#This was supposed to be the text but it became more of a reflection on what

[buubonita]

In regards to your writing request posts, I am still thinking about that post about Killer cutting open Nightmare, if you wanna expand on that,, I can drop other ideas if you want tho,

I just think it would be nice if Killer cuts Nightmare open without a sexual connotation,, and more like "Let me open my boss's for the sake of my morbid curiosity" 😈 I genuinely find it more interesting than any real attraction between them.

I think Killer would be curious to unravel Nightmare because he's bored, and also needs to know more for his own survival, and not so much because he sees him as a potential companion/partner.

If he haves to deal with this bitch then he will try to go through it as his way, trying to balance things out for just a moment.

Of course, this doesn't take away from the fact that the powers in their relationship are unbalanced, and if things like Killer hurting Nightmare are a reality it's because Nightmare lets it happen and not because Killer has achieved it. They are always on unequal terms.

If Nightmare lets Killer do these things sometimes it's because he most likely underestimates him too much because of his god complex. Or maybe, if you want to think about it, he's also bored.

While I'm open to your suggestions, it's still a work in progress that's far from finished after all.

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[dutiful-wildcraft]

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses. 

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way. 

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch?  he asks with big brown eyes. 

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them. 

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings. 

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does.  And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking. 

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair. 

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag. 

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about. 

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen. 

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready. 

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her. 

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away. 

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely. 

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?” 

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face. 

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him. 

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes. 

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her. 

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms. 

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice. 

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

[rikisniffles]

chapter sixteen [西村力] my first love was a boy ✧ NISHIMURA RIKI (NI-KI) X M!READER

SYNOPSIS — l/n y/n is a member of boynextdoor under hybe/koz. being an idol has always been y/n's dream, and ever since it became true he has been more than happy. despite being an idol, he doesn't know many other idols outside his group. when he runs into his seniors, a seemingly never-ending spiral of embarrassing moments occurs.

disclaimer !! : every idol in my stories is a character and does not always reflect the actual person (i do my best but for entertainment purposes, it may be off)

— fic masterlist / info

chapter sixteen - certified hater

warning: suggestive jokes , written part (889 words) , kys jokes

You reach forward, attempting to stretch out by grabbing your toes while sitting on the floor. The practice room floor was hard, bouncy, but uncomfortable.

Jaehyun watches himself in the mirror, making faces to himself. Riwoo watches himself but repeats a dance instead, practicing to make it perfect. Taesan taps away on his phone while pacing, and Leehan sits on the floor a foot away from you, looking up at Jaehyun and Riwoo.

Woonhak opts to sit next to you on the floor. He whines and complains about how his back ached. Your own thoughts are too loud to comprehend his words.

"Y/n?" Woonhak suddenly pushes your shoulder with his palm, "Were you even listening...?" He pouts.

"Uh..." You blink, turning to him, "Yeah."

"Okay, then what did I say?" He crosses his arms.

You freeze, unable to conjure up anything. Before you can open your mouth, Woonhak groans.

"You've been distracted since yesterday," He points out, "What are you thinking about?"

"You're nosey." You sigh, leaning back to lay on the ground. Woonhak laughs.

"So what? What if I was just worried about you? Hm?"

"Since when are you worried about anyone?"

Woonhak pushes your knees, "I'm for real."

You close your eyes, the lights on the ceiling straining your eyeballs. You could tell Woonhak of your troubles, but it wouldn't matter. You didn't want to waste the time explaining how you felt. It wouldn't do any good. You might even get embarrassed.

You left Enhypen's dorm early this morning, being violently woken up by Jay and a pillow. Ni-ki had been rushed out so fast that you barely got to talk to him. You couldn't remember if he had said anything to you besides 'Let yourself out!' while he was fixing his hair as he exited.

For a moment you were alone in Ni-ki's room. It felt wrong like you weren't supposed to be there. You got up quickly after they left, cleaned up your food from last night, and left the dorm immediately.

You wanted to text him. You wanted to talk to him, be near him. You were both busy. It was normal for you guys to go days without talking, but ever since last night, you have felt more clingy than ever. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms again. You got a taste of something great and then it was ripped from you too fast.

"Y/n! Woonhak!" Jaehyun calls out, smiling while looking at you two from the mirror. "Can you two grab water?" He asks sweetly.

Woonhak groans again, "Why do we have to do it?"

"Because you're the maknaes!" He teases with a giggle.

Despite Woonhak's complaining, he gets up along with you and you make your way to the hallway. Usually, there were a couple of vending machines in the hallway. You look out for the one you always go to.

"You go get them, I gotta use the bathroom." Woonhak suddenly announces, patting your shoulder while running in the opposite direction. Your face contorts as you fight the urge to yell at him.

As you continue down the hallway, you listen to each practice room as other groups blasted their music. It leaks through the walls, but not enough where you could make out anything important. You see the vending machine come into view.

Before you can reach your destination, a door to the practice room swings open before you. Laughter erupts from a small grouping of men as they exit.

You bow with respect. Jungwon, Heeseung, and Ni-ki emerge from the door. They bow back, except Ni-ki, who suddenly hides his face with his hood up and pretends he hasn't seen you yet.

"Sorry, I didn't greet you this morning!" Jungwon apologizes with an overly polite smile, "We had a meeting." He explains.

"Oh no, I- It's all good." Your voice shakes with anxiety. Talking to your seniors always makes you more nervous than it should. Jungwon wasn't even that much older than you, his status as 'leader' was more intimidating than his age.

"Ni-ki fell asleep in the meeting because of you." Heeseung teases. Ni-ki lifts his head to push his hyung quite forcefully, prompting a shove back from Heeseung. "Watch it or I'm sending that picture to the group chat." He threatens.

"You got a picture?" You freeze, your face turning red. Jungwon giggles at this, turning in the other direction to be polite. But you could still tell he was laughing at you.

"Yeah, You wanna see it?" Heeseung smiles, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

"No, No," Ni-ki lunges forward, "Delete that shit right now." He wraps his hand around Heeseung's phone as the two wrestle for the device.

Jungwon can't contain his laughter now, bent forward as the non-stop laughing begins to make his stomach hurt. This in turn makes you laugh.

Ni-ki pauses to look at you. Heeseung takes this moment to snatch his device back and push the younger off of him. Ni-ki listens to your laugh as it dies down.

You smile at him, and he smiles back with shaky lips before looking away. "Can we just go?" He asks.

"Bye Ni-ki." You wave, causing him to pause.

"B- Bye Y/n."

Heeseung and Jungwon laugh at his expense.

previous | next | home

— koki's note ★ ; hey guys! still uploading kinda inconsistently, i've been going through a lot... hope u enjoy!

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Gin Akutagawa (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Gin Akutagawa x GN! Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Yandere. Mentions of (accidental) stalking.

______

Becoming self-aware

_______

🔪 With self-awareness came sorrow and anger. Gin's life was a lie. Ryunosuke's life was a lie. Their world was a lie. A reflection of reality. A fantasy, that was shared with thousands of other people.

🔪 With self-awareness came new routine.

🔪First, Gin got a diary. And each page contain similar text. One page each day. Same sentences, that she wrote first thing in the morning.

"My name is Gin Akutagawa. I have an older brother, Akutagawa Ryunosuke. I am from Port Mafia. I am Battalion Leader of "Black Lizard". I was Paul Verlaine's student. I am a girl. My brother and I lived on the streets, before joining Port Mafia."

Day after day. Page after page. Same forty-four words on every page.

Gin wished, that there were more. But she can't remember anything else about her.

🔪 Days were spent patrolling. Trying to find answers, hope, a way out and other people. Tachihara was her partner during the search. And Gin could see, that normally cocky Tachihara looked lost and desperate.

🔪And, when during one of the patrols, Gin and Tachihara found out, that some people from the Government and Hunting Dogs were also self-aware, Gin saw relief in Tachihara's gaze.

🔪 Gin could ask Tachihara about his strange reaction. But choose not to. All of them were stressed out. Her brother became more ruthless. All of them worked hard. Despite everything, they can't find a way out.

🔪 And Gin tried to stay collected. Emotions won't solve anything. Dreams won't solve anything. Gin was glad, that she stopped dreaming at night.

🔪 And then, one day, Gin felt an entity's gaze on her.

____________

The first "hours" under entity's gaze felt like torture. She wanted to scream, to run, to get her hands on someone, who were watching them.

Someone, who saw their past, emotions, thoughts.

But then "night" came.

And with night came dreams.

Gin saw a person.

A normal person doing normal things. Gin could see herself doing the same things, when she was off-duty.

She saw Real World. She saw Entity.

Gin... didn't want to call them Entity anymore.

At the "morning", instead of her normal text, Gin wrote about, what she has learned during her dream.

She wanted to see one more similar dream.

Dreams came every night.

Gin learned more about real world. About Internet, news, culture, people.

Most importantly, she learned more about Their Reader. About them being happy, when they saw Gin and others. About them liking Gin and others. Everyone of them.

No hate. No sick entertainment.

Just curiosity and happiness.

Gin couldn't hate Their Reader anymore. It would be wrong.

She tried to carefully reassure others about you. She didn't want them to hurt you.

And then, time resets.

And Gin once again were getting ready to ambush ADA office.

__________

When they start feeling your presence

_________

🔪 Gin could tell, that she wasn't the only one, who had a change of heart. Something in ADA's detectives' eyes showed her, that they also came to like Their Reader.

🔪 Especially after Boss announced, that they will join forces with ADA to get to the Real World. To get to someone.

🔪 Ryunosuke also seems calmer. Gin could see, that, for some reason, he was trying to listen to something Or hear something? Someone?

🔪 Gin quickly learned, what Ryunosuke tried to do. Sometimes, Gin could hear mumbling. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was familiar.

[//////////] familiar happiness

[//////////] familiar cheering

[//////////] familiar sadness

And one day, Gin heard them clear.

In previous timeline, her brother supposed to be kidnapped. He was fine in this timeline.

In previous timeline she was supposed to sneak on Higuchi.

In this timeline she decided not to do it.

But she heard the voice. Apparently, her actions didn't change, what Reader saw.

"Gin, you are a force to be reconned with. You are so cool. Wish I can be like you."

And something soft touched her cheek.

Gin felt warm and secure.

[In reality, you pet manga page with Gin on it]

__________

🔪 After that, Gin finally could see Little Light. Floating blob of light. Your emotions. In Gin's eyes, the most perfect and treasured thing in entire Real World.

🔪 Gin started training even harder. Ryunosuke and Atsushi weren't enough to protect you. She will step up as your protector.

🔪 Time passed, more people joined their union.

But then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

________

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

_______

🔪 Gin didn't wait, before her SSR Cards became available during Limited Scout. She gifted you her cards herself.

"Okay, Gin, let's try to clean all orbs."

"Whoa! We finally finished this floor. All thanks for Gin's attack."

"I wonder if there will be a special image card for you, Gin."

🔪 Gin can't wait to get to the Real World. To know you better, to protect you, to saw everything, Real World can offer.

🔪 And she will never forget her dreams. About real world. About Reader. About their Guiding Light.

___________

You just get your daily rewards, when you got another note. Another Gin SSR card was attached to it.

"[Y/N]. Hope you are doing well. I have been thinking about having a movie night with Ryunosuke. Want to join us? I will choose movie, Ryunosuke will bring snacks. If you want to join, can you, please, bring blankets? We will wait. Gin Akutagawa."

You smiled and opened Character menu, selecting Gin's card. You pet chibi Gin.

"Great idea, Gin. Thank you for the invitation. I would love to join you and Ryunosuke."

You didn't notice, that Gin removed her mask and smiled.

[sissyhopes]

The Trophy

Imagine a gilded cage. Like, really picture one in your head. What do you see?

Me, of course - but what else?

Anything? Some cushions, a little blanket? Entertainment? No? Just a little golden cage, and me?

It's not that different, then, from a regular cage, is it? Just some metal bars, and me - trapped inside.

When I first started working for Harrington & Co, I was eager, hungry for success, and completely unaware of the path life would take me down. I had always known my boss, Max Harrington, by reputation - he was a titan in the finance world, a man whose mere presence commanded respect. I turned down higher-paying jobs for the name recognition alone, hoping his renowned ferocity and charisma would rub off on me.

So, when Max took a special interest in me, I saw it as the break he had been waiting for. Exactly what I deserved.

At first, it was subtle. Appropriate, even. I was a kind of protégé, some middle-ranking grunt he'd seen something extraordinary in. Nobody really questioned it.

Max invited me to dinners with important clients, praising my quick thinking, my easy charm, and how I could hold my own in conversations that usually left junior associates gasping for breath. I felt like I was being groomed for leadership, rather than groomed for submission to him.

I was intoxicated by the attention, the warmth of Max's approval. He had grown up in a modest family. He was just like me: always striving for more. He knew as well as I did that Max Harrington represented the “more” I'd craved my entire life.

I suppose you don't get where he has in life without being able to turn opportunities to maximum advantage. Soon, the invitations became more frequent. Dinners at high-end restaurants turned into weekend getaways to exclusive resorts. He spared no expense, ensuring I experienced the luxury that came with being in his orbit. It was exhilarating at first - flights on private jets, tailored suits, five-star accommodations. I assumed this was part of grooming him for a bigger role in the company. After all, the closer you got to power, the more you absorbed it.

But something shifted. He went distant. Suddenly, I was back at my desk, with everyone else, working hard, with no attention from the big man upstairs. My middling salary couldn't stretch to the luxuries I'd tasted, and I felt the dull thud back to reality daily. Every bland, cheap meal. Every bus journey home from the office. I hungered for a return to the life I had savoured, if only for a brief moment.

I poured over everything I'd said, every action and decision, wondering what I did to lose his favour. I resisted the urge to try to contact him, making myself look needy, powerless - to make him think I'd done something wrong.

One night, after a few too many glasses of wine, and weeks of misery in my boring life, I felt the bravery I'd been lacking. "He'll appreciate me being direct," I told myself. "Just like he is." I texted his personal number, asking if I'd done anything wrong, and imploring him for the chance to prove I was worthy of my place under his wing.

He never responded. It was a bitter defeat, a rejection that undermined my self-confidence totally. I tried to maintain my work, but I was distracted, ashamed and disappointed. My supervisors noticed, and my appraisals reflected that. I knew Mr Harrington read every staff members' appraisals religiously, and knew I had once again let him down. It was a total humiliation - I knew exactly where I belonged.

One evening, after a particularly lavish dinner held to congratulate the management teams for a good year, Max avoided looking at me all evening. Knowing I was the lowest-performing in the team, I felt so unwanted I tried to sneak away earlier. And there he was, at the door, as if he'd anticipated my movements before I'd even decided on them.

He offered me a gift: a custom-made Rolex. “To show my appreciation,” Max said, his smile dripping with an affection that felt almost too personal, too intimate.

I accepted - what choice did I have? - though unease simmered under my gratitude. I brushed it off as some kind of imposter syndrome.

Surely, this was normal. If I wanted to rise to the top, I needed to embrace these perks, right? In any case, it reflected the faintest creaking of the door of opportunity. I knew I had to run through that door while it was still open. I might never get another chance.

The watch was embossed with pink stones around the face, and the band was engraved 'Pretty Baby'. I suppose it was originally a gift for someone else - it wasn't quite my style, and yes: it was a little embarrassing to wear it. But wear it I did: every single day. I wanted everyone else to know that the boss was looking out for me.

Then came the more personal requests. Max asked me to accompany him to exclusive events - not as a colleague, but as his plus-one. I found himself standing at Max's side during charity galas, private art showings, and high-society functions. At first, I convinced himself it was still part of the job, that these were networking opportunities, moments to rub shoulders with the elite.

But over time, I realised something. Max never introduced me as an employee. There was no mention of my work or my potential career progression. Not even my name. My presence became decorative, my role as silent as it was visible. The compliments Max lavished on me became more personal, less professional.

“You look just stunning in that suit,” Max would say, his eyes lingering just a little too long. “You're the perfect companion for these sort of things. I think we can assume - if you're willing, of course - that you'll be accompanying me for the forseeable. I'll have my assistant arrange for some wardrobe support for you. Maybe a stylist. Let's make sure you always look your very best.”

I blushed. It was the first thing he'd said directly to me all evening - the first thing anyone had, in fact. I felt cared for, but not respected. The words flashed across my mind, for the first time in panic. Pretty Baby.

Before I knew it, he was spending more time with Max outside the office than within it. The boundaries had totally blurred without my realising it.

My friends noticed the change. “Man, you've really hit the jackpot, huh?” one had commented, eyeing my expensive, feminine watch, the designer clothes Max had picked out for me as a "reward for all the hard work.”

But inside, I felt a growing discomfort, a sense that something had gone terribly wrong. I guess it was from the discomfort, actually. My suits were increasingly tailored away from my personal style - cinched waists, skinnier trousers with high waists and raised ankles - in pastel colours like baby blue, mauve, and a dusty pink. They felt feminine to me, and the discomfort pulsed through my body. At least nobody expected me to say anything. Just stand next to Max, smiling.

I had entered into this personal relationship with Max - because by now, that’s what it had become - thinking it would propel me forward in my career. But now, two years later, I wasn't any closer to that promotion he had been promised. If I asked, he would just wave away my concerns, like they didn't matter.

"No, no." he'd say, without looking at me. "I don't want you working more. You have an important role to play here."

My 'role' was clear: I was Max's accessory. Some kind of power symbol for him to show off.

The realisation hit him hard one night when they attended a high-profile charity auction. I had spent hours getting ready, picking out the right suit, ensuring my hair - now growing longer, as Mr Harrington instructed - was perfect. As they entered the grand ballroom, heads turned, and Max soaked up the attention as usual. But when people approached them, it was me they noticed.

“You two make such a handsome couple,” one wealthy and highly generous woman said with a wink.

I forced a smile, my stomach knotting as Max wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. It was a gesture too intimate, too possessive.

I wanted to pull away, but the weight of everything Max had given him, the lifestyle I had become so accustomed to, pinned me in place. I realised that somewhere along the line, I'd forgotten how to say no to him.

Now, he knew that too.

In the quiet moments, I wondered when it had all changed. Had there been a moment when I could have stopped this? Should I have walked away before Max’s gifts became chains that bound me to this life? Or had I been a willing participant all along, seduced by the promise of wealth, power, and status?

The trousers were replaced with demure, knee-length pencil skirts. My shirts finally crossed the line into blouses. I wore court shoes, with two inch heels, into the office. My stylist taught me to apply makeup in two styles - office and formal.

Maybe that sounds like the moment I should have jumped off this runaway train, even if it hurt. The thing is: I was so far gone, I already knew my moment had passed. I didn't even know who he was anymore. So I kept letting him tell everyone else who I was, and contorting myself to fit the image.

The eager, ambitious man who had walked into Harrington & Co. two years ago had vanished, replaced by someone who wore expensive gowns, lived alone in a penthouse Max had insisted he move into, and played the role of the doting, adoring partner - though they never acknowledged the term aloud.

My career had become a shadow, something I barely thought about now. I wasn't obliged to come to the office anymore. My days were filled with social obligations, dinners, and luxurious trips with Max. On the outside, it looked perfect - he had everything he had ever wanted. But the cost had been higher than he realised. I had no independence. I had no status of my own. I just hung on his arm, silently, as an object of his power.

Somewhere along the way, I had become a trophy. I could see it in everyone's eyes. Elite circles are small, and so they'd all watched me closely over the years - from a confident, ambitious man, to a demure and silent pet. I knew what they thought of me.

It wasn’t just my professional ambitions that had died. It was my sense of self. The reluctance, the embarrassment that now consumed me was kept buried deep inside, masked behind the practiced, doll-like smile he wore in public. Max never asked if I was happy; he never questioned if I wanted this life. That didn't matter to him, so long as I knew my place and played along.

Now, every morning I wake up in the sprawling penthouse, looking out at the city skyline, and wonder how to pass the time. No work, no real friends, nothing to achieve. No hopes or dreams. Money helps, but the truth would nibble at my flesh constantly - I had traded the man I could have been for the guarantee of luxury, for comfort, for the hollow promise of a womanhood I never wanted, and that depended entirely on his whims.

And in the silence of our opulent life together, in those intimate nights when Mr Harrington accompanies me to my penthouse, in the deafening shadow of the whispers about me from the edges of ballrooms and galas each night, I had come to accept my role: Max’s trophy. Nothing more.

---

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[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Distance part 2

Note: follow up to part 1!

Warnings: just fluff! a bit of angst maybe, but very light.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric picked you up from the airport.

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

While you anxiously waited to collect your bags at the airport, Sihtric was chewing off his nails while he stared at the arrivals door. He was so incredibly nervous, he had never felt anything like this before. Everything had been arranged so fast that he barely had any time to even process that you were really coming over to see him, and it had only hit him once he arrived at the airport. Part of him wanted to turn around and run back to his car, but the other part of him told him he had to man up, because meeting you was something he had been dreaming of for years and there was no way he was getting cold feet now.

Sihtric had been nervous ever since he left his house, but he had gotten even more nervous with every step he took towards the entrance, wondering if you were going to be disappointed once you met him. Because maybe you expected him to be taller, or shorter for some reason. Maybe you didn't like his shoes, which were simple black leather boots, or maybe you hated his dark grey cargo jeans. Or maybe you thought his white shirt looked stupid on him or, even worse, maybe you thought he didn't smell nice. He discreetly tried to get a whiff of his own scent and just hoped he didn't stink. 

And then he suddenly worried that maybe you'd think he looked better through a screen, or that maybe you'd hate his messy hair in real life. Sihtric cursed himself when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window, realising that in all his suppressed nervousness he had completely forgotten to comb his hair before jumping in his car. He quickly raked his tattooed fingers through his dark locks, in an attempt to look a little more decent, while he entered the airport and tried to get a grip on himself again.

And while Sihtric was slowly driving himself mad, with his eyes fixated on the arrivals door, you tried to freshen yourself up a little in the toilets after you had collected your luggage. You took a few deep breaths as you looked in the mirror, and you suddenly felt yourself crumble on the inside. You were overwhelmed with nerves and horrible thoughts. Because what if he suddenly realised he wasn't attracted to you in real life? Or what if the chemistry just wasn't there or if it was just incredibly awkward and you both just couldn't get a conversation going? You also became concerned when you realised you didn't know what you were supposed to do once you saw him. Was he expecting you to run to him? Would he want to kiss you immediately or would he not want to do that at all? What if he only shook your hand while you tried to go in for a kiss? You groaned at these thoughts and tried to fight your tears while you dragged your hands down your face.

Sihtric had meant everything to you these past seven years, and if things would not go as you had both expected it would truly be a bitter pill to swallow, and you didn't know what your life would look like without him. And neither did Sihtric. Because despite the fact you had never met, you both had plans for the future that involved each other or were simply built around each other, and neither of you ever even considered the option of a future alone or with someone else. There was no backup plan if this first meeting would ruin everything.

You took another deep breath and composed yourself as best as you could, and when you checked your phone you saw Sihtric had texted that he was waiting for you. Surprisingly enough the airport wasn't as busy as you had expected, and then you finally made your way through the arrivals door.

You froze for a split second when your eyes immediately landed on Sihtric, who looked straight at you while he stood there wide eyed and with his hands in his hair, as he had been anxiously waiting for you to appear and had almost lost his mind while doing so. And Sihtric swore he just couldn't remember how to breathe anymore when he saw you, and he was completely nailed to the ground. He always imagined he'd run up to you, pick you up his arms and spin you around while he kissed you, but he just wasn't able to move an inch in reality. He saw how you stared at him as you approached him, your eyes just as wide as his, and he finally managed to slide his hands out of his hair once you were almost in arms reach.

'Sihtric,' you almost gasped.

And Sihtric tried to speak, but he couldn't make a single sound. You dropped your bag and suitcase on the ground as soon as he suddenly reached out, and you wrapped your arms around his waist while he wrapped his strong arms tightly around your shoulders and held you almost bruisingly.

As soon as Sihtric had wrapped his arms around you, he knew he would never be able to let you go anymore. To let you go home, that meant. He could never let you go back home again, for as soon as he felt your body pressed against his he knew he would never be able to breathe again without you. He knew he would never be able to fall asleep again without you next to him. And he just knew his life would never be the same anymore when he felt how you buried your face in his chest, and he then suddenly remembered to breathe again.

You cried as you enjoyed his tight embrace, feeling as if you were home in his arms and you inhaled his scent deeply. The smell of amber was soothing and suited him absolutely perfectly, and it calmed you as well as making you feel a little lightheaded. It was a scent you would never forget and also one you never wanted to miss again. You clung onto him as if you were afraid you'd be torn away from each other at any second, and Sihtric shared the same frightening thought.

And as he was overwhelmed with the idea of losing you now that he finally held you, his trembling hands searched for your face while his vision was blurred due to his teared up eyes. Once found, he cupped your cheeks firmly to lift your face up, in order to bring your lips closer to his so he could finally capture you in the kiss he had been dreaming of for almost seven years. Without any hesitation, you pressed your lips back against his, and your hands fell from his waist as you lost your ability to think for a moment. You then slid your hands slowly up his torso, feeling his muscles from underneath his shirt while moving your hands up to his neck before sliding further up and into his loose hair. 

You tangled your fingers into his slightly wavy hair while his hands still held your face, and he deepened the kiss as soon as he felt you melted into his touch and relaxed entirely. You felt his tongue as he slowly flicked it against your lips, before allowing him fully into your mouth, and the minty taste on his tongue was a pleasant one you desperately wanted to taste more of. You both forgot how to breathe this time as all you wanted was to taste and feel each other, until your lungs almost burned and you were both forced to pull away.

'My love,' Sihtric whispered as his tears fell, your face cradled in his hands while he leaned his forehead against yours, 'I'm sorry it took us so long.'

'I'm sorry too,' you sniffled, your fingers curling around the neck of his shirt, 'but life kept preventing us from meeting sooner.'

'I know,' he sighed softly, 'but we're together now, and I'm never letting you go anymore.'

You both smiled before your lips found their way back to his again, and you kissed once more until your lungs begged for air and you suddenly remembered you were in public. Sihtric then picked up your luggage with a satisfied smile, teary eyes and his cheeks a hint of red, and he wrapped his arm around your waist as he walked you out of the airport and to his car. But you didn't get there without stopping a few times just so he could kiss you again and again, dropping your bags out of his hands numerous times in order to cup your cheeks while he kissed you, or to roam his hands all over your body. 

Sihtric refused to let you carry your own bags, which you tried to do after each head spinning kiss when he had dropped everything once again. You smiled when you reached his car, recognising the vehicle as you had seen it in uncountable video calls over the years. You watched how your boyfriend picked up your luggage with ease, putting it in the trunk of his car, and without thinking you placed your hand on his bicep after you saw his muscles flex when he closed the trunk. Sihtric froze for a second and frowned upon the sudden touch, but an amused grin appeared on his face when he realised you were just admiring his body, and he definitely didn't complain about you touching him. In fact, you could touch him wherever you wanted to, he wouldn't stop you. And he kissed you again with that thought on his mind.

You put on your seatbelt as Sihtric sat down behind the wheel. He exhaled sharply while he stared straight ahead for a few seconds, and he then turned to face you. He leaned in and smiled, and placed his hand on your thigh as he looked deeply into your eyes.

'Hi,' his voice so low and smooth, as well as a little breathy.

'Hi,' you smiled shyly.

'How are you?' he asked and leaned in closer to peck your lips.

'Good,' you murmured against his lips before you kissed him back.

'Yeah?' he asked and kissed you again.

'Mhm. And how are you?' you barely managed to ask in between kisses.

'I'm good,' he smiled against your lips, 'so good, darling. How was your flight?'

Sihtric kissed you again before you could answer.

'It was good,' you chuckled.

'Good,' he smiled and kissed you once more, then leaned back slightly, 'are you hungry? Or do you want to get a drink? I can stop by a place if you want.'

He gazed into your eyes while awaiting your answer, but when it became evident you weren't going to answer and instead just stared at him, he fought a smile as he furrowed his brow.

'Baby?' he asked as he held your chin.

'I… I'm sorry,' you suddenly snapped out of getting lost in his mismatched eyes, 'I… I can't seem to think right now.'

Sihtric laughed softly and nuzzled your nose, then kissed your lips again.

'I know,' he said, 'I'm sorry. Everything is overwhelming for me too. I guess I'll just take you home right away.'

You nodded in agreement and, when he kissed you again, slowly flicking his tongue against your lips, you took his face in your hands to deepen the kiss until you both were insanely aroused but didn't dare to say it. And when you leaned back to look at him, you smiled at each other before you pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and you then lightly traced the scars on his face while you continued to gaze at him.

'You're so pretty,' you whispered, 'so beautiful. Even more perfect than I'd thought you'd be.'

Sihtric blushed lightly and smiled, returning the compliment while he tried to hide his teared up eyes as he looked down at his feet for a moment. And after a dozen more kisses, Sihtric finally started the car and placed his hand on your thigh while driving back home.

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[tapiocasaturn404]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Chapter Three ࿐ྂ

Word Count: ~1.7k Summary: Lizzie struggles to find the recording studio where she’s supposed to meet Seungmin and I.N. When she finally does, a misunderstanding leads to Seungmin suspecting she’s a stalker, much to I.N’s amusement.

Lizzie's brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her phone screen, tapping the same spot repeatedly in an attempt to get the map to load.The digital map was a maze of corridors and rooms, each labeled with tiny, indecipherable text. The bright screen illuminated her features, highlighting the small lines of worry around her eyes and the determined set of her jaw. The faint glow cast shadows on her cheeks, making her appear more tired and lost than she already felt.

Somewhere between the third set of identical, sterile hallways and a nondescript door labeled "Maintenance," Lizzie came to the unsettling realization that she might have been wandering in circles for the past ten minutes. The JYPE building was an expansive maze, a modern labyrinth where every corridor mirrored the last—sleek, unblemished white walls that gleamed under the fluorescent lights, glass doors reflecting her confused expression, and an infuriating lack of signage to guide her to the recording studios.

The sound of muffled singing and instruments filtered through the hallway, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, her eyes flicking to the digital clock on her phone. Time was slipping away, and she was already late. Just as she contemplated sending a desperate text to Chan for assistance, her gaze landed on a door slightly ajar at the end of the dimly lit hallway. A soft, lilting melody floated out like a whisper in the air, and Lizzie's heart leapt with a mix of relief and anticipation.

Finally, she had found it.

With cautious steps, she approached the door, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. She paused just outside, taking a moment to steady herself before peeking inside to see what awaited her beyond the threshold.

Seungmin was perched in a swivel chair by the mixing console, his head tilted slightly, eyes closed as he intently listened to the playback. The soft glow of the control room lights reflected off the sleek surfaces of the equipment, casting gentle shadows. Across the room, I.N lounged on a plush, overstuffed couch, his fingers deftly scrolling through his phone, the screen's light illuminating his features in the dim space. Lizzie stepped inside, feeling a wave of relief wash over her—until Seungmin turned, his eyes meeting hers, and the moment shifted.

His brow furrowed instantly, casting shadows over his eyes as he narrowed them, scrutinizing her from head to toe. “Uh…” Seungmin's voice was edged with suspicion, each word deliberate and cautious. “What are you doing here?” Lizzie blinked, her mind racing as uncertainty crept in, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m… supposed to meet you?” she ventured, her voice a mix of hesitation and hope. Seungmin's frown carved deeper lines into his forehead. “Meet me?” he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief and confusion.

At the sound of his voice, I.N glanced up from his phone, his eyebrows lifting slightly in curiosity, though his features remained calm and composed compared to Seungmin's more animated expression. Lizzie parted her lips to offer an explanation, but Seungmin abruptly rose from his seat, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Hold on—how did you even manage to get in here?" he demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.

“What?” Lizzie asked, caught off guard.

Seungmin's eyes became thin slits, disbelief etched across his face as he leaned forward slightly. “Are you a stalker or something?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. Lizzie's mouth fell open in shock, her eyebrows shooting up. “A stalker?!” she echoed, her voice rising with a mix of surprise and indignation.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” Seungmin shot back. “You’re just standing there, staring at us—”

“I wasn’t staring—”

“You were definitely staring!”

I.N remained seated, his lips curling into a smirk as he let out a soft snort, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the unfolding conversation. Lizzie quickly raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, her voice slightly hurried. "Okay, listen. My name is Elizabeth. I’m not a stalker. Chan sent me here—”

Seungmin arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze as he interrupted her. "Chan? What does Chan have to do with this?"

Lizzie faltered, her words catching in her throat as uncertainty flickered across her face. "He… didn’t tell you?"

“Tell me what?”

"I'm the new member," Lizzie announced, her voice steady even as she felt the awkwardness creeping in like a cold draft.

Seungmin blinked, his eyes widening in surprise, as if her words had left him momentarily speechless. Then, after a beat, he let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as if trying to clear away confusion. "Right. Sure. The new member. Good one," he replied, his tone a mix of sarcasm and amusement.

"I'm serious!" Lizzie exclaimed, her voice rising as frustration crept into her words, her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

Seungmin pulled his phone from his pocket, his expression a blend of disbelief and irritation, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Hold on," he said with a sigh. "Let me call him." He began to dial, his fingers moving quickly over the screen.

I.N had been watching the back-and-forth with a bemused grin, like it was the highlight of his week. He finally chimed in, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Hyung, Chan already told us about this," he said, shaking his head slightly as if to remind them of a forgotten conversation.

Seungmin glanced over with a sharp, incredulous look. “No, he didn’t. I would’ve remembered something like that.” His voice carried a mix of disbelief and frustration.

I.N shrugged casually, leaning back with an air of indifference. “He wrote it in the group chat,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Seungmin stopped dialing the number on his phone, his fingers hovering above the screen. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut in exasperation. “The group chat? Are you kidding me?” His voice rose with incredulity.

I.N couldn’t resist a mischievous smirk. “Not my fault you have the group chat on mute,” he said, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

Seungmin let out a long, frustrated groan, turning slightly away as he muttered something under his breath, which sounded suspiciously like, “I’m surrounded by idiots,” though it was barely audible over the tension in the room.

Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow at Seungmin with a mix of confidence and challenge. “Still think I’m a stalker?” she asked, her voice steady and teasing.

Seungmin, momentarily flustered, didn’t respond directly. Instead, he pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear with a sigh of frustration.

After two rings, Chan’s voice answered, smooth and slightly amused over the speaker.

“Hyung,” Seungmin began, his tone laced with exasperation as he glanced warily at Lizzie. “There’s a random girl standing in the studio right now claiming she’s the new member. Care to explain?”

Chan's laughter could almost be heard in his calm reply. “That’s Lizzie. She’s not random at all.”

Seungmin blinked rapidly, processing the surprising information. “Wait, so… she’s actually the new member? I thought it was supposed to be a guy?” he asked, confusion coloring his words.

“Yes she is the new member and well, we made some changes in that,” Chan confirmed, the amusement in his voice becoming more evident. “I wrote it in the group chat!”

With a groan of frustration, Seungmin rubbed his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. “You know I have the group chat on mute,” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of guilt.

“Not my fault you have it on mute,” Chan retorted, his tone light and teasing.

I.N couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer, the sound bubbling up and filling the room, causing Seungmin to shoot him a glare sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

Lizzie, meanwhile, bit her lip, trying desperately to suppress her laughter, her eyes sparkling with the humor of the situation.

“Fine,” Seungmin muttered grudgingly into the phone, resignation settling in. “But you could’ve warned me.”

“I did,” Chan said, his voice crackling through the phone. “In the group chat.”

Seungmin ended the call with a resigned sigh, turning back to Lizzie with furrowed brows. He studied her intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that had suddenly grown more complicated.

“So…” Lizzie said, arching a playful eyebrow. “Do you still think I’m a stalker?”

Seungmin's expression remained skeptical, his lips curving into a small smile. “Let’s just say you’ve been promoted from stalker to ‘mildly suspicious.’ ”

Lizzie rolled her eyes dramatically, but a small, amused smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

I.N, who had been scrutinizing the exchange with keen interest, rose from his seat and approached with a broad, welcoming grin. “Hi, Elizabeth,” he greeted with warmth that melted the tension in the room. “I’m Jeongin, but you can call me I.N. Welcome to the group.”

Lizzie returned his smile and grasped his hand firmly. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.”

I.N shot Seungmin a sharp look, eyes glinting with playful challenge. “See? I’m not rude to the new member.”

Seungmin scoffed, dismissing the comment with a flick of his hand. “I wasn’t rude. I was… cautious.”

“Sure,” I.N retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. “So,” he continued, his grin widening mischievously. “You’re older than me, right?”

Lizzie blinked, momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in conversation. “Uh… yeah?”

“Great,” I.N declared, nodding decisively. “I’ll just call you Maknae Noona. How does that sound?”

“Noted,” Lizzie replied, taking her seat with a determined nod.

Lizzie laughed despite herself, the tension shattering like fragile glass. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, huh?”

“Nope!” I.N said, his voice bright and unyielding.

Lizzie chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. Despite the rocky start, she sensed this wasn’t going to be as daunting as she’d feared.

Seungmin finally sighed, gesturing toward the couch with resignation. “Fine. Let’s get started. But for the record, this is still weird.”

As the session kicked off, a surge of excitement coursed through her veins. Sure, there would be challenges ahead, but if this was how things began, it promised to be a thrilling and unpredictable journey.

next chapter ->

©tapiocasaturn404

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

He Suddenly Became a Plushie!?

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

One serene afternoon.

I finished work early and was on my way to Kicho's room.

(I wonder if there's anything I can help with today.)

(But Kicho is the type of person who handles everything by himself.)

Mai: "Sometimes, I wish he'd rely on me more."

Just as I muttered that under my breath,

Fuku's voice: "Kicho! Kicho!"

Mai: "Fuku?"

(Fuku rarely makes this much noise. Could something have happened to Kicho?)

Mai: "Excuse me!"

Kicho: "Mai."

Mai: "Kicho, where are you?"

Fuku: "Kicho!"

Under Fuku's excited fluttering, something was squirming underneath the pistol.

(Is that a plush toy!?)

Kicho: "Sorry, Mai. Can you lend me a hand?"

Mai: "Is that voice coming from you, Kicho!?"

Kicho: "Yeah, unbelievable as it may seem."

I hurriedly put away the pistol and picked up a small, fluffy plush toy that bore a striking resemblance to him.

Mai: "W-What the hell is this?"

Kicho: "I have no idea. Before I knew it, I found myself shrinking."

(Shrinking? More like turning into a plushie.)

Kicho: "I was utterly stuck and couldn't move. Thanks to you, I'm saved."

Kicho: "I'd like to do something to repay you, but..."

(This gentlemanly side... Yeah, that's definitely him.)

(But...)

Mai: "Cute."

Kicho: "Mai?"

Mai: "Sorry! That was insensitive of me. But you're just too cute; I couldn't help it."

Kicho: "Am I cute now?"

Mai: "Yes, very."

I moved in front of the window and used it to show him his reflection.

Kicho: "----!"

He seemed shocked and was at a loss for words.

As I helped with paperwork, dusk began to fall.

Mai: "So, you're staying as a plushie, huh?"

Kicho: "Seems so. I'd like to find a way to turn back into a human, but I have no clue where to start looking."

Kicho, who had been watching my work on the table, raised his arm with a little hop, then started tilting his head and moving his arm up and down.

Mai: "What are you doing?"

Kicho: "I was trying to cross my arms."

(I see, his arms are too short to reach!)

Mai: "………"

(I shouldn't laugh like this when I should be worrying.)

I bit my lip to hold back my smile.

Kicho: "I guess it was the wormhole that caused it."

Mai: "So, the distortion in space-time changed your form?"

Kicho: "Yeah, although it's weird that I turn into a plush toy."

Mai: "True. It's also weird that it didn't affect a modern person like me."

Fuku: "Modern?"

Fuku, now completely calm, seemed very interested in Kicho's appearance, trying to peck at him with its beak.

Kicho: "Sorry, Fuku. I'll play with you once this is over. Just wait a little longer."

Kicho: "Mai, seal this letter."

Mai: "Sure."

I obediently sealed the letter meant for his business partner.

Mai: "Is there anything else I can do? Please don't hesitate to ask."

Kicho: "No, everything else is fine. Sorry for the trouble."

As he shuffled unsteadily across the table, I reached out instinctively to steady him.

Kicho: "Sorry."

(Even in such a situation, he's still so considerate.)

Mai: "It's okay. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything."

I gently placed him back on my hand and brought my face closer.

Mai: "I hope you can return to your original form soon, but I'm glad I can help with your work."

Mai: “I’ve always wanted to be more helpful.”

Kicho: “Mai.”

Kicho: “Having you by my side is more than enough. You’re too kind to me.”

Mai: “Stop being hard on yourself. It wouldn’t hurt to rely on others a bit more.”

Kicho: “........”

Kicho: “Thank you. That kindness of yours is what saves me.”

He walked over to me, hugging my finger with his tiny arms and pressing his face against it.

(That’s supposed to be a kiss, right? So cute!)

Kicho: “Then, may I rely on you?”

Mai: “Of course!”

Kicho: “I’d like to get some extra envelopes ready in case I’m still like this tomorrow.”

Mai: “The stock is on that shelf, right?”

Holding Kicho in my hand, I reached for the tall shelf, but...

Mai: “Hmm, it looks like they’re at the back. A step stool would help.”

Kicho: “Place me on the shelf. I’ll try to push the box closer.”

Mai: “Are you sure?”

Kicho: “It’s worth a try.”

He carefully walked along my extended arm and perched on top of the shelf.

Kicho: “I’m going to push it. Be ready to catch it.”

Mai: “Got it.”

A moment of carelessness was all it took.

Without thinking, I hastily pulled the box towards me, and as a result, the box tipped over and came tumbling down.

Kicho: "----!"

Mai: "Ah!"

He was accidentally knocked off the shelf by the box.

Mai: "Kicho!"

(What do I do? He's going to fall!)

Fuku: "Kicho!"

Just before he hit the ground, Fuku swiftly caught him.

Mai: "Nice catch, Fuku! Are you okay!?"

I quickly set the box down and took him from Fuku's beak.

Mai: "I'm sorry, I..."

Kicho: "Don't worry, I'm fine. It was my carelessness that made me fall."

Mai: "No, I should've been more careful!"

Kicho: "……."

I hugged him tightly, and a sudden, blinding light enveloped us.

Kicho: "Ugh..."

Mai: "Kicho, your body!"

Kicho: "I'm back to normal?"

Mai: "Thank goodness! Sorry, I probably should let go now."

Kicho: "No."

He hugged me back gently, and I looked into his familiar green eyes.

Kicho: "Let's stay like this for a little while."

Kicho: "But only until I get used to not relying on you too much."

Mai: "Mm..."

Feeling the warmth of his lips against mine, I clung to him with tears welling up in my eyes.

❀ Ikesen Masterlist

[insidekatmind]

An Unexpected Encounter~Noni Madueke

London was lively that evening, the streets glowing with reflections from the holiday decorations and the hurried footsteps of passersby. You found yourself in a downtown café, one of those refined yet cozy places, where the air was filled with the aroma of coffee and cinnamon. You were supposed to meet a friend who, at the last minute, had texted to cancel.

You decided to stay anyway, ordering a cappuccino. There was no rush, and London at night always had its charm.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a deep voice made you look up. Standing before you was him. Noni Madueke. A shy smile, a long coat, and a cap that tried to make him blend in. But for you, it was impossible. You’d followed his career, from his moves at PSV to his games at Chelsea. He was your favorite player.

“Oh… no, no. It’s free. Please, go ahead,” you stammered, trying to mask your excitement, though it was probably obvious.

He sat down and pulled out his phone, then set it on the table, glancing at you. “Are you here alone?”

“Uh… yeah, my friend canceled on me,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward, though you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was talking to you.

“Happens to me a lot, too. Maybe it’s for the best sometimes. A little time to think,” he paused, then added, “I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Noni.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I know who you are.”

He chuckled softly, looking away briefly. “Of course. Don’t know why I always do that. It’s a habit.”

The conversation began naturally. He told you he was in London for a short break from training, how he loved walking the city streets at night to escape the chaos of being recognized. Then, he asked about you.

You talked about your job, your interests, and how you ended up in London. It was surprising how attentive he was, how genuinely interested he seemed.

After an hour, as the café began to empty, he asked, “Would you like to take a walk?”

You agreed without hesitation. You strolled through the lit-up streets, with him occasionally glancing at you, as if curious about every reaction.

“You know, it’s rare that I get to talk like this with someone who doesn’t just see me as ‘the footballer,’” he said at one point. “You make me feel normal.”

“Well, maybe it’s because I don’t see you only as a footballer. You seem like an interesting person, Noni.” The courage in your words surprised him. You could tell by the way he stopped, his hands in his pockets, looking directly at you.

“You know, I think this has been the best evening I’ve had in months.” He paused, then stepped a little closer. “Can I see you again?”

Your heart started racing. “I think I’d like that.”

From that moment on, London was never the same. Evening walks became a habit, meeting at small cafés and sharing endless conversations under the starry sky a ritual. Discovering the more human side of Noni, his dreams and fears, became a part of your life.

One evening, after an important match you’d watched live at the stadium on his invitation, he approached you as you both left together.

“You know, football is my whole life. But you… you’re the reason it all feels even more special.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile. “And you’re the reason I’ve never felt so alive.”

That night, under the city lights, he took your hand. And it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[narizaki]

charm   011.   bad idea

―   this chapter has written content

next   ―   masterlist   ―   prev 

when tobio enters kuroo’s house, overstimulating is the first word that comes to mind.

his senses are being overloaded — and even that’s a massive understatement. the music is blaring, making him wince, and vibrant lights reflect off of every surface. he can hardly make out anyone’s face. someone hands him a cup as soon as he walks in, and tobio has half the mind to deny the strange mixture of liquid swimming in the depths of it. he brings the red solo cup to his nose, the pungent smell confirming to him that there’s alcohol in it. he thinks it’s probably only made of alcohol.

he attempts to hand it off to hinata, but the orange-haired opposite hitter only shouts at him to live a little and drink it! over the loud 2000s music. hinata is obviously inebriated already, which tobio thinks is impressive considering how they just got to the party. he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised, though, as hinata had always been a lightweight. still, he calls his friend a dumbass before shoving his way through to the kitchen island.

it’s less crowded, giving tobio space to breathe. he was never one for parties, but he did tell his group that he’d drive them to and from. the lighting is much better in the kitchen, so he looks down at his cup and swirls its contents absentmindedly. tobio briefly considers switching his drink out for something non-alcoholic, but decides against it when he realizes that even the fruit punch probably has alcohol in it.

tobio sighs, his eyes scanning around the room. a couple is making out on the counter to his far left, and a few people are taking shots to his right. had it not been for the fact he was trusted to drive everyone back home later tonight, he probably would’ve been sipping on whatever concoction is in his cup or on a can of beer. shots were never really his thing — the stinging sensation at the back of his throat accompanied by the disgusting taste of whatever alcohol had been chosen far outweighed the buzz that followed. 

his thoughts wandered off to you — he wondered what you were doing right now.

tobio had seen your tweet, so he figured you were probably in bed, sleeping, or maybe even watching a movie. he considered texting you just to check in, seeing as he had nothing better to do. his fingers drum against his phone screen, before ultimately deciding against it. were the two of you even close enough to justify an impromptu text? yes, you’d become better friends over these past few weeks, but the last thing tobio would want was to disturb you or cross a boundary in any way. 

he shoves his phone into his back pocket instead. 

tobio was content with staying in his corner and observing everyone, making light conversation with his classmates or friends while they poured their drinks. that way, he’d be in perfect condition to drag his group out when the time came, throwing them into his back seat before leaving their poor roommates to deal with their drunken stupors. 

really, he should’ve known — hinata shoyo would always be there to fuck up his plans. 

“kageyama!” hinata slurs, stumbling into the kitchen. following him, equally as drunk, was the rest of his group: bokuto, miya, and kuroo. they were all talking loudly while filing into the space, greeting tobio with harsh pats on the back. kuroo seemed the least inebriated, though the flush on his face indicated he was at least tipsy.

from behind them, a few more people entered. he recognized them to be your roommates, becoming familiar with them as his visits became more consistent. while tobio gave hinata a mild face of disgust, he gave everyone else a curt nod.

“you enjoyin’ yerself, tobio?” miya hiccups, accent slipping out. the blonde was leaning on tobio now, and from behind him, he can see bokuto taking another shot. akaashi stands beside him, equally amused as he seems to be exasperated at his boyfriend’s antics. 

“i’m okay, thank you miya.” tobio replies, face plain. 

“he’s probably missing (name),” kuroo teases, his signature cheshire grin on his face. tobio doesn’t reply, feigning ignorance, but the tinge of pink that covers his face is enough of a tell for everyone to let out small coos. 

miya cackles, before pointing an accusatory finger at tobio. “hey!” he exclaims, “ya haven’t had anything to drink, have ya?” 

dramatic gasps surround them, which only confuses tobio. he’s supposed to be driving, so why would he drink? he’d rather not get a ticket or, even worse, an accident while driving under the influence, and he tells them that much. 

“not even like, a sip?” bokuto questions. tobio nods in affirmation. 

“i bet,” hinata barges in, “i can take more shots than you!” 

despite the fact tobio knows it's a bad idea, a spark of competitiveness flickers within him. still, he hesitates.

“c’mon, tobio,” miya says, harshly clapping a hand on his shoulder, “one shot can't hurt!” 

tobio relents, a sinister look in his eye as he takes the shot glass from bokuto and downs it. he can hear people whispering that it's probably not a good idea for him to be drinking, and a sensible voice in the back of his head agrees. even though he doesn’t like alcohol all that much, and he definitely doesn't like taking shots, he hates seeing hinata win even more.

and, after about 5 shots, hinata is forcefully cut off by kozume. there’s a pleasant buzz surrounding tobio, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s not in any state to drive, even if he’s probably more sober than his friends. distantly, he can hear someone saying something about calling (name), which makes him perk up immediately.

“(name)...(name) is coming?” he mutters, eyes lazily roaming around the room. someone giggles from around him, but tobio’s too focused on the fact that (name) is coming? 

akaashi enters his line of sight, pointing at his phone. even through his drunken haze, he can make out the letters of your name. a fond smile stretches across his face, eyes fluttering closed.

―   notes

∘   hinata is SUCH a lightweight i'm sorry.

∘   tobio has an okay alcohol tolerance, but it definitely falls onto the lighter side.

∘   keiji and kenma didn't drink anything. their boyfriends tried to convince them to, but they were very insistent on not. hitoka, on the other hand... ∘   this chapter is really just a build-up for the next; also, i wanted to write something from tobio's pov!

―   taglist 

@diorzs @cloveletter @anurst @romyoia @muyyie 

@froyaoya @rory-cakes @integers @bunninio @ilovekimchi123

@dksfl920 @oneiratxxia10 @girlkissersco @shironagi @punkhazardlaw

@lvtilzs @zahrawr-likes-red @hyenagoated @ilyless @poochiluvr

@conrad4life13 @berrisweet @wave2mia @loveelylacy @theycallmenanamisgirl 

@zindaginamilegidobara @brithedemonspawn @joyzluvr

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 14

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

No Laurent. All signs of recent occupancy had been a handspan away from his own body, suggesting a night spent in close but not transgressive proximity: some kind of self-preservation had apparently prevented Damen from rolling inward during the night; from throwing his arm over Laurent’s torso and drawing them together to make the small tent seem larger than it was. As a result, Damen was in possession of all his limbs, and even had his clothing restored to him. Thank you, Laurent.

The embroidery came later, in the retelling, as the story was told again and again by the men, taking on its own character as it passed over camp. The Prince had ridden out, with only one soldier. Deep in the mountains, he had chased down the rats responsible for these killings. Had ripped them out of their hiding holes and fought them, thirty to one, at least. Had brought them back thrashed, lashed and subdued. That was their Prince for you, a twisty, vicious fiend who you should never, ever cross, unless you wanted your gullet handed to you on a platter. Why, he once rode a horse to death just to beat Torveld of Patras to the mark.

like how this ironic misunderstanding of the events is similar to how damen viewed laurent in book 1 and some of book 2. except now he gets the irony

He looked at Laurent’s tent of silks, the pennants unfurled in the breeze, their starbursts undulating. The distant voices of the men swelled briefly, then dropped away. It would not be like this. It would be a systematic campaign moving southwards towards Ios, building on the support he had from the kyroi factions. He would not be stealing out of camp at night to spin mad plans, to dress in unfamiliar clothes and forge alliances with rogue clans, or to fight alongside pony-riding warriors, capturing bandits improbably in the mountains. It would not be like this again.

:(

‘Keep the prisoners alive, keep the women on side, keep my men from the women,’ said Laurent, as though reciting from a checklist. ‘Come over here and talk geography.’ He came as he was bid, and took a seat opposite Laurent, across the map.

they’re so cute i can’t stand them. “come over here and talk geography” SHUT UP

Laurent did not tend to show any of the usual outward signs of fatigue. The control that he asserted and maintained over the troop was an extension of the control with which he ruled himself. A few tells existed. The words, perhaps.

“the words, perhaps” is such a funny line here. because like yeah no shit, but also how is damen supposed to know when laurent’s words actually reflect his true feelings?

Instinctively, Damen brought his hand up to squeeze Laurent’s shoulder gently—and then stopped. Laurent went very still, as Damen became aware of what he had just done, and that his grip was still on Laurent’s shoulder. He felt the locked muscles like hard wood beneath his hand. ‘Stiff?’ said Damen, casually. ‘A little,’ said Laurent, after a moment in which Damen’s heart knocked twice against the inside of his chest.

one thing i really appreciate about capri is the way that laurent is written, as a character with trauma/baggage who experiences intimacy in a way you wouldn’t expect from the love interest in a romance novel. he doesn’t make anything easy, for himself or for damen. his physical and mental reactions to things are very telling and consistent, and i appreciate pacat’s commitment to honoring that aspect of the character. that way it’s so much more rewarding when we finally see laurent let go of control and experience love that doesn’t hurt him.

i won’t do an official count for “laurent intimacy issues,” since it’s not nearly as clear-cut as “laurent leans,” but if there’s something that strikes this chord with me, i do want to make note of it. just… stuff that i personally appreciate, especially from a love interest in a romance novel, whose whole narrative job—one would expect—is to love the protagonist and have hot sex. but sensitive and traumatized people deserve love and intimacy, too, at their own pace and on their own terms. and laurent has a lot more going on than what damen perceives, or what the romance genre dictates. it’s nice to point out little moments where his issues affect his physical and emotional reactions, because it’s nice to know that those moments 1) exist and 2) don’t make him any less of a romantic lead.

He applied a gentle pressure with his thumbs. He said, ‘You brought me ice, last night.’ ‘This,’ said Laurent, ‘is a little more—’ It was a word of sharp points: ‘—intimate,’ he said, ‘than ice.’ ‘Too intimate?’ Damen said. Slowly, he was kneading Laurent’s shoulders. He did not usually think of himself as someone with suicidal impulses. Laurent did not relax at all, just stood unmoving. And then, at the apsis of his thumbs, a muscle shifted beneath pressure, unlocking a sequence all the way down Laurent’s back. Laurent said, unwillingly, ‘I . . . There.’ ‘Here?’ ‘Yes.’

a lot going on here! made even more complicated by damen’s pov!

damen takes physical intimacy much less seriously than laurent. prior to book 1, he has always enjoyed willing and enthusiastic partners (some of whom were conditioned into that enthusiasm, but we’ll deal with that later), and to him, sex is not a means of abuse or power. prior to book 1, intimacy was never used to disempower damen. laurent, obviously, is very different. pretty much all he knows of intimacy is abuse and disempowerment.

so, being aware of laurent’s trauma and also being fairly perceptive of the signs pointing towards it, i can see here that laurent is fighting a massive battle with himself. because, like, he does want this. but he doesn’t want to want this, because this is something he doesn’t have control over. the fact that he doesn’t throw damen off, and even explicitly asks him to massage a certain spot, is a demonstration of vulnerability that damen doesn't really understand.

which isn't bad or wrong of him, at all! if he did understand more about laurent’s trauma and responses, he’d almost certainly be less confident with initiating intimacy, which is something laurent needs from a partner. it's a lot harder when they're both completely terrified (which damen is, in a different way, but lesser so.) damen is afraid that laurent will bite his head off because he’s a bitch, not because he’s traumatized. and i think that’s a good place for them to be, at this stage of their relationship.

also, the “suicidal impulses” quip is great.

He felt Laurent subtly give himself up to his hands; yet as with a man closing his eyes on the edge of a cliff, it was an act of continuous tension, not surrender.

yeah

‘Like this?’ ‘Yes.’

“he likes that. do it harder.”

Laurent’s head had dropped forward a little. Damen had no idea what he was doing. He was distantly aware that he had had his hands on Laurent’s body once before, and couldn’t believe it, because it felt so impossible now; yet that moment felt connected to this one, even if only in contrast, his current caution against the unguarded way he had let his hands slide down over Laurent’s wet skin.

damen, meanwhile, has recently developed his own intimacy issues/trauma in book 1. these two are a mess

‘Is it so hard to relax?’ said Damen, quietly.

YEAH. IT IS.

‘You only have to walk outside to see what you’ve accomplished. Those men are yours.’ He didn’t pay attention to the signs, the slight stiffening. ‘Whatever happens tomorrow, you’ve done more than anyone could—’ ‘That’s enough,’ said Laurent, pushing himself away unexpectedly.

damen he’s not stressed bc of the war stuff, he’s stressed bc another human being is showing him physical affection and he actually wants it to be happening

When Laurent turned to face him, his eyes were dark. His lips were parted uncertainly. He had lifted his hand to his own shoulder, as though chasing a ghost touch there. He did not look exactly relaxed, but the movement did look a little easier. As if realising that, Laurent said, almost awkwardly, ‘Thank you.’ And then, in wry acknowledgement: ‘Getting tied up leaves an impression. I didn’t realise being captured was so uncomfortable.’

ohhhhh my god. oh my god. so fucking real, every line is so fucking real. the relief of no longer being touched, being back in control. the fuckin, phantom touch on the shoulder—an assessment of the massage, yes, but also… whose ghost is it? damen isn’t asking that question, but i am, and it’s sad. and then the awkward thanks, and the immediate snarky comment to follow up. it’s just so real.

‘I promise I’ll never tie you to the back of a horse,’ said Laurent. There was a pause in which Laurent’s mordant gaze was on him. ‘That’s right, I’m still captured,’ said Damen.

says the protagonist of the “captive prince” series

‘Your eyes say, “For now,”’ Laurent said. ‘Your eyes have always said, “For now.”’

ohhh this line is juicy. because like, yeah, there’s the melancholy yearning context of the last 10 or so chapters, but before? when they were enemies, when laurent was actively hurting and trying to disempower damen? even then, he never showed laurent submission. and laurent clearly noticed. they make me so crazyyyy

‘If you were a pet, I would have gifted you enough by now to buy out your contract, many times over.’

this is more a flaw in my understanding of the pet system, but is he saying that he’s done damen enough favors that if the favors were monetary he could afford to pay off his contract? that’s my best understanding of the line at this point.

‘I’d still be here,’ said Damen, ‘with you. I told you that I would see this border dispute through to its finish. Do you think I’d go back on my word?’ ‘No,’ said Laurent, almost as if he was realising it for the first time.

they drive me insane. the whole “suffering alone” theme—laurent is realizing that he hasn’t been suffering alone, lately, because damen is intentionally staying by his side. laurent may be great at strategic thinking, but he is so used to being manipulated and abused that he doesn’t even consider that someone could be genuinely devoted to him, as a person.

But I know you don’t like it. I remember how much it maddened you in the palace, to be bound and powerless. I felt yesterday how badly you wanted to hit someone.

another interesting re-contextualization of book 1! although it’s not quite an apology, bc i’m sure laurent was aware of the maddening and was probably like “good. this guy killed my brother”

Damen found he’d moved without realising it, his fingers lifting to touch the bruised edge of Laurent’s jaw. He said, ‘The man who did this to you.’ The words just came out. The warmth of skin under his fingers in that moment took all his attention, before he became aware that Laurent had jerked back and was staring at him, blue eyes huge with pupil. Damen was suddenly aware of how out of control he was—he felt—and called violently on his faculties to try to put a stop to—this. ‘I’m sorry. I . . . know better than that.’

“i know better than that” is an INSANE thing for him to say here, by the way. they’re both so compelled by each other and afraid of each other. the amount of work pacat has put into their arc/characterization so far means that scenes like these can have something going on between every single line. honestly i think there’s more going on here off the page, than there is on it

‘No. Wait. I . . . wait.’ Damen stopped, and turned. Laurent’s gaze was edged with indecipherable emotion, and his jaw was set at a new angle. The silence stretched out for such a long time that the words, when they came, were a shock. ‘What Govart said about my brother and I . . . it wasn’t true.’ ‘I never thought it was,’ said Damen, uneasily. ‘I mean that whatever . . . whatever taint exists in my family, Auguste was free of it.’ ‘Taint?’

fascinated by the possible reasons for laurent to say this, in this moment. he uses it on the page to then say that damen is a good and honorable person like auguste, so that’s the easy answer. but if he was just experiencing some ptsd flashbacks, i wonder if this is also something of a grounding statement for himself. because we know who he’s referring to, when he’s talking about bad people on his family tree. it’s almost like he’s trying to figure out how to frame this situation, more for himself than damen—laurent feels protected and cared for in this moment, and the last time he allowed himself to feel that way after auguste’s death, his uncle had taken advantage. so of course he’s picturing his uncle. but this statement, a reminder to himself that damen is more like auguste than the regent, and auguste would have never done anything with laurent in the way the regent had… augh. laurent your brain.

‘I wanted to tell you that, because you,’ said Laurent, as though he was forcing the words out, ‘You remind me of him. He was the best man I have ever known. You deserve to know that, as you deserve at least a fair . . . In Arles, I treated you with malice and cruelty. I will not insult you by attempting to atone for deeds with words, but I would not treat you that way again. I was angry. Angry, that isn’t the word.’ It was bitten off; a jagged silence followed.

this is a laurent apology! no “sorry” necessary. and he’s the closest to telling damen the truth as he’s ever been, but still he stops himself. i wonder if it’s partially out of shame, for how he treated damen. a refusal to make an excuse, because he understands the cruelty of his actions regardless. and of course he has cognitive dissonance to maintain and tactical reasons for keeping the lie going. but still, this is honest.

Then, with a return to his more usual tone, ‘And you don’t need to take watch,’ said Laurent. ‘You sleep prudently.’

of course he can’t just say, like, “sleep well” or “good night.” prudently means carefully, or in good judgment… so like, he’d wake up if something dangerous happened? laurent trusts that? i can’t tell if the statement is an observation or a command. it’s either, “[i want you to] sleep mindfully” or “you sleep mindfully [so you don’t need to stay awake on watch].” hmmm

Damen searched his face, but found nothing in it that he could read, which, he supposed, as he lifted his hands to the laces of his own jacket, was typical.

buddy there is so much subtext going on here it’s okay just get some rest

[marupunch]

Hello! May I please know what exactly are your thoughts on the craftsman and why you hate him so much? /genq

(I do agree with you but I want to know why so much hatred if you don't mind)

Don't worry and thank you for asking! Sorry this took so long but I wanted to deliver something complete and objective (I had to write this 3 times because the first one looked like a rant...)

Even though I don't like Craftsman, it's not like a "I hate the character" kind of hate, more like "I don't think he's a good person but I'll try to reflect that on my art instead of downright hating the whole character" kind of hate. There's actually some background on why I think like this so I'll try to be as objective as possible with my arguments to make my point clear.

Remember, this is just a personal opinion and it's okay if someone doesn't agree with me!

These are video game characters and we're all allowed to have different perspectives about them.

(...)

⚠️WARNING OF LOOOONG TEXT AND SPOILERS FOR ORIGAMI KING⚠️

It's important that we understand that Origami King is a game that relies a lot on Japanese culture to tell a story and that's why there's a lot of misunderstanding in the western part of the fandom about Olly and his character, motivations, etc. We must also understand that origami is a highly respected and important art form in Japan, therefore, its creation entails different guidelines rooted in the culture of this country.

Let's start with the most basic. According to the rules of this art, you are not supposed to write over origami. To be honest, you are not supposed to use any type of tool on origami other than the paper and your hands. I'm not saying that it is completely prohibited but this reduces the value of a work. See it as a form of "cheating."

Writing over origami gives an aspect of informality to your piece. And it greatly influenced how Olly perceived himself, since he took Craftsman's writing as something that reduced his value as origami and even ruined him, as a work of art.

In Japan, a very important aspect of society is how people perceive you, the image you give to those around you. Olly was supposed to be a king, immaculate and perfect, but he was tainted by the very creator of him. His image was ruined and his appearance became a symbol of shame.

Hence his fury towards his creator, which is more highlighted in the Japanese version of the game and is not hidden behind a joke of "All Toads are the same", as in the American version.

At the end of the game it is revealed to us that the message were words of encouragement and good wishes. But again, these are only visible once Olly is on the brink of death, as they were inaccessible in his normal state. They were good intentions, but they did a lot of damage, in the end.

It makes me wonder how the Origami craftsman, being someone who practiced this art every day, did not know such a basic rule. Or maybe he ignored it, but this also leads him to be a bit indifferent, since it doesn't seem like he had the implications of creating a life in general in mind, much less ruining an origami work.

Which also brings us to his motivations. In the game, Craftsman mentions, and I quote, "I don't get to celebrate my craft very often, so I might have gone a bit... overboard."

(Note: I'm the Spanish version, he says "Because people don't compliment my work very often." Yeah, that doesn't help my view of him.)

Although the general perception leaves us with a father-son relationship, Craftsman never refers to Olly as such, since from the beginning, he had created him as a craft, a way for people to praise his abilities, never having in mind a family or considering what responsibility it had to create a new life.

I think he never fully understood the concept of what it was to bring origami to life beyond them being talking dolls, a striking party trick, because also, seeing what Olly has done, he mentions to Olivia that he should never have used the Fold Of Life.

The reason she and Olly are alive in the first place. Even Olivia herself understands the implication of this comment, responding to her creator "Don't say that, I love being alive!".

It almost seems that for Craftsman, the Fold Of Life was just a creative choice about whether or not to put more detail into his creations. But for Olly and Olivia, that technique was their entire lives, literally. The choice of whether they existed or not.

Clearly until now there is a certain objectification on the part of Craftsman towards his creations, seeing them as just this instead of real children. And although there are vain attempts like the doodle on Olly or giving Olivia a weapon to defeat her brother, we can agree that they were not the most optimal tools to try to guide two children who he was supposed to protect. Not like his creations, but like his children. But so far everything is normal.

At least until the end.

Craftsman's first reaction upon seeing Olly's body is to appreciate the material with which he had made it. Yes, perhaps a bit of nostalgia in the creation of it, but ultimately it's a bit insensitive to mention that given that there is a life that has been taken, his son's life, again, showing the aforementioned objectification.

Even worse when, even if he's watching Olivia's expression, he congratulates her for "using the weapon he implemented in his design." At this point I'm trying to be objective, but this is a completely off-base comment. Not only does he not come close to comforting Olivia in a situation that is probably difficult for her, but he is too focused on what HE did to her that he barely does anything to support her beyond teaching her how to make a paper crane.

She just killed her own brother PLEASE just for once be a little emphatic

By the time the ending arrives, Mario seems much more affected by the loss of Olivia than Craftsman himself, who seems much happier for someone who should be mourning his creations.

I think that the scene in the Secret Ending is the closure of why I hate this character, because as I mentioned before, it dehumanized Olly and Olivia a little, treating them only as creations that served a purpose (making him gain recognition) only for them to end...

...being that. The key problem was never acknowledged, Olly and Olivia ended up being exactly what he wanted them to be.

As I mentioned before, this is my PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE about him. It's okay if people don't see him this way but the idea of Craftsman being this kinda insensitive and irresponsable parent makes a lot of sense to me. It just feels correct, specially after how Olly shows symptoms of trauma, like not wanting to see Craftsman's face again being the reason why he wants to get rid of all of the Toads, as mentioned on the Japanese version.

I'm not justifying Olly at all because I know he's wrong with a lot of things but the game tells you he's wrong. He gets his punishment and the whole character of Olly revolves around being a young, irrational king. On the other hand, the image the game gives you about Craftsman is a poor victim who didn't do anything wrong.

I think the worst part is that he never got a single punishment after this. Maybe being trapped in his basement but considering he was the one who started everything in first place, he doesn't seem guilty or even affected. I guess creating two gods, then having them both die in front of you it's just another day for Theofold.

TLDR; Craftsman is an irresponsable, insensitive and negligent father who traumatized Olly. Also a poop head. (?)

[rosypenguins]

🖤Droey Dump🩷

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Synopsis: Following Jake’s comment about Zoey’s ‘busy weekends’, Drew decides to call Zoey to talk about about.

A/N: This one’s a bit shorter than usual, I mostly just wanted to explore Drew’s feelings regarding the breakup, not the actual build-up to it. This also takes place after Episode 10, but before Episode 11. ALSO the fics from this point onwards are some of my favorites so HYPE. (Spoilers: I got a lot of Drew angst this month.)

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The sky had faded from a soft pink to a deep shade of black, and for the past several hours, Drew had been on the phone with Zoey. Her voice had been unsteady for most of the night, her words rushed and her stories almost never ending.

He’d called her a while ago to confront her about the comment Jake had made earlier that day, and after listening to her conflicting stories and blatant lies, the truth slowly began to unravel itself.

Zoey had gone out with someone else behind Drew’s back… multiple times. And his love had been nothing but more than a toy for her to discard the moment it became anything but useful. After everything he’d done, he barely meant a thing to her.

Zoey’s voice wavered on the other end of the phone, broken by sobs as she desperately tried to apologize. But Drew swallowed; he wouldn’t let himself fall for her again.

“We’re done, Zoey.”

“W-what?!” Zoey cried, and Drew hated the way her voice still tugged at his heart. “Drew, please! You can’t-”

Drew hung up the phone, and blocked Zoey’s number without so much a second thought.

Zoey’s words echoed in his mind, but Drew felt almost nothing towards them anymore. Everything just felt… numb. He would’ve expected himself to feel angry, to raise his voice, to do something… but he just felt… nothing.

With a shaking breath, Drew turned off his phone; the shattered black screen reflecting hollow eyes and messy magenta hair. It took him a few moments to finally set it down.

He buried his face in his palm, and he wondered why he allowed Zoey to talk for so long.

Maybe… he was just hoping she’d somehow convince him she truly cared about him. And that this was all one big misunderstanding. But of course it wasn’t.

God dammit, Jake was right…

How had be been so oblivious? The signs had been there from the start…

The way she only ever seemed happy when she was spending his money. The way she only seemed to care when she was showing him off. The silence between the two in private. The constant texts to other people, the-

God, he was such an idiot.

He shouldn’t have brushed off the signs. He shouldn’t have lied to himself, and told himself everything was fine between them. He should’ve known better…

He thought he’d done everything right. He gave her everything she asked for. And all he wanted was her love in return. But she couldn’t even give him that…

That’s the whole reason he even went out with her. He just wanted someone to care about him. He didn’t care who, just… someone who could make him feel useful-

Drew pressed his palm against his forehead, forcing himself to take slow, steady breaths. And he had to remind himself that he doesn’t cry; that he wasn’t supposed to cry.

And it was strange, because he didn’t even realize he wanted to cry until tears had already pricked the corners of his eyes.

His mind began to wander; back to the past, back to all those shopping dates and… back to when it seemed like he was all that mattered to her…

But of course it was never him. It was the money she admired. And she couldn’t give a damn about who it came from.

Drew brought his knees up to his chest. If all she wanted was his money, why did she have to bring his heart into this? Why did she have to go and make him feel like he was special? Like he was loved?

Like he deserved to be?

He wished he’d never let her close, never opened his heart to her, never made a place for her…

And in the end, Drew didn’t get even an hour of sleep that night.

[gnabnahc317cb97]

Aphrodite's Pain

Jeongin x thick female reader

Word count: 6.4k

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY! Strong language/cursing, Verbal and emotional abuse, physically intimidating behavior, mentions of gaslighting, body shaming, unprotected piv intercourse (be safe use protection) cum eating, praise, body worship, a little spanking (like one smack), Jeongin has a big dick (is that a warning?) I think that's all but as always if I missed something please let me know and I will add it!

You and Jeongin became inseparable almost immediately when the guys first introduced the two of you. You loved all of the guys but you and Jeongin had a lot of similar interests and the same sense of humor so you fell into a very comfortable friendship quickly. Movie nights, coffee hang outs, amusement parks, arcades, you spent most of your free time with Jeongin. The guys thought for the longest time that you two would perhaps become more than friends and it was frequently discussed amongst them but they didn’t want to push you so they all swore not to say anything to either of you. For all intents and purposes, Jeongin was your baby bread and you were his Noona. If you ever needed help with anything he was always a call away and you would always drop anything if he needed you. Jeongin was your friend and you appreciated and needed him more than you could ever express.

The one thing that you just couldn’t understand since you and Jeongin had become friends was, in the three years that you had known each other you had run though countless boyfriends. For whatever reason they couldn’t handle the fact that you and Jeongin were so close. You were always up front with your them about your best friend being a guy and you did everything you could to make sure your partners felt secure in your relationship. It never seemed to matter by the end though. Every time the inevitable happened and the guy you were seeing dumped you, your confidence took a hit. Was your friendship with Jeongin just an excuse, a means to an end? Was it really because of you? Were you not pretty enough? Was it because you were heavy set? You had never questioned your weight or appearance or appeal until one guy after another kept leaving you. They all couldn’t really be leaving just because of your friendship with Jeongin. Right? Every time another guy ended things with you those questions plagued your mind. Of course, Jeongin was always there to help hold you together and assure you it was the insecure idiots that you had been dating that had the problem and not you, but Jeongin was your friend he was supposed to tell you things like that. You always held back just a bit never really touching on your insecurities about your appearance. So, while it helped to hear the things he would tell you in the moment it did very little for how you were actually feeling in the long term.

When you met your current boyfriend Matt you were apprehensive about dating him, about dating anyone really. You were at a place in your life where you were thinking maybe you just needed to be single, reflect on yourself and what you’re doing or not doing to not be able to sustain a relationship. You were convinced the issue had to be you in some way. Matt was persistent though. He would send flowers, text you sweet little things all the time, and he didn’t seem to mind Jeongin being around or the fact that he took up such a big chunk of your life. Before you would consider seriously dating Matt you felt the need to express the fears you had about getting into another relationship. How you wondered if it was truly your friendship with Jeongin that made guys in the past leave or if it was the fact that you were thicker or not attractive enough. You laid it all out, admitted more to him than you ever had to anyone, maybe even to Jeongin and Matt had assured you that he wasn’t like the rest of those guys. That you were beautiful and he knew you and Jeongin were friends and that was all.

“You are gorgeous baby, don’t say stuff like that about yourself. Regardless of how stunning you are, I’m not the jealous type. I trust you; I wouldn’t have pursued this with you if I didn’t. I know you’d never do something to betray me like that Y/N so don’t worry so much. Okay?” Against your better judgment you believed Matt. He seemed so sincere and so far, he HAD been better than your ex’s when it came to you and Jeongin. It wasn’t long though before the same things that always happened started. Matt would try to get you to cancel on Jeongin to go out with him instead and get mad when you wouldn’t. If you invited Matt along to spend time with you and Jeongin he would throw side eyes and glares even though Jeongin always made sure to be nice, for your sake at least. Matt would make snarky, jealous remarks whenever you brought up Jeongin. He was actually worse about all of those things than other partners had been and still you would try to reassure him, you would try to make things work. At first after he did things like that, he’d apologize but after a while the apologies stopped and the gaslighting started. He would blame you for arguments he started and try to make you think you weren’t being loyal because you wanted to spend time with your friend. Even still, you hoped you could work out these issues and be happy with Matt. You were trying your best to, as hard as it was.

You and Jeongin were finally getting to hang out after what seemed like forever for the two of you. Between your work and really focusing on trying to make things work with Matt, not to mention Jeongin’s busy scheduled, you hadn’t gotten to spend much time together recently. So, you were both excited to get to do one of your favorite things, stay in at your place and watch movies. At least that’s what you were trying to do when Matt started texting you. He blew up your phone through most of the first movie you were watching to the point you had no idea what was going on. Jeongin was glancing over from time to time but you were too absorbed in the conversation, well more like bickering, with Matt to realize. As soon as you started the second movie your phone started going off again.

That stung. Your face contorted into a grimace after reading it and your chest tightened a bit. Jeongin noticed your stiff posture, the frown and the worry lines on your forehead becoming more prominent. He knew those worry lines only showed when you were trying to hide that you were upset.

“Everything okay Noona?” You looked up from your phone and realized Jeongin had been watching you for a minute now.

“Wha- oh yea. It’s just Matt wondering when we’re gonna be done.” You didn’t mention what he’d said in the last text. Jeongin shook his head.

“Jeeze we’re only just getting through the first movie.” Jeongin made a vary valid point and you agreed.

“I know he’s just upset…” Before you could finish your sentence, you heard a knock at your door. You looked in that direction and then back at Jeongin confused.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked. You shook your head before getting up to see who was at the door.

“I’ll be right back.”  You called back to Jeongin as you disappeared down the hall way. When you got to the door you looked through the peep hole. When you saw who it was you were not only surprised but furious. You opened the door and were immediately met by Matt yelling at YOU.

“Why the fuck didn’t you message me back!?” You looked at him like he was a crazy person because he was acting like it. You looked behind you checking to make sure Jeongin was still in the living room and then walked out into the hall closing the door behind you to try and keep him from hearing the commotion Matt was causing.

“One, lower your voice. You JUST messaged me. You didn’t give me time to reply before you were knocking on my door. How long have you been wai- you know what never mind it’s not important. You were being mean Matt if I had replied, what was I supposed to say to that that wouldn’t have just ended up being a huge fight? I’m trying to have a good time with my friend and watch some movies.” Matt scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked behind you at your closed door.

“Why did you close the door huh? Afraid I’m gonna see something you don’t want me to?” This again. Matt started pacing the hall back and forth as you pressed your fingers into your temples trying to will away the headache this was bringing on.

“We go through this all the time Matt! He’s like my little brother. It’s not like I hide or lie about spending time with him. I invite you to join, don’t I? If you call or text I always answer, don’t I? I spend almost all my time with you and do everything I can to make you feel secure in our relationship and you still get so jealous. You knew Jeongin was my friend before we started dating. We had a whole conversation about this, multiple in fact. You said you understood, you said you were okay with it. So, why are you getting so bent out of shape?” Matt spun around and walked back up on you quickly, his finger out, pointing at you. You flinched a little surprised by the aggressive action.

“Yea I want to tag along and be the third wheel with my own girlfriend on your little dates with your little boyfriend.” You let out at heavy sigh. You were getting exhausted with this.

“We don’t have little dates and we are just friends Matt. YOU are my boyfriend.” Matt laughed and started pacing again.

“Not any more I’m not. You always say the same shit, it’s always ‘he’s like a little brother why are you mad?’ You must think I’m fucking stupid. I’m so done Y/N, this is over. We’re over! You’re not worth this shit.” Matt spun around and faced you again.

“Just admit you’re just a whore and fucking him already!” Your jaw dropped.  

“What did you say?!” You were shaky and had tears in your eyes. You couldn’t believe he would say that. You truly had never given him any reason to think that you and Jeongin were anything but friends, in fact you’d done everything you could to prove otherwise. Matt took a few steps closer, baring down on you, looking down his nose at you. Anger radiated off of him.

“I SAID that you’re a fat whore. And that I KNOW you’re fucking him.” The tears in your eyes fell and you choked out a sob. He knew where to hit you so that it hurt and he took his cheap shot. Just then your door flung open behind you and Jeongin was standing there. It was obvious he’d just heard the whole exchange between you and Matt even though you had tried to prevent it. Jeongin’s face looked like it had no emotion in it. It was stiff like it was made of marble. His fists were clenched and the veins of his arms and neck visible. He was clearly trying his very best to restrain himself. You had never seen him like that in all the years you’d known him.

“Y/N, go inside.” His voice was firm but he spoke calmly to you and moved to the side to allow space for you to go in. You didn’t say anything. You did what he told you to and ran into your apartment still crying. Once you were inside Jeongin pulled the door closed behind him this time and stood in front Matt.

“Wha-“ Jeongin cut Matt off before the first word.

“Shut the fuck up.” His words were calm but they still dripped with venom. Matt was stunned. Jeongin had always played the quiet shy kid around him up until that point, mainly for your sake. So, when Jeongin told him to shut the fuck up, he shut the fuck up.

“You have got to be the dumbest asshole alive do you know that? You have never deserved Y/N. She would never cheat on you or willingly hurt anyone she cared about for that matter. Never, and I would never try and make her to do something like that either. We are just friends you fucking neanderthal. We have never fucked, are you hearing me you insecure dip shit.” Matt looked angry and confused, like he wanted to believe Jeongin but didn’t. Jeongin wasn’t done though he leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

“I have never fucked her Matt BUT… I assure you… tonight? I will.” Jeongin looked Matt right in his eyes as he said it. Matt puffed out his chest like some gorilla trying to assert his dominance, challenging Jeongin. Jeongin squared up to him totally unafraid. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes remembering you were upset in the apartment and just wanting to get back to console you. He didn’t have time for Matt’s shit.

“I don’t want to Matt. I’m really, really trying not to. So just get the fuck out and I won’t have to do something we’ll both regret.” Matt hesitated for a moment thinking about calling Jeongin’s bluff. When Jeongin opened his eyes again Matt saw how serious he was. He rolled his eyes and huffed before turning and walking towards the elevators without another word.

“Oh, and Matt?” Matt stopped and turn around.

“You won’t be around anymore but rest assured, if I ever hear you calling Y/N a fat whore again, nothing will stop me from absolutely rocking your shit. Got it?” Matt pressed his lips together. He didn’t say anything but Jeongin knew he got the point. Once Matt was on the elevator and gone Jeongin went back into the apartment. He found you in the living room curled up in the mountain of blankets you had been under watching movies, with your face pressed into the couch cushions, you were still crying. He walked over and sat by you and started rubbing your back, trying calm you.

“Noona? Y/N? Please don’t cry.” You pushed the covers off and turned over facing Jeongin. When he saw your red cheeks and teary eyes, he almost walked back out the door to find Matt and give him the beat down he deserved. Instead Jeongin wiped your fresh tears away as they fell.

“It’s my own fault Innie, things have been getting worse for a while. I should have known; I should have just ended things myself but…” You sniffled and more tears fell.

“What’s wrong with me?” You tried to choke back another sob unsuccessfully.

“Come here Noona.” Jeongin opened his arms to you and you sat up and fell into them pressing your face into his shirt. He let you cry against him as he stroked your hair. After a minute when you started to quiet down Jeongin spoke.

“You know it’s not you right? Seriously. What could be wrong with you? Huh?” You pulled away from him and fiddled with your hands in your lap.

“I’m…” you hesitated to say it but knew Jeongin was your friend and that you could tell him anything.

“Because I’m… you know…fat.” You said the last word so quietly as you wrung your hands together. Jeongin looked at you speechless for a moment. How long had you been dealing with these feelings and he had no idea? He felt horrible.

“First of all, you have fat, you’re not fat. You’re more than your body type Y/N, so much more. It doesn’t matter if you are skinny or full figured. You are kind, and funny, and you are absolutely stunning Y/N, just the way you are.” It was your turn to be speechless. Most of your friends would deny the words if you said you were fat to them, or just tell you that you were pretty which didn’t really help, as much as they were trying to. Not Jeongin though. He didn’t want to convince you that you weren’t thicker, you are, he wanted you to know that it didn’t matter because it was just a fact about you, like having blonde hair or green eyes. It was not who you were and no matter what you were beautiful. He had the most serious look on his face as he continued.

“You’re so willing to try and see the best in these guys and you don’t see the best parts of yourself and they refuse to, all of them, and then you end up hurt. I hate it. I hate that you get taken for granted by these assholes. Y/N, you deserve someone who wants to worship you because you… are beauty personified.” You blushed but you couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief at his words.

“Innie, you’re sweet but…” Jeongin cut you off before you could say anything else.

“No Y/N no buts you are SO beautiful add to that that you are a genuinely good person. Anyone should count themselves lucky to have you. I know I would.” You looked at Jeongin. His eyes bored into yours. Then you blurted out the next words without even thinking.  

“Did you mean it?” Jeongin looked at you confused. Did he mean what? That you were pretty? That you deserved better? You scooted closer to him on the couch. Your eyes were so big and dreamy, they sparkled from the tears that had been in them moments before. Jeongin couldn’t help but get lost in them.

“Mean what?” He finally managed to make himself speak. Suddenly you climbed onto his lap and straddled him, one of your thick thighs on each side of his legs. You rested your arms on his strong shoulders and sat your plump ass on his thighs, your fingers started fiddling with the hair at his nape. Jeongin froze.

“That you were going to fuck me tonight?” His eyes went wide suddenly. You had heard that?!

“Uh… I-I’m sorry… Noona I-I was just talking, trying to make Matt mad… I’m sorry…” Your face fell and you stopped toying with his hair.

“You didn’t really mean that you wanted to then?” You started to get off Jeongin’s lap, your face flushed with embarrassment as tears started to prick your eyes again. You felt incredibly stupid for saying and doing that, what were you thinking? Of course he didn’t want to fuck you he’s your best friend. He said that to make your ex mad and he was saying all those things to you to be nice. To comfort you like a good friend does. Before you could get off Jeongin’s lap though his strong hands grabbed hold of your full fleshy hips and held you in place on top of him.

“Don’t! Don’t get up.” He pulled you the rest of the way down on his lap again so your full weight rested on his thighs. Jeongin pushed your hair away from your face so he could look you in the eyes again before his hands moved to rest on the curve of your waist continuing to hold you in place.

“If you want that Y/N, then yes, I want that. But…” Jeongin was hesitant say the next words. Your fingers played with the hair at his nape again, coaxing him to go on as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“But I don’t just want to fuck you. I… I’m in love with you Y/N. I always have been.” It seemed like your eyes glowed even brighter when he said those words. Your lips turned up into a small smile that Jeongin was relieved to see.

“Innie, all this time… why didn’t you ever say anything?” Jeongin sighed.

“We’re friends and I thought you wouldn’t take me seriously since I’m younger than you.” You shook your head.

“Inn… Jeongin. I’m only 2 years older than you it’s not like it’s a huge age gap.” Jeongin shrugged his shoulders.

“I know but you always date older guys and you call me baby bread like the hyungs do, you always told your boyfriends I was like a little brother to you. So, I thought you would reject me if I said anything and I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.” You nodded as Jeongin explained, understanding now why he had never said anything.

“I was compartmentalizing my feelings Innie, so that my partners would feel more confident in our relationships, so that they wouldn’t feel threatened and try to interfere with our friendship. I didn’t take into account how that might affect YOU in our relationship though and I’m sorry.” Jeongin grabbed a hold of your face, his hands were rough but so gentle. He leaned in closer to you, his lips hovering so close to yours. You closed your eyes and held your breath.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about Y/N.” Jeongin’s lips met yours. Soft lips pressed against soft lips. It was like a supernova went off in your chest the way your heart thumped out of control. The kiss started tender, lips slotted together, soon your tongues were tasting, tracing the inside of each other’s mouths. Before long you were practically ravaging each other, teeth tugging at full lips, both tongues trying to assert dominance. When you shifted on Jeongin’s lap his hard on pressed against you pulling an unexpected moan from you. Jeongin broke the kiss and looked at you. His eyes were such a dark brown.

“FUCK! That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard Y/N.” He growled the words and his lips crashed into yours again. Jeongin feverishly kissed you as his hands gripped the soft love handles on your waist and rocked you against him harder making you moan louder into his mouth this time. You both were completely fueled by lust as you moved against his firm cock over his jeans, the pressure against your clit, even through the fabric separating you, was making your body thrum with excitement. Jeongin leaned back against the couch still guiding your movements. He watched with hooded eyes, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth as you held onto his shoulders and rode him, your big breasts bouncing along with your rhythm.

“God you’re so fucking gorgeous Y/N. Does it feel good?” You were flushed and softly panting as you shook your head up and down.

“Good baby, I’m gonna make you cum now okay pretty girl?” He leaned forward and kissed you again wrapping one of his arms around you to pull you closer to him. Jeongin slid his hand down your plush tummy past the waistband of your pants and panties. When his fingers dipped into your soft wet folds your breathing hitched and you stopped moving.

“No no baby. Don’t stop, keep riding my fingers. Want you to cum for me. Can you do that Y/N?” You shook your head again you were having trouble forming words he was making you feel so good. You started rutting your hips against Jeongin’s hand as his lips and teeth worked over your neck and shoulder, leaving love marks behind, his tongue soothing each one after. Every grind against his fingers sent chills through your whole body and you could feel your climax creeping up on you quickly.

“I-Innie…fuck…I-I… I’m so close…” Blush was creeping up your chest and neck as your labored breaths came in between you trying to form words. Jeongin slid his fingers past your clit and pushed them inside you, curling them so they rubbed against your g spot with every grind of your hips. Your jaw fell slack and your eyes went wide.

“JEONGIN!” A slight smile crept on to his face hearing you scream his name like that just because of his fingers.

“Come on you can do it, cum for me beautiful, make a mess on my hand.” Jeongin started pumping his fingers deeper into you as you continued to slide across his lap chasing your orgasm. When Jeongin pressed his thumb firmly against your clit it pushed you over the edge and you came.

“Oh… oh my god..Jeo..Je..In-Innie… !” Were the only words you were able to remotely form as you fucked yourself on his hand, his fingers still pushing into you, his thumb roughly rubbing against your clit. You hugged Jeongin’s head shoving his face into your supple breasts. He pulled your tank top down and kissed and nipped at the soft skin on the top of your breasts as you shivered and twitched through the remnants of your orgasm.

Jeongin removed his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking the pads of them to taste you before sticking them into your mouth. You sucked on them willingly and your teeth grazed his fingers as he retracted them.

“Fucking gorgeous, god damn. Just gorgeous.” Before you could think, let alone reply to Jeongin’s words, he gripped your thick thighs with his big hands, lifted and flipped you so you were under him on the couch now. You let out a little squeak at the show of strength.

“Jeongin!” You breathed out his name in surprise. He looked down at you a little glint in his eye and a smirk, one that looked mischievous.

“What? Are you surprised I know how to handle my girl?” Another wave of arousal washed over you hearing Jeongin call you, HIS girl. You tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

“I’m not baby bread anymore beautiful. I’m going to show you how you should have been treated all along.” Jeongin stood and pulled his shirt off over his head and then quickly started working at his pants and boxers tossing each article of clothing aside before kneeling on the couch and helping you remove the yoga pants and tank top you had been wearing. Once you were completely naked under Jeongin his fox-like eyes narrowed and took in every curve, every soft cushiony piece of your body. Completely enamored by you. He started speaking absent mindedly, his thoughts just forming in his head and coming from his mouth as he took in your form.

“Y/N did you know most artist depictions of Aphrodite show her with hips and dips, a tummy and full breasts.” Jeongin leaned in close and whispered in your ear.

“How do I have the real-life Aphrodite under me right now?” You blushed at his words and looked away but he tilted your chin urging you look at him.

“Look at me.” You did.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on Y/N, every piece of your body should be kissed and loved baby.” Jeongin placed a kiss on your lips, your jaw, your neck. Soft kisses trailed and traced along your body as his hands caressed the curves of your breasts and hips gently touching you where ever his lips and tongue were not. After truly worshiping your body with the soft prayers that were his lips he kissed your mouth again, this time deeper, more passionate. Tracing his tongue across your lips as it dipped between them. Your head was buzzing but you wanted more, needed more. You needed Jeongin.

“Please! Jeongin, please fuck me.” Jeongin leaned over you bending your knees and pushing your legs apart so he had better access to your dripping cunt.

“Anything you want baby. Anything for you.” With those words Jeongin spit in his hand and rubbed it over the head of his thick cock, sliding it through your wet folds before guiding it towards your aching core. When the head of his dick pushed into you you let out a soft gasp.

“Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” Jeongin asked sweetly. You shook your head no.

“No…I’m okay… mmmmm… just BIG. Go slow?” Jeongin gave you a small smile and nodded at you as he slowly sank into your cunt deeper. Your finger nails dug into his shoulder leaving little indents behind as you felt the stretch and sting of Jeongin’s thick cock being pushed deeper and deeper inside of you until he was fully engulfed in your sweet warm wetness. You could hear the low growl come from the bottom of his chest as he tried to compose himself and not just start ramming into you mercilessly. It was hard to control himself but he didn’t want to hurt you so he slowly pulled out to the tip and pushed into you again a little faster than the last time. He kept doing that in and out. Slowly until you started rocking your hips and meeting his gentle thrusts into you.

“I’m gonna go a little harder now baby. Are you ready?” You bit your lip and nodded.

“Yes Innie.” Your voice was so sweet to his ears it shouldn’t have sent more blood rushing to his cock making him throb inside you, but it did, he was so hard. He pulled out and pushed into you the hardest he had yet and you moaned out in pleasure as the head of his dick hit your g spot.

“FUCK! Jeongin… right there… keep doing that.” He heeded your instruction and started moving faster thrusting into you at that same angle and abusing the soft spot with the tip of his cock over and over. You pussy was soaked and the sounds of his skin connecting with your wet cunt every time he pumped himself into you deeper egged Jeongin on to fuck you harder. He gripped you by your squishy hips and his fingers dug in as he fucked you faster and harder.

“God baby you are taking my big cock so well. You’re so pretty. Every inch of you feels so fucking good. I can’t get enough of you baby, gonna have to have you on my cock all the time beautiful.” You moaned out at the praise. He made your body buzz with his words.

“Yes… yes Jeongin. Want you to fuck me when ever you want. How ever you want.” Hearing you say that Jeongin flashed you a mischievous smile again. He pulled his dick out of you and wrapped his arms around you pulling you up flush with his own body. Your big soft breasts squished against his chest as he kissed you.

“Turn over baby. Push out that beautiful ass and let me see your pretty pussy from the back.” His words were like ecstasy and practically made you drip down your legs with excitement. You did exactly as he told you to and bent over presenting your ass and drenched cunt to him arching your back. Jeongin’s hand came down and connected with your supple ass cheek causing a delicious sting.

“Innie!” You jerked and moaned out in surprise looking back at him. His smirk grew as he rubbed the red hand print that was appearing. As he massaged away the pain, he sunk his cock back into your soaked pussy. His hands gripped your hips and gently pulled you back on him as he pushed his aching cock into you deeper. Jeongin ran his hands from your hips over your voluptuous ass and up the small of your back easing you down, your face rested on the couch cushions, arms out in front of you holding onto the arm of the couch. His hands followed back up the trail they had come from stopping to grope your ass and spread you so he could see his cock sliding in and out of you covered in you juices. The sight set something off in him. He gripped your soft hips firmer than he had before and stopped moving.

“Y/N you better hold on to whatever you can.” As soon as the warning passed his lips his hips started pounding into you full force and fast. Each thrust pushing your face into the couch cushions harder as you tried to keep your hold on the arm of the couch.

“Fuck! Oh… God-fuck yes fuck me hard Jeongin Fuck me, yes.” He continued fucking into you hard and fast bringing you closer and closer to your climax. Your walls tightened around his cock, he let out a grunt and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Oh fuck baby… I’m so fucking close. Are you close beautiful? Are you gonna on my cock?” You moaned out in utter ecstasy unable to form words. He knew you were close the sound your sopping pussy made every time he slammed into you made it obvious. Still he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

“Talk to me gorgeous… FUCK… are you gonna cum for me baby?” You panted the next words out.

“Ye-yes I-I-Innie… go-gonna c-c-cuumMMM! Jeong-Je-J In!” You screamed out fragments of his name as he drove his cock deep into you. You twitched and throbbed around him coming so hard you couldn’t see. Jeongin kept fucking you deeper rocking his hips hard against your ass searching for his own high as well as riding you through your orgasm. Making your cunt tighten and squeeze his cock harder.

“Fuck. FUCK! Baby… baby… I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out and begged for it.

“Yes Innie give me your cum. Want it Innie please.” He grunted and slammed deep in to you one more time before pulling out and stroking the head of his cock quickly. He moaned out as his thick, warm, cum painted your full ass in stripes. You could feel it warm pooling on your lower back, dripping down your ass and onto your cunt.

“Fuck baby, so much cum covering you right now. You look so fucking good covered in my big load pretty girl.” Jeongin massaged one of your ass cheeks with his finger tips as he tugged on his cock, smearing the last of his cum across your ass. He pressed the underside of the tip of his cock between your ass cheeks and slid it up and down over your cum overed ass hole. You clenched at the sensation as he smeared his cum up and down, twitching from the overstimulation to the head of his dick. You propped yourself back up on your elbows and reached around with one hand, running your fingers through the pool of warm cum that had landed on your back and sucked them clean. Jeongin’s eyes rolled back and he closed them biting at his lips.

“Fuck baby. How do I taste?” You ran your fingers through his cum again and sucked more off humming in appreciation as your wiggled your cum coated ass against the head of his cock he had pressed against you.

“You taste so good Innie…mmmm.. taste soo good.” Jeongin kneaded your ass cheek for a moment longer with his cock nestled in between them, appreciating the complete mess he’d made of your ass and cunt. His smeared cum coating your ass cheeks like a glaze as you continued to run your fingers through it and clean yourself off sucking and savoring the taste of him on your fingers each time as Jeongin watched you.

“Fuck baby, you look so sexy eating my cum.” He leaned over, kissed and playfully took a bite of one of your ass cheeks and your pulled away laughing still sucking the last of his cum from the tips of your fingers.

“How about I get you cleaned up and we can watch this other movie?” You leaned back down on the couch and nodded as Jeongin got up and ran to get a warm cloth to clean you up with. When he came back, he wiped what you hadn’t scooped off and eaten off your backside and then ran it down your sensitive cunt. You winced at the sensation of the warm rag just a little but it was soothing.

“Did I go to hard? You’re not hurt are you?” Jeongin asked as he finished cleaning you off. You turned over and laid on the couch on your side propping yourself up on one elbow looking at him.

“No Innie, I’m fine. You were great, that was amazing really.” You lazily smiled as you laid there your cheeks, chest and breasts, even the tops of your thick thighs were painted in blush. Jeongin slotted himself between you and the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around you. You grabbed one of the mountain blankets from before, covered up and turned the movie back on as Jeongin held your soft body against his. You tilted your head and looked back at him. The tv screen giving you just enough light to admire his face this closely for the first time. His strong jaw, the five o’clock shadow that was starting to peek, he looked down at you.

“What, do I have something on my face?” You laughed and shook your head no.

“Just you were right. You are NOT baby bread anymore.” His eyes narrowed a bit and he smirked.

“More like daddy toast now.” His eyes narrowed further as he gave you that look he always gave you when you’ve said a stupid joke. He shook his head and laughed pulling you tighter against him. Legs and arms tangled; you watched the movie until you both fell asleep on the couch. Jeongin was your best friend and from that night on your lover.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[niabang]

The Summer it Came True

Pairing: Bangchan × black female reader named Kel

Summary: You loved him, and you never got to tell him, but now he's back.

It had been about 13 years since Chan left Australia to Korea to pursue his dreams of being a K-pop idol. He left the day you wanted to tell him how you felt about him. You woke up and got ready to see him only to realise that he was gone. He left just like that, no explanation, no call, no text, not even a letter. He was just gone.

You had no idea what he left for, and you received a rude awakening when you saw him performing with a couple of other boys on stage on TV after years of not having a trace of him. You already forgot about him (you didn't), so why did he have to show up now? Why was he even more handsome than before, and more importantly, why was he coming back to Australia?

You thought you had gotten over him but why did you still have feelings for him?

Disclamer: this work is from my imagination and it does not reflect the artist's behaviour in anyway. It's fiction so a lot of things may be a tad bit unrealistic lol. I will be posting this in parts/chapters. Chan is still an idol in this but I kind of left out the outside/idol world in this fic.

A/N: The first few chapters may seem kind of boring, but y'all have to stick with me, okay? I wanted to make this kind of slow burn, so if you stick with me for long enough, the story gets more interesting and a little spicy as we go along. i promise ♡.

Genres: Romance, fluff

Chapter 1

Word Count: 800

It was almost summer, meaning it was time for you to start getting ready to move into the beach house that your parents left you before they died. You were an only child, so everything they owned automatically became yours, they died when you were legal so you had no issues with the law on acquiring the properties including the million dollar clothing industry they left you.

How did you deal with your parents dying in a car crash and becoming the ceo of a company overnight at the age of 20? People tend to ask. The answer is: you don't know. You're 26 now, 6 years seemed to fly by like days, and you became more and more invested in the company, you grew to love it. You had no time for a lot of friends or romance as you were always working.

Maybe you didn't have time for romance because my heart still belonged to him. Your heart still belonged to Chan, the boy who vanished into thin air the day you wanted to confess your feelings for him. Call it an obsession. It probably was, but you hadn't been able to get him out of your head for years now, and you didn't know why.

Every time you thought about that day, you almost got tears in your eyes. You were only 13. He was your first love. How could he just leave like that without telling you anything?

Then you realised. He didn't owe you anything. Hell, you barely even spoke. Why did you feel so entitled? You guys were acquaintances at best. The last time you remember having an actual conversation with him was when your two families met on the beach one summer when you were twelve, and you were both forced to play together.

Other than that, it was just a simple "hey" or a wave every time you saw each other in school or in the neighbourhood. You weren't exactly the best of friends. You just had this embarrassingly huge crush on this man who probably didn't even remember your name.

You were supposed to be packing up your things to leave the suburbs of Sydney to your house on the beachside where you would take a break from the office while still working but this time with the serenity of an ocean view and the calming sound of the ocean waves. You were really looking forward to it.

For some reason, you weren't really in the mood to get packing, so you jumped on your bed and tuned the TV to an entertainment channel, and that was when you received the biggest shock of your life.

It was HIM. He was right there on your screen. The boy - wait, he was a man now. The man you couldn't shake off your heart and your mind was right there on your screen after twelve years of disappearing, and he was as beautiful as ever...

...

After getting over the shock of your life that day, you did a little research, and you found out that he was a K-pop idol in an eight member band called "Stray Kids" what a weird name you thought to yourself but they were a pretty big deal. They were superstars. You weren't surprised. Chan had a really amazing voice that you never got to compliment him on, and you knew he would end up pursuing what he loved one way or the other.

As if the shock of seeing him on stage performing with seven other men wasn't enough, they announced their first World tour, and the third stop was Sydney. HE WAS COMING HERE? HE WAS COMING BACK? You almost lost your mind for a few minutes.

Wait, why did you even bother? He was a famous celebrity now. He definitely didn't remember or care about the girl he built sandcastles at the beach with thirteen years ago. He probably had all the girls wrapped around his finger. He probably took multiple girls home every night. Bold of you to assume you'd be on his mind.

It was honestly pathetic for you to still think about him the way you did but you just couldn't get over him, his eyes that closed up whenever he smiled, his mouth corner dimples, his beautiful smile, his big beautiful nose, his contagious laugh that sounded like he was in need of air, the way he would always carry things for the female teachers at school, the way he always made sure ladies went first before he did and the way he donated blood to the hospital every once in a while. He was perfect but not for you. You had to forget about him.

You had to do it before he came back.

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