#THIS MAN MAKES ME FEEL TOO MUCH TOO CLOSE TO MY HEART I

[darnell-la]

A little dark but how about Logan slipping the reader an aphrodisiac into their drink or something to make her have sex with him. And since he is their drive home, she becomes desperate and needy for a release from him despite not understanding what’s happening to her is she’s usually kinda innocent

note: no one will understand how much I need this.

———

“L-Logan, how long until we’re at the school?” Y/n asked as the throbbing between her legs ached more. She’s never been the type to get turned on. She usually has to build up to it, but tonight, she couldn’t help but squirm in her seat.

“Maybe a half an hour,” Logan lied, knowing they were just down the road. “Fuck,” Y/n said under her breath as she shifted in her seat, embarrassed about how much she wanted to touch herself for at least a second. She needed it to go away.

“Why, what’s up, bub?” Logan asked, acting innocent until he didn’t have to. “Nothing, just- Maybe step on it,” y/n said, meaning for him to drive faster.

“Well, it ain’t hard to see something's going on with you. Just tell me, bub,” Logan said, but y/n couldn’t. “It’s fine-“ y/n tried lying again, but Logan wanted her to tell him what he knew was happening.

“Y/n, don’t start with this secretive shit, okay? I wanna know what’s up with you,” Logan spoke as he placed a hand on her thigh, wanting her to feel more throbbing through her body.

Logan could smell her hours ago. He always smelled her, but after he slipped those pills into her, he could barely shop being around her. He neared to rip her to shreds a while ago, but he held himself together. He needed her to start.

“Look, don’t start laughing when I tell you this — I-I don’t know what’s up, but I’m, like, really fucking throbbing right now. Like, I feel like I’ve been edging myself for hours,”

Y/n and Logan had been friends for a while, so the way she spoke about her situation didn’t phase him. She was just afraid the situation would throw him off.

“What do you mean? Like, you’re honey or something?” Logan asked, feeling his cock pulse through his jeans. He knew he was close to starting what he’d been wanting to do for years.

“Yeah, I guess — Look, just get home. I can’t hold my shit,” y/n said as she crossed her legs. “You need help?” Logan asked, making y/n remember his hand was still over her thigh. She felt a small grip, which made her heart drop.

“N-No, no, I’m good,” y/n said, slowly moving Logan’s hand away because his touch was too much for her. She’s never actually thought of him in any sexual way, but now, she’s realizing the effect he could have on her.

“Why? We’re friends here, and I don’t want you pissy the whole ride back,” Logan said, but y/n shook her head and pushed at his hand that tried to make it back to her thigh.

“I’m okay, I swear — J-Just get us home,” Logan sighed with an eye roll as he pulled off to the side of the dark road. “Logan, please don’t fuck around,” y/n whined as Logan put the car in park and hopped out.

“Logan, what is this about,” y/n leaned back in her seat as Logan walked around the car. The more time that passed, the worse she felt. She felt like she was going to explode at any small rub on her bud.

“We’re far out, and you don’t look like you’re gonna make it,” Logan said as he opened the door. Before y/n could speak, the man pulled under out of the car and pushed her upper body down on her seat.

“Logan, what the hell!” Y/n shouted as she leaned up, not comprehending what was happening until Logan forced her leggings down. “Hey!” Y/n tried turning around, but Logan pushed her back down on the seat.

“Oh, relax — We’re adults — It’s not like you haven’t done this before,” Logan said as he tugged in his own clothes. “Yeah, but not outside. In the dark! In public!” Y/n said but stopped moving.

The woman allowed Logan to roam her body. If he was willing to do this, why would she stop him?

“Just stay still, bub. I’ll help you,” Logan said before he pushed at her cunt. Y/n was surprised at how fast he was willing to help her and be with her. If he wanted, he could’ve rubbed her while he continued driving.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Logan pinned y/n down as she twitched and squirmed. “Fuck,” the young lady moaned low as she tried her best to take him in with ease.

One hand of Logan’s gripped y/n’s ass to spread. He noticed he was probably too big for y/n to handle, but he didn’t go through all of this for nothing.

“Sssh, bub, you’ll be fine — Just fine,” Logan whispered as he continued pushing into her until he was fully in. “Oh, yeah — That’s it,” the man basically growled before he began moving his hips.

“Oh my god,” Y/n said low as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Too fucking big, Logan- Fuck,” y/n tried moving to make this more comfortable, but the way he dug into her, forced her to understand that her body had minimal time left until she bursts.

“Y/n, stay still, before I get unfriendly,” Logan threatened as he slowly thrusted, trying to enjoy how tight she was gripping him. “L-Lo, give me a second — Please,” y/n asked, he ignored.

Y/n tried again to lean up, which only angered Logan. He tried being nice, but y/n has always been hard-headed.

“Look,” Logan gripped a hand full of the young lady's hair and tugged back. “You’re either gonna take it nice and easy, or I’ll rip that orgasm out of you,” Logan threatened again.

“Maybe if you fucking wait, I could-“ Before she could finish, Logan slapped his hand over her mouth and began pounding into her. Y/n’s muffled cries were all she could do.

“You needa learn some fucking respect when you’re the one horny and vulnerable,” Logan hissed the girl's ear as his hips slapped against her ass harder. The noises filled the dark road, only turning Logan on more.

“Such a good cunt. Heaven sent, and I knew it from the smell of you — I’m just upset you kept it from me for so damn long,”

Logan pushed Y/n’s head into the seat after unlatching his hand from her mouth. “Logan!” Y/n basically screamed as the knot got harder to hold.

“Funny knowing your pussy isn’t the only one crying. Look at you. So damn wet. I could keep you in my room and feed off of you for weeks,”

Y/n’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as her body went stiff. “Oh, yeah — There she is,” Logan groaned as he picked up his pace. “Ah huh, ah huh,” Logan kept on as y/n gushed around the man with a loud cry.

“That’s what you’ve been holdin? C’mon, baby. I know you’ve got more in you,” y/n shook her head, hoping Logan would give her a small break before she fully passed out. “Too much,”

“Too much? Oh, please. You think ima stop because you’re about to cum again?” Logan quickly pulled out and turned y/n around. “C’mon, baby, you should’ve known,”

Logan laid y/n down on her back before pushing right back into her. “Oh my god,” y/n whined as she threw her head back, loving the feeling of Logan taking her over. She never knew he’d be this good.

“Don’t worry, baby. After I’m done, we’ll head home — Maybe I should slip a pill down your pretty mouth more often,”

Y/n tried looking up at Logan to see if she heard right, but another orgasm was near. “Yeah, I did that, baby, but you ain’t complaining, right? You fucking love this,”

[sucodelaranja86]

- hyun-ju cho relationship headcanons (pre/post game) : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

warnings: mentions of very faint transphobia.

A/N: Requests are open. :))

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ For starters, she confirmed herself that she is not a timid person. And you can see for yourself that she isn't afraid of expressing her opinions or taking leadership.

But that doesn't mean she isn't insecure.

It's hard to find people who embraced their true identity, specially in the place you two live. So it's not hard for her to feel like she is sticking out negatively in the crowd. And of course, people around you don't make things better.

So not going into too many details, she would enjoy PDA a lot more if she didn't make you two stick out so much. She is not embarrassed to show affection to you, quite the contrary. As i mentioned before, she is not a shy person by no means. She just feels a afraid of making a fuss.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't shower you with affection inside closed doors!

Independent of your size and height, you are going to be the big spoon. Yes, she is the double of your size, and yes, you are going to caress her head while she sits on your lap. It's not like you are complaining.

She feels like she can be her true self around you, and that true self is a clingy woman who demands affection everytime your hands are unoccupied.

Even through messages, she is still the same person you know. And you are not afraid to admit she messages and comments like a facebook mom. She didn't understand what you meant when you bursted out laughing while admitting that, but it would never not be funny to you.

"love, are you coming home rn?"

"Yes, my dear, 💕 i am on my way. 😊 I am currently at the subway, and i couldn't help but admire some of the breath-taking flowers a certain seller is promoting. 💐🌷🌻 Should i get a combination of flowers for our apartment, or should i save for something else? 🤔 Message me what you think! ☺️😚🤩"

You never get the heart to explain to her why is it so funny. The proper grammar, the exaggerated quantity of emojis, alongside a sticker that is the definition of a grandma's humor won't ever not make you giggle.

And don't even get me started on the 'funny' videos she sends you.

They are either military humor/jokes that you would need at least 2 years of researching for you to understand, or those videos that would be funny 6 months ago and you would sometimes catch your mom giggling to it. Sometimes you had to remind her you were not a first class sergeant like she was, and that always lead to her explaining for 15 minutes about the joke. So after some time you decided to simply laugh, even if you didn't get it.

You once tried looking through her main page on the only social media she used, and the only things you found were mainly housewife tutorial videos, military documentary clips, occasionally some millennial funny videos, and even more occasionally trans pride related ones. It was like a single mother, a teenager who just came out and a 47 married man were sharing the same social media.

And speaking about moms- she is the biggest one ever. You got a simple cold? She is already making you soup while wrapping you up in the warmest blanket you two own. Had a problem with someone? When they see her, they are surely not going to mess with you anymore.

Overall: you don't know if you bagged a girlfriend or a single mom.

⌢ ⌣ ⌢ ⌣

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Why hello my lovely friend!! 😍 I'm so ready to dive into your thoughts on this chapter. 💜💜

Right off the bat, the sexual tension with the gambling 👌🏻. I don't know what it is, but I always love in movies or shows or books when they have a poker game/card game between two people who are obviously into each other. I don't think it's a trope, but- the sexy smiles over the cards, the bluffing, the flirting, the teasing, just OH GOODNESS 😮‍💨

Yesss I love those kinds of scenes too! (Clearly lol) I'm so glad you agree. 😏

I'm not going to lie, I would have thought this to myself if I was in her situation. At the same time I feel bad for her because she has all this bottled inside and it's probably even worse that she's in close counters with him, just second guessing everything. BUT I also love that you've given us these wonderful domestic moments between the two of them. ❤️

The close quarters are a blessing and a curse here, isn't it? 😅 Thank you for that compliment!! I wanted the buildup here to be about the small moments of connection. 💗

DANG IT DEAN STOP HIDING FROM YOUR FEELINGS! Man really out there chopping wood trying to forget all his problems and relieve some tension 👀, while the reader is inside trying to educate herself🤣

Ughhhhh you just wanna throttle him!! loll Meanwhile, she's wasting absolutely no time to learn all the can about this man, because with him it's like trying to pry open an old clam. 🤣🤣

The way you integrated John's journal into this chapter was so good! It adds on to the lore of the story. I'd never read through the official "John's Journal" merch so it was nice to see those little details and honestly made me feel more connected to the reader, because it was the first time that I was reading the entries too!

Aww thank you!! It honestly made me emotional (and sympathize so much more with Jhhn) just reading the journal, so I just tried to infuse as much of my own reading experience in the reader character. I'm so glad it made you feel more connected to her. 💞

Girl it's okay we can cry together- DEAN WAS IN THE CRIB WITH SAM. Nothing is okay. I am made of tears. INCONSOLABLE 😭

Girl when I read that part of the journal, the way I was like:

(And YES, spray that man like a bad dog!!)

AND he knows that she is supposed to be HIS. For the love of rice krispy treats! SHE HAS A BROKEN ANKLE DEAN. Don't let her leave!!! Sweetie he's a grumpy old onion, you gotta peel him back one gorgeous layer at a time. 🤣

Girl you took me OUTttt. 🤣🤣🤣

This bit is also so heartbreaking, because it's literally her meeting her mate and her believing that he doesn't want her, when it's probably all he does. There's something so raw about that. The idea of finding someone who was literally made for you and believing that they want no part of you. Oh goodness my fragile heart😭

Yeeeeep, honestly reminds me of If The Stars Wish It So, when the reader has that moment of "is it me? Why doesn't he want me?" But in reality, Dean's fighting his instincts to be with her tooth and nail. 🥲🥲

I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting it to be a Bear. I literally thought this was going to turn into Dean saving her from a Wendigo- because of the allusions to her dad being killed by one, but this was such a (un)pleasant surprise LOL

LOLL you know what, initially I was going to go the Wendigo route for this climactic moment, but it felt more surprising to me to have it be a non-supernatural threat, just a typical bear wandering through his territory. 😂

I LOVE this insight into his head, just a little piece but enough for the readers to see that Dean does in fact care and that he does feel something for her! Not to mention again... HE PICKS HER UP. I've read Dean in so many fics doing that but each time it just makes me *swoon*.

Thank you!!! I thought this window into his head was needed, but also, Alpha Dean is just so....ALPHA. 🫠🫠🫠

And oh my word, him finally sitting down with her on the couch and allowing himself to let down some of his walls and let the reader in is just so good!! Not to mention now the reader is going to tell him the truth over how she lost her dad! I'm very excited to read the next chapter, but this one was amazing Alex! 🤗

He finally broke down a bit, seeing how much he was affecting her! 😭 I'm so glad you enjoyed that. I tried my best to make it feel like a natural progression. I so hope you enjoy the next chapter, my friend! 🥰💕

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[stellasdrafts]

The Light in His Eyes (Vendetta! Leon)

Summary: you have each other’s backs (Vendetta! Leon x DSO!Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: alcoholism (on Leon’s part), some vendetta leon comfort because that man needs it :(, no official relationship but mutual feelings are implied, pining…

Notes: a small Christmas-ish one-shot in january because it’s my blog and i make the rules (i forgot to post in december whoops). also sorry this one is christmas specific but christmas lights are very special to me and i wanted to write a little something about them <3

One of these days, these missions are going to kill you. You’re sure of it. You find yourself sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city, needing some fresh air after almost getting your head bitten off on call today. Being a D.S.O. agent isn’t for the faint-hearted and truth be told, sometimes you aren’t sure how you got this far in the first place. You close your eyes, deeply breathing in the cold, stuffy city air and listening to the night traffic below. What would it be like to live a normal, quiet life? For your only burden to be being stuck in the traffic below on your way home from your safe nine to five? Your heart aches when you have thoughts like these…

You’re snapped out of your mournful contemplation when someone clears their throat behind you. You whip your head around, startled. You barely register your fists clenching and muscles tensing up, ready to throw a punch or something, your tired brain registering the sound as the grunt of an infected.

“S’just me.” Leon lifts his hands, traipsing toward you. “Can I join?”

Your shoulders slump with relief. Truth be told, you wanted to spend time alone tonight, but Leon happens to be the one who saved your life today and you figure you owe him this much. “Mhm.” You nod and pat the freezing concrete beside you.

He takes the offered seat and leans back, propping himself on his arms. His warmth carries through the cold wind and seeps through your jeans. He’s only an inch or two away, after all. Despite your previous sentiment, his presence is oddly soothing. You’ve never met anyone as good as him in your field of work. He makes you feel safe, like somehow, you’re immortal in his presence because he always looks out for his team. It’s impossible, really. You know it’s a childish and dangerous mindset to have in this line of work, but there’s just something about him. You wonder how much that selflessness is destroying him from the inside….

Actually, the habituality of the liquor on his breath may already give you an idea.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” You look up at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on the sea of tall buildings before you. “Oh, yeah… I like the lights. I’ve always liked lights.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “Oh yeah?” He shifts to rest on one knee to get a better look at you.

You feel yourself melt under the older agent’s gaze. “Yeah. All kinds of lights…”

He just watches you for a moment and you find yourself silently cursing the extensive psychology training the government’s had you D.S.O. agents do. You’re sure he can read you like a book, seeing through the façade you’ve been tirelessly trying to keep up. He has his own, after all.

He looks out at the few festive lights wrapped around balcony railings and trees standing proudly in windows. “Like… Christmas lights?”

That reaches you. You turn your head to look at him with a dopey smile. “Especially Christmas lights. I miss them a lot.”

Your nostalgia must be contagious because he smiles at you too. You never see him smile anymore. In your few years of working together, you’ve never known him to be an extraordinarily sunny man, but it had worsened recently. Little to your knowledge, he likes seeing you smile, especially when it’s directed at him. “I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much. Maybe I should buy you a tree and some lights this year,” he jokes lightly.

You shrug, your smile fading a bit. “We never stay in one place long enough… And people don’t celebrate as much as when we were kids. It wouldn’t be the same.”

His expression softens considerably when he notices the shift in your demeanour. His lips pull into a much more familiar tight frown, his shoulders dropping a bit as well. “Yeah, I guess so…” he pauses for a moment, debating his next words. “We could make our own tradition, you know?”

You tilt your head, your smile fully sarcastic and sour now. “Sure. If we’re both still alive by holiday break.”

He grimaces, evidently not liking the sudden grim attitude, even if it carries truth. Ironic, you find yourself thinking, for a man with his attitude. “Don’t talk like that,” he chides softly, wrapping an arm behind you and dragging you a twinge closer. “I’m not letting you die anytime soon.”

And you know that coming from his lips, that’s a vow, not a weak promise. You lean into his warmth, the cold wind hitting you again now that you’re no longer in your cozy bubble of colourful lights and denial. “Right. Sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He gives your side a reassuring squeeze and resumes staring out at the dark skyline.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a minute or two, admiring (perhaps longingly) the people going about their lives in their apartments and offices. Parents putting their children to bed, couples cooking together, families watching what you self-indulgingly believe to be holiday movies in their decorated living rooms… Even the young man working alone at this hour of the night seems to sit with some sense of serenity. All possibilities of the lives you and Leon could have had if you hadn’t been pushed into the claws of the genius Division of Security Operations. He sighs – if in soul-crushing envy or in momentary peacefulness, you can’t tell. But his whiskey-ridden breath is warm and a welcome contrast to the cool winter night air.

You chew at your lip, getting a bit nervous. “You smell like booze,” you remark quietly.

“I know.” He chuckles and you know it’s a piss-poor attempt to cover how uncomfortable the topic of his drinking makes him feel. “You got a problem with that?” He scratches his neglected stubble.

You know a slightly hostile question is the best outcome for you. If it were anyone else starting an intervention, we would’ve raised his voice already. You’ve seen it first-hand with some other people on the team. “You’ve got a problem with that, Leon.” You stare blankly at the buildings ahead, your previous fascination and warmth for the sight dampened.

You feel Leon’s body stiffen beside you and his demeanour shifts. You look, and like you, he no longer seems as placated as he was a mere minute ago. His brows tug down and his gaze darkens. “Don’t do that. Not you,” his tone is surprisingly tender for being paired with his current expression.

He knows you mean well. He knows you’re worried about him. But he can’t bear having you look at him like everyone else does, like you have to tiptoe around him or like he’s always incompetent and inebriated. He looks away out of shame. He knows you’re right, but he’s stubborn and also knows that’s led to his downfall more than once.

“Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

Leon looks back up, his gaze stormy. His defensiveness gets the best of him, as it usually does in these situations. He’s angry, or at least he’s trying to be. But you’re sitting close enough to spot the gleam of self-hatred in those beloved blue eyes. “Why does it matter if I do or not?”

“Because believe it or not, our conversations actually mean a lot to me.” The weight of your words hangs between the pair of you for a moment. “And it’s dangerous to day drink with a job like ours. We never know when we’ll get called out. It’ll get you killed,” you add to try and save face as if you don’t care more about him than you do the other agents.

He cringes a bit more at that, and his anger falters in favour of discomfort. He sighs and leans an elbow on his knee, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest, even his body heat isn’t enough to cancel out the cold between you now. “That’s what worries me. You act like it’s fine, it’s normal. You don’t even act drunk anymore. You don’t… slur your words or stumble around or vomit everywhere. Apart from being angrier… depressed… you behave normally when you’re drunk.” You turn your body in his direction, trying desperately to get through to him. “You’re not even you anymore. Isn’t that scary?”

He exhales again, letting his hand drop from his face. He knows you’re right. Damn it, you’re always right, but he can never bring himself to admit it. “I… I don’t get what the big deal is. I do my job – well, if I might add. I don’t get into bar fights with random civilians… unless they ask for it. I supply my own drinks and keep to myself. So why’re you worrying?”

You take his face in your hands, your expression softening. Maybe he won’t lie to your face if he’s looking right at it. “Leon, drop the act, please.” From what you hear, he’s a shell of the person he used to be.

His eyes widen with surprise. He doesn’t answer anything for a few moments, your gentle touch making his mind go blank for a second. He can’t remember the last time anyone was gentle with him. He knows he can’t argue when you use that tone or when you have that look in your eye. “Fuck…”

He practically sags onto you as he lets himself feel everything he’s been drowning in alcohol for months. You have an agonizing way of making the tension in his body disappear with nothing but a few words in that honeyed tone of yours.

You support his weight. Like you always do, as he always does yours. Because it’s just Leon. You’d never let him fall, in any sense of the word. “You know, how are you supposed to put up that tree and the lights you offered me if you’re too drunk to make sense of anything? I’m not letting you in my room at HQ if the drinks are making you a grouch, either.”

He does want to give you that, a tree grand and worth being yours, pretty lights you can stare at while you doze off in the evenings, Christmas itself… More than anything, he wants to make you happy. The thought alone makes him happy. He huffs and looks away to hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Damn you.”

You let out a breath and a smile of your own, feeling relieved that you got to him at least a little bit. “Try again, please… At least to cut back. We can do it this time.”

He tenses again at your request. It’s not an easy one, and he’s reluctant to agree, not sure if he can even will himself to cut back so easily. But you’re too close, too warm, and you’re using that damn tone in your voice that always gets to him. He wants better for you. For himself, too. A shot at a better life. “I’ll try. Try. For you, alright?”

You hum. “That’s all I ask.” You bring up a delicate hand and brush some of that pesky hair out of his face.

He practically melts into your touch, too tired to bother hiding the effect you have on him. You both know something has been lingering between you for a while, anyway. “Anything else you want from me?” he mutters in a teasing tone, trying to lift the atmosphere he feels he ruined.

You chuckle lightly. “Probably, but we’ll work towards those things later on.”

He perks up at that, a smug smirk toying at his lips as he picks up on the implications of your words. “Y’gotta be a little more specific than that.”

Your eyes soften. Not now. Not like this. “I’ll tell you when you’re sober.” Your timbre isn’t unkind – it’s careful, genuine… You’re trying to encourage him more than anything, knowing he always fares well with a challenge or an end goal.

The muscles in his face ease as well. He gives a small nod. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You feel a spark in your chest of something you haven’t felt in a long time – hope. “So will I.”

You’re more determined than ever to bring back that light to his eyes.

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

141 Headcanons - The Five Love Languages

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon has been so severely abused for so much of his life that any form of love is just shocking and hard to accept for a long, long time

It takes a lot of time for him to let anyone love him at all. A LOT of time.

Touch would have to be his number one, though. He mostly hates to be touched by people, but once he has a taste of gentle touches, he can’t get enough

For the longest time, the only touch he got was being beaten, shoved, pulled, and manhandled. Enter his military career. Now, any intent to touch is intent to harm

Enter you. Whether it be brushing a hand across his shoulders as you pass, nudging him when something is funny, squeezing his hands or shoulders in reassurance, wrapping yourself in his arms, or wrapping him in yours, your touches have only ever sought to bring comfort to one or both of you

It goes both ways. Once upon a time, his hands were only for hurting other people. But now that he’s been shown physical love, it’s his favorite way to show love, too

Anytime he can, he wants to be touching you, he’ll put his hand on your back, his arm around your shoulders, or his personal favorite: have you curled up in his lap

Just the fact that you WANT to be close to him makes him feel safe and wanted and loved

He even finds himself reaching out to Johnny on occasion now, though he’ll never admit it

It still takes trust and a LOT of time for him to actually let someone close enough to touch him, though 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny values quality time above all else, though touch is a close, close second

Like Simon, he doesn’t let people too close. He banters and blusters, but few ever make it into the circle he would call his actual “friends”

When he meets you, being around you becomes as important as breathing. Wherever you are is where he wants to be. Whatever you’re doing is what he wants to do

Ghost teases him that he’s like a puppy (he’s not wrong)

You need help moving furniture? He’s there. If something happened? He’s the one you call, and he’s on the phone or on his way until he knows you’re okay. Shopping? Or better yet, cooking? He’ll read the cookbook to you

Speaking of cooking, dinner dates are his forte. He loves taking you somewhere nice to show you that you’re worth his time and money (and to hold your hand). But mostly, he just wants to listen to you and talk with you

Every dinner, while he’s home, is an at-the-table affair so you can both share what’s going on in your lives

And after every dinner is cuddling until bed, unless other activities take priority *wink wink*

You planning time together and asking him about missions makes him feel like the luckiest man alive, because it shows him that you're just as interested in him as he is in you

And of course it doesn’t hurt when you can’t take your hands off him. That’s quality time on a whole new level

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle, soft-spoken man that he is, responds the best to words of affirmation

He’s confident enough, but there’s something about being told when he’s doing things right that really sets his mind and heart at ease

Whether it be on mission or at home, he likes to know he’s not off-base when he thinks he’s done things right

Part of why he and Price are so close is that Price always lets him know how he’s doing

Nothing boosts his confidence like you appreciating him vocally, whether it be for helping you cook or clean or doing the grocery shopping

Obviously, there’s one area of home life that vocal praise means even more

One of his favorite things is coming home to you to hear “I missed you” and “I’m so glad you came back to me”

“I love you” undoes him every time, and it’s his favorite thing to say to you. It isn’t said lightly

He loves with words of affirmation, too

“This meal is delicious” and “thank you for doing my laundry” and “I’m so grateful to have you in my life” are common phrases in your home

John Price

John is old-fashioned. Acts of service are his favorite way to be loved, and gift-giving is his favorite way to give love

With his team, he always makes sure they have the things they need to be comfortable on mission (tea to calm Ghost’s, earplugs so Gaz can sleep, puzzles or some such to occupy Soap’s idle hands)

With you? Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s? You’ll be getting flowers on every one

You’ll probably get flowers just sending him to the grocery store, too

When he travels, he picks up various little things for you he thinks you’ll like

When you need something done, he does it

He does whatever his team needs, too. On or off mission

When you get gifts for him, he doesn’t much care what they are. It’s the thought that counts

He still uses the wallet you got him when you started dating all those years ago

He feels the most loved and cared for when he comes home after a mission to a hot meal, his favorite sweats laid out, and a nice back rub from you

[d1s1ntegrated]

I liked your “first time making out with Shigaraki” it was really cute would it be alright if I may request one with Spinner instead?

If you don’t do spinner stories or headcannons than that’s fine i understand. If not him than Dabi would be fine too😁

um. what the freak...JK! YEAAAAAH spinner needs sm love ill do u one better, ill do both AND remake shigaraki's here too since this ask is old (im so sorry it takes me lightyears to answer my inbox)😏

first time (+ song!)

-> first time making out hcs for the league boys: s.iguchi, t.todoroki, t.shigaraki (with an added song suggestion for ~immersion~)

cw: language, light smut, tension, smoking, heavy petting, etc

this isnt proofread lmk if there are typos IM SORRRYYYY

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

t.todoroki- as you sow. by Reaper (heady)

dabi's first time kissing you was actually soft, almost nervous

(he has since then gained the confidence to manhandle you.)

he didn't think you actually wanted to- you both sat in his room, on his small shitty bed, smoking out the window late at night. at that point, you'd made this a habit with him, it was the one moment of peace you both got each day.

it was always calm here. just the sounds of cars passing by, music droning softly from one of your phones usually- just to keep the "vibe". even in the small room, on a shitty mattress, you enjoyed your time together in easy silence.

sometimes though, you'd feel his eyes rake over your form- you'd play it off as a casual glance, but the way your body warmed at his jeweled gaze...it made you question things later at night. but you never brought it up.

the haze of smoke blankets the room heavily, catching flickers of the neon city lights from a distance. it always did look pretty out here, even from the run-down hideout.

one night, he opened the pack of cigarettes with a frown. you sat on his bed, looking into the box- just one left. maybe staring a bit would make another appear.

it didn't.

it was far too late to run out for more now, and you were both tired. you looked at him and pulled the dart from the box, nodding to him to light it. reluctantly, he presses his thumb to the end, a small flickering blue light singeing the tightly-rolled tobacco.

you bring it to your lips, taking a long drag with closed eyes. you bring yourself closer to him, cupping his cheek gently. "open your mouth," a small fluttering of smoke follows your words, and his eyes widen only slightly. hesitantly, his lips part.

as you're exhaling the smoke, he's breathing it in. you repeat this, his sapphire eyes falling half-closed as his heart races.

you're not even an inch away, your noses keep grazing each other as you swap smoke. each drag brings you closer, until he gets tired of it.

he brings you into his lap, muttering something about "wasting precious smoke", and you snake your legs around him.

the cigarette burns down to it's last hit, and you press the tip of it to his lips. he takes the final drag, his chest rising against your hand.

you mimic him now, parting your lips slightly, and he blows the smoke slowly into your mouth.

as you inhale the tail-end of the smoke, he grabs your face and leans in, pressing his lips into yours softly.

there's a taste beyond the smoke to his lips, something akin to citrus and mint.

you slip your tongue into his mouth, the smoke now billowing around the both of you as your breathing quickens, his hands gently tangling in your hair. you wrap your arms around him, emitting a soft moan from the man as he tastes you.

his hands are warm, but they're also much softer as they hold you. gentler. as if he's cautious- or holding himself back.

the heat rises between the both of you, and you graze your nails into his back gently.

he cant stop himself now. he pushes you down against the mattress, and you watch as the city lights catch his eyes before he peppers kisses down your jaw and neck, his hands dug into he bed on either side of you.

his kisses are purposeful, but not aggressive as he envelops you, and from there... the rest is history.

it becomes an unspoken rule between you two that you share one cigarette from now on.

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s.iguchi- words drowned by fireworks. by Nobuo Uematsu (ffVII OST)

you and spinner had bonded unusually well. you spent all your free time together.

you'd always sit next to each other during meetings, played games together (sometimes with shiggy- that cockblock lol), would even read manga or novels quietly together late at night on the old couch, huddled up to each other for warmth.

but...he genuinely didn't know why.

one night, he asks you bluntly, "why do you like me so much?"

he wasn't trying to be like that. hell, he just wanted to know why here, of all places, he had more friends than he ever did outside. especially with someone like you.

because to him, you were farrrr out of his league. you're ambitious, proud, strong...pretty. and he explained this to you, under the glow of the game start menu, big ruby eyes shining with apprehension.

and when you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, his heart jumps. and slowly, he clasps his fingers against yours, little claws brushing against your skin.

and you tell him everything you like about him. his courage, his loving nature, his jokes... all the fun you two had gaming and hanging out...how he became a warmth in cold places. god, you could go on.

but his head still hangs low, nervously chewing at his lip, messy orchid hair falling around his face a bit.

you shake your head, knowing you can't explain it any better than that. well, you can, but...no, fuck it.

you grab at his jaw, pressing your lips firmly onto his.

he's surprisingly soft. his skin, well- his scales- is a pleasant texture. smooth and supple. there wasn't a good way to describe it, but you liked it.

a lot.

god, and he smells so nice. its kind of tropical, like coconut and sandalwood, a warm bonfire on the beach almost.

meanwhile, he's overcome with feelings of shock, excitement, bewilderment. his nails dig further into your hand as he leans in, not missing the opportunity to finally fucking kiss you. after months of pining, trying so hard to just be friends.

everything is so soft, so gentle, and yet you cant help the pounding in your heart as you realize what's happening.

his tongue darts into your mouth without thinking- he just wants to taste you more. wants to be closer. you fall back into the couch as he brings himself above you. its a bit rushed, a bit shaky, but you can tell he's trying so hard to be "chill".

much like shigaraki, spinner is pent up. he's never done this before, he's so nervous, he's so turned on, oh my god... and so he presses himself firmly against you, against better judgement, unable to control his racing thoughts.

as you both pull away for a breath, you trail your fingers down his spine, his tail swinging slowly as he smiles down at you, blushing heavily.

"is that enough of an answer for you?"

"no, no, i think i need a little clarification" he smiles as he leans back in, not at all giving up this moment.

from now on, every time you hear that opening theme for that game, you get turned on.

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t.shigaraki - sex & super smash bros. by KYLE (beautiful loser)

(remake- check out the og post here!)

if there was one thing tomura was good at, my god, it was pissing you off.

he'd deliberately tease you all the time by hiding your things on tall shelves, stealing your snacks and clothes, basically laying claim on all of your items.

the worst of it was when you watched him as he entered your room, grabbed a hoodie from the hanger, put it on in front of you, and left without a word.

"shiggy, what the fuck, give it back!" you shout at him down the hall as he slumps back towards his room.

"nope, i'm cold and all mine are dirty."

"so go do laundry, you weirdo!" you grab him by the hood before he has a chance to close his door, and he chokes a bit with a laugh as he stumbles backwards.

he finds amusement in your frustration, and mocks you further as he turns around, wrapping his arms around himself to prevent you from stealing the hoodie off his back.

"what are you gonna do, noob?" he makes a stupid face as he laughs, and you huff and try and grab at the hoodie.

"come on, dude, you're gonna get all your gamer stink on my clothes" you fake whine as you chase him, his lanky figure handing him an advantage.

you've got him now- he's cornered in the hall. you lunge and begin to wrestle, eventually tumbling onto the floor in the hallway. you shriek as he tugs your hair, and you pinch his side tightly. the sound he manages to make is barely human, and you laugh a little too hard, letting go and falling into him.

he laughs, his raspy voice lightening as he squints up at you. "you're such a sweat. you own like, eighty hoodies anyways."

you scoff and roll your eyes. "stop fucking around and just give it back"

he shakes his head and challenges you further, his crimson eyes batting up at you with a smug look. he wiggles his fingers as if casting a spell, "you want me soooo bad, oooh." he does his best to keep a straight face as he continues, "you want me, so now you're begging me to take my clothes off oooh".

"they're MY clothes, shig!" you argue as you start pulling the hoodie strings.

he doesn't give a fuck about what you're saying, cause he just keeps going. "you wanna kiss me sooo bad. you're in loveee with me"

yeah, no, he's right. but he doesn't know that-he's just trying you to give him your usual "ew, fuck off" response, and leave him be. too bad now, because you decide to fight fire with fire.

"yeah, you're right." you retaliate, pressing your lips into his before he has a chance to respond. he hiccups in panic, his breath hitching in his chest. his breath is heavy with the taste of energy drinks- its sweet, its actually kind of...nice?

but he was clearly panicking, because his lips are pressed so tightly into a pout, it's kind of pathetic. so you pull away, gauging his reaction-he didn't like that you stopped. he pulls you back in, this kiss hungrier, his lips parting to push his tongue into your mouth desperately.

when you pull away to catch your breaths, you both stand and he drags you into his bedroom, pressing you against his door. he grinds against you with a soft moan, the sounds of his discord chat still going off on his headphones. oops!

when you finish making out (and he's definitely ruined his sweatpants) he asks you if you were serious.

"no, of course not. yes, you fucking idiot."

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thank u for the ask <3 sorry its taking me so long to respond to these, im trying my best lol! but this was fun, hopefully spinner isn't too OOC,, tbh they prob all are oh well

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Start from the beginning on ao3, or read today's entry below.

Day 4: My Heart is Racing in a Weird Way

Tommy wasn't sure what was happening as Buck led him through the bar. Eyes lingered on them as they passed by each table until they reached a door that read Employees Only.

“Evan, what are we doing?” Tommy asked, scooting in closer to his boyfriend as people passed behind him.

“Hang on, you'll see.”

Buck knocked on the door and waited, glancing back at Tommy with a nervous smile.

“Did you get a job here?” Tommy asked. “Babe, are you hurting for money? I can-”

Buck pulled Tommy to his side and patted his chest. “Tommy, relax. Let's just... just wait.”

After waiting a few more seconds, the door opened just a crack. A man wearing far too much glitter, in Tommy's opinion, peered out. “Password.”

Buck grinned. “Paradise.”

The man eyed them both, then opened the door and let them inside, leading them down a hall.

“No touching unless given permission, although looking is highly recommended,” the man began to recite like he was giving a college tour, “use condoms, clean up your mess. No kink shaming. Sharing is caring.” He opened a door at the end of the hallway and moved to the side to let them through. “Have fun, newbies.”

“Ev- Evan, what are-”

“I do have a couple rules,” Buck interrupted, moving so he was directly in front of Tommy. “I really don't want anyone else touching you, and I don't want them touching me either.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Tommy mumbled, barely audible over the music and the moans. He cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder. “I don't want that either.”

Buck nodded. “Okay... Okay, good. I guess, um, we should f- find a spot then, right?”

“Um, oh, sorry,” Tommy moved as far into Buck's space as he could as a man in head to toe leather walked behind him with another man following him on a leash. “I, Evan, I don't know if there's any space here.”

“Sure there is!” Buck replied with a nervous laugh. “We don't take up that much space. Come on.”

They continued through the room, and Tommy couldn't help but feel far too overdressed in his blue jeans and black henley. He was sweaty, a bit panicky, and- “Is that... is his whole arm in there?” He froze, eyes wide at the sight of it.

Buck leaned in close to Tommy's ear. “No kink shaming,” he muttered.

“I'm not shaming, I'm impressed... and having some sympathy pains,” he added with a grimace. “Damn, he's going hard. I hope that man has good health insurance.”

Buck tugged at his arm, moving them along. “What about back here? Not too crowded. We c-”

He was cut off by the sound of a whip cracking nearby, followed by a yelp and a moan.

“Oh, Evan, my-” Tommy brought a hand up to his chest, flinching as the whip struck down again, “my heart is racing in a weird way.”

Alarmed, Buck held onto Tommy's arm, looking around until he found an exit. Making his way through the maze of bodies, Buck led them out of the building.

Tommy took the opportunity to take in a deep breath, the cool evening air hitting his face. “Sorry,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, “I know you wanted to do... whatever in there, it's just- that's not really for me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “Tommy, I don't care about any of that stuff. I thought it's what you wanted.”

“Hmm? Evan, why would I want that?”

“The movie!” Buck exclaimed, as though that explained everything.

“The movie? What movie?”

Buck groaned. “The movie we saw a couple weeks ago. They had a scene in the back of a seedy bar where all kinds of kinky shit was happening. You popped a boner in the theater!”

“That's because Cheyenne Jackson did full frontal and I'm human!”

Buck put his hands on his hips. “S- So it didn't have anything to do with the, uh, the chains or the, um, the other stuff?”

“God, no,” Tommy replied with a shake of the head. “I mean, sometimes things can be hot in theory, but it doesn't mean I wanna do it. This, however,” he said, pointing back toward the bar, “scared me more than war.”

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

Tommy held his arms open, waving Buck toward him. Without hesitation, Buck wrapped himself up in Tommy's arms. “Okay, maybe it didn't scare me more than war,” Tommy admitted, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple, “but it did leave me with some phantom pains. Did you see how hard that fist was-”

“I saw, I saw,” Buck interrupted with a shiver. “I know I always say I want to feel you the next day, but I'm not sure I'd want you rearranging my organs like that.”

Tommy laughed, tapping at Buck's side until he leaned back enough for them to look at one another. “You spent the last two weeks researching this place, didn't you?”

“It was the only one with five stars,” Buck whined. “And I wanted to go somewhere that I knew no one would just start touching you, or me.”

“I will say that, in the forty-five seconds we were in there, they were all very respectful,” Tommy admitted. “I just don't think I'm the fuck-you-in-a-room-full-of-people type. I also hated how they were all looking at you like they wanted to eat you.”

“Oh, please!” Buck huffed. “They were looking at you like that, not- not me. I was so close to jabbing some eyes out.”

“I disagree. Not about jabbing eyes, but about where the eyes were focused.”

“Agree to disagree.”

They were silent for a moment. Tommy looked off to the side, lips pursed.

“What is it?” Buck asked.

“Can we just talk about the fact that the place cannot be sanitary? I know they say to clean up after yourself, but God, Evan, there's no way-”

“I know, I know,” Buck soothed, running his hand over Tommy's chest. “I thought about that too.”

Tommy eyed Buck briefly before reaching up and cupping his face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his thumbs stroking Buck's cheek.

“What?”

“Next time you think there's a kink I wanna try out... ask me.”

“You mean you haven't loved my surprises?” Buck joked.

“Oh, they're great,” Tommy answered sarcastically. “I am afraid the next one might actually kill me though.”

With a smile, Buck took hold of Tommy's hands and pulled him away from the wall. “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yeah. Can we get in bed and do none of the things I just witnessed in there?”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “You mean you don't wanna shove your arm so deep inside me you could pull out my heart?”

Tommy shivered. “Evan,” he whined, “I'd almost forgotten about it.”

“Honey, there are some things the mind will never forget,” Buck replied as they reached the truck. “That was absolutely one of them.”

[remstrrs]

Potential Rebel Robin -> S4 Parallel and (potentially) S5 Parallel

I feel like as a fandom, we don't really talk about the Rebel Robin book/podcast enough, especially about it's implications for the series in general, so i wanted to look at one specific scene that parallels a scene from s4, and that i think would be rlly cool if paralleled in s5:

{CC:

Robin : There's something wrong with me. There's something inside of me that's just, like, rotten, and there's nothing I can do to fix it.

Wait - Wait why are you stopping?

Mr. Hauser : Robin, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you.

Robin : You have to say that.

Mr. Hauser : No, I'm serious. Hey - hey, look me in the eye and trust what I'm saying, okay? There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing rotten inside of you; you don't need to be fixed. }

For further context, Mr. Hauser is Robin's English teacher at Hawkins High in her sophomore year (podcast is set in winter of 1983) who she becomes very close with and, in this scene, is giving her a ride home.

This is episode four of the podcast, but in the final episode, Robin finds out that Mr. Hauser is a queer man who is secretly dating another man in Hawkins.

In aforementioned scene, Robin asks him if he's happy, and if living in Hawkins while queer is really worth it for him - to which he says yes, but reminds Robin that she doesn't have to make the same choice as him, saying, "There are places where you don't need the armor"

Now, firstly, I want to start by talking about how this scene between Robin and Mr. Hauser is a pretty close parallel to the scene in s4e08, where Jonathan is comforting Will after he watches the painting scene go down.

(Also, keep in mind that the Rebel Robin book was published in 2021, so it's writing coincided with the writing of s4)

Jonathan knows that Will is queer, and heard Will mention that he felt like a mistake back in the van, so he tells him that he loves him and,

"There is nothing in this world, okay, absolutely nothing that will ever change that."

Although not a perfect parallel, I couldn't help but notice the word choice used and the repetition of 'nothing' in both examples. The overall exigence of these two scenes is almost a perfect match, too:

Mr. Hauser hears Robin call herself wrong and rotten, so he comforts her by telling her the exact opposite.

Jonathan hears Will call himself different and a mistake so he comforts him and tells him that he loves him no matter what.

Now.... how do I think something similar could play out in Season 5?

Alright, so there's been a lot of talk on Byler tumblr about having scenes with Mike, Will, and Robin together - or Robin mentoring either one of the boys - but personally, I'd like to see the scenes above paralleled in a Robin/Mike conversation over anything, and here's why.

Out of the two boys, Mike is the one who is most isolated from his queerness and what it entails. Whereas Will is possibly starting to come into his own and accept himself a little bit more with Jonathan as a stronger support system, and has known about his queerness, Mike is much more lost. Will has already had a heart-to-heart with Jonathan, and knows he isn't alone with his queerness.

In my opinion, it's inevitable that Mike will have a heart-to-heart with one of the adults/older teens in Season 5, and I honestly believe that it has to be Robin, Nancy, or (preferably) both.

In Season 5, Mike is a high school sophomore. He's very clearly insecure, and is probably seen as more weird or different because of his previous involvement with Hellfire. Likewise, in her book, Robin is also an insecure high school sophomore who is seen as an outsider/social outcast.

Plus, in Season 5, Robin closely parallels Mr. Hauser from the book:

They both have accepted and come to terms with their queerness, and came out to at least one person, and they both have partners of the opposite-sex while living in Hawkins (assuming that Rovickie is canon after the 1987 time skip, which i believe it probably will be.)

In my opinion, this sets up an almost perfect opportunity for a Robin/Mike moment where Mike either:

In relation to his queerness, talks about feeling wrong and rotten to Robin, who sympathizes with him (and potentially comes out to him) helping him know that he isn't alone or broken.

or

Mike finds out about Robin's queerness by accident, (which is Robin's case when finding out about Mr. Hauser's) and he asks her if she's happy in Hawkins, which gives her the opportunity to convey to Mike that his idea of a 'family' isn't the only one, and that there "are places where you don't need the armor" just as Mr. Hauser said.

I think the second would be especially impactful, because Mike grew up in a white-picket fence, nuclear, traditional, and conservative household (something that is actually openly criticized by Nancy and Jonathan in season 1). He sees his parents' loveless relationship (which is paralleled to Stancy and Milkvan) right in front of his eyes, and thinks that its the only way because it's all he's known. Robin could open his eyes to the possibility of something else, and this is what could make him realize his feelings for Will.

Also! We have confirmation of a potential Robin + Mike scene (or at least a scene where Finn and Maya are filming together) by none other than Shawn Levy himself (pic posted on his insta)

If you don't know, Shawn Levy notoriously directed both of the scenes below, which show examples of Mike struggling with potential internalized homophobia during angsty fights with Will

Also, based on Shawn Levy's reply to this person on twt, it's very likely we get a similar scene in St5:

I think that another Byler fight could be the perfect lead-in to a heart-to-heart between Mike and Robin, too. Seeing the two boys fighting could lead her into asking Mike what's going on between them, which could then turn into a deeper conversation where Mike realizes exactly why his fights with Will are so different from his fights with anyone else.

This has gotten way too long and spiraled a bit out of control, and I need to actually write an essay for school now, so I'll leave it here.

Please let me know if you have anything to add or anything you agree or disagree with! I love theorizing with other people, too :)

[heeaara]

୨ৎ. ❝ SUPERNOVA LOVE ━━ OCCUPiED MY HEART . ❞

── ✦ [ 심재윤 ] sim jake x fem!reader, wc :: 800 , cw 𓂃 swearing, relationship, skinship, kissing, kinda obsessed reader ? ｡｡ overall fluff ♡ .

ARA's NOTE : my writing debut on blr finally !! english isn't my first language so i'm really sorry for all the grammar mistakes andd this fic is originally inspired by the song supernova love by ive, as well as, all likes, comments & reblogs will be highly appreciated, enjoyy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

You sit on your balcony, the night breeze hitting your face as you feel a chill yet soft sensation on your face. The night sky is clear, the stars and moon illuminating their light at the fullest. Stargazing was your favorite thing, it made you feel contented yet vulnerable, as if the stars and moon knew all the hidden secrets the hearts hold, as if they had always been watching. You keep looking at the sky mesmerized and lost when you feel a presence next to you. Your boyfriend, Sim Jaeyun quietly takes a seat next to you, looking at the sky as well. You both enjoy each other's peaceful silence. Both of your silence speaking more than words did. He was the only one who really knew the real you, he was someone you had in your highest and lowest, he was more than a lover. He was your bestfriend, your other half, your companion, your one and only. 

"You know. ." you say quietly as jake hums at you, still keeping his eyes on the sky. "it feels unreal." you remark as you look at him. The moonlight falling on his face, enhancing his features, his side profile the most ethereal view you ever saw. He was gorgeous, so so gorgeous, he made you want to cry. God really took his time with him, you think to yourself. "having you by my side, you and me, us, it feels like a dream ━ a dream that i would never want to wake up from." you continue, your voice raw, filled with emotions, your words holding a deep meaning. 

Jake looks at you, his gaze soft, "so do i" he whispers as he stares right into your eyes, making you feel all sorts of jittery feelings. You break the eye contact as you gaze at the sky again, continuing softly, your emotions taking the best of you. "i used to sit here every night looking at the sky, the stars, the moon, i ━ i used to wish upon them." You glance at him, already staring at you, your stomach doing flips as butterflies erupt. You were down bad for him and you knew it. You look back at the sky, not being able to hold the eye contact with him. "i used to wish that i wanted someone who would actually love me for who i was. I wanted someone who could be the light to my dark, someone. .who would actually glow in my dark, like ━ like a supernova that glows in the dark." you say, look at him, as you intertwine your fingers with his. 

He gazes at you softly, understanding the deep meaning of your words, feeling heart warmed and touched. "then you came. ." you pronounce, "i ━ i saw you and i knew you were it. You are my supernova, the one that would light up my dark, the one who would show me the real love i needed." You state softly, your voice soft, vulnerable and desperate. He keeps staring at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration. You look away as your voice breaks " A ━ and i would never want to loose you, you are too precious to me, i can't imagine living without you, i ━ i would absolutely destroy the whole damn ━ "

Jake leans in towards your cheeks without you noticing as you keep talking when suddenly, you feel a pair of soft lips on your cheeks. Your eyes widen as you feel stunned and speechless. Did he just interrupt you talking with a kiss on the cheek ? oh god, you loved this man so much, so . so . much u think to yourself. Your ears turn red, feeling the heat rising on your cheeks. You turn your head towards him, and, your breath hitches. His face was close, so so close to yours. 

You keep your gaze down, unable to move or to look at him when he brings his face closer to yours as his hands reach up to your nap holding it. "i love you." he suddenly whispers making you look at him. His face was so close to yours, you were actually about to explode. This man never failed to make you miserable, but, you still loved it. You loved how his words that came out of his mouth were only meant for you and you only. 

"i fucking love you." jake repeats, saying out loud and clear as he leans in, and in a swift move, he smashes his lips on yours and like always, you find yourself splitting among the seams, his lips so soft like two pillows. The kiss speaking more than his words and at the moment you were sure he was as down bad for you as you were for him.

TAGLiST : @vmpivory @flwrstqr @sugarikiz @cupidhoons @elysianiki @coqhee @amorsae @jakery @haerinheartss ( tagged some of my moots ik over here, pls imk if u want me to remove ) .

[katzkinder]

@ky-kyu you asked about gluttony pair and it got kinda long so I decided to make it a separate post for the sake of people's dashboards. Also, I have another post here!

But I have more thoughts on them thanks to this page Yarra shared earlier, and many more besides, but I'll stick to this scene because otherwise this will really turn into a monster.

the wording nicco uses in the right panel is pretty moving, especially in relation to gluttony, at least in my opinion, and these scene between them is what really made me fall in love with these two as characters who were, quite literally, made for one another.

Basically, it's about how the opposite of Gluttony is a banquet.

Having so much excess and sharing it with others, allowing someone to fill their plate without worry because you know you have more, and how that relates to Nicco being the Eve who has an entire group of people surrounding him at all times, something which makes him unique as far as the main cast go because he's always being supported. The other Eves don't really have like... An entire group of human characters they're close with the way Nicco does.

A banquet without guests will simply rot and go to waste. Nicco, being a mafia boss, brings all those guests with him and allows them to partake of what he has to offer.

Food tastes the best when you share it with someone you love, and your joy is multiplied through their own. The joy of a shared meal cannot be understated. Even terrible food becomes fun when you have someone to laugh about it with. Even failure becomes tolerable when you share it.

And it's just. One of the first moments of big characterization we get from Ildio when we see his past is that he is a man who shares what little he has, even though he acknowledges that he has earned it, and the little slave girl has not. Even that far back, when his only desires went as far as an animal understanding of life, he was someone who could have, and probably did, draw in others around him for that unthinking kindness, so I really love how Nicco handles his problems. Because they actually share a similar fault

Both of them will attempt to take on too much for themselves to bear, and yet they can't help it. To defend the weak is what they feel they must do.

Gluttons for punishment, as it goes

And yet...

To be able to share the pain and the joys, to have a feast with one another with life as the centerpiece…

I think it's just… Extremely beautiful, the way their love for their fellow man is able to express itself

And I think it's even more beautiful, the way that even when being beat to a pulp, Nicco takes the time to look and see and experience the pain Ildio doesn't even realize he's holding onto

He doesn't let Inner Gluttony distract him. He doesn't entertain the demon attempting, however poorly, to shelter Ildio's heart by putting the blinders on. He speaks to him as an equal. As a friend. As someone who is worth listening to, and cherishing. He helps Ildio to face his grief.

He gives Ildio the same love he would give to any friend. Bite by bite, tear by tear, Nicco shares the burden Ildio tried to be Atlas about.

The song Nicco sings while they dance with the people they've loved and lost is Ciuri Ciuri. It's a Sicilian folksong, whose title means "Flowers, Flowers"

The verse Strike has carefully written out on the page translates to "Flowers flowers, flowers all the year. The love you gave me, I give you back"

And the love Nicco gives to Ildio...

Ildio will give back to him.

[seokminfilm]

angel | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, biker!seokmin, one-night fling (NOT a one-night stand okay just to clarify), bad boy!seokmin (yes it gets a warning), forbidden romance, angst, one suggestive comment (if you miss it it's not even suggestive), morality struggle, kissing, mutual attraction, seokmin calls reader angel, one mention pinning against the wall (also needs a warning), seokmin is described to be hot, kind of plot-heavy??

🪄 summary, why was the only person who could give you respite in your suffocating, perfectionist world a rogue motorcyclist who kissed you last night?

🪄 author's note, long story short an anon of mine was like "hey you should do racer seokmin" and i was like "wowie yes!" and yeah 😭 this is how it came about! this may not be racer seokmin BUT the only good idea i had was with biker seokmin so....🤷 this may be on the longer side because i'm working on making my fics longer this year....i love the little drabbles i do, but i want smthn more than 1k 😛 anyways enjoy, and thank anon for the idea!

🪄 playlist, 01. riez, stromae | 02. la solassitude, stromae | 03. million dollar baby, tommy richman | 04. dancing in the flames, the weeknd | 06. a lonely night, the weekend

🪄 word count, 2.9k (LET'S GO) | for @kstrucknet

"What determines what's right or wrong?" He asked you, face a few hairs away from yours as you stared up at him, mouth parted just slightly. You didn't know the answer to that question, and you could honestly care less: the man who had your heart and soul ever since you bumped into him on the street now had his slender, very pretty fingers under your chin, lips seconds away from touching yours as he questioned you. Your back was pinned against the brick wall of the sweaty bar, Seokmin just inches away from you.

"How would I know the answer to that?" You echoed softly, sighing as you inhaled deeply. You could taste his cologne on your tongue, and you hadn't even kissed him yet. He was everywhere around you, it seemed.

The man smiled, lips curving into the prettiest thing you've ever seen as he chuckled. His voice was like honey, dripping with something that you were sure was amusement as he shook his head. His leather jacket crinkled with his movements, suave and taunting as your fingers felt the roughness of the material. It was just like him─rough.

"You tell me." You say, feeling a sudden rush of boldness coarse through your veins. Your hands find the back of his neck slowly, fingers playing with the dark hair on the nape of his neck. His breath is hot against your cheek, and you find it drawing you in, closing the distance in what would be your first kiss. Ever.

Even now, the thought was warm, playing on repeat in your head. You were a sheltered kid: your parents were very strict with what you wore, what you watched, how well you did in school, who you talked to─all of it.

From a young age, you knew nothing but good, morally correct things, and were taught to never dabble in things like one-time flings, dressing loosely, or cursing. You were what everyone would call a "good girl"─perfect in everything good, unable to do anything bad.

You were okay with it when you were younger, but now, you couldn't stand it. It made your blood boil knowing how truly restrained you were from living your own life.

"We're going out for the day! Stay indoors, and don't leave unless one of your friends knows where you are!" Your mom's voice comes as a bitter wake-up from downstairs, and you sigh, crashing back into your pillow as your neck burns. It's hot against your silk pillow, as if it's remembering what happened to it last night. If you tried hard enough, you could feel his soft lips pecking at your neck right now.

Sighing, you face the wall, tears brimming in your eyes you grip your pillowcase. It shouldn't hurt so much; it was a one-time thing, something you know you shouldn't have experienced. You were so confident, too─so ready to be defiant all of a sudden and go against everything you ever knew. Where was that confidence now?

As you heard your parents' car speed away, the house finally returned to its quiet state. Finally alone, you could take a breath, standing up as you let some light into your room.

It was decorated nicely, as your parents were well off, but it was devoid of anything that was truly you. It was generic, still resembling a child's room in a way; lavender-covered walls and sheets pulled the whole idea of a nursery together, and you frowned at the massive, pristinely white bunny rabbit still sitting perfectly in the corner of your room.

Silently putting your clothes on, you tugged at your hair, willing yourself to stop thinking of the man you had met last night. Everywhere you looked, you saw something that reminded you of him.

The gold necklace you had hanging on your vanity was scarily similar to the one the biker had worn last night, and you remembered intertwining it around your finger to bring him closer to you. The Mary Janes you had in the corner were identical to his loafers; you were surprised a person like him even had loafers.

Even the blush compact peeking from your bag matched his lips─plump and soft as he kissed your neck over and over.

You were daydreaming about this man, and you didn't even know his name. What would your mom say to that, especially with what type of man he is? What would happen to you if they found out you had been with a guy last night? If you had kissed him?

A knock at your door distracts you from all of those thoughts.

Wary of the unexpected knock, you run towards your window, eyes looking out above your driveway. The sky is still cloudy, dark and brooding from last night's downpour. You can even still see puddles in the street, swirling from the wind gusts dancing through the skies, and the clouds move in a slow migration eastward, painting the skies slowly and softly.

Finally getting a good look at the driveway below you, your eyes widen as you see a sleek black motorcycle expertly parked, helmet missing from the handles as another knock comes on your door.

You recognized that bike. You had just ridden it last night.

He was here? The man you had met last night─the man you had (kissed) last night─was here, at your home. He was knocking at the front door, for whatever reason. Your prayers had been answered, but you also knew that were was only going to be trouble from here.

Quickly slipping on your jacket, you tiptoe down the stairs, still terrified of what would happen if your parents returned. What would they think, seeing a motorcycle they didn't own sitting in their driveway? What would they think was happening to you?

Now standing in front of the ever-so-looming doorway, your hand shakily wrapped around the doorknob, telling yourself that you had one more chance to back away. One more chance to run back up to your room and pretend like no one was home. One more chance to choose to lock the mysterious stranger out of your home and consequently─out of your life.

Why would you take that chance?

You open the door.

"Hey, angel," The pet name comes naturally to him, rolling off of his tongue like it was your birth name. Before you can fight it, your body becomes hot, and you struggle to keep your composure, eyes wide as your voice trembles when you speak. "Why are you here?"

The man looks at you with a smirk on his face, holding up a familiar jacket. That jacket was the one you had left on his bike when he dropped you off at the park just ten minutes away from your house so you could walk the rest of the way there alone. You had forgotten your jacket, though, and your parents questioned you because of it.

"I returned your jacket for you." His smile showed teeth, blindingly white and straight as he handed it to you. It was surprisingly dry and smelled like his cologne. Like (his) cologne.

"Thank you, but─you shouldn't be here." You say, eyes darting down to the ground.

You knew more than anyone that you were going against your parents' rules, and if he knew that you were, he would probably never stop teasing you about it. You had a feeling that he already (knew) that he was risking it being here, and that he was just using it as another way to get high on adrenaline.

"I know that." The man's voice is sure, strong as he smirks at you. "I could care less about your parents, though. Fuck your parents." Hearing the curse fall from his lips so easily made your cheeks burn hot, and he catches onto this, taking one step closer to you to see if you'll back away. You don't, and he chuckles, taking your chin in his hand again.

"Suprised, angel? It's just a bad word." The pout in the mysterious biker's voice makes you want to get closer to him, but you will yourself against it, pulling away as you frown.

"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be on my porch. I don't even know your (name)." And you were right; you hadn't heard his name once last night, and you kept referring to him as 'the man' when you daydreamed about him. Hell, it was even more embarrassing to be dreaming about a guy you met and not even knowing his name.

"Seokmin. Lee Seokmin, at your service." The man you finally now know as (Seokmin) cheesily bows to you, causing you to give a little giggle as he glances up at you from his position. He stands to his full height again, towering over you easily as he smiles with that self-confident grin. "Now you know my name, angel."

Speechless, you look away, unable to go against him. Why does he make you want to abandon everything you know? You know he's bad for you; you know that he goes against everything that your parents had told you to stand for. It was remarkable, how good Seokmin was at making you hate the life you were in, just to want to be with him even more.

"You should come in," You say slowly, glancing at Seokmin's bike resting in your empty driveway. No one was home at the moment, and all the tattletale neighbors weren't at their houses either, meaning you were truly alone for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Seokmin could come into your house right now, and no one would even know he was here if he left on time. The feeling that coursed through your veins was dangerous─it was hot, searing like bubbling oil as Seokmin smirked down at you. He was thinking the same thing you were: you could get into big trouble for this, but you were starting not to care if you got in trouble or not.

"Don't mind if I do." Seokmin steps into the lavish foyer quietly, slipping off his shoes and putting them beside your house shoes. The sight was domestic, and it made your cheeks heat up with how quickly you had to bash the idea.

"So," You pause, staring around at your empty house. You trusted Seokmin not to break anything─he was careful with things when he wanted to be, whether it was a glass pot, or your chin in his hand. You preferred to only think about the former. "What do you want to see first?"

Seokmin hums, as if he's thinking of his answers, but both you and him know he was just bluffing. He knew what he wanted to see.

"I wanna see your room, angel." Seokmin smiles at you, and you can't help but giggle, turning your nose to him exaggeratedly as you put on a haughty voice. "Of course you do─you uncouth rascal. What? You haven't seen a girl's room before?" You add sarcastically, and Seokmin shakes his head, grinning at you as his eyes crinkle up.

"I've seen plenty," Seokmin adds lowly, and you fall silent, neck heating up as your brain automatically seeks to read between the lines.

"Oh my god," You finally sigh out, and Seokmin giggles, letting you take his hand as you lead him upstairs to your room. Your hand burns in his grasp, and it shocks you at how much you don't want to pull away. The lingering thought that your parents could be back at any time burns in your mind, and you swallow, trying to push it away.

Once you open the door to your room, Seokmin's mouth is already opening, ready to say something to tease you. "Love the bunny." His tone is saccharine, and you blush, throwing a stray shoe at it as an act of defiance.

"Oh, shut up." Seokmin chuckles behind you, admiring the painted walls and clean carpet as he sighs. "Cleaner than my room would ever be."

Giggling, you sigh, approaching Seokmin again as that fleeting wave of confidence returns to you. Before you know it, your hands slide over Seokmin's shoulders and down his chest, slowly removing the familiar leather jacket from his body. His arms bulge from underneath his white tank top, and you swear you can see the dip of his abs from your vantage point. Seokmin is stunned, throat bobbing as you stare up at him with those boba eyes he can't resist.

"Fuck. Who knew the good girl could throw away her reputation just like that?" Seokmin's voice is teasing, warm and dangerous like lava as he smirks at your newfound boldness.

Shrugging, your lips puff up, pulling yourself closer to Seokmin as you take his chin in your hand, pulling it down to you.

"No one except you." You whisper, voice hot as Seokmin's lips capture yours in a searing hot kiss. It was like last night's kiss─warm, long, and expectant. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for you to confirm your want to him.

"You should take me on that bike again," You mumble, the sentence cut off by Seokmin's slow and sweet kisses. "Should I?" He questions innocently, and you nod, pulling away as Seokmin's playful eyes and matching smirk meet your gaze.

"You should. I want to feel the wind in my hair again." You say, and Seokmin smiles, sighing as he holds you to his chest. Even though you two only met just last night, no one would know if you didn't tell them─you looked like two young adults in love, soaking each other up like a sponge does water. You felt like your head belonged on his chest, and your body only felt right when he was hugging you.

"Do you want to feel the wind in your hair? Is that all you want to feel, angel?" Seokmin's question seems simple but has so many layers to it, but you fall silent, heart clenching at his words. What you said was partially a lie: you did want to feel the wind in your hair, but you just wanted to feel anything at that point. Anything would be better than feeling trapped in your life of perfection. You could breathe when you were with Seokmin. On his motorcycle, with your arms around his waist, you felt like you could let go and be who you truly were.

You could scream like a madman from the back of the bike and Seokmin wouldn't judge or laugh at you. He would laugh with you, probably mimicking your scream in a terrible impression of you. Even though your life was at risk in so many ways, you felt like you could trust yourself in Seokmin's hands. He would take care of you. He would love you. He would make you his priority. Not focused on perfection, or how you carried yourself, but just how you were─uncensored and finally free.

"Maybe." You say softly, refusing to have Seokmin see you cry. Blinking the tears away as fast as you can, you study Seokmin's sharp nose and thick eyebrows; you memorized every part of his face from your last meeting, everything down to the little mole on his cheek. Seokmin did the same to you, taking in your wide eyes and perfectly done hair. He adored you, even if he had just met you yesterday night.

Seokmin rarely got attached to people: he had learned to not get attached the hard way too many times, and now, it was just natural for him to lock everyone out. That's all he could do to protect himself from the real world. When you came into the picture, Seokmin did the same, only sticking around to watch over you while you were alone in the shady bar. When you had introduced yourself to him, Seokmin didn't think he'd get so attached to you like he did.

You were so innocent, so untouched by his side of the world─that it only drew him to you even more. So much was expected of you, and you seemed to expect a lot from him too─something that Seokmin had never experienced before. He was something more than just a misunderstood biker to you. You cared about what he did and who he talked to. You cared─you cared so much.

"Are you still in there?" You ask Seokmin softly, smiling as he nods slightly. He was so drawn into his thoughts that it was just as if he was on his motorcycle again, nothing but the night sky to talk to. He could be as loud or as quiet as he wanted to be with you. He loved that.

"Kiss me again." You whisper, pleading softly as your hands go right back to the place they did when you first kissed him. They tousle with the dark hair on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as you're now just inches away from his sharp nose. Your eyes lock with his dark ones, and you glance down at his lips, soft and waiting. Waiting for you.

Finally, you close the distance, and you can feel it all again. The sprinkling of the rain on your cheeks. The passing whoosh of cars in the street behind you. The coolness of the brick wall supporting your back. The distant chatter of teenagers in the distance.

And─your personal favorite part─the feeling of Lee Seokmin's sweet lips on yours, warm with life, freedom, and desire.

[chokisei]

11:20 PM — itoshi rin

genre: angst, angst no comfort. gn!reader.

synopsis: when the clock hits 11:20 PM, rin is reminded of the events that took place earlier that day. the fateful memories that now stick with him unravel.

word count: 0.8K

warnings: profanity/harsh language, using insecurities, insults, self-wallowing, illusions to break ups. (not proofread !)

—

heavy breaths are the only thing that can be described as heard in the silent room. rin finds it difficult to breathe, the walls feeling tighter, as if closing in on him. he dreads the feeling, however he's only reminded that he was the cause of this mess, evident by the way dried tears streak down his cheeks. with his head buried in his hands and his heart heavy, he recalls the events that occurred before this.

he feels numb yet so utterly disgusted with himself and the way he spoke to you. the words spewed out from his mouth echo around in his brain like a broken record. he wants to throw up. he can't take the antagonizing ache in his chest.

—

it'd been a couple hours since he'd gone out to practice. you knew how much the burden of soccer and aiming to be better than his older brother was weighing him down. this didn't come as a surprise when he entered your shared home, frustrated and fuming.

this routine happened almost daily. he'd flop down on the couch while you approached him, sitting right next to your lover. however, today seemed a tad bit different. you had noticed that he didn't turn to acknowledge you like usual, but you continued on with your routine: asking about his day.

when you didn't illicit a response from him, eyebrows were immediately raised. "babe? are you listening? i asked how your day was," you tried again. still, not a sound came from the man sitting beside you. puzzled, you took a different approach, wrapping your arms around him.

only to be shoved off by an annoyed groan. "seriously, rin? at least have the decency to reply to my questions then," you huffed, now growing equally frustrated. however, nothing could've prepared you for what'd you'd hear next.

"you're so damn clingy and annoying. can't you tell that today wasn't the right day to pry? why can't you ever mind your own business?" his waning patience finally snapped. you hadn't even registered all his words, too shocked to even realize.

when they finally implanted in your head, you felt a mix of hurt and anger. it wasn't fair, you were only trying to comfort your boyfriend, not asking for a mouthful of insults. too stunned to speak, you could only mutter somewhere between a gasp and a scoff.

he took this as a sign to continue. "what? cat got your tongue? maybe you should always be like this and give me some damn peace and silence. i don't even know why i bother with you." each word he spoke was like another blow to your already fragile heart.

you felt the warm, salty tears as they started pouring, making their way down your utterly disappointed face. "what are you saying? i'm your girlfriend for god's sake, what do you mean 'why do you even bother'?" you couldn't believe this was the same man who adamantly professed his love for you just earlier this morning.

no. the man sitting beside you now was a completely different person. "i mean you're so fucking irritating! you always leech onto me like some lovesick puppy! i can't have one moment of silence with you!" his voice raised several octaves now.

when you thought it couldn't get worse, the insults he just threw twisted the knife that already pierced your heart. you let the tears and sniffles flow freely, feeling nothing more than dejection. is this what the man you called your boyfriend really thought of you? ouch.

the two of you stared at each other in a moment of tense silence. "fine..." you muttered, "i'm sorry for every moment i cared for you. i'm sorry for even bothering to ask about your days. i guess you just see me as nothing more than a bother, don't you? you just want to be alone, don't you?" you laughed bitterly.

and when he didn't seem to deny your words, that's when you knew something had changed. you knew something was going to change today as well.

—

it hit him all at once. now nothing was in the room beside him and his presence alone. he felt empty, but isn't that what he asked for? no, it was simply too eerie for his liking. he misses you.

he curses at himself, why couldn't he just control his anger today? you didn't deserve it, not one bit, yet he directed it all toward you. he acted like a fool, a complete moron. despite all of his regret now, there's no way he could go back in time to fix his wrongdoings.

it spoke volumes now that he was all alone. he looked up for the first time since. he noticed the way all your stuff was missing from the home you once shared. it made him feel even lonelier, the realization sinking in that you were actually gone.

he'd let you slip away from him, all due to the nasty words he couldn't keep in. when the clock strikes 11:20 PM, itoshi rin is once again reminded of the solitude he resides in. the consequences of his actions serving as a silent but effective reminder.

[um-soybean]

Do Your Arms Belong to Me?

Boothill x Reader

Summary: At what point should you move on? How many times must he disappear on a mission before you realize you can’t have him?

Warning: slightly angsty, reciprocated but forbidden love, Boothill is maybe a bit of a dick and reader is maybe a daydreamer, Boothill is likely OOC as well, mentioned of being “trapped” but it’s more metaphorical and mental, lmk if I missed one cause idk

Now Playing:

Touch - Cigarettes After Sex

Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

There’s nothing worse than knowing you’re wanted, but still feeling the opposite.

Clearly his eyes scream the want for you. Causing you to trip all over yourself just to fall into that same trap.

When he shows up at that abandoned workshop, a grin on his face as he gestures for you to sit.

The sharp teeth you know you want nothing but for him to take a bite out of you.

His human-looking face you want to tear apart through the blurred sight of your crying eyes.

But you stay. Every. Damn. Time. You sit and stay, gazing up at him like he came back from his mission of hanging the stars.

You lead him to your house. Knowing he could find his own way blindfolded. You let him settle on your couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

And, you blurt stupid stories to him while a movie plays. About the old ladies you see all the time; gossiping about everyone, including you. Complaining that your “boyfriend” is never around. Always on long trips. Scolding you for not having a good man around.

You never have the heart to argue or tell them otherwise. The heart to them that you’ve never been with Boothill officially. The heart to tell them that you dream of him every night and yet have done nothing but brush lips with his.

That more than anything you wish he would stay. Stay for you. That you wished you didn’t have to turn around and find him gone. No note, no gift, not even his metallic scent.

You even mention one of their grandsons. The one you went on a date with the last time Boothill left you. Angry and hurt you went out the guy. And even worse. You liked him. He made you feel good.

Made you laugh through tears, just like Boothill. Dorked around with you, made the worst jokes, even had things in common. Most would say you just, clicked.

Made you talk in that gut-wrenchingly soft voice, the one you save for when you end up in bed with none other than Boothill. All during the first date.

Making you feel like shit for comparing him. But wanting nothing but Boothill.

And he told you, Boothill told you that he couldn’t have you. That you couldn’t have him.

And yet you end up the same way. Clinging to him as your breath entangles with his. Lips much too close to each other to still be considered friends.

Desperately hoping for another outcome.

One that never comes.

Because the morning after, your heart wakes with a hangover and one side of your bed clearly untouched for hours.

You sit up, curse yourself for being stupid. Maybe let some tears slip as you slip under the covers like a small child.

And maybe a month or two later you glance at the light in the workshop. Maybe your hand settles on the handle instead of forcing yourself home.

Maybe, just possibly, hating yourself for dragging your pathetic heart through the same trap. Through the same cycle. Entering to find his sharp grin and an empty seat just for you.

Note: I literally rewrote this FIVE times. I’m just gonna have to deal and accept it’s not my best piece😔 (certainly not my worst) if you are one of the 10 people that saw the OG welcome to the remake/repost!

[heeheesang]

── .✦ what if we never dated..? — i should've been with you.

really really long written chapter , short smau below ! warnings : angst !! i cried writing this.

AFTER THE FIGHT WE HAD , WE NEVER HAD THE GUTS TO EVER FACE EACH OTHER . EVERYTIME WE MADE EYE CONTACT , WE WOULD IGNORE EACH OTHER AND FACE AWAY .

if only i had the guts to apologise for shouting at you... if only chaer didn't get in the way of everything. but thanks to taesan, we did manage to talk it out, even tho it was super awkward. i did feel like jumping into your arms but, i stopped myself.

it's been a week since the trip and we hadn't contacted at all... yunah and eunseok were happily together, same with shotaro and moka.

"since when were you and gunwook close again..?" you pulled me by my arm as i looked behind. the urge i had to hug you tightly and wish it was all dream...

"he... apologised to me. and now we're talking as friends." i smiled awkwardly as he flashed gunwook one kind of a look. we were about to leave when he pulled my arm again.

"wait, yn... i have to tell you something." i crossed my arms, "what is it, leehan?"

"i'm moving to america." if only you knew how much you made me cry at home with that sentence alone. but the only thing i could do at the point was smile and wish you all the best.

i could barely sleep for nights, eventually had to call taesan and anton over with the girls for a sleepover. gunwook joined too, and that's when i realised why we weren't made for each other.

GUNWOOK : yeah lol she thinks i still like her, do i get my $1000 now?

CHAER : ugh just keep her distracted. leehan and i got his parents approval for an arranged marriage.

GUNWOOK : you better do this quick, it's bad enough i'm hurting her but she can't make a man happy at all.

i broke down into tears, screenshotting the chat and sending it to myself before waking gunwook up. oh, if only you could hear how upset i was.

i can't blame gunwook and i can't blame you neither can i blame chaer... it's all my fault in the end.

once it was morning, gunwook ran out of the house before any of the girls or guys woke up. i spent the whole day crying, arranged marriage? so he's... really taken now.

YN : sent a screenshot

LEEHAN : ☺️ now you know pretty.

LEEHAN : i'm sorry it had to be this way... i just never liked you at all yn, i was always waiting for chaer get out of a relationship and you just so reminded me of her lol

YN : huh... so you never liked me..?

LEEHAN : read up hm? you have a pretty smart brain, put two and two together :)

YN : fuck you kim donghyun.

you blocked this contact.

oh. that felt like a hard pang in the heart... i couldn't tell any of them about this, all of them were close to leehan. they even wished for him to come back as soon as possible... i would just be ruining my own friendship.

"you look disturbed these days. what's up, angel?" taesan asked as he leaned against my locker, eyes glued to his screen as his fingers moved rapidly.

"i'm just... tired really..! rumors here and there... head girl council things." i lied, well kinda.

"i'm not dumb, angel. i can see right through you. what's wrong?" taesan asked again as he turned off his phone and placed it in his pocket.

"i forgot that you're literal leehan 2.0. i'll be fine, don't worry. let's go to class?" i joked as he nodded, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we walked to class.

oh yeah, taesan was always there for me. i always felt bad for him because i didn't even realise how much he liked me until the argument between leehan and i happened.

i had to find it out through yunah as well... she was taesan's wingwoman. i was always thankful for taesan but now that i knew his intentions behind his acts of kindness, i adored him.

he never gave up even tho i longed for leehan. that enough showed me how much he really likes me. he always helped me in classes, he talks with me about our problems.

"so what i'm hearing is.. leehan was playing with you?" taesan asked as i nodded slowly, tears running down my cheeks as he gave me tissues and tissues.

"what a bitch..." taesan cursed as a joke and i giggled, hitting his shoulder lightly.

"and gunwook.. was in it with chaer too. but i realised they didn't even have to plan anything because... leehan was already in love with chaer." i continued and eventually cried out loud.

taesan panicked and immediately rushed to my side on the bed, hugging my tightly as i cried on his leather jacket.

"that's what's been bothering me lately... i'm so... scared of love now." i hugged him tightly as he rubbed my back, "hey hey..." he said as he pulled away from the hug, holding me by my shoulders.

"that's part of love life, angel. you meet people who play with your feelings, people who love you as much as you love them, and just pure assholes. there are much more important things in life hm, angel? like that graduation and prom ceremony. i'll help you plan it out." taesan comforted as he wiped my tears away only for me to cry even more.

"now i've ruined your leather jacket...!" i cried out as he chuckled, "it's okay, it's okay..."

with the few days, taesan helped me cope very well surprisingly. he gave me new hobbies to try out, he brought me out on little dates, he even introduced me to his other friends and family members.

but despite all that, my schedule was still very packed with plannings. soon, prom was coming up and i had moka to run the confessions corner account once again.

"hey, angel. dinner at my mom's today?" taesan asked as i pouted, "i'm afraid not sanie... i have to complete my—"

"—your layout for prom? finished. your seating layouts? done. so! can we?" he asked with a tiny pout and a glint of happiness in his eyes.

i pinched his cheeks before giggling, "of course you big baby."

everytime we had dinner at taesan's, his parents would pamper. his father always went on work trips outside of korea and would always bring me souvenirs, big or small, it didn't matter to him.

his mother would always cook my favourite meals and make sure i eat alot. his siblings would always compliment me and make me play games with them on their playstation.

"ah eomma! you've embarrassed me enough..." taesan whined and covered his face as his parents chuckled, "your girlfriend— future girlfriend deserves to know all this!"

without a doubt, it was always fun at taesan's. his family members love me, and my family members love him. they treat him as their own child, always talking about marriage when he was over.

"thanks for tonight, sanie."

"no problem, angel. see you at prom tomorrow, i'll pick you up at six hm?" i nodded as he placed a short kiss on my forehead, making sure i got in the house before driving off.

prom! the one night where everyone could enjoy having their final days in highschool. i sighed as i opened my closet, looking through it to find my prom dress i had prepared.

that's until i found a mini box at the side of my closet, TO JUNG YN, FROM KIM LEEHAN. huh? when did this get here?

i took the box and sat down on my bed, opening it to find a corsage. a pink colour corsage.

TO JUNG YN ,

you probably would've expected the outcome of us... so i won't be there for prom but i want you to have the best night ever. i know taesan likes you... and he deserves you.

i wish you and taesan all the best. i'll forever love you jung yn. a pink corsage, a matching one with taesan.

thank you for your time the whole 3 years jung yn. :) goodbye forever.

i tried my best not to break down in tears, because i will not be redoing my makeup ever again. soon i received a text from taesan if i received a corsage from leehan and i replied him quickly because his next message was 'i'll be there in thirty'.

this is for you leehan taesan, i pick you. while changing i realised that you've never reminded me of leehan, you were yourself and that's what i love.

thank you taesan, for showing me what perseverance is.

"are you enjoying the party, girl??" yunah asked as moka danced alongside me. i pressed my lips into a thin line, shrugging as i gulped down another cup of fruit punch.

taesan and i arrived together but he was currently with his friends dancing in the middle. taesan and his friends have always been the popular group in school. they were all flirters especially jaehyun. he tried asking me for my number once with his so called, 'rizz' but thank god taesan stepped in.

taesan was never a flirter. he was more determined to get the girl he likes and never let her get out of sight.

"you're daydreaming again... please don't say it's about leehan..." moka whined as they took a seat beside me, leaving me in between them both.

"leehan isn't here anymore... yn. you know that." yunah reminded me as i nodded slowly.

"no, oh my god no! i was just thinking about taesan... like he's determined to get me... and i adore that." i explained as they 'ooh' at my response.

"can we get miss jung yn, head girl of 2024, on stage. calling for jung yn." the principal voiced out on stage as everyone turned to look for me, "i better get on stage first. first row, girls?" we giggled as they followed me and sat down first row with taesan and his friends.

i tapped on the mic, "hello... um wow this is new. a lot of you here..." i nervously spoke as everyone laughed and applauded for me to boost my confidence.

i looked down to my friends all holding a thumbs up sign, then made eye contact with taesan. i smiled as he mouthed, "you can do it, angel."

i let ou a small sigh of relief before continuing, "as head girl of batch 24', i've learnt a thing or two. holding onto the past won't do you any good in the future because you'll dwell on your past mistakes and be afraid to make new choices in life."

"secondly, i learnt that it's better to keep your circle small. the bigger the circle, the bigger problems. that doesn't mean that smaller circles have smaller problems, but it's unlikely to have any fueds or such."

"i would like to thank everyone... for being so supportive of me being head girl. i've enjoyed my time creating activities, spending time with my fellow students and just making the best out of everything."

"i would also like to... um... apologise. if i have ever made you upset, if i have ever made you angry. please forgive me if i have ever done anything to made you hurt." i bowed down to the crowd as they all retaliated, saying i didn't do anything wrong.

i giggled into the microphone, "lastly... the school and i have organised this event so that we could have our last moments together with friends and people we love. so please — take the dance floor, enjoy the buffet, do everything with your friends and loved ones. i think that's all from me... thank you, once again." i bowed to the crowd as everyone dispersed.

walking down from the stage, taesan appeared with a smile and a hand. "good job, angel." i chuckled and took his hand, hugging him as i finally reached the bottom.

as soon as i sat back down, the center floor was suddenly emptied out. taesan’s friends, jaehyun sungho, and riwoo all danced in the centre facing me. my eyes widened as i lifted my eyebrows, turning around to see nobody behind me at all.

“oh my darling..” i heard taesan’s voice as he emerged from the three. he sang the song as if his life depended on it, the closer he came to me, the faster the song ended.

“i love you.” my jaw dropped as he passed my a bouquet of flowers.

“will you be my angel?”

⤶ back | mlist

⟢ accidental confessions (acc) taglist

╰┈➤ @rairaiblog @voikiraz @veerooniicaa @miukidoll

⟢ permanent taglist ( can be requested to be taken off ! )

╰┈➤ @hooneverse @sol3chu @yourssincerely-mimi @reikaxslvr @petralovesbonedo @enhabooks @mwahvvis @jaerisdiction @rairaiblog @jeonginontopforever

hhs' notes ! ── .✦ whaaat a lengthy chapter !! i'm so sorry if this was a terrible chapter (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) i cried a little writing this hehe ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! but it's finally , the end !! how do we feel ? i originally wanted to make it seem like leehan was gone gone , but i just couldn't do it >ᴗ<

anyway my luvies...! i hope you enjoyed this smau and this final chapter huhu (,,>﹏<,,) i hope it's not too confusing !! i loved making this smau , each and every chapter •⩊• and i would like to thank everyone for liking, loving, and supporting this smau !! i love all of you and i'll see you in my next smau !! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧