Yeah? That’s fucking rich, coming from you."

Your stomach twisted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Patrick exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, after a long, charged pause—

"Forget it."

But you didn’t want to forget it.

"No. Say it."

Patrick’s jaw clenches. He takes a step closer, the air between you charged, suffocating.

“You never even noticed, did you?” he hisses.

You inhaled sharply, throat tight. Of course you fucking noticed.

"Patrick—"

"No, fuck it." He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I’m supposed to be with Tashi, you’re supposed to be with Art, but it was never really like that, was it?"

The words settled between you, heavy and true.

Because you had felt it. That unspoken pull, the lingering stares, the what-ifs that neither of you had ever dared to touch. But now was not the time.

“Patrick, you can’t just—”

“No.”

And then suddenly, you weren’t thinking at all. It was instinct, impulse, desperation. One second, you were standing there, breath shallow, and the next—

You were kissing him.

Or maybe he was kissing you.

You didn’t know who moved first. All you knew was the way his hands grabbed at you, like he was starving, like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime. The way his lips crushed against yours, deep and desperate, stealing every thought from your mind and every breath from your lungs. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t careful. He wasn’t careful. And after that? The idea of going back was nothing but a childish fantasy.

---

12 years later, that moment is what’s replaying in your mind as you stare out the window, watching the clouds unleash a torrential downpour that might be the only natural phenomenon that could replicate the turmoil in your brain. The rain slams against the hotel window, drowning out the distant hum of the city. The room is too small, too dimly lit, but you don’t mind. You’ve stayed in worse.

Patrick is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, elbows on his knees. His hair is damp from the shower, his skin still flushed from running drills to prepare for the first round of the challenger. He hasn’t looked at you since he walked in.

You exhale, rubbing a hand over your face. You’re so fucking tired.

"Are you just gonna sit there all night?" you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

Nothing.

You swallow hard. Try again.

"Patrick."

"What?" His voice is clipped, irritated.

"Talk to me."

"About what?" He finally lifts his head, his eyes shadowed. "About how you’re the only reason we can afford this fucking room?"

The words cut, sharp and deliberate.

You stare at him, the exhaustion settling into your bones.

"I have never—"

"You don’t have to say it," he mutters, shaking his head. "I see it every time you sign another contract. Every time you win a match. Every time you pay for something I should be paying for."

Your stomach tightens. His failures are eating him alive, and instead of facing them, he’s turned them into a weapon—aimed at you.

"I have never once thrown that in your face," you say, voice trembling.

"Yeah?" Patrick’s laugh is hollow. "Then why do I feel like you’re the only reason I have a roof over my head?"

You freeze. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. It’s not like this is the first argument. It may as well have been the thousandth. It starts with something small. It always does. A forgotten errand, a passive-aggressive comment, a new pack of cigarettes. Suddenly, you feel exhausted. Sick of sitting down, apologizing, letting it happen.

"Maybe because you won’t let me be anything but the enemy," you whisper.

Patrick blinks, caught off guard, but you don’t wait for his response.

You turn sharply, grab your jacket, and storm toward the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" he calls after you.

You don’t answer. You just go.

---

The rain is relentless, soaking you through your clothes, chilling you to the bone. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you can’t be there anymore. The lighted sign of the Best Western you had bought a room in flickers behind you as you walk further away. You’re not sure how long you’re walking, but soon enough, there are more cars, more buildings, more streetlights. After a while, the metallic gold of the Ritz-Carlton sign catches your eye, the white light from behind the glass doors illuminating a figure standing beneath the awning. 

You can’t help but groan internally at your luck as your eyes lock with those unmistakable, piercing baby blues. Art fucking Donaldson. He’s leaning against a pillar, cigarette between his fingers, the ember burning bright in the pitch-black night. It’s a habit that Tashi always used to chastise Patrick for. You can’t help but wonder when Art picked it up. If that’s the only thing he’s been doing behind Tashi’s back. 

You stop in your tracks, your chest rising and falling far too fast. He exhales, smoke clouding his face for a moment as he watches you. And then—

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Your stomach twists. You weren’t expecting to see him at a shitty little challenger like this one. He was supposed to be a big star. A ‘Game Changer’. He was supposed to be way past playing matches like this one, New Rochelle in the middle of Dumbfuck, Nowhere. Phil’s Tire-Town, or something. It’s not like Patrick was good enough for anything better, but Art sure as hell was. Or at least, he was supposed to be.

“Where’s Tashi?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

Art closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling as he rubs a hand over his jaw. “Not here.”

That’s all he says. But it’s enough. 

Your heart is beating far faster than it should be. Your hands are shaking. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold, the walk, or him.

“I hate you,” you hiss. But he sees through you instantly. 

“Then tell me you don’t still think about me.”

You can’t. He knows you can’t. His eyes bore into you. Normally, you’d shrink under his gaze. He’s seeing far deeper into you than you want him to. But maybe the flare in confidence from your argument with Patrick is what’s supporting you. Maybe it’s the ringing in your ears, the pain behind Art’s eyes, or the burning of your skin despite the fierce cold. You’re not sure. But it doesn’t matter. 

There’s a beat.

And then suddenly, you’re on him.

Or maybe he’s on you. You don’t know who moves first, only that one second you’re standing there, fists clenched, and the next you’re colliding—his hands in your hair, yours fisting his hoodie, mouths crashing together like neither of you can breathe without this.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s twelve fucking years of resentment and longing and need colliding all at once.

Art groans against your mouth, pressing you back against the cool brick of the pillar, hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to prove something. You arch into him, gasping when his lips move to your jaw, then your throat, teeth scraping against your pulse.

"You gonna regret this in the morning?" he mutters, voice rough.

"Shut up," you breathe, dragging him back up to your lips.

He doesn’t argue.

His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, sliding under your soaked shirt, fingers tracing the dip of your spine. Yours slip under his hoodie, pushing it up, needing to feel him, needing to remind yourself that this is real.

You don’t stop.

Not when you sneak your way up to his hotel room, avoiding the other patrons. Not when you're in the elevator and he's sucking hickeys into your neck that you'll have to hide from Patrick. Not when he lifts you, dropping you onto the mattress, not when he crawls over you, pressing you into the sheets, not when his hands slide between your thighs, gripping, teasing, pulling a whimper from your throat.

Not even when he pauses, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard like he’s trying to convince himself this is a mistake.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps.

You don’t.

You won’t.

Instead, you drag him down, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, whispering his name like a prayer. It takes barely a moment for both of you to bare yourselves to each other, clothes tossed around the room without a second thought. Art doesn't waste time. He wasted the last 12 years. He wasn't going to waste another minute.

Nothing about this is gentle. He’s biting his way across your collarbone, up the column of your throat, behind your ear. Your fingers are tangled in his silky, golden locks, tugging at them in tandem with the rhythm of the soft gasps and moans he’s drawing from you. His hair is short, now. For a split second, you mourn the messy mop of curls that graced his head 12 years ago, but your thoughts are quickly drawn away when he’s grabbing your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him. 

“Last chance,” he pants. “Tell me to stop now, and we leave like this never happened.”

You glare at him, gripping his hair a little tighter. “Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life trying to forget about me? About Patrick? Trying to forget how you decided the puppy crush you had on Tashi was more important than your best fucking friend?” 

His face hardens at your whispered remarks, each word pushing the knife deeper into his chest. But he wasn’t that stupid. Not anymore. “No,” he frowns. “Fuck, no. I’m never letting you go again.”

You don’t believe him, but you nod anyway. “Okay, then.” 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting him to feel like after 12 years. He used to be soft, always drawing a line before he ever got too rough with you. But being a lapdog for this long had resulted in far too many pent-up emotions, and you were on the receiving end of them. 

It almost gave you whiplash, the contrast of his actions. He fucked into you with an animalistic pace, hand squeezing your throat just enough, but his lips were by your ear, face nestled against your neck as he whispered praises and sweet nothings in your ear. 

“You’re perfect. You always were. Should’ve been mine.”

It’s hard for you to focus on his words because you’re too focused on how his free hand has made its way down to your core, the pads of his middle and ring finger rubbing your clit with so much speed that you’re convinced he’s on drugs. Maybe he was hiding that from Tashi too.

You’re so lost in the sensations that you almost miss it. Almost. You wish you had.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

It makes your eyes fly open. The last thing you wanted to feel right now was guilt, and you knew that if he was feeling it, then it was only a matter of time before he projected enough for it to infect you too.

“Absolutely not,” you growl. “Shut your stupid mouth and keep fucking me.”

He listens. He thrusts his hips harder, faster, breathy moans of your name falling off of his lips with the ragged beauty of a waterfall. He moves his hand off your throat and into your hair, tugging with enough force to rip a cry from you. You’re so close, way faster than you wanted to be. But he won’t have it.

“Art,” you whimper. “Art, please, I’m so close, I—”

“No, baby, hold on. Just a little longer, please. You deserve it.”

He wanted to prolong your pleasure, give you the well-built orgasm you deserved. It was the least he could do, after all. If you wouldn’t let him apologize with his words, then he would make it apparent with his actions. Besides, he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time he’d ever have you beneath him. He had to make it count. And he did.

Soon enough, he’s fucking you through your orgasm, a hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries. God, he’d do anything to hear those noises every night, in his own bed at home, loud enough to make you go hoarse. But that would have to wait. For tonight, he’d take you just as you are. The fact that you were there, that you were really there was more than enough for him. He’d worry about the bits and pieces of it all at another time.

A few hours later, you sneak back into your hotel room. Patrick is dead asleep, his snores filling the small room. You don’t bother to cover Art’s hickeys. Patrick could use the reminder that you could do better. If he wanted to assume everything you did for him was from a place of pity and arrogance, then so be it. There was no reason for you to put effort into trying to pacify him anymore.

---

A couple of days later, the sun shines brightly down on the court of the Phil’s Tire Town Challenger. You make your way into the stands, heading for your usual front and center seat—and that’s when you see her. Honestly, you should’ve expected it. Tashi was Art’s coach, after all. Of course she’d sit in the spot with the best vantage point of the action.

She turns her head, her chocolate eyes locking with yours. That’s when you catch a glimpse of the small reddish-purple splotches just peeking out from the pristine white collar of her button-down dress. You can’t help the way the corners of your mouth curve up into the barest hint of a smirk. She glances down for a split second, clearly noticing the not-yet-faded mark that lingers on your collarbone, not entirely hidden by your clothes. Her eyes shoot back up to yours, a matching expression of mutual agreement on her features as you take the seat next to her.

Neither of you say anything. For now, both of you return your eyes to the court as Art and Patrick get announced, walking onto the court. They both look up at the stands. Patrick’s the first to acknowledge you and Tashi sitting next to each other. A Cheshire cat grin crawls its way onto his face, and he turns his head back to look at Art, who meets his gaze with a simple upward twitch of his lips.

Tashi’s fingers brush your hand as she grips the armrest. Your eyes meet again, both of your gazes charged with a little bit of electricity and a whole lot of sex. There’s a statement hanging in the air between you: ‘Yeah, I fucked your husband.’ There’s nothing particularly malicious about it— far from it, honestly. It’s more like an opening to a contract. A trade agreement. But, you’ll hash out the details later. 

Now was not the time.

[tavolgisvist]

‘I’ve had enough’

I’d been keeping largely quiet about John and The Beatles split-up in the press. I didn’t really have many accusations to fling, but being John, he was flinging quite a few in interviews [with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone]. <…> John would say things like, ‘It was rubbish. The Beatles were crap.’ Also, ‘I don’t believe in The Beatles, I don’t believe in Jesus, I don’t believe in God�� [Plastic Ono Band album]. Those were quite hurtful barbs to be flinging around, and I was the person they were being flung at, and it hurt. So, I’m having to read all this stuff, and on the one hand I’m thinking, ‘Oh fuck off, you fucking idiot,’ but on the other hand I’m thinking, ‘Why would you say that? Are you annoyed at me or are you jealous or what?’ <…> I was sort of answering him here [Dear Friend], asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

“When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. <…> “So y’see, all that happened when I blew my mouth off was that it was an abscess bursting, except that mine as usual burst in public. <…> …the trouble is people just wanted bigmouth Lennon to shout about the lows. So I made a quick trip to uncover the hidden stones of my mind, and a lot of the bats flew and some of them are going to have to stay. I’ve got perspective now, that’s a fact.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

John actually had Allen Klein and Yoko in the room, suggesting lyrics during writing sessions. In his song ‘How Do You Sleep?’ the line ‘The only thing you done was yesterday’ was apparently Allen Klein’s suggestion, and John said, ‘Hey, great. Put that in.’ I can see the laughs they had doing it, and I had to work very hard not to take it too seriously, but at the back of my mind I was thinking, ‘Wait a minute, All I ever did was “Yesterday”? I suppose that’s a funny pun, but all I ever did was “Yesterday”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, “Eleanor Rigby”, “Lady Madonna”, . . . – fuck you, John.’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

['How Do You Sleep']’s not serious. Like, if Paul was really, really hurt by it, I’ll soo– I’ll know by the vibes, come round. Even if he doesn’t call, well, I’ll explain it to him. I’ll even write to him, you know. If he really really thinks it’s – thinks it’s really really serious. 

(John Lennon,September 9th, 1971, interview with Howard Smith)

Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

As it happened, I was in New York that day [30 January 1972], having met with John the day before. It was a meeting at which we more or less agreed to stop sniping at each other.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

On January 19, 1975 John Lennon in a letter to Derek Taylor: BOWIES CUTTIN “UNIVERSE” (LET IT BEATLE). AM A GONNA BE THERE (BY REQUEST OF COURSET). THEN POSSIBLEY DOWN TO NEW ORLEONS TO SEE THE McCARTKNEES.

(Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift (Genesis Publications, Guildford, 1984) in in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Mardi Gras season was due to begin on Monday, February 10, with the main parade sweeping through town on “Fat Tuesday” itself—the date John and May had targeted for their visit to New Orleans. Sehorn and Toussaint warned Paul that the studio would be inaccessible during the peak of the festivities, and said they were considering closing Sea-Saint completely for the week starting February 10. Wings now had the perfect excuse to put the sessions on hold and throw themselves into the celebratory atmosphere. But Paul’s hope of sharing that celebration with John were dashed during the overdubbing sessions on February 6, when John phoned Sea Saint and the receptionist patched his call through to the control room. “The separation didn’t work out,” Lennon joked, telling Paul that he had moved back to the Dakota on February 3—just as Paul was recording ‘Call Me Back Again,’ the song he started just after reconnecting with John in Los Angeles [March-April 1974]—and that he and Yoko were hoping to work things out.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

‘I was going down to New Orleans to help out on Paul’s last album Venus and Mars, but I was too busy being happy at the time. If you’re reading this, Paul, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it…’

[…] And then, of course, there’s Yoko. ‘We are back together now. and happier than over before. It’s the old, old story—when you get someone back that you’ve lost it’s better than ever.’ It was the reconciliation which so involved John that he couldn’t tear himself away to work with McCartney in New Orleans.”

(John Lennon, 1975, interview with Penny Grant for Game: Enjoying the big apple)

Paul leaves to take a telephone call.

LINDA: I was just going to say that I think if John had lived, he might still be saying, “OH, I’m much happier now….” <…> PLAYBOY: But wasn’t it clear that John wanted only to work with Yoko? LINDA: No. I know that Paul was desperate to write with John again. And I know John was desperate to write . . . desperate. People thought, Well, he’s taking care of Sean, he’s a househusband and all that, but he wasn’t happy. He couldn’t write and it drove him crazy. And Paul could have helped him–easily.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

PLAYBOY: "Aside from the millions you've been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels' generous offer of $3200 for appearing together on 'Saturday Night Live'..?" LENNON: "Oh, yeah. Paul and I were together watching that show [April 26, 1976]. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired." PLAYBOY: "How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together?" LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. <…> …he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there, watching the show, and we went, 'Ha-ha, wouldn't it be funny if we went down?' but we didn't."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

Paul recounts the SNL story a few months after it happened

(audio)

Backstage after the first show [May 24, 1976] McCartney phoned his old songwriting partner at the Dakota. Paul had expected John not to attend, but hoped that he might*. He would miss the second show [May 25] too, because he and Yoko were flying to Los Angeles that day. “They said they were glad the show went well. And we left it at that,” Paul reported. John did, however, request a pair of tickets to the second show for Sean’s babysitter.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

*Why it was so important (and John knew it)

During their trip [27-30 April 1977] the McCartneys were also hoping for a springtime reunion with John and Yoko and paid a surprise visit to the Dakota. But their timing was terrible: John and Yoko were busily preparing for an upcoming trip to Japan while also dealing with Sean as he approached the Terrible Twos. The McCartneys did not make it past the front door of Apartment 72.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

It's ten years since I really communicated with him. I know as much about him as he does about me, which is zilch. About two years ago, he turned up at the door. I said, 'Look, do you mind ringin' first? I've just had a hard day with the baby. I'm worn out and you're walkin' in with a damn guitar!"

(John Lennon, The September 29th 1980 issue of Newsweek)

LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him, 'Please call before you come over. It's not 1956 and turning up at the door isn't the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.' He was upset by that, but I didn't mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day and some guy turns up at the door… PLAYBOY: "Was that the last time you saw Paul?" LENNON: "Yes, but I didn't mean it like that."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

PAUL: When Sean (John and Yoko's son) was first born, I visited him a few times at the Dakota (Lennon's apartment house in New York). And then it had gone snotty. I used to turn up without calling him. One time, he got annoyed with me. He said, 'Well, look, man… Why do you just keep turning up here and surprise us? Why don't you just call first?' And I took that the wrong way. After that, I don't think I did see him.

(Paul McCartney, spring of 1982, interview with Jim Miller for Newsweek)

That came about when I was just sitting around in the studio one day [May 5, 1977], doing rock ‘n’ roll kind of chords, just very simple bluesy kind of chords. And I just had the chorus. And the rest of it I used to just mumble. So we did it on the boat with me mumbling the vocal track and just shouting ‘I’ve had enough’ when it comes to the chorus. And I wrote some words to it and again we finished that off in London.

(Paul McCartney BBC Radio 1, 1978)

PLAYBOY: In most of his interviews, John said he never missed the Beatles. Did you believe him? PAUL: I don’t know. My theory is that he didn’t. Someone like John would want to end the Beatle period and start the Yoko period. And he wouldn’t like either to interfere with the other. As he was with Yoko, anything about the Beatles tended inevitably to be an intrusion. So I think he was interested enough in his new life to genuinely not miss us.

(Paul McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

Buchan [Alasdair Buchan of the Daily Mirror] pressed McCartney on John Lennon’s recent assertion that he had made his contribution to society and did not plan to work again. “He’s full of wind, isn’t he?” McCartney scoffed. “Maybe he isn’t going to work anymore, but it’s no skin off my nose. It’s really up to John. I’ve heard him talk like that before. . . . I think he must be very bored now.” [November 1977]

(Demos to roll off the Lennon production line during this period included ‘Real Love,’ ‘Now and Then,’ ‘Free as a Bird,’ ‘What Ever Happened To?’ and ‘She Is a Friend of Dorothy’s.’)

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

PLAYBOY: "You say you haven't listened to Paul's work and haven't really talked to him since that night in your apartment…" LENNON: "Really talked to him, no, that's the operative word. I haven't really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven't spent time with him. I've been doing other things and so has he. You know, he's got 25 kids and about 20,000,000 records out. How can he spend time talking? He's always working."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

…If I had known John was going to die I would not have been as stand-offish as I was. You know how people are in relationships. If someone tells you to piss off you say well piss off yourself then. You don’t realise that there may be pain and it’s very hard to say Jesus’s thing. You know – turning the other cheek. “OK, you can tell me to piss off but I still think you’re great”. If I knew John was going to die I would have made a lot more effort to try and get behind his mask and try and get a better relationship with him. As it was I think I did have a pretty good relationship with him but when he started slagging me off I was not prepared to say “well you’re quite right” because I’m human. <…> I just turned round and said piss off. Had I known it was going to be that final – that quick – I would not have said that. <…> That’s my regret really where I now see what I could have said, listen and put my arm round him…

(Paul McCartney, 1983, interview with Neil Tilly for fanzine BREAKOUT! (Issue 15) Aug/Sept 1983)

[141goblin]

Soft: Part Six

MDNI!!!

CW: Swearing, implied toxic relationship, anxiety, mention of masturbation.

Heart thudding, a light sheen of sweat on my forehead, ears ringing as I try to pick up on the noise that woke me up in the first place. My bed sheets are still tangled between my legs, a reminder of my indulgence the night previously; thinking about the big man with the nice voice and broad shoulders as I shamelessly touched myself

BANG BANG BANG.

It’s my front door. Every semblance of grogginess immediately escapes me and I practically jump out of bed, finding my fluffy robe and tying it around my waist as I pat across the cold wooden floor of my flat to get to the front door, wondering who on earth is banging on my door like I owe them money at— wait, what time even is it? Maybe it’s Amelia, maybe it’s Price.. Maybe he’s come back for his jacket. Part of me hopes it isn’t him, because the poor man would get the fright of his life, seeing me like this, having just woken up. 

I undo the latch on my front door and swing it open. My stomach drops right down into the pit of my arse, I haven’t seen this man since we fucked and then he left in the middle of the night and blocked my number. My face immediately falls flat, looking up at him through my eyebrows.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He offers me a pitiful little smile, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, like a little puppy with his tail between his legs. It makes my skin crawl. 

“…Can I come in, babe?” 

He looks up at me through his lashes, the way he always would when he’d apologise, goading me into his arms and smoothing down my pain with false promises and saccharine words. And yet, I huff heavily and look down at my feet, stepping aside and holding the door open. I expect him to flop down on my couch or search my fridge in hopes of a beer, but no. He perches on the edge of the couch, hands in his lap, eyes downcast. Here we go, cue the dramatics. 

“Listen…” He starts, his eyes flickering up to meet mine. He looks like he hasn’t slept in months and a dark part of me rejoices in the sight. 

“I’m in a bit of trouble… I got a bit carried away at the bookies, and I'm a bit short on money… I was wondering if you’d let me stay for a bit, just until I'm back on my feet.” 

He stands up, eyes practically pleading and a tiny, minuscule part of my heart twists. I should hate this man, I shouldn’t even have let him in, I should’ve slammed the door in his stupid face. 

“I won’t be any bother, I swear to ‘ya. I’ll stay outta your hair, even sleep on the couch… You’re the only person I could come to, love…”

I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose as my mind battles with itself. My ex-boyfriend, begging for a place to stay. I will admit, I've never seen him like this, face sunken with plum bags under his eyes, stains on his shirt. In this moment, I wish I wasn’t such a fucking pushover. 

“Okay… Fine. But I swear to god, Adam, If you even start, you’re out.” 

He nods and his face drops with relief, he even looks like he might fall to his knees right there and then, grabbing me by the shoulders and giving me the most grateful smile I've ever seen him muster.

“Thank you, oh, thanks so much, love. You won’t even know I'm here, honest.”

I take a step back, his hands dropping from my shoulders back to his sides, and his eyes seem to drop.

“Yeah, S’fine… I’ve got stuff to do..”

I return to my room with the most uneasy feeling in my stomach, like a higher power telling me I've made a mistake, something taunting and goading, like something in the universe knows something I don’t. I sit down at my desk with a heavy huff, slumping and pulling out my laptop to at least attempt to get some work done. I've always been grateful for being able to work from home, but with my ex-boyfriend less than a few walls away, I desperately wish I could get away, ‘Got to get to the office’, i’d say, scarpering out and not seeing him until I return eight hours later.

I hear him going about his day around my flat, nervously padding from the living room into the kitchen and back again, taking occasional trips to the bathroom. I don't know which I prefer; the version of him before we broke up that would lounge around my flat for hours like he owned it, or the version of him that’s like a cat you can't quite get to like you; avoiding you, padding quietly around the shadows in your shared space, not making any noise. 

I check the time and realise that I’d normally have lunch or a coffee around this time, taking a break from writing to sip on sugary caffeine and people-watch from the window of my living room. However, I stay planted at my desk, despite how much my stomach rumbles. I don't even want to be sharing a flat with him, much less share a room with him. I don’t even hear the TV on, and it makes me wonder what the fuck he must be doing out there, sitting on my couch in silence, or maybe sleeping. Just that in itself makes my blood boil. It’s like he's expecting me to go out there and tell him to ‘make himself at home’ and to ‘help himself’ to anything in the kitchen, to soothe the part of him that tells him ‘You don't belong here’, but he doesn't belong here, and I don't want him here. 

When I finally finish working, I feel more exhausted than usual, probably from the way my brain has refused to quiet down since he stepped into my flat. My back aches, and I can feel a headache forming beneath my temples. My phone has buzzed a few times throughout the day and I only just pick it up to check it, after hours of it sitting idle. There are a few texts from Amelia and one from my mum. I don't bother replying to either. If I messaged Amelia back, I’d have to explain that my ex is back at my flat which would probably result in us falling out. After what happened between Adam and I, she was the one to pick up the pieces, even after the countless times I went back to him, expecting something to change, expecting him to want to change. It’s safe to say that Amelia despises him, and I don't blame her. 

I re-read my brief text conversation with Price from last night, but I don't feel giddy anymore. My stomach swirls, folding in on itself as I remember how I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts about him last night, and I feel utterly ridiculous. That might be because my ex-boyfriend is on the other side of the wall, but my cheeks heat up regardless; warmth claws its way up my neck until it reaches my ears. Silly girl, you've only met the man once and you're getting off to the thought of him? Grow up. 

I change into some pyjamas and get into my bed, pulling the covers up to my ears in the hope that it’ll drown out my thoughts, and the sound of Adam idly walking around the flat like he's impatient for me to leave my room. It does neither of these things.

[maskedcrawford]

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: You and Jiyong deal with the aftershock of the events from the hospital.

Warning's: slight angst, but more fluff than anything. Mentions of panic and anxiety.

A/N: Thank you to any and everyone who has been following this story and suffered through the rollercoaster. I appreciate y'all so much! <3

Chapter 9

Hidden Secrets Masterlist

Chapter 10- What Now?

You both sit in the room, silent. The noise out in the hall sounds foreign to the atmosphere in the room. You were informed you’d be forced to stay in the prison like cube for at least a day or two. Neither of you can utter a word or even look at each other, Jiyong gently wraps his arms around you. You don’t cry, you don’t scream, you don’t do anything but sit there. You imagine the pain she must have felt, the way her little body must’ve gasped for oxygen when she didn’t get it. You go so deep in your head that you don’t even realize when the doctor comes in to check on you.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” she says a few times before you snap out of your trance.

“Hmm,” you look up at her.

“Would you like to take her home? We can have her prepped for a burial.” She mentions and you literally can’t think. You look over to Jiyong for the first time since they took her from you.

“I’ll make the calls and have her burial set up,” his voice is weak and his throat dry, “Just do what needs to be done,” he says and stares at the floor.

“Ok, I’ll let them know.” She says with a sad smile.

“Just so you know,” she begins, “You can get through this. I lost my own when I was around your age, y/n,” you look her in the eyes and you see a hint of sadness as she remembers her own experience.

“It’s not easy, but in time you adjust,” she gives you a sad smile before leaving the room. Once again, it’s quiet. The hospital halls sound like a foreign universe that's miles away from where you are.

“Thank you,” you say quietly to Jiyong.

“For what,” he looks over at you.

“Everything,” you say as you break down for the first time.

“For coming home, for holding my hand, for taking lead on this whole fucked up situation,” you sob into his chest as he holds you close.

“Oh baby,” he whispers as he rocks you back and forth.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispers to himself, but it’s loud enough that you can hear him.

-

Back home you two are in limbo. Not really sure what to do with your lives but to sit and try to process. Jiyong let’s the company and the guys know what’s going on and that he’s going to need some time off.

The days bleed together, both of you sleeping at random times, nothing set like it used to be. You walk past her nursery each day and it fills you with dread. Many nights you sit in the room, rocking in the chair with soft music playing in the background. You’d hold your empty womb and cry thinking about her. Jiyong begins to notice the pattern. He wanted to let you grieve, but he hated seeing you torture yourself.

-

The day comes when you visit the funeral home and you must pick out a casket. You find a small light pink casket with a white daisy on top and gold finishing. You graze your fingers on it as Jiyong comes up behind you.

“I like this one,” you whisper, voice hoarse from all the emotion of the day. He nods and kisses your shoulder. He lets the director know. Once plans are officially made Jiyong informs the rest of Big Bang and friends and family of the details.

-

The day arrives sooner than you think, but you honestly couldn’t hardly tell what day it was. You’d discovered that alcohol was a helpful tool to help ease the pain, even if only for a little while.

“Aein,” Jiyong says as he see’s you take a swig of whiskey from the bottle. You’re both dressed in black, him in a nice suit and you in a comfortable dress.

“Don’t,” you put your hand up to stop him.

“Don’t start with me, not today. I can’t today, Jiyong I just can’t,” he can hear the way your voice cracks and he’s rushing to your side.

“Ok, ok,” he takes the bottle gently from your hand.

“Just please be careful,” he breathes as he embraces you. You blink back your tears and look up at your boyfriend, sadness and worry evident in his eyes.

“Stop that,” you say as you wiggle out his grip.

“Stop what,” he asks.

“Stop worrying about me, it’s not permanent,” you say referring to the harsh drinking. You’d been doing it for a few days, very rarely feeling completely sober. Jiyong knows the heartache you’re going through, but he’s nervous the self-medicating will get out of control.

“We should leave,” he says and before he can walk you out to the car, you’re putting a few small wine bottles in your purse. He looks at your nervously before ushering you outside into the spring air.

At the funeral home you see your little girl for the first time since you held her. You walk over to the casket and she slowly comes into view. She’s peaceful looking, its as if she’s only sleeping. You touch her cold body briefly, placing a sweet kiss to her forehead. You sniffle and Jiyong comes up behind you to look at her.

“She looks beautiful, they did really good,” you say in between more sniffles and you wipe your nose on your hand. Jiyong grabs you a tissue.

“God, why did this happen to us,” you ask him quietly.

“I don’t know, jagiya, I don’t know.” His eyes tear up but he quickly blinks them back.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say as you leave his presence. When you find the restroom you quickly lock the door and down the small Moscato in your purse. You shake your head at the taste, it wasn’t the best wine ever but it would help with the pain of the day. You down the next one, and the one after that, and the buzz hits after few minutes. You take a deep breath, fixing yourself up and you walk out to see the boys in the room with Jiyong. They all look back at you and you can see the sympathy etched onto their faces.

You stumble over your feet a little and Jiyong’s face contorts. He walks over to you and takes your hand.

“Are you all right?” his voice is slightly harsh, more so out of conern. He knows what you did and while he wants to be worried, he takes a deep breath when you nod your head yes and walks with you over to everyone.

“We’re really sorry,” Taeyang pulls you into a hug you didn’t realize you needed until you had it. He had a way of making you feel safe in that moment. You melted into the hug and he stayed with you for a moment, letting you absorb his love and condolences. You give a hug to the others and return to your boyfriend’s side.

The funeral passes by in a blur. There are people constantly telling you how sorry they are and trying to comfort you but you weren’t fazed. Half the time you were in your own head, imagining what life would’ve been like without ever having met Jiyong, let alone not being together. Would you have go through all the hell you have the past year and few months? Could you be happy with someone or were you just destined to live a tragic life no matter who it was with?

-

The night after the funeral felt cold and unfamiliar. You and Jiyong were strained, usually losing someone close to you can do one of two things; bring you closer to one another or drive you apart. It seems as of now, you’re driven apart once more. Or at least, you are from him, granted you were from everyone. You both eat dinner that night, a dish someone from the funeral made for you to put in the oven. Life feels numb, like you were in your body going through the motions but you aren’t in control; you’re on auto pilot.

After dinner you go to bed early, laying there staring at the wall for God only knows how long before you feel the bed dip beside you. His arms cautiously try going around you, you wince at the touch, it feels like too much. But you know he needs you too.

You force yourself to stay still, letting him have a moment of comfort. You feel something wet hit the back of your neck and you realize he’s crying.

“Promise me something,” his voice is raspy, barely audible.

“Hmm?”

“Promise me we’ll both get through this together, that we won’t lose each other in this,” his lips ghost over your ear as he whispers the words. You don't respond, only a sigh leaves your lips.

“Please,” he whispers as he hugs you to him. His voice is full of desperation, like he’s begging, "I can't lose you too, y/n."

“I promise,” you choke out. He plants a soft kiss to your neck before the two of you fall asleep.

You wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, panic from a recurring nightmare from the day you were forced to deliver. Jiyong’s arms are still around you, the blankets and his body weight feel suffocating and you start taking deep breaths trying to get as much air into your lungs as possible, but it's not enough. You peel his arms off you, and that’s when you feel the cold sweat, the bed slightly damp from it. You get up out of bed and run straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower. You’re gasping for air as the water turns warm, without even taking your clothes off you step into the water and sit down. The water gradually grounds you, helping you breathe.

Jiyong wakes up, suddenly not feeling your body heat beside him and he feels the damp spot in your bed. He gets up, checking the clock to see that it’s 3:30 in the morning. He gathers the sheets off the bed and takes them to the wash. He hears the shower running and after putting fresh sheets on the bed he peeks his head in.

“Aein?” Your eyes fly open at the sound of his voice. You can't answer, talking feeling too energy consuming.

“Baby?” he slowly pulls the curtain back. His heart is broken at the sight of you. Your clothes are soaked, eyes are red and face puffy.

“I just couldn’t, I had a nightmare, and,” the words are broken, he can barely understand them.

“You want to go back to bed?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“You want to be alone?” You shake your head no. Before you can process anything else he’s right by your side in the running water holding you to him, as you cry.

“I can’t help think about what life would’ve been like if she were here,” you sniffle as your head rests on his shoulder and you feel your empty stomach.

“There’s a reason for everything, jagi,” he whispers as he kisses the top of your head.

“How are you handling this so well?” You gaze up at him, eyes full of vulnerability and confusion.

“I have my own ways, right now I’m here for you,” he cups your cheek, rubbing it soothingly with the pad of his thumb.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask suddenly feeling a little braver than you have before.

“I miss her,” he admits as he casts his gaze to the floor.

“I love her,” he says. You watch him, hair sticking to his face as well as his sleep pants sticking to his body. You both sit there, the feeling of the water hitting your bodies creates a sense of comfort and intimacy for you both, one you weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

"Are you mad at me," the question comes out weak, like a small kid asking their parent. His head whips to look at you.

"Why on earth would I be mad at you?"

"She was my responsibility, I couldn't keep her safe in the safest place in the whole world," you whimper, your bottom lip trembling every so slightly.

"I'm not mad at you, baby. I swear. It's not your fault. You have to believe that. You couldn't of prevented it." He hugs you tighter.

"This isn't your fault. You can't keep blaming yourself, baby girl. This is life. Life is fucked up and it's unfair and it sucks ass but it's life." He tries to comfort you. You sit there silently, feeling a little relieved he doesn't blame you.

“Thank you for sitting with me,” you mumble as you stare at your hands. He brings your face up to his, gently.

“I’m here, for whatever you need.” His words aren’t careless. It’s a vow, one he plans to keep. You give him a light kiss against his lips and you savor the moment.

“Can we go back to bed now?” you ask quietly. He helps you stand up and turns off the water. He helps you undress and you help him, both of you trying to show that you aren’t forgetting the other. You dry each other off, not in a sexual way, but in an intimate way. One that shows love, care and devotion to one another.

You get back in bed, noticing the different sheets. You smile at him and hug him tight, both of you seemingly thriving in each other’s company at this moment.

“I should get those changed over before we go back to sleep.” He mumbles before you let him go. You walk with him, not wanting to be alone just yet.

Back in bed, the two of you are once again tangled in each other’s limbs. Your head in on his chest, and you’re playing with his fingers.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” You peer up at your boyfriend, who can’t take his eyes off the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, do you think you’ll ever do it?” His voice is shy. You sit up on your side and you pull his face to yours so your eyes meet.

“I want to. But I just don’t think now’s the time,” and he nods his head.

“Yeah, no of course not. I just,” he sighs.

“You’ve been thinking about it?” you quirk a brow as you assume what he was going to say. He looks at you and for the first time in days he gives you a small real smile.

“Yeah, I have.”

“What happened to my best friend who said only two years ago he never wanted to get married,” you tease lightly.

“I think it’s safe to say I’m not that person anymore,” his tone is playful and light. You nod.

“I’d agree, I’m not either.” You hand traces his jaw line and he kisses your hand gently.

“I love you,” he whispers with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I love you more,” you kiss his nose before laying your head down to get some much-needed rest.

If you enjoyed consider buying me a coffee

Tags: @loveesiren @pinkpunkdynamite @mashtatosworld @lariem-blog2 @multifanxtvshows @natalicss @kjydrgnnnn

[sunarots]

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

02. rip pedro ♡

Part of you almost forgot how violent ice hockey could get, watching the practice as people are ramming each other into the barriers or over onto the ice — and these people were teammates. You hate to think about how they treat people they don’t know.

You’re sat on a bench a few rows back beside Akaashi, who keeps glancing between the rink and his book in his lap. He keeps commenting on the plays, gesturing to each different player on the rink with ease. You, on the other hand, can’t find Bokuto for the life of you. You just keep noticing everyone shoving each other, the puck being violently flung across the air. You’re grateful when the whistle blows and they gather in a circle around their coach for a couple minutes.

“See that guy with the number one on his shirt?” Akaashi lightly nudges you and points to the only person still on the ice. “That’s Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi slides the puck across the ice before slamming it into the goal with an insane amount of strength. He skates forward to take it back, skating around the rink to get it in the other goal.

“Do you want me and Bokuto to wait for you?”

You shake your head and pick up your bag and skates from the floor. “No, it’s okay. Even if he says no, he can’t stop me from using it for the next…fifteen minutes. Thanks, though.”

You make your way down the steps and take a seat on a bench by the gate, changing into your skates. Ignoring the looks you get from passing members of the hockey team, you stand up and step out onto the rink.

Your presence is instantly felt by Iwaizumi — or maybe it was the sound of the gate closing that notified him. Either way, he skids to a halt and turns to face you. Though you can’t see what he looks like through his helmet, you can feel yourself shrinking under his stare.

“Can I talk to you?”

He shrugs his shoulders and removes his helmet, waiting for you to approach him.

Withholding your sigh, you reluctantly skate towards him as slow as possible. All you can think about is how badly you wish he kept the helmet on; he looks as if he may kill you. When you stop as far as possible from him, he eyes you up and down like you’re the most disgusting thing he’s seen.

Instantly, your nerves are replaced by anger. Fuck you, then. With the fakest smile you can muster, you rest your hands on your hips and look him straight in the eye. “My name’s y/n, I’ve transferred from Tokyo. I’m a championship skater, I’ve been the top in Japan for the last three years and I plan to make it four. I can’t do that unless we can come to an agreement about sharing the rink. Just two hours a day is all I and the other figure skaters, need.”

“We only practice two hours a day. The rink is open for you the rest of the time. Why is this my problem?” Iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders and leans on the stick beside him. “I’m sure you can figure it out yourself, you look smart. Unless that’s why you got transferred?”

A scoff slips out, which clearly doesn’t sit well with Iwaizumi. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m a good student. Like, really good. But I don’t think that matters when it comes to designating time on the ice. I would like to suggest that the figure skaters get two hours in the morning when it opens, and after that we can share the rink. How does that sound?”

Once again, Iwaizumi eyes you up and down. He pulls his helmet back on and backs away. “In your dreams, princess. If you’re that desperate, there’s about ten minutes until the rink shuts. Make the most of it.”

# fun fact !

when he turned around, y/n couldn’t help but sneak a peak at his ass

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

taglist (31/50). @standcom @thoughtswithbbg @aboutkiyoomi @angtopia @yunavx @celestialm1nd @surfeitstar @xiaoquanquans @istann @aldebrana @mdmraz @loveyislost @softpia @less-chaotic-brain @wakashudou @mo072806 @90s-belladonna @wave2mia @rrosiitas @suuunarin @chaotic-neutral-ig @nanasrkives @hrithi11 @hantas-left-eyebrow @itsdragonius @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @wordsofelie @p4lli @a-sorrowful-tune @iluv-ace

[technikki]

Could you talk about the mario yaoi to me. I've only got little glimpses from your posts and I'm sadly not aware of the big picture

ABSOLUTELY DEAR MUTUAL i will talk about luisley any day they make me so so sick i love them ihope they EXPLODE.

so this got long but whatever anyway!!! heres skyes compilation of ACTUAL REAL THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN MARIO AND LUIGI SUPERSTAR SAGA FOR THE GAMEBOY ADVANCE.

upon meeting him for the first time, prince peasley gives luigi a rose, accompanied by this line:

the remake has an added detail in a later scene that shows luigi keeps the rose tucked away under his hat for safekeeping. also this rose is used to show the castle guards they are friends of the prince so they'll be granted entry to the castle and is only needed the first time they go there. despite that, the rose remains in your inventory (likely under luigis hat <3) for the entirety of the game

at the end of this same scene peasley flies away on his little winged cushion thing (bean... creature? is it alive? i have no fucking clue) and zips right past luigi, twirling him around on his way out

the second time they run into each other and at multiple other points throughout the game, luigi will get excited upon seeing peasley and start waving his hat to greet him. he waves like this when peasley exits multiple scenes too, while also saying "bye-bye!". peasley is the only character he does this for with any consistency

at one point the mcguffin gets split into pieces and scattered across the kingdom, and mario and luigi offer to help peasley search for them. he makes a bet with the bros that he can gather the pieces before them, prompting luigi to run up to him and go "oh yeah!". peasley takes this as a challenge, apparently, because this causes him to, and i could not fucking make this up if i tried, pull out his sword and repeatedly jab luigi in the ass with it, causing him to blush a very bright red and start giggling like an idiot

note: and i don't know why this is the case, but if you do not progress the dialogue once he starts doing this, peasley will continue to poke luigi for as long as there is no player input. for more info check out prince peasley pokes luigi for 5 minutes on youtube <3

while collecting one of the pieces, luigi comes across a piranha plant that has eaten peasley and defeats it, saving him. note that this scene takes place in an area that you can only get luigi into. the game makes a point of separating him from mario for this scene. for some reason[winks with both eyes

peasley has also been shrunken down here (long story) and luigi thinks of a way to get him back to normal, prompting peasley to say "to think you know such cool moves! you're a real zero... i mean hero!". something interesting about this scene is that peasley's slip-up here varies depending on what language you're playing in. probably the most famous example is the german translation, where peasley attempts to say "hut ab!" (hats off!) and instead says "hose runter" (pants down. no i'm not joking.) my personal favorite is the spanish translation, where he attempts to say "eres ingenioso!" (you're ingenious!) and instead says "eres delicioso" (take a guess). regardless of what translation you play and what peasley ends up saying, luigi becomes very flustered and starts laughing again

one thing about this game is that it was one of the very first games that decided to actually give luigi any actual relevance (the only earlier one ican think of is luigi's mansion. infact im pretty sure that's the only one), he was still known more or less as just marios palette-swapped "player-2" brother, and they decided to lean very hard into this with how he is treated in-universe. it is a running gag that mario is obviously a very well-known and beloved hero, while luigi is constantly being ignored and made fun of, and barely anyone can ever seem to even remember his name. some characters do treat him with equal respect to mario, but peasley is the only character that not only consistently seems to focus on luigi, but also cannot seem to be bothered with remembering mario's name. peasley calls them the mario bros a few times and there is one point where peasley does address mario directly by name, and its a scene that luigi is not present for. which suggests that peasley does indeed remember mario's name and is trying to make luigi feel a little more special which is honestly really sweet and i hate him so much

at one point luigi has to make an emergency leap out of a plane (longer story) and peasley flies up to meet him. a little bird flies by and, because luigi is uniquely hated by the universe itself, pecks through the cord of his parachute and causes him to begin plummeting out of the sky. peasley attempts to catch him, but because he is an idiot with way too much self-confidence and cannot catch a grown man falling at top speed, luigi simply knocks him right off his little cushion thing and they both end up falling. however there is a split second where it looks like he might end up holding luigi bridal style

peasley is able to make a perfect landing after this scene by using his cape as a parachute, but luigi's landing is. not as graceful and he ends up plunging headfirst into the sand, getting stuck. peasley finds this rather charming and proceeds to laugh and comment on his "luigi dunk"

this is another scene where translators decided to have some fun as well: in the german translation peasley calls him what roughly translates to "an amusing little darling" and in i believe the french translation he calls him something like "clumsy but adorable". basicaly he thinks luigi is very funny and very cute

eventually peasley decides he is going to go fight the main villain himself despite being told how incredibly dangerous it would be, because he does not want to impose on the bros any more than he feels they already have. his mother attempts to reason with him but he runs off anyway, causing luigi to collapse into tears at the thought of something bad happening to him

the ending scene of the game shows mario luigi and friends saying goodbye to the beanish royals at the airport. upon seeing peasley, luigi jumps up and begins actually running at him to hug him.

unfortunately, because luigi cannot have anything ever in his life, peasley is not paying attention (idiot) and continues moving upward, causing luigi to faceplant on the tarmac. he cries after this </3

ALSO have to give a shoutout to these panels from the official manga (scans by my awesome friend @/bowletta btw):

(the pink katakana literally says doki doki dude get it together)

(COME ON.)

so YUUUUP basically they're genuinely one of the most inexplicably gay-coded relationships in any nintendo game and i wish more people knew about peasley because he's a really funny character and his relationship with luigi is extremely cute. heart