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1-800-kami · 1 year ago

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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dat-town · 5 months ago

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abcdlove

Characters: school radio club leader!Taesan & class president!female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, coming of age, first love, fluff, a hint of enemies to lovers but it’s only in the girl’s head

Summary: You convinced yourself that you hated Han Taesan after what he had done in sophomore year but now you have to work together on a senior project and maybe he isn’t that bad. Or maybe just for your heartbeat.

Warnings: stage names are used, OC has negative opinion about Taesan and Leehan in the beginning, mentions of social and parental pressure, the amount of banana milk consumed might not be healthy, hopefully not too ooc even though i wrote it within like 2 weeks after @restlessmaknae started sending me bonedo content

Words: 9.6k

Author’s note: this is the product of the amount of Ann Liang books i binge read recently, the instagram algorithm and @restlessmaknae’s marketing for Zico’s kids. this really pulled me out of my writing slump, so thank you for that! honestly my first impression of Taesan was that he looks like a tsundere, so that’s pretty much how it all started.

i'm pretty sure you guessed it; happy name day @restlessmaknae <3

read Leehan’s companion piece here

You had been following your well-planned route to success for years. You had already taken advanced courses at a prestigious hagwon, a private after-school academy for the subjects you totally needed to ace at CSAT. You also offered tutoring services to underclassmen, volunteered at the local library during summer and carefully chose your extracurriculars to align with the ideal student vision SKY universities had. You only needed to follow through the plan in your senior year too and you would be fine. You would finally make it.

Needless to say Han Taesan wasn’t part of your plans.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of the principal’s office where you were heading in all his 6 feet tall glory, his school uniform’s tie neatly done for once.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out with no greeting when your steps slowly halted next to him, your jaw set and muscles tense.

Taesan turned his head slowly and looked at you impassively from under his dark fringe before speaking up in his raspy voice that made your classmates swoon whenever they heard him make a radio announcement.

“What does it look like?” He raised a brow as if he was telling you not to ask stupid things.

There could only be two kinds of reasons why somebody was called into the principal’s room: either very good or very bad. You had never gotten into trouble, so you were hoping for something positive but seeing the boy there wasn’t really promising. Not because he was a troublemaker or a bad student. He might not have been a straight A student like yourself but he was the leader of the school radio club and he was also generally liked among his peers as far as you knew. Your wariness was more so because you didn’t want to be associated with him in any way.

“Oh, both of you are already here. Wonderful! Come in, come in,” the office door opened and Principal Im rushed you inside with a welcoming smile.

At least, you could be sure by then that the news wasn't anything too bad.

You took a step to follow the man inside at the same time Taesan moved next to you as well which made you momentarily falter. However the boy merely reached out and put a hand onto the door’s edge to keep it from closing. You had to force yourself not to scoff at the fake gentleman-ish action and instead just duck under his arm to go inside the office.

You just sat down in one of the cushy chairs and smoothed out the lines of your school uniform skirt when you heard the door close and soon enough Taesan took the chair next to you.

“Alright, I won’t even waste your precious time since I know both of you are busy. I called the two of you here because as representatives of the senior classes, I would like the two of you to conduct interviews with your classmates and prepare a pre-recorded radio segment that can be broadcasted on graduation day. It can be about anything you want: what the students’ aspirations are or what they liked the best in high school. I trust you will do a great job,” the principal smiled at you hopefully but you could feel your own polite smile freeze onto your face. This was not how you imagined yourself spending the first term of senior year.

“But…”

“Yes, Y/N?” The principal looked at you expectantly and you could feel Taesan’s dark eyes on you as well which snapped you out of your confused stupor.

“Why the two of us?”

“Of course, you can get others to help too if you want but you have exceptional organizing skills as I heard and Taesan already has experience with our recording system and editing softwares. You two were the first ones we could think of, but of course I can’t force you…”

“It would be an honor, Principal Im,” you hurried to stop him there because there was no way you would have said no to a task like this. Not only because you could hardly say no anyways but also because it would look good on your resume. The only thing that bothered you was having to do it with a boy you could not stand. If you had that much time and you could do so, you would have gladly done it alone without his help but no matter how much you hated it, Principal Im was right: he had the skills to perfect a radio segment.

“Great! If you don’t have further questions, then good luck!”

“Okay, what about we meet after school to discuss the plans?” You asked immediately once you left the principal office because you had less than 5 minutes until first period and since you didn’t share a class with Taesan, you rarely ran into each other unplanned (thank god) and you would need your color-coded planner from your bag to plan any further than the afternoon.

“I have a radio club thing until 6,” Taesan simply said, not offering any alternatives, so you let out a sigh. Of course. What did you expect?

“And I have academy classes every other day,” you pointed out because he wasn’t the only one busy. “Then I can just email you your parts and we don’t need to–”

“So you can complain later that I’m freeloading off your hard work? No thanks,” the boy interrupted you and your gaze sharpened at him. He leaned casually against the corridor’s wall, a hand reaching up to loosen his tie and tilted his head at you as if to challenge you to protest. “We can make do during lunch hour.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him that you had plans already but going over your History notes, when it was just the first week of the term and you were ahead of the course work anyway, wasn’t that necessary even though you hated giving in to his idea.

“Okay, let’s meet outside at the benches then,” you agreed, telling yourself to be the bigger person, and turned your back on the boy before he could see the frustration bubbling up in you.

You and Han Taesan had the kind of history that you didn’t really like to revisit. That’s why your initial reaction was to roll your eyes whenever you heard his voice on the school radio or to puke your guts out when girls gushed about his ‘tsundere charm’. Their words, not yours.

Actually you would have probably not cared about the guy if it wasn’t for your model student campaign which he had ruined. Last year the school had run an event to choose a student representative by voting and every candidate could have a pre-recorded segment on the radio. You had your own carefully recorded and edited audio file with the best convincing speech you could prepare and emailed them the sharing link on time just to hear yourself sing your go-to karaoke song through the radio on the big day. In panic, you ran to the school radio broadcasting station only to find Taesan sitting there by the control panel with headphones over his ears, calmly letting the audio play well past the two minutes mark, seemingly not finding it weird at all that somebody tried to win the campaign with a karaoke rendition of a love song instead of saying a few words. As it turned out, you managed to share your entire recordings folder with the radio team but the club president, instead of playing the file titled campaign_speech_final.mp3, decided that AUD_20230326_192251.mp3 was the right track for your model student image. That week you not only lost that title to the grade’s pretty boy, but you lost your pride as well and it was all Taesan’s fault. Not that he ever thought to apologize or right his wrongdoings. So no, you weren’t looking forward to working with him at all.

He was late.

You had already dotted down six different questions and a rough program outline with your half-finished, now cold rosé pasta lunch menu on the side by the time Taesan put his tray down on the outdoor table.

“You are late,” you picked at him right away which earned you a rather confused look.

“It’s still lunch hour,” he pointed out and dug into his own kimchi jjigae like he had all the time in the world. His behavior was seriously dancing on your nerves.

“Whatever. Let’s get into it,” you prompted because you didn’t have time to argue about semantics or his attitude. “We should divide the related tasks this week, finalize the questions and gather people for the interviews, then we can start on those next week.”

“What’s the rush? We have months until graduation,” Taesan questioned and while he was right (or because), you had the sudden urge to strangle him right there. You forced yourself to stay calm.

“Well, I don’t like to leave things to the last minute. Closer to graduation, we will be busy with the exams and college applications anyway.”

“As if you don’t already have everything prepared,” he muttered absentmindedly, scooping more kimchi on his spoon, eating without a care.

You pursed your lips, annoyed. You needed to remind yourself again that you had no time nor the energy to argue with him if you wanted to get this discussion done before your upcoming English class.

“Khm… so we can agree on splitting the interviews between us, right? You interview your classmates and I will do mine. We just need a common question sheet,” you said, tapping the end of your pen on the table.

Whether it was the repetitive sound or your words, it managed to get Taesan’s attention. He looked up from his food and leaned forward on his elbows, his dark eyes sharpening their focus on you.

“How would you record the interviews?” He asked, simply yet you had a feeling it was a tricky question.

“On my phone?” You furrowed your brows. Wasn’t it obvious? How else did he expect you to do it?

“That won’t be good. We would have a huge difference in audio quality. So unless you are fine with that, you need proper equipment. I can borrow a portable mic from the radio club, but I’m not trusting you with that.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened in disbelief but Taesan didn’t elaborate on his reason. Ridiculous. He was just looking for faults in your ideas.

You let out a huff of frustration.

“Are you that desperate that we work together?”

“It’s called professionalism, miss class president,” he taunted you, looking completely serious. “I don’t want to broadcast anything under my name that’s just ‘good enough’.”

“Do you now?” You snorted and rolled your eyes. As if it wasn’t him who played your singing for the entire school. Where was his professionalism then? Who was he to lecture you about it? But okay, you could be the bigger person if he was so freaking stubborn. “Fine. We can do the interviews together with your fancy mic. These are the initial questions I thought of.”

You slid your open notebook towards him with questions about what they used to dream of becoming as a kid, what they want to be now, what colleges and majors they considered as well as their most memorable moment at the school and what they would tell their younger selves or their underclassmen. Taesan furrowed his brows as he was reading through the draft, probably dissecting each of your questions like a poor lab rat but eventually didn’t say anything. You raised a brow at him when your eyes met and he just shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he said which didn’t really added value but at least he didn’t find something to pick on in everything you did.

The rest of the discussion went easier as it was obvious that he would be the editor and you would organize the interviews. You were already mentally preparing a survey to send out to the students via the group chats you usually used for class president duties to see when they would be free to conduct the interview among the slots you offered. Taesan wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the hectic and busy scheduling in the upcoming weeks but eventually agreed to get it over with within two months tops. He must have realized too that the earlier you finished with this project, the sooner the two of you could part ways.

You had the first batch of interviews at the end of next week. After ruling out inconvenient locations, you ended up with the obvious option: doing the recordings in the school radio clubroom. You were against it at first because the last time you had been there you faced public humiliation, whispers behind your back for weeks about your singing and messed up campaign, but objectively speaking you knew it was the most reasonable choice, so you bit the bullet.

You arrived ahead of time, of course, but you were quite surprised that Taesan was already there too, setting up who-knows-what on the professional equipment. He looked up when the door opened, the sun hitting the side of his face, giving it a natural warm glow, a stark contrast to the coldness he often radiated. He acknowledged your presence with a nod then went back to his work, so you just put your stuff down next to the round table in the middle of the room and got ready with your nicely printed questionnaire.

For the most part, the interviews went well, the students showed up more or less on time for their own slot, Taesan let you do the talking, merely letting you know when a recording started or ended. It all started going down when the last interviewee for the day didn’t show up. After five minutes passed, you texted Wonyoung asking politely whether she forgot the interview but she didn’t answer. Ten more minutes of awkward silence while Taesan was playing (or texting, you couldn’t tell) on his phone, you tried calling her but with no success. You started getting restless and frustrated.

“She could have at least told us if she wasn’t going to come,” you muttered more to yourself than anything when your next call went to the voicemail as well. It was such a waste of time just waiting.

“Why do you always assume the worst of people? Maybe something happened and she can’t make it. She could be too sick to care about you blowing up her KakaoTalk,” Taesan looked up from his phone and there was something in his eyes that made you feel like you were in the wrong, like you were a sulky child because generally it wasn't like you were always this pessimistic about people, but before you could have argued, Taesan sighed. “You can go. I can interview her if she shows up until 6.”

Well, you could have taken his word and left. Wonyoung was his classmate and he probably didn’t have anything better to do anyways. There was a set list of questions and not much to mess up. But just as he didn’t want you to handle his beloved mic alone, you didn’t want to leave it to him alone. So you just stubbornly held his gaze, trying to come up with a more profound reason when the clubroom’s door opened and Wonyoung stepped inside in the cheerleading squad’s PE clothes.

“Sorry. Practice got delayed. Thanks for waiting for me,” she panted and Taesan sent you a ‘told you so’ look which made you want to commit atrocities. You hated not being right and even more to be reminded of it.

“It’s okay. Catch your breath,” you turned to the girl with a reassuring smile but you were undeniably relieved when you could finally bid goodbye to her and pack up. It was getting late.

However, when you saw that Taesan was still saving the audio files and uploading them to your shared cloud folder, then putting away the recording device and the mic, you stalled around the door, feeling inconsiderate to leave earlier.

“Just go,” the boy muttered gently when he noticed your hesitation and you didn’t need to be told twice.

On your way to the bus stop, you stopped by at your favorite corner convenience store for some banana milk and almost missed your bus but luckily the driver saw you running and stopped.

“Thank you,” you bowed to the middle aged man who just mumbled something about youngsters these days, then tapped your transportation card against the sensor before looking for a place to sit.

Since it was past the rush hour, there were quite a few empty seats but there was one next to a familiar face close to the door. He had put on a hoodie over his uniform and had his head against the window, eyes closed but you would have easily recognized his long ass limbs everywhere. With the taste of your hurt pride still fresh on your tongue you walked past him, sitting down in the very back, only checking on Taesan a few times to see if he managed to wake up in time to get off at his stop.

Even without the interview project, senior year was busy. You felt like your days were piles of classes, homework, mock tests, real tests, tutoring and studying. Sometimes you memorized English vocabulary or dates for History class even during your lunch breaks or on bus rides because that way you could make the most out of your time. Some might have argued that you took it too seriously but if you wanted to get into the top universities of the country, you had to.

No wonder you spent the two hours you had between classes and tutoring on Friday in the library too, working on your Literature essay. It was kind of boring and you had a long week; you justified your frequent yawns and slow blinking. You didn’t even notice when you slipped into a dreamless sleep, not until you woke up with your head over your folded arms on the table.

As you were still in the haze, instead of panicking that you might have missed your tutoring class, you slowly blinked yourself back into consciousness and the first thing you saw was a pair of eyes.

The boy sitting at the table next to yours was looking at you with something akin to the mix of concern and amusement but you were too busy committing the lovely almond shape and chocolate brown shade of his eyes to your memory to be bothered by it.

Then the realization hit you like a truck because it was no other than Han freaking Taesan.

Oh, did he always have such pretty eyes?

Realizing that you were staring, you quickly turned your gaze away, sat up properly and fixed your messy hair while mentally reprimanding yourself for letting your sleepiness take too much control over you.

You hastily checked the time on your watch, sighing in relief that you only napped for about 15 minutes, so you still had time to finish what you were doing. Which was…? Ah, right, your essay.

You cleared your throat as you focused back on your homework, pretending not to be hyper aware of every chair creaking or pen against paper scribbling sound coming from the table on your left.

The next batch of interviews were scheduled a week later and you did everything in your power to avoid Taesan, hoping that he would forget that embarrassing little encounter you had in the library. Not like he was looking for you either but now that you have become more aware of his presence, you suddenly noticed him everywhere. He wasn’t just the subject of your classmates’ talks and an annoying voice from the radio anymore, he was in the canteen, on your regular bus, on the corridor between classes. Really, you wondered if it was your mind’s self-sabotaging doing or you just managed to ignore him previously. Since you tended to be laser focused on what to do, often walking by people you know without recognizing them, it wouldn’t have surprised you that much.

Still whenever you saw him, he was usually alone if not with juniors from the radio club, so you were a bit taken aback (and you weren’t sure you were hiding it well) when a bunch of his friends from his class were already in the clubroom by the time you got there. The door was left ajar, so you could hear Jungwon’s bubbly laughter and Gyuvin teasing Taesan for ‘working oh so diligently’. They all fell silent when you pushed the door open wider and suddenly their attention was on you. Leehan patted Taesan’s upper back with a grin and muttered something about ‘boss lady is here’ which earned him a glare.

“We will be on our best behavior,” Jungwon saluted with a promise when it turned out they booked the first three slots of the session on purpose, so they could sit through each other’s interviews. While you interviewed people by themselves, since the entire school would hear the edited version anyways, you supposed it couldn’t be a problem if they really did behave. They were friends after all, if they wanted to share them why not?

Them chuckling at some parts of each other’s answers or whisper-shouted hollering about future ambitions was a bit distracting but nothing seriously annoying. You could only hide your laugh with burying your face in your hands when Gyuvin recited a freshmen memory as his most memorable with a prank that ended with the four of them becoming friends. Apparently the day before the first term’s end, right on the edge of the summer holiday, Taesan had brought soap dispenser-shaped water guns into the PE changing rooms, so whenever somebody just tried to wash their hand, they got wet. It shouldn’t have been funny since it was rather childish, but glancing at the always stern and intimidating Taesan and seeing him smile at the memory turned it into something lovely even if it ended with the four of them arguing about whose was the best prank out of all the ones they did over the years.

It was truly one of a kind to see Taesan interact with his friends, people he felt comfortable around. He suddenly became talkative and loud yet warm and gentle when he scolded Gyuvin like an Asian mom for falling asleep at Miss Lee’s class again but promised to send him his notes once he got home.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged when he caught you red-handed watching him still after he literally pushed his friends out of the door.

Despite witnessing this side of him, if you wanted to be honest, it didn’t quite sit right with you that he was friends with Kim Leehan. The popular boy might not have ever rubbed salt into your wounds by reminding you that he was chosen as the model student representative of the school instead of you who was the grade’s academically best student, the defeat still hurt. You didn’t like to lose in general. So while you knew it was a far-stretched idea, your mind couldn’t stop coming up with scenarios to prove that Taesan sabotaged your campaign speech on purpose to help his friend and it made you irritable and restless during the rest of the interview sessions.

When you were finally alone, it made you blurt out:

“Was it a prank too?”

Taesan froze mid-movement when you spoke up. He was doing the finishing touches, getting ready to leave as it was just the two of you. He slid the headphones, which he used to make sure the recording quality was good, down around his neck.

“What?” He furrowed his brows, visibly confused and you weren’t surprised, he had probably long forgotten how he had humiliated you.

“My model student speech last year,” you said, your nails digging into your palms, bitterness sweeping into your features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the boy claimed, firm in his standpoint which made you snort.

“Of course, you don’t,” you muttered, then grabbed your bag and walked out of the door before you would say something you would regret.

A part of you thought that Taesan would ignore you the way you ignored him, especially after your callout (or whatever he wanted to call it), so it took you aback when the opposite happened.

As a class president you often had to help the homeroom teacher. It was nothing out of the ordinary when he called you into the teachers’ room and gave you a box of university application help books to hand out in class. It wasn’t really heavy but there was no proper handle on the box, so you had to hold it against your chest and it made it hard to see the stairs in front of your feet as you walked up to the classroom.

Students came and went both ways around you, nobody really paying attention to you struggling not to fall and you let out a little sigh of relief when you reached the first landing of the staircase without tripping. You adjusted your grip on the big brown box and was about to go on when the box crashed into somebody’s chest… or more like, stomach.

“Sorry, I…”

You were about to apologize automatically when you saw Taesan standing in front of you, very clearly on purpose. However, before you could have told him to move out of your way, he did the unthinkable: he easily took the box out of your hands, his knuckles brushing against your open palms as he did so.

“Hey! Give it back!” You reached out for the box again once you snapped out of your stupor but the boy’s hold on it was too strong.

“Stop being so stubborn for once,” he said, his quiet, deep voice washing over you in waves and then you could barely do anything but watch him turn around and walk up the stairs with ease, the box in his hands and his bag thrown over one of his shoulders.

You shuffled after him a bit awkwardly, halfway torn between being grateful because out of all people in the school only him was considerate enough to offer help and being offended and angry because what if he only did so because he pitied you now that he knew that you still held grudges over what happened last year.

That became a smaller worry though as you realized he was heading straight towards your classroom and you didn’t even want to guess the rumors starting if even just one gossipy girl saw him help you. You grew more anxious the closer you got but Taesan’s steps halted right before he got to the door. You almost bumped into his back at the sudden pause.

“Here,” he turned to you with the box that you took gingerly, making sure you didn’t touch this time.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, actually meaning it but you couldn’t tell with Taesan’s low hum and light on his feet disappearance if he believed you or not.

The third week of interviews went without a glitch. You were almost done which also added to your good mood. One less thing to worry about, one less to-do during your already busy weeks.

Taesan stayed behind in the clubroom this time too, hunching over the computer setup with the headphones on like always but for the first time you said bye. Or well your version of it.

“Don’t stay too late,” you told him loud enough, so he could hear you through the headphones but turned on your heels before you could have seen his reaction.

It was a good day, you decided. You got praised by your Literature teacher for your essay on the themes of social class and Confucian values in your recent obligatory read. The interviews went smoothly and the corner CU had a 1+1 promotion for your favorite banana milk. You even caught the bus just in time, getting on the vehicle after two giggling students. It was busier now than usual because lots of students had to stay longer in preparation for the Freshmen Open Day.

Apologies falling from your lips, you made your way through the crowd in the front of the bus and looked for a seat in the back. That’s where you caught sight of Taesan with his bag on the seat next to him and when your eyes met, he pulled his stuff into his lap. You hesitated for a moment but that was pretty much the only place left and it would have been more awkward if you didn’t take it. So you dropped the ignoring act, swung your bag to your front and sat down, drumming with your fingers on your knees. The bus departed from the stop and took a turn, the silence between the two of you becoming louder than the chatter around you.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out the banana milk bottles you just bought and held one out towards Taesan. The boy turned his head towards you, his dark eyes unsure and… was that blush on his cheeks? Your hands touched when he took the bottle from you, sending little tingles over your skin.

“Wanna listen?” He held out one of the earbuds of his wired earphone that he always seemed to have with him. So old-fashioned, so cool.

You felt shy as you looked him in the eye because it was like sharing something intimate. Still, you took the audio device and put it inside your right ear, smiling as the unfamiliar beats of a slower western song played. You pierced through the lid of the banana milk with your straw and hid your smile behind your drink when you saw Taesan do the same.

Maybe you were just warming up to each other after weeks of working together but it gave you the push you needed to ask about what you were listening to and it started a whole monologue about the kind of music Taesan liked and how his father introduced it to him. Honestly, he listened to a lot of bands you heard of but couldn’t really associate songs with and quite a few you hadn’t even heard about. You didn’t mind though, you liked listening to him talk about it, watching him gesture and slur his words when he got excited. It was a lovely side of him.

The bus ride never felt so short.

That one conversation and shared banana milk somehow led to daily song recommendations from the boy. He was always curious about your opinion even if you didn’t like it. Soon enough he could guess pretty accurately if you would like a song or not, so he even created a Spotify playlist just for you that he updated frequently. This turn of events was surely unexpected but not at all bad.

You also got to know that he would have liked to study sound engineering in university and you told him about your own ambitions and why it was so important for you to have near perfect grades and all those achievements. Belatedly you realized that you had never told anybody how much impact it had on you that you were constantly compared to your cousins.

It was a new side of Taesan you got to know, a side he didn’t show to just anybody and you realized it was the same with you. You hated showing weakness in front of others, yet it wasn’t too bad to admit to him that you tended to be judgemental with people because nobody had really been patient with you either before labeling you this or that.

But texting over the phone was one thing, you weren’t sure it would change anything in person. Sure, you had been seen together due to the interview project but that would be over soon. Not to mention you really didn’t want to deal with high school gossip in your last school year. And yet, you couldn’t help but look for Taesan whenever you were in the school canteen or near his clubroom. You caught yourself anticipating the radio announcements just to hear his voice. It was pathetic really, how fast you went from finding it annoying and purposefully ignoring him to waiting to see him.

Your heart did a little somersault when you actually saw him in the library one afternoon and only when you walked closer did you notice that he wasn’t just leaning over his papers but he was sleeping soundly, his pencil still in his hand, his textbook getting wrinkled under his weight. Briefly you wondered whether you should have looked for another place since Taesan must have chosen this corner table far in the back to have some peace but you would have liked to believe that he wouldn’t have minded you joining. After all, he waved to you casually like you were friends when you ran into each other on the corridors earlier that day.

Eventually, you pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and quietly put your study material down. You squinted at the books and printed papers around Taesan recognizing them as advanced Maths exercises on trigonometry. While you were trying to see if it was a sheet you had already done, something else caught your eyes instead. The light reflected on the silver bands around Taesan’s index and ring fingers down to the similar thin, metal bracelet he wore. You had never noticed that he wore accessories but you had never really paid attention to what he was wearing either (except his unmade tie). Or maybe due to the long sleeved uniform you couldn’t even notice it but now that he had his sleeves rolled up and arms outstretched, you couldn’t help but notice how long and elegant fingers he had, unfairly nice for a guy.

Taesan suddenly exhaled sharply which made you act on impulse. You leaned back in your chair and looked down at your randomly opened book just in case he woke up. However, his quiet sleeping noises soon returned to normal, so you deemed it safe to look up. You let out a relieved sigh when you saw his eyes still closed, his eyelashes casting a light shadow over his cheekbones. Dark strands of hair fell softly over his eyes and you weren’t sure what came over you but maybe all those silly romance dramas were right when they thought girls couldn’t stop themselves from brushing a boy’s fringe out of his eyes just once in their life. But just as you reached out, Taesan straightened his back and yawned like a cat, stretching his arms towards the sky. He blinked himself awake slowly but he froze the moment he noticed you right in front of him.

To make the situation less awkward for both of you, you smiled at him as casually as you could (which wasn’t much thanks to your racing heartbeat but still, you tried) and turned to your book, flipping to the correct page you wanted to review. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Taesan fix his clothes and sit up properly before arranging his rumpled papers to continue the Maths exercises. He must have been stuck on a problem though because he kept sighing and going back to the same page in the workbook. After his sixth or so frustrated sound, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you stuck on? Maybe I can help,” you spoke up, closing your own book, so he would see your focus was on him.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed your offer so fast that you could tell he didn’t even think about it. You were sure because that was what you tended to do too: claiming you could handle everything on your own. But still, sometimes wasn’t it nice to receive help? Like how he had helped you with that box?

“Okay, then what about explaining it to me?” You changed your strategy because sometimes even that much could help: offering a listening ear. Maybe he could realize the mistake he was making in the equation while telling you about it.

You didn’t even think about it, you just stood up and walked to Taesan’s side of the table, sitting down next to him, leaning closer to see his scratchy handwriting and the calculations he had been doing. You might have blushed when you realized just how close you were but you refused to show it. You took studying seriously after all. So you looked the boy in the eye with a challenge in yours until he gave in.

Four minutes later he found the trigonometric identity he used incorrectly.

After sharing songs through texts and studying together at the library, the next thing that became a routine for the two of you was visiting the corner convenience store whenever you left the school together. When it first happened, Taesan claimed he needed to buy something too but he was looking around in the snack aisle suspiciously long (you missed your usual bus that day), so the next time you told him that you would catch up to him at the bus stop, he didn’t need to come with you. But more often than not, he went along with you anyways and ended up buying candies or chocolate bars. When you told Taesan about your go-to emotional support banana milk reminding you of your childhood, he told you that he wasn’t really into sweet things, so he bought all these snacks for his younger siblings. One time he bought a pack of four cream milk breads just for the freebie Pokémon toy that came with it because his little sister liked that character. It made you coo internally.

It wasn’t always just the two of you though. One day you were going over the English vocabulary with Jihan from your class in the library when Taesan and Jungwon walked in and took the desk next to you, eventually joining the English quiz. Another time Leehan needed to stay after school too because of his model student representative duties (a photoshoot for the Freshmen Open Day brochures apparently and suddenly you weren’t so sulky that you didn’t get the title) and he decided to tag along when he saw Taesan and you head over to the nearby CU.

“Ah, senior year is really hell. Everyone’s so busy we barely have time to hangout after school anymore,” he justified himself while throwing an arm around Taesan’s shoulder. “Jungwon told me you went to the library to study the other day. Since when do you do that? I thought you said being around so many people is distracting.”

You still heard Leehan’s voice as they disappeared into the snack aisle with the purpose of getting jellies and you walked forward to the refrigerated section, trying not to think too much into it. Maybe senior year changed Taesan’s mind, maybe he found the presence of others motivating now. Or maybe he just wanted to spend more time with you. The thought alone made you shy.

You were on schedule with the interviews and soon only the intro and outro as well as your own parts were missing. You wrote a script for the introduction and ending which Taesan improved with his experience of radio shows at school. You argued about whether your version with the ‘high school memories forever staying with you’ sentiment was too cringy or his ‘it’s only the beginning’ version was too vague but this time there was no harshness in your voice, there were no grudges held, it was only friendly banter as you went back and forth with arguments supporting your own ideas.

Eventually you managed to find a common ground, mentioning both the importance of keeping one’s high school memories as a reminder of their formative years and youth as well as being ready for what was coming. It was not even a question that it would be recorded by Taesan because he really had a nice voice and while you tried to stay professional and pay attention to his pronunciation and the flow of the speech rather than him, you failed miserably. Luckily, Taesan had enough radio experience to know exactly what to do. He introduced the segment with ease and charm, captivating the audience (you, for now) and you had to clear your throat to focus when he finished reading.

“We can start the interview with me,” you said, eager to get on with the tasks before Taesan could call you out on your behavior. He must have known your reason for the sudden change of attitude though because he smiled to himself, quiet but obvious about it, as he held the microphone out for you and hit record.

You knew all the questions by heart but still you waited for the boy to ask before you answered.

“When I was young, I wanted to have my own karaoke room. There was one on the basement floor in the building where I used to live and the owner auntie always gave me homemade honey biscuits. She seemed to be so joyful humming songs happily,” you said at the first question, glancing in Taesan’s direction briefly.

He must have been surprised – you were too –, because it wasn’t the model student-like answer everybody was expecting of you like saying your dream had always been to become a doctor or lawyer. Honestly, you had your own answers prepared and memorized ever since the questions for the student interviews were finalized and approved by your teachers. But looking back at it now, you felt embarrassed because even though it was just an interview, it wasn’t graded or judged, yet you had felt obligated to answer according to what other people would think of you. However, in the recent weeks as you got to know Taesan better, you realized that people would judge others without reason, without knowing them, even you. So you shouldn’t have changed your whole personality just so you would fit into this image they had of you. Even if it was about your parents’ or teachers’ expectation or your classmates calling you the teacher’s pet behind your back. You had been okay with the prejudices since high school was just one step in your foolproof plan to lead a successful life, you had been okay without building deep connections with other students because you had known that you would drift away after graduation anyways but only lately you realized that you could have had fun while also working hard. You could be yourself and let people closer. The world wasn’t going to crumble, it wouldn’t ruin your plans. You could be honest, both with yourself and others, because what was the worst thing that could happen? That they would judge you? They are doing it anyway, so it didn't matter.

“And now? Now I’m applying for business majors. I’ m not sure what exactly I would like to do with my life but I will get there. Who knows, maybe one day I will open a karaoke room, too,” you chuckled even though your ambitions were to build a bigger company, something creative and useful. You still had time to figure out the details.

In the beginning of the term you would have felt vulnerable sharing these about yourself in front of Taesan or the entire school because everybody expected you to know what you want to do with your life but now, it felt okay. You actually felt lighter, relieved. Especially because there was nothing akin to judging in Taesan’s eyes as he smiled at you from the other side of the table.

“Please tell us about your most memorable high school memory,” he recited the last question after you went over all the others.

Previously, you would have said it was being chosen as a class president because it was an honor and a proof of hard work but now, your academic achievements didn’t seem that important. What will you really remember when you will be older and think back on high school?

“Honestly, senior year so far has had some unexpected surprises, it’s hard to choose just one but maybe this one. Now,” you and me, just the two of us in the radio club room, being vulnerable yet not being judged. “I like the person I have been becoming ever since this senior interview project started and I think it's going to be a great memory one day.”

Silence embraced you as you finished talking, a bit nervous but without regrets. Taesan pressed a button and the recording stopped, ready to be saved.

“So karaoke room, huh?” He asked and you kicked his shin under the table for that teasing grin on his face.

“Your turn,” you reminded him as you passed the mic and adjusted the headphones around your ears. By then, over so many interviews you were sure Taesan knew what was coming too but just for the show you asked him about his dream job as a child versus now as well as his higher education plans.

“Becoming a musician was my childhood dream. My entire family loves music, many of us play an instrument, so it felt natural,” Taesan said and even though you didn’t know this, it wasn’t hard to imagine given his love for music and all that knowledge about genres and classics. “After I joined the radio club, I realized that I like it a lot despite the fact that here we don’t usually play music. So it would be cool to be a radio DJ on a music show one day but I’m interested in the technology behind it all, that’s why I will study sound engineering.”

You smiled to yourself because you had already known that latter part and it felt nice knowing you had come so far. After a few more answers, you got to the last question about his most memorable moment and Taesan’s feline eyes turned mischievous.

“Hm, a fierce girl yelling my head off during a live school radio radio–”

“Yah, be serious!” You interrupted him when you realized he was talking about what happened last year but your voice was more amused than scolding.

“I am serious,” Taesan claimed but there was a teasing tilt in his mouth. “It’s pretty memorable.”

“So you’re saying I was the only girl interrupting you during a broadcast? Shocking,” you raised a brow at him, a small part of you feeling triumphant about the fact that in a way you were special even if your first actual meeting didn’t have the best circumstances. Thank god that his microphone wasn’t on when you showed up and straight up started questioning him. “Also, just to clarify I wasn't yelling. I just expressed my bewilderment about why you were playing that audio.”

“That was the only one under your name.”

“What?” You blinked, confused at Taesan’s quick response. He sounded like he meant it but you knew that couldn’t have been true, they got access to your entire recording folder accidentally. So if he didn’t see that, it meant he wasn’t the one checking their emails.

“To make sure things are running smoothly, we always have a script about our broadcasts and all the audio files are organized in linear order in a folder for that day. I just played what was prepared for me,” he explained and gosh, you felt so stupid.

All this time you thought he had been the one who chose the wrong file on purpose maybe to help his friend, maybe to just have a good laugh but it made sense that his juniors were more likely the ones doing such preparatory work.

“But still, you could have stopped it instead of just letting it play,” you muttered, trying to justify your reaction.

“Well, at first I thought it was actually a pretty unique tactic and then…” Taesan scratched his nape and looked away, then shrugged as if he just convinced himself to tell you something that might be embarrassing. “To be honest, I just liked your singing.”

At his words you felt the tip of your ears burn and heat spreading all over your cheeks. You were glad that the lighting in the room hid it well.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You found yourself asking quietly because thinking back you weren’t exactly nice to him.

Taesan gave you a look. Okay, true, you didn’t really give him a chance to explain before antagonizing him. And then it must have been weird to just bring it up.

“Right. Um, sorry,” you mumbled, embarrassed due to your too quick judgment but the boy just shook his head as if he had never been mad at the injustice in the first place. “About your answer though, you have to cut it out.”

Obviously with 60 people answering 6 questions, not everything would make it into the final cut, it would be more of a montage of answers, a glimpse of the seniors’ lives and you didn’t want to be reminded of that incident in front of the entire school. Not again.

“Nope,” Taesan protested, popping the ‘p’ sound, teasing just to be difficult.

“I’m deleting it,” you warned him but you seriously miscalculated several things: there was no way you could have reached the computer before him and with him standing in front of the monitor and keyboard you didn’t see anything. You tried to get hold of the mouse at the same time as looking over the boy’s shoulder but he made sure that he was always in the way which somehow turned into a one sided (struggle) wrestle match and honestly at that point you weren’t even trying to achieve anything and both of you just laughed at your poor attempts.

“Am I interrupting something?” Spoke up a newcomer you didn’t even notice. Sullyoon, another radio club member from the year, stood by the door visibly surprised to see you or well the current situation you were in: Taesan leaning against the desk in front of the computer and you pretty much plastered over him, trying to reach something behind his back.

“No!” You objected vehemently and took two steps back, stumbling a bit. Taesan reached out to steady you by the forearm and only after he made sure you wouldn’t fall did he turn to the girl from his club.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just forgot my buju here,” Sullyoon got over her surprise too and quickly retrieved the prettily decorated journal from one of the shelves. You watched her go and then buried your face in your hands because of embarrassment.

“Emotional support banana milk?” Taesan prompted after he saved the files and turned the computer off.

You smiled at him and followed him out closely. If you were any better off, you would have teased him about his flushed face but instead you just made him race you to the convenience store, so both of you would have an excuse if anyone asked about your red cheeks.

Now that all interviews were done, only the editing was left from the project and while you could have left it all to Taesan since he did the actual editing, you were there keeping him company all through it. First of all, you listened to all the raw material and decided which answers to include from each interviewee in the final cut and then you could help out when he needed a second opinion on the order or cut parts or whether the transition was smooth or not. When he was deep in the concentration mode, you just did homework or studied for upcoming tests. It took three sessions to finish it (you had to force Taesan to get his ass out of school during the second one because he was determined to finish it which past you would have appreciated but not even this project was worth losing proper meal schedule or sleep over it) and when you listened to the final version you were proud of what you had done, together.

“Should we celebrate?” You suggested once the file was sent to the principal and his secretary. You finished it pretty much on schedule and yet, you weren't as relieved as you thought you would be when you had first started it. But still, it was an achievement and you liked to celebrate small wins like this because if you didn't, who else would?

You meant it as in going out to eat something good. For example, in the tent restaurant two streets down the auntie was selling the best tteokbokki you had ever tried. But Taesan had his own idea.

“What about karaoke?”

“Yah! Stop teasing!” You glared at him but you weren't actually mad, it started to turn into a private joke between the two of you.

“I’m not!” The boy insisted and all it took was his almost pout to convince you.

There were karaoke rooms on pretty much every other street in this neighborhood, so it wasn't hard to find one where you booked a room for an hour and bought snacks and drinks at the counter from the girl who looked like a bored university student.

You usually went to sing with a small group of girls from your class, so it was the first time that it was just you and a boy. And not just any boy but Han Taesan. Somehow it felt more special. Sure, he might have already heard you sing and said that he liked it, but you were shy, so you insisted that he would pick a song first. He chose Dean's 21 and totally nailed it, the karaoke machine's high score proving that you weren't just biased when you told him that. You had already liked his speaking voice but when he sang, oh boy! You could have listened to him for hours.

You went with a girl group song you were confident in and it was fun. Song after song you both hyped each other up and the one hour passed by quickly. A part of you wished you could just pay for one more and sing until your voice became hoarse but the rational part knew that you shouldn't have stayed out too late. You still had homework to do and Taesan needed to memorize those English words for tomorrow's test.

It was the same T side of you that went a bit ahead of you and started thinking about the midterms and then how busy you would get once summer ended and the last term rolled around. It was still months away and yet, you wondered if it took that much for you to drift apart or the end of this interview project would be enough. You were a bit scared to know the answer, just how you were scared to answer Jihan's question the other day when she saw you walk to class together with Taesan. Admitting out loud that you liked him would have made it real and it would have made you vulnerable. You weren't sure you were ready to do that but it was certain that you didn't want to lose him.

“Taesan…” You spoke up quietly, swinging your feet back and forth on the bench in the bus stop after you spent the walk from the karaoke room to the stop in silence, lost in thought. The boy turned his head towards you, his fringe getting into his eyes, messy and beautiful. Your heart ached with the certainty only first love could. “Now that the radio segment is ready, will we go back to how we were?” You asked barely in a whisper as if speaking louder would have had its consequences. That was also why you had to rush to clarify. “Because I don’t want that. I… I would miss you too much.”

You didn’t mean to say it like that and it was a scary thing to admit but it was worth all the extra beats of your heart to see Taesan smile, a shy little thing stretching slowly from one side to another, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight and street lamps’ glow.

“Me too,” he said and you reciprocated his smile. There was a short pause, an inhale of the universe waiting, then Taesan called your name and you looked up immediately.

“Hm?”

He looked you in the eyes with those dark oceans of his. Once you associated them with the cold depth of the sea but since then you realized that you were wrong. You knew only a few people who had warmer souls than this boy.

“You are my most memorable high school memory for a reason,” he whispered like it was a secret and a promise at the same time.

It left you speechless a moment too long and the bubble around you burst when the bus pulled up in front of you with a loud screeching sound. Taesan was quick on his feet but instead of getting on the bus right away, he looked back at you and held a hand out for you. You blamed it on not having time to think about it with the bus driver yelling at you impatiently and took it, following the boy onto the vehicle and to your usual place in the back with a smile on your face and a new rhythm in your heart.

Taesan didn't let go of your hand during the entire ride. As you closed your eyes and listened to the music he put on, you hoped he wouldn’t let go for a long time.

#stories #boynextdoor x reader #taesan x reader #boynextdoor fluff #taesan fluff

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wlntrsldler · 10 months ago

Text

blurb based on this post.

pre-claiming, pre-betrayal, luke castellan x poseidon!reader, fluff.

while i bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief.

“rumor has it, capture the flag is coming up,” luke said. he was ripping blades of grass from beside him as his head laid on your stomach. he was facing the blue sky, letting the droplets of water roll off his bare skin.

you’d just emerged from your impromptu dip in the lake to escape the growing heat of summer. you had his camp shirt on top of your body, finding the faint scent of his cologne on the neckline of the shirt comforting. “already? they’re really trying to get us at each other’s throats as soon as possible.”

“yeah,” he scoffed. he rolled his head to face you. “it’s beth’s turn to come up with a strategy.”

there was pride in his eyes, like there always was when he talked about annabeth. you wondered if you had the same sparkle when you talked about her too. it was hard not to be proud of annabeth. after all, you’d known her since she was seven, when you, luke, and thalia found her wandering alone.

you tried not to think of those days too much. those days were painful and lonely; unfair that children were left to fend for themselves. even though you and luke were the oldest of the bunch, you were still just fourteen. at fourteen, you should’ve been dreading the perils of freshman year of high school, not wondering if you’d be fortunate enough to reach sixteen.

“how’s percy holding up?” you asked. your fingers tugged on a strand of hair that was bouncing back into his usual curls. you felt luke soften at your touch.

“he’s doing okay,” luke answered after a beat. “as well as anyone would be after finding out.”

“he’s a tough one, i can tell,” you replied. you attempted to move your hand from luke’s hair, but he held it in place. you complied, starting to rub his scalp. “has he been claimed yet?”

“no, he hasn’t.”

the topic of being claimed was a touchy subject for you as an unclaimed child. the first few months at camp, you had your hopes that your time was coming soon. your godly parent had to claim you eventually, right? but as the months turned into a year and a year turned into five, you lost all hope. somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you made peace with it.

luke, on the other hand, never did. there were many things he hated about the gods. most of it were general things that made sense; neglecting their children, having them do their dirty work, making them go on dangerous quests where they’re likely to get killed; but the thing that he hated them for the most was that they made you feel unworthy of being acknowledged.

to everyone else at camp, they saw you as someone who beat the odds despite not knowing who your godly parent was. you became a skilled swordsman, coming second only to luke, skilled at archery, and such an incredible leader, but luke didn’t attribute that to your godly parent. he attributed that to your character. your greatness had nothing to do with the gods.

but luke also knew you better than anyone else. he knew that even though you acted like you didn’t care about being claimed, there was still a part of you that stayed fourteen, that stayed hopeful, that one day your parent would claim you.

luke let his lips linger on your hipbone, a reminder that he was still there, as if trying to convince you that while your parent didn’t care enough to claim you, he did. he would shout it from every rooftop, if he could. in fact, on the trip to olympus, he stood at the top of the empire state building and declared his love for you.

chiron, who was forced to discipline him for his antics, banned him for getting dessert for two weeks, but sent you a sly wink as he was telling luke his punishment. you didn’t comment about how you managed to be given two desserts ‘accidentally’ everyday during luke’s punishment.

“we should probably head back soon,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to get up. luke snuggled deeper into you from where he laid. “it’s almost dinner.”

“yeah,” luke sighed. “you’re probably right.”

neither of you made it to dinner, but grover managed to sneak the both of you a handful of strawberries to eat.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan blurb #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #frances writes #frances song fics

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so-long-soldier-writes · 7 months ago

Text

The Light in My Darkness

damon salvatore x gn!reader | requested

summary: after your boyfriend's death, you fell back into old habits. now that he's back, you're having trouble kicking them again.

tags: angst, hurt / comfort, depression, s3lf h4rm, kisses

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i typically don't write for damon, however i feel comfortable writing this subject matter and i'm getting better with understanding his character. honestly, too, i rewatched s7 and i'm starting to love him even more. (i just love the traumatized characters.)

also, i'm not good at titles. my first title had the word 'put' in it, but i stared at it so long, it didn't look like a word anymore and i had to change it. i think i like this one better. i stg, titles are half the reason i take so long to post. whew, anyway... enjoy ❤️

“Stefan needs help at Whitmore,” Damon says hurriedly. He puts his phone in his back pocket and sighs. “Another Enzo situation.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, you stay here. I don’t want him anywhere near you, given he’s in one of his moods and would hurt you for no reason.” He gives you a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He speeds out the door a moment later, leaving you alone in the large, empty house. You sigh. Your life is so full of supernatural drama, it’s hard to keep up. Honestly, you’re not even sure what the situation is with Enzo, or why he and Stefan hate each other so much, or how Damon knows what to do to de-escalate their arguments. Of course, Caroline debriefed you on it sometime ago, but with all the craziness happening lately, it pretty much went over your head.

It’s been hard these last few months. Only recently had Damon returned to you from four months after being considered dead, alongside Bonnie, as the other side collapsed with him in it. Those months had been the hardest of your life, and you doubted your ability to make it through them. Losing your best friend and your boyfriend was something you never thought you’d have to endure, yet it happened. Losing them almost killed you, too.

For three years, you were clean. You hadn’t touched a single blade since you and Damon got serious. He gave you a reason to stop without even knowing it, and with a lot of patience with yourself, you managed to kick the addiction. After he died, though, when you couldn’t bear to live without him, you picked it back up. Part of you is pissed for falling back into your old ways, but the other part has convinced yourself it’s what you need to do to survive.

When he came back unexpectedly, you were filled with just as much panic as you were joy. You had him back, but had relapsed majorly, and now have to recount your old steps into being sober again. It hasn’t been easy.

It’s been a couple days since your last time, and while your skin’s no longer bright and swollen, it seems to beg for your attention. You have to plan it carefully, making sure Damon will be gone long enough that he won’t sense the fresh blood. When he grabs your wrists to kiss your face, you don’t want to flinch in slight pain, or let him pick up a chance in your heartbeat.

It’s such a complicated addiction to have when dating a vampire, yet fighting the urges are so hard, sometimes you can’t help but give into them.

The blades in the bathroom are ready for you when you enter. A brand new pack sits in the drawer. The boys won’t miss one or two. The one time Stefan did notice, you blabbered a quick lie about needing one to scrape a bit of food dried to the stovetop. He was in such a rush that day, he didn’t catch any lie, and you were able to smile and flee the scene a moment later. Since then, you make sure to hold onto the one you have until there’s enough to not see one missing.

With everyone seemingly involved in the Enzo situation, you don’t bother to shut the door completely before dragging the blade across your skin. The boarding house is empty, and this bathroom in particular is tucked away nicely behind the stairs. You make a few scattered cuts and watch the blood seep from them. It always seems to calm you in the most grotesque way, and, quite ironically, gives you the perfect dopamine rush that raises your spirits despite the pain. It’s a terrible addiction but with a high reward… until you have to hide the evidence.

That little reminder makes you sigh. Too many scars are hard to hide, and with Damon back, you have to be careful. It would break him to see you this way; that thought alone makes you put down the blade. For a moment longer, you stare at the tricking blood, committing the sight to memory to maybe fend off the next urge. To imagine the blood on your skin may convince yourself it’s there, and maybe you won’t cut the next time you’re so desperate. Maybe.

You reach for a piece of toilet paper to dab the wounds. The bleeding needs to stop before you crave another scare. It’s so tempting, but-

“Hey,” Damon appears suddenly, peeking through the door. His eyes are narrowed, as if sensing something’s wrong. “What are you doing?”

You turn to face him and hold your hands around your back quickly. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?” He opens the door a little wider, seeing the reflection of your hidden hands in the mirror. “Let me see your arms.”

“I’m okay.” Nervously, you pull down your sleeves to hide your wounds as much as possible. Your eyes meet the floor, unable to lie if you look into his blues.

“No, you’re not.” He argues, anxious to see your face; to not let you shy away and avoid his gaze. His approach makes your heart race, confirming his worst fears. “Let me see.”

“I thought you were leaving. I thought Stefan needed you.”

“He does, but he can wait.”

“But-”

“You’re my first priority. I can tell something’s up. Please,” he brushes a hair away from your face, “let me in.”

“Damon, I’m fine.”

“You’re hurting, and I can smell the blood, and I’m really trying hard not to freak out right now.”

You huff at the realization that he could smell it. You should’ve waited for him to be gone longer before breaking your skin. “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Just promise me.” Tears well in your eyes, but you let them fall, unwilling to take your hands off your sleeves.

“Y/N, I promise. I could never be mad. Just let me see it.”

Slowly, you release your sleeves, but leave the task of rolling them up to him. You can’t bear to do it yourself. Damon takes one hand gently and pulls the sleeve back. Upon seeing the numerous cuts, he pulls the other back with a little more vigor, but is still careful not to hurt you. He stares, unable to speak or move, as his heart breaks with every passing second.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. His eyes meet yours and you finally break down into tears.

Without a moment of hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms protectively around your body. You feel safe in his arms, you always do. Damon has a way about him that always makes you feel safe, no matter what anyone else thinks of him. He’s loyal and understanding, and that is part of the reason you feel so horrible for not telling him this.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, now sobbing into his chest.

Your heart beats and reminds him that you are alive. The cuts made into your skin weren’t deep enough to take you. The pain you have been feeling hasn’t swallowed you whole. He concentrates on your breathing, and your crying, and uses it to anchor himself before asking the thousands of questions flooding his mind.

He pulls away, finally, and wipes your tears with his thumbs. His hands grip your shoulders with a gentle desperation, as if he’s afraid you could dissipate at any moment.

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

Your heart feels heavy as you reply, “honestly, no.”

“Why not tell me, Y/N? You know I love you. If you’re hurting, I want to be there for you.”

“I know… I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you? Some part of me was embarrassed about it, and I didn’t want you to see me differently because of it. I don’t know.”

“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that’d ever make me love you less. Nothing that would ever make me feel a different way, or see you in another light.”

“I know. I know my feelings are totally irrational, I just… they’re fears.”

“I understand.” He kisses your forehead, then releases your shoulders to hold your hands and kiss them, too. “Hey, can you promise me something?”

“I can try.”

“Come to me the next time you’re feeling like you want to hurt yourself, okay? Let me help you through it.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter what’s going on, or who’s texting, I will drop anything and put you first. But you gotta let me in when you need it. Okay?”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now,” he pauses, biting into his arm and holding it out for you to drink. His other hand meets the back of your head, stabilizing your neck to keep you comfortable.

To his dismay, you refuse. You try to pull away, but his other hand prevents that, so you look down instead. “I can’t.”

“Y/N…”

“The scars are a reminder that I bleed. As soon as they fade away, the urge returns, but if they’re there for a little while, the urge is less strong. They’re kind of a comfort, I think. A reminder.”

“So you don’t want me to heal them?”

“I’d rather not. They don’t bother me too much. Do they bother you?”

You can see the hesitation in his eyes. He fights with himself, knowing the sight is a reminder of your pain, but understands their existence helps you heal. After a moment, he shakes his head. “No, baby, I only care that you’re safe.” He kisses them one more time. “Have you eaten much today?”

“Not really.”

“Well… do you mind if I make you something, even if it’s just something small, and then we can sit together on the couch? We’ll take today slow.”

“Okay. Wait, but what about Stefan?”

“Caroline can handle it. Then he’ll be in her debt and she’ll be happy about it,” he jokes.

You smile, appreciating his humor despite the somber mood hanging above both your heads. He’s the light in dark times, the much needed laugh that breaks the awkward silence. It’s part of the reason you fell for him so quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. And thank you.”

He pulls you in to kiss your forehead, then reaches for your hand. “Of course.”

#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x gn!reader #tvd fanfiction #tw: s3lf h4rm #tw: sh #damon salvatore fluff #hurt/comfort

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mapofthesea · 2 years ago

Text

defenseman!taehyung x social media manager!fem!reader

hockey!au

genre: fluff, slight angst, smut

summary: The home opener of hockey season is crazy for everyone, but when star defensemen Kim Taehyung takes a specific interest in you, who are you to turn him down?

warnings: sports things, taehyung being a flirt but also very sweet, reader trying to convince herself that she isn't allowed to like him, very minor hockey related violence, swearing, small amount of alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk!), feelings admissions. Specific smut warnings: dom!tae, sub!reader, public sex, bathroom sex (they're alone in there), mirror sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (be better than them), begging, he comes on her back lol, some spit, praise, aftercare.

an: I am a whore for both hockey and bangtan, so here we are. As always this wasn’t proofread or edited so there might be typos! Also happy birthday Tae. love u so much king

The sound of fans funneling into the arena buzzes through the air, making you more than grateful for the direct feed of your coworkers’ voices in your ear.

“Team intros start in 15, do we have time for some pre-game content before that, Y/N?”

Your mind reels at the idea of subjecting yourself to the locker room so shortly before the game, but you’re nothing if not professional. The concrete halls echo with sound, the low bass of the pre-game playlist rumbling under the soles of your boots. The door to the locker room is open, allowing a direct view of the bustling bodies within it. You don’t bother to knock or warn them before you waltz in, team phone in hand, and get to work. A few players give you friendly nods while strapping pads on, but you’re largely ignored in favor of their own conversations.

There’s no time to set up a mic, or ask them to answer any questions, so you settle on taking some simple footage of them getting dressed, enjoying their pre-game hype. Despite your college degree in marketing and plenty of training from the previous social media manager, you would be lying if you said you felt confident in interacting with this impressive team.

As a fan, you know that the season opener night is always bound to be loud, stressful, and busy; but you didn’t expect to feel quite so nervous.

You open instagram, panning carefully around the fancy locker room to give the fans a look at everyone getting dressed, lacing up skates. Upon reviewing the footage you’re disappointed to see that it’s shaky, indicative of the nerves running through your veins.

“Shit.” You mutter, deleting the footage and heaving a sigh at how quickly the time is ticking down. You were probably down to less than 10 minutes before they’re due on the ice.

“Anything I can help you with?” A gentle, deep voice asks. Your heart stutters under your sweatshirt as you get the courage to turn.

Looking down at you with his pretty, intimidating eyes is Kim Taehyung, star defenseman. The skates give him another few inches on his already towering frame, and you can only imagine how scary he would be skating towards you on the ice.

You stare, mesmerized by how real he looks. A knowing smirk blooms on his face.

“...anything I can help you with?” He asks again, a teasing lilt to his voice as he crinkles his nose in an endearingly boyish way. You mentally slap yourself for falling for his charm so quickly. This is your job, for gods sake. You have no business fantasizing about how handsome the players are.

“Uh-um yeah, I need to do a quick interview with you, is that okay?” You hate the way your voice shakes, and you’re not even sure how he heard you over the ruckus of the locker room.

“Sure,” he squares his shoulders, brushing some hairs off of his forehead. “Where do you want me?”

The lilt of his voice suggests he knows the heat that just shot to your face was because of him, but you decide to pretend he wasn’t making you feel hot under the collar. “Can you just sit on that bench, there?” He follows your orders without hesitation as you stand in front of him, framing the shot as best as you can. Aware of the low amount of time on the clock, you ask the first question that comes to mind.

“How are you feeling about tonight?”

Taehyung smirks, and you can feel your heart rate speed up as he makes eye contact with you instead of the camera. “Feeling like I’ll be getting lucky tonight. Chances of scoring are looking very good.” He flashes a toothy smile and you convince yourself the tremble in your knees was just because of the cold in the arena.

“Okay…what’s your favorite pre-game ritual?” He bites his lip, looking the epitome of fuck boy, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Uh…um..I guess, making sure to retape my stick before every game?” He sounds unsure but you don’t have time to press the issue, aware that the other players were lining up to have a final talk with their coach before heading out. You put the phone away and nod congenitally at him for his cooperation.

“Tae!” His teammates call for him, all dressed besides their helmets, to join them in the huddle. He hauls himself up, making no effort to avoiding bumping into you as he passes. His hand catches you around the waist and he leans down subtly. “I lied, by the way. My favorite pre game ritual isn’t retaping my stick... it’s a lot more fun than that.” His proximity makes you shiver, and the pointed way he looks at your lips all but sets you alight. “Well, you’re a smart girl. See you later, yeah?” He walks away briskly, leaving you breathless in his wake.

---

Pre season games had established the team at the top of the division already, but watching them in action, standing on the side by the boards and photography team, you feel electrified. As the end of the third period closes in, the arena is ablaze with the happy hum of fans observing a 5-2 win.

You take a moment to check the team’s socials, seeing that the things you added to instagram did pretty god numbers, and that one of your media team members had cross uploaded the interview you did with Taehyung to TikTok. The amount of views and comments was stunning, and you couldn’t help but feel quite accomplished at such a quickly made video doing so well. The comments take a second to load, but the top one makes your cheeks flame.

hockeygirl10: hes totally into whoever is interviewing him lol

Your mind reels as you see the rest of the comments are similar, and for a second you consider asking someone to delete the comments or take the video down altogether, but the amount of shares and views on the video makes your stomach tingle excitedly. Instead you decide to praise your media team for cross posting, knowing that making a viral clip the first night of the season will only make the whole season’s media better.

The chat opens just as the pane of glass in front of you rattles viciously; making you jump as the photographer next to you snaps a series of pictures. You look up and immediately make eye contact with a smirking Taehyung, who had just ran an opposing player into the board right in front of you. Sweat drips down his cheeks and plasters his hair to his forehead but that somehow serves to make him look hotter, and if that wasn't enough, he smirks. You suddenly feel too hot in your sweatshirt despite the arena’s chilled temperature. The man Taehyung had boarded skates away, but he lingers for a few seconds.

“Put that away!” He yells, and is gone just as you process what he said to you. Embarrassment floods your system as you realize he must have seen you glued to your phone instead of watching the game. You watch him skate away, and within seconds he’d regained the puck and was advancing on the net. The puck goes in smoothly; sliding right past the goalie before he even notices it. A buzzer sounds and the red light flashes, signaling the goal to the rowdy crowd.

Taehyung is immediately surrounded by his teammates as they celebrate, and he takes his lap around the rink as the announcer details his goal to the audience. He stops in front of you again, pounding on the glass and giving you a charmingly boxy smile that makes your stomach flip. He’s gone in a flash, having to go back to the bench now that he’d done so much work. Your heart beats much faster than it should for the situation, but you can’t help but wonder if that goal had been for you.

---

The energy on the ice translates directly to the locker room after the game ends. The boys are yelling, clapping each other on the back and laughing as they lounge in more comfortable clothing. While alcohol is technically forbidden in the locker room, the coach and staff have all turned a blind eye on the account of such an amazing game, so a small table is crowded with cases of alcohol. You decide to join the spirit of the night and grab a White Claw with your co workers, celebrating both the game and the success of the media accounts.

“Hey, Y/N, did you see how well that interview is doing on TikTok?” One of your new intern asks as you’re in between sips. The comments flash through your mind as you nod.

“Yeah, I saw. Cross posting it really helped I think.” You meekly suggest. “Fuck no, girl. It was the way he was looking at you. You have to be honest...” she leans in close, as if she were giving away an industry secret to you. “Are you fucking him?” Your heart leaps into your throat as you emphatically shake your head.

“No! No, I’m professional and technically I work for him so that would be so weird...he’s just like, he’s handsome and charming and everything but he...It just feels so not allowed...so I’m ignoring it!” Her eyes widen at your outburst, and the way you ramble through your sentences makes you feel like she’s judging your stability, so you try to drive your point home. “I honestly think that Taehyung is the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and I wish I was fucking him, but I’m sure he doesn’t even like me like that so I’m gonna…pretend my feelings don’t exist.” You raise your can to her in a half hearted toast before downing the rest of it in one go.

It’s not nearly enough to even make you tipsy, but it felt so good that you immediately want another. Your intern’s face morphs into horror, and for a second you think that she’s just mortified to be working for you, but then you back up right into a hard body.

“Hey, Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice makes you recoil, but he gives you no time to recover before he spins on you and grabs your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. The simple touch alone ruins any arguments you may have had, and you allow him to weave you through a crowd and into the hallway.

“Let’s go for a walk?” His voice is surprisingly light given the brisk pace he walks at but you follow, eager to see where this would head. He takes large, sure steps until you reach the empty concourse. The food stalls and beer stands are empty; lights halfway powered down since all of the patrons had long left. Taehyung leans casually against a walkway railing, admiring the view of the city from the tall windows at the front of the building.

“Taehyung- I’m sorry if you heard any of that. It was super unprofessional of me, and-”

“Stop it, Y/N.” He cocks his head and examines you leaning on the bars next to him. “You know I’ve always thought you were the prettiest social media manager we’ve ever had? I remember the day we met you in the big conference room in the back.”

You remember the day too. It was only a few months ago but feels like ages at this point. Having passed the technical parts of the interview and successfully pitching your ideas for social media posts, the final part of the interview was simply for you to meet the players and make sure you all got along. After all, if they weren’t happy with how you presented them or their team, it would mean you being let go. Of course all of them were kind-they all knew what you were there for- but you remember that Taehyung was one of the only players who gave you a sincere handshake. As strictly business as it felt, getting a firm handshake as a woman in a sports organization dominated by men felt vindicating.

“I remember too, Taehyung. And it was really nice of you to be so welcoming to me. And that’s part of why I feel so bad that I...” you wave your hands between your bodies wildly, “feel. I’m glad to move on like this didn’t happen, and I can assign someone else to do your stuff.”

Taehyung just stares, his pretty chocolate eyes turned up in amusement. “Y/N, I just called you pretty, and you're still worried you crossed a line? I think you’re fucking gorgeous. And smart, and talented. The only line you crossed is the one into my heart.”

You can't help the laugh that bursts forward at his cheesy line, and to your delight he joins in, shaking his messy mop of curls in the process. “So...about you finding me handsome and charming...” his hands curl around your hips, bringing you into his personal space. He smells like pine and beer, and your pussy throbs at the way his thumbs stroke your back. You place your hands on his chest, delighting in the hard plane of muscle there.

“Hm, I do think those things. What are you gonna do about them?” All your past feelings of regret and doubt begin to evaporate as his face inches closer to yours, lips a millisecond from your own. You give him a subtle nod and his lips are on yours, wasting no time to shove his tongue into your mouth. Startled, you moan into him and wrap your hands around his neck. He maneuvers to press you against the hand railing easily without giving up the kiss, and a huff of a moan leaves his mouth as your bodies meld. The hot press of his body against your own leaves you panting, feeling so secured under his touch.

“Taehyung, please,” you plead, leaning your forehead against his chest to take a deep shuttering breath. “Wanna feel you.” You whimper, afraid to be heard even though everyone left in the arena is very far away. Taehyung hums, petting the hair at the back of your head.

“Can’t fuck you out here, baby. C’mon.”

You follow him blindly again, driven by nothing but the roiling lust you’re feeling for him. He leads you into the closest bathroom, and despite the fact you know you likely won’t get caught, anxiety spikes through you.

“Don’t look so scared, baby. Nobody's gonna find us, I promise.” His voice had somehow deepened since the last time he spoke, and it makes your insides melt. Taehyung recaptures your waist, guiding you back towards the ledge of the row of sinks. His fingers cup your chin, rubbing delicately underneath your bottom lip. Your heart stutters as you study the little moles on his face, the soft curls that flop over his eyebrows.

“You’re so handsome.” The words spring forward before you can stop them, and Taehyung tips his head back to laugh. Eyes sparkling, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re so pretty. And cute,” he pinches your side playfully to make you squirm, pitching you forward into his body until you can feel how hard he is under his sweatpants. His eyes roll at the contact as you slide your hands under his shirt, thankful that he only had the one layer on. He makes short work of getting his shirt off and promptly buries his head in your neck. He nips at he flesh and you know its going to bruise, but that only makes you hotter between your legs.

“Gonna make you mine, baby. Fuck that little pussy so good that you’ll never forget me, huh?” You keen under him, moaning out an affirmation as you let your hand travel over the smooth skin of his stomach. He shudders against you as your hand curls around the width of his cock through his sweatpants, teasing the head of his cock with your fingertip. It twitches under your touch and your mouth waters.

“Lemme taste you, Taehyung.” You give him no time to protest as you sink to the tiled floor in front of him. Your panties stick to you uncomfortably as you move, but you ignore the feeling in favor of working his pants down his thick thighs. They come to you in all their tanned, muscled glory; and his impressive cock stands at attention. The head is flushed a pretty pink, the prominent vein along the bottom prompting you to stick your tongue out and taste him.

Taehyung groans, hands falling to the crown of your head. “You gonna suck me off, or should I fuck your little throat?” His eyes are dark as they peer down at you, almost mirroring the intense look he gets on the ice. You press your thighs together at his words, but waste no more time to take him into your mouth. The stretch pushes your limits but you breathe through it, blinding through your tears as you sink him into your throat. Taehyung lets a constant stream of moans and curses free, fighting against his instinct to buck his hips into your mouth.

Spit escapes from your mouth as you bob your head, soaking his cock and your chin in a thick sheen. You can feel your makeup running as tears brim your eyes, and the ache in your jaw is coming through more prominently; but the way that Taehyung’s cock twitches inside of your mouth is enough reason to keep going.

“Fuck, if your throat is this fucking tight and hot, can’t imagine your pussy.” He’s practically purring as you grip at his thighs and swallow, determined to make him spill down your throat. His thighs shutter and he reels as if electrocuted, pulling out of your mouth. A long string of saliva connects your lips to the tip of his cock and you gasp. Taehyung bends to your height and loops his hands under your armpits. Before you know it, he has you bent over the sinks, staring at your wrecked reflection in the mirror. Your mascara is smeared, skin red from exertion.

“Gotta get this stuff off of you, okay?” He helps you out of your top layers clumsily, throwing the garments aside in favor of groping your tits. Taehyung practically growls as he reaches around to unbutton your jeans and work them down your hips. You bow your head in embarrassment of your own reflection when he exposes your soaked through panties. He runs his fingers over your pussy, tutting as he feels the way you shiver.

“So pretty in these ruined panties, baby.” He plans a kiss on your ass cheek before looping his fingers under the fabric and pulling it down to the ground with your jeans. He moans, immediately cupping your pussy with his calloused hand. Your head shoots up at the feeling, giving you a great view of the way he bites his lip in concentration as he teases a finger around your entrance. He meets your gaze through the mirror and smirks just the same way he had on the ice earlier. Your pussy flutters at the thought and he feels it, laughing evilly at the feeling.

“Want your fingers.” You keen as he teases a single one at your entrance. “T-two of them, please” The request punches out of you but he easily obliges, slipping both fingers in for a slow but satisfying stretch. Your whole core clenches as you feel his digits fill you, but the stretch blossoms into pleasure as soon as he begins to move them, opening up your pussy for him. Your hands scrabble across the countertop in search of support and Taehyung huffs a laugh before offering you his free hand to clutch. You know he’s likely going to have bold red scratches all down his hand and arm tomorrow, but that’s truly an issue for later. Your center throbs, a warning of an oncoming orgasm, and you eyes instinctively clench shut.

Taehyung’s hand stills inside of you and you wail, scrabbling to turn around and figure out why he had stopped. The weight of his fingers inside you is enough to keep you on edge, but you’re desperate for him to finish the job.

“Why did you stop?” You whine, circling your hips back into his unmoving hand. A feeling of desperation begins to crawl up your throat as you hiccup a breath. “Please, I’ve been good.”

Taehyung tuts at your words and untangles his hand from your own before threading it through your mussed hair. “Look up,” he moves your head for you, “And keep those pretty eyes open so you can see just how sexy you look right now.” His fingers come to life inside you again the second that you lock your eyes on him through the mirror, and you struggle to keep them open. Your stomach churns with your incoming release, and you wiggle against his hold until the dam bursts. Your orgasm is sharp, causing a loud moan that doesn’t even sound like yourself to spring from your lips. Taehyung growls at the feeling, making sure his movements don’t slow as your body gets wracked with pleasure. When you’re finally back to consciousness, the first thing you feel is the weight of Taehyung’s cock twitching against your ass.

Despite just coming, you’re voracious for him and rock your hips back just to hear him moan. You mourn the sudden loss of his fingers, but lose all of the air in your lungs as soon as you catch his gaze in the mirror. His tanned chest heaves with exertion, sweaty just as you had seen him during the game, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, moaning to himself as he tastes you on his tongue.

Then, he bends and promptly spits on you, watching the glob travel between your ass cheeks until it finally reaches your pussy. “What a pretty little thing,” he praises as he spreads the spit around your sensitive lips. Your words have abandoned you, so you simply hum as you keep your eyes on the mirror, enjoying the view of his body in all its glory.

He catches you staring and indulges you, stepping to the side so you can get a clear view as he strokes his cock in earnest. Your chest heaves with anticipation, nipples peaked and sensitive against the cold countertop.

“Think I should put it in, sweetheart? Need my big cock inside you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less what you choose, but the bright red color of his tip says otherwise. Nevertheless, you decide to indulge his question.

“Yes, Taehyung! Please put it in me, I’ve been waiting all night for you…” you watch his gaze darken in real time, and you guess he must have been able to sense the truth in your words. You really had been thinking of this all night.

“Fuck, Y/N. Me too, I never thought I’d get you like this.” He cages you in from behind again, this time wasting no time to tease his cock against your entrance. His hips stutter forward and his face morphs into something close to pain- your heart shoots out of your chest at the pained groan he lets out.

“I don’ have a condom, I’m so sorry.” He sounds so defeated that your heart cracks a little and you stand up, turning to face him. He looks every ounce of innocent he could with his bottom lip pouted out as you cup his face in your hands. You can’t resist placing a little kiss on his nose.

“I’m on the pill.” You whisper the magic words just loud enough that he can hear, and his face brightens like a kid on Christmas.

“Seriously? You’re the best, fuck,” he smashes his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, uncaring that your teeth are clacking together. “I promise I’ll still pull out, just in case, baby.” You nod dumbly, just happy to be under the influence of his affection.

“Alright, let me see that pussy,” he slaps at your ass playfully and you can help but shake your head at the way his attitude shifts so rapidly. His newfound confidence shows as he places a hand against your lower back before pushing inside of you. You keen as he stretches your walls, the pulsing feeling of your muscles moving around him becoming addicting already.

He shares the sentiment with a deep moan, head lulling backwards as he gives you an experimental thrust that sends your upper body rocking against the countertop. The more confident he becomes, the more his hands roam your body. One hand settles comfortably on your clit; tracing delicate circles on the edge of it while he works into your pussy. His other hand rests on your shoulder, the grip firm enough to keep you in place as you writhe in pleasure.

“T-taehyung,” you gasp his name more times than you can keep track of, biting into your lip so hard you taste blood. Every time you make eye contact through the mirror he goes harder, as if he had something to prove.

“Look at you, baby. All fucking mine, huh? You like being my girl?” The thought makes your head spin so you nod and are instantly rewarded with harder circles on your clit. Your back arches at the pleasure and Taehyung grunts, adding a second finger to strum over you.

“Gonna cum,” you warn, voice thin and raspy as your vision blurs. Clearly encouraged, he angles his hips just right and mutters a filthy string of praise, sending you over the edge. You come in a prolonged wave that you feel all the way from your toes to your scalp, a shockwave of pleasure that numbs you to the world in the best was possible. Taehyung’s deep groans cut through it all, and you’re actually kind of impressed with his self control as he pulls out of you and you feel his hot cum all over your back seconds later.

You’re already feeling grounded by the time his breathing settles, but the fear of dripping cum onto the floor keeps you bent over the sinks. Luckily he catches on fast and wipes you up with a paper towel.

“Romantic,” you giggle as he throws the paper towel away and immediately goes to wash his hands. He grins that smile that makes his nose wrinkle and captures you in a hug. It feels weird to already be this intimate with him, but the way he radiates comfort makes you sag under his touch.

“Sleepy now,” you mumble, letting his gentle hands caress your back. He nods and pets your sweaty hair back down.

“Let’s get you dressed and off to home, okay?” You press another kiss to his nose before you part.

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creepswrites · 2 years ago

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Slashers with a s/o who has a fear of needles or medical things in general please!!☆

SLASHERS with a GN! S/O who is afraid of needles and medical things!

MICHAEL MYERS

He's surprisingly understanding about it!

After years in hospitals himself, he's also a bit apprehensive about needles

He used to be subjected to a lot of medicines against his will so he's standing in solidarity with you

While he won't exactly go to the hospital with you if you have to, when you come back he'll actually initiate touch with you, holding your hand and touching your face

He'll let you cuddle him like a teddy bear if you need to

Michael's not the most emotional guy you know but you can tell he understands your fears when you vent to him about them

If you take medication that require you to do shots on yourself, Michael's apprehensive to help you out

Simply because it freaks you out as much as it freaks him out

Not that he'd let you see it, of course

He could be convinced to help out, so long as you promise to make his favorite for dinner that night

BO SINCLAIR

When you bring it up with him, its because you saw his room under the auto shop

Honestly, he'd been impressed the chair with straps on it, photos of his victims, and the clear signs of torture weren't what upset you

No, it was the syringes you saw on his tools tray

He'd teased you about it at first, but when he restrained you in his arms and threatened to poke you with one, so close to poking into your skin, he'd stopped when you started bawling

Lester had smacked him upside the head for it and he started taking it more seriously

Whenever guests were taken down to the little basement room, you avoided it like the plague. Not that you didn't before, you just had a greater reason to avoid it

After integrating into Ambrose, you didn't really see doctors anymore, but if you absolutely needed to, Bo would give you shots

He'd probably first try to pawn off the work on Vincent or Lester but when you pleaded with him, he caved

You were his biggest weakness and it made his heart clench to see how much you trusted him, despite everything

He even made sure the syringes in his dad's old office were put out of sight somewhere safe so you didn't have to see them

You avoided the office a lot anyways, it made your stomach hurt to be in

BILLY LOOMIS

Billy doesn't see the big deal, honestly

The two of you had been watching horror movies together, cuddled up on his couch, and you'd become incredibly distressed when one of the characters got injected with something

You'd buried your face into his neck with a sob and he paused the movie to make sure you were okay

Despite his low empathy, he didn't like seeing you cry, so you'd told him all about it

If you ever had to go to the hospital, Billy would comfort you when you saw him

He'd make sure to grab your favorite snacks and have a warm blanket ready at home

If you needed to self-administer shots, he'd happily offer to help

To be honest, he was a bit curious about it. He'd probably make a big show of it

But he'd be a bit flattered if you don't wince or cry when he does it. He thinks its because you trust him not to hurt you permanently

Billy would probably suggest "exposure therapy" via movies

When he noticed just how bad you'd shake and cry, he'd stop. He loved you, after all, but he always went for a solution before comfort

He made sure his movie suggestions going forward didn't have needles or hospitals as the main focus

LESLIE VERNON

Leslie's fine with it honestly! It doesn't bother him

When you have to pick him up from the morgue, though, he notices you shaking outside

It's not a hospital, but it's close. And you fucking hate it.

Leslie gives you a quick hug and is quick to get you out of there

But, because of his injuries, he needs your help with giving him shots

You're trembling and all but fainting when he asks, your fears completely slipping his mind until he sees your face

"Babe, looks like you've seen a ghost-?" And then it clicks

He's incredibly apologetic, reassuring you he can get Billy's help while you're reassuring him - albeit more shakily - that you can help him

After all, he'd do the same for you!

But he won't let you make yourself miserable for his sake, not at all

He shoos you to the bedroom to take care of himself and you cuddle with your pillow until he comes back

Leslie's idea of romance is laying with you in bed, drawing patterns on your skin with his fingers, telling you how he'll blow up every hospital ever so that you never feel uncomfortable

It's a little bit sweet...

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #michael myers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #billy loomis x reader #leslie vernon x reader

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sciderman · 5 months ago

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Hello sci. Do you happen to have a list of reasons why the spiderman/Deadpool comic is ass because I haven't read it in forevers and I seriously can't remember all the details anymore😭😭 TRYING to convince my friend who's only read that comic and none of the others that it's not good but it's so embarrassing since I don't really have any good reasons with the panels to prove it💔💔 Anyways I figured I'd give asking you about it a shot since your always writing your paragraphs upon paragraphs about comics... Maybe you have a list or something. Plus I think the way you talk about things is nice n easy to understand. :3

bless you @deadpoolpie! i do think it's always best to form your own opinions about things but i'll never miss an opportunity to dunk on sm/dp because i'm always perpetumad about all the POTENTIAL and marvel just. never delivering.

i'm not going to do panels, because - that series is such a mess that i can't even bare to go through it again. i just can't do it. it's practically indecipherable.

so. i think the first misstep in sm/dp was the timing. it was just, ultimately, the worst time to start a sm/dp series. the spider-man and deadpool series did not work because spider-man and deadpool were not working in their own series either. it was the least spider-manny and deadpooly that spider-man and deadpool have ever been. spider-man was running parker industries, being a billionaire and basically, being entirely what peter parker was never meant to be. and deadpool was a member of the avengers, was also kind of a multi-millionaire - had employees on payroll, had a wife and a kid, and ultimately was busy being entirely not what deadpool should be, either.

it was a bad time to do a spider-man and deadpool series, because spider-man and deadpool were not, presently, spider-man and deadpool.

2. joe kelly is bad at writing spider-man. he's good at writing deadpool. he's good at that. but he is so. abysmally bad at writing spider-man, particularly when spider-man is standing next to deadpool.

joe kelly will, without fail, make spider-man look like an ableist jackass and - honest to god, do very little that makes us like him. i can't think of a single moment in the spider-man and deadpool series were peter parker is sympathetic. the only time he's ever painted favourably is when he is apologising to deadpool for being wrong. and he is. consistently wrong. he doesn't have a single moment in that series where he is not wrong.

3. don't like healed wade. think it's stupid. think the reasoning is god awful too, and you would not believe the number of asks i've gotten on the blog because of this, in the vein of "wow... wade's only scarred because he doesn't love himself... wade... why don't you try loving yourself..."

i want to boil spider-man alive for this scene specifically

5. the jokes aren't funny. this is subjective but. the jokes aren't funny. it doesn't land for me. it's dated pop-culture references and just... i don't know, i guess i'm not who it's for. i don't know who the jokes are for, but, not me. and i think most people i've spoken to who DO play overwatch throw up in their mouths whenever i whip out this panel.

6. i know there are other bits of this series not written by joe kelly. i don't like those bits either. i don't think they're as egregious because i don't know. kelly was setting the tone and the other guys were just picking up an already underwhelming series. by the time the other guys picked up the writing i'd already jumped ship. i already wanted nothing to do with the series. i've tried reading the series, start-to-finish, but - it really gives me no pleasure at all. there's nothing in there i like. like. nothing at all. and those readers i spoke to that HAVE managed to subject themselves to the whole series have all said they're ultimately disappointed. and yeah. i don't imagine it going any other way.

i kind of love myself too much to fester over this series and force myself to hate read it. there's so much good content out there i haven't read yet. so why force myself to partake of the bad. it's not my obligation. if it's bad and i don't like it, then it's bad and i don't like it. self care is choosing to forget that the sm/dp series exists and moving on with love in my heart and sunshine in my mind

#sci speaks #sci talks comics

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cringefaecompilation · 4 months ago

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i saw in one of your posts that you said it's becoming obvious Orym self-harms, and i was just curious if you could elaborate on that? in now way saying you're wrong btw, because it's entirely possible i'm not far enough in the campaign to notice yet depending on how yk obvious it is. he's one of my favourites this campaign and so that's interesting to me! thanks :)

i have many thoughts about this subject (obvious cw for self harming/suicide talk under tag)

so how about that "inability to see yourself as anything other than a soldier" thing he's got going on? the only person that's been able to talk him down from it was dorian... while he was trying to use the sword that killed him (and laudna and fearne) to try and end ludinus da'leth himself and the resulting fallout from that kind of reset his brain back into "defend everyone else, fuck my feelings" mode. also something something exposure therapy doesn't work all the time for everyone and orym proved it lmao

and it got way worse with melora choosing him as a champion and kinda stringing him along because his pure hate for ludinus and desire to make sure he can't hurt anyone has made him put all his eggs into the gods' basket (if ludinus says they are all 100% bad, clearly then they're all 100% good) and she very much knows that

asides from those, overexercising and eschewing sleep are very common forms of self-harm that are kinda played for jokes with orym? let's not even get started with his deal with morri and how every time he's spoken to will he's flip-flopped on whether or not he's "making it back home" or reuniting with him soon.

it'd be easy to write him off as having a savior complex but fuck, with how much he's shown to be so violently anti-anybody else going through pain (and apologizing for making them feel like he made them do it or they had to do it) then immediately forcing himself into shitty situations because he's convinced he deserves it for "letting" his loved ones die... woof

so you know it kinda makes me wanna eat glass when people talk about how great it is that orym is keyleth's or melora's specialest little princess or how brave he is for constantly throwing himself into death with the only pushback being "oh no, he can't kiss a cute boy if he dies!"

#🍃#critical role #critrole #orym of the air ashari #self harm cw #suicidal ideation tw

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sapphiewritesstuff · 2 years ago

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Dude I need a hardcore yandere Namor x reader!

Where your Riri’s friend and specialize in chemistry and biology so you know how to make different materials for her and even make money off the side with selling your stuff to the government. And Namor definitely wants to kill you like the scientist but after finally seeing you in person has a change of heart, his mind convincing him it’ll be a waste on someone so intelligent to die, especially someone so beautiful- Namor then rizzes you up enough to manipulate you into staying with him after the war

(Extra points for tension and possessive)

love your work please drink more water 💧❤️❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you for the request and I’m really really glad you like my work, thank you for supporting me <33 I will try my best with this ask, as I usually don’t write hardcore Yandere, so if it’s not what you expect I’m sorry, but I am a soft girl at heart and Namor is my bby girl <33

Warnings: GN! Reader, Yandere, Violence, manipulation, kidnapping, Namor is dark but not darker than he is in the movie, isolation, punishments, murder, not proofread.

-You were kidnapped along with Shuri and Riri, knocked unconscious by Namora and taken to Talokan.

-Namor takes an almost immediate interest in you, wanting to talk to you and learn more about you. At first, he tries to excuse it as trying to get closer to the enemy, even though he doesn’t treat Riri the same way, but later learns to accept that he thinks that you’re beautiful.

-He accepts the fact that you're a genius, your inventions and experiments are like none other, and it intrigues him. Talokan could use someone like you, it would be a waste to kill you.

-The more time he spends with you, the more infatuated he becomes. Everything about you is perfect, from your brain to the way you act to the way you look, he needs you as his own.

-You plead with him to let Riri and Shuri go, but never beg for your own freedom, and Namor respects how selfless you are.

-Nakia soon comes to rescue the three of you, but as Namor started keeping you in his private hut, she was unable to take you back to the surface.

-You told yourself that they would come back for you, that they were just planning their next move, but days turned into weeks, and nobody ever came.

-Namor took pity on you, he hated seeing such a beautiful person be ruined by the surface dwellers, but he knew that he could use this to his advantage.

-One day, he sat down beside you, taking your face into his hands, and very firmly, yet gently, told you words that you'll never forget.

-"They're not coming for you, my love."

-He 'takes care' of the Wakandans soon after. (Interpret that as you will, if Wakanda and Talokan become allies he convinces them that you're in Talokan willingly, you're too afraid to say differently.)

-Life with Namor isn't spent as a captive, if you can overlook not being allowed to leave Talokan, he treats you like royalty (which you are, he has already made you the other ruler of Talokan through marriage). His touches are soft, and he feeds you only the freshest of fruits.

-Namor has a temper, there is no denying that, many poor servants have been subject to his yelling and wrath after disrespecting him or you.

-Despite this, he never lays a finger on you.

-Punishments? He doesn't like hurting you, his little scientist, but he knows that if he doesn't teach you, you'll stray away.

-He isolates you. You have been down in Talokan for god knows how long, with Namor being your only interaction, as much as you hate to admit it, it's nice having someone to keep you sane. Namor knows this, and uses it to his advantage. Whenever you act up or break one of his rules, he'll ignore you until you're begging for him to look at you again.

-He also makes you watch as he guts some innocent who 'wronged' you in his eyes. Sometimes it's an act of love ('look at what I would do for you!'), other times it's a punishment ('this is what happens to people you get too close to, it's your fault, stay by my side and nobody will have to suffer')

-You'll never see the surface again, he knows that the government will just come after you, he must keep you here to protect you and his kingdom. He's doing this for you!

-If you ever try to escape, god help you.

#namor imagine #namor headcanon #namor x you #namor x reader #mcu x reader #yandere x reader #x reader

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placeinthisworld · 8 months ago

Text

ttpdta review part one 🤠

let me preface this by stating that i am a swiftie first and person second in this situation. i have grown up with taylor and feel as if shes my big sister- yes i can make fun of her but if i see anyone else do it i will get fiercely protective. i do understand her music is not only art but also her form of therapy. that being said, throughout these nonsense notes i am constantly mentioning that taylor should go to therapy. i am aware of what she has said about therapy (and why she doesn’t go) but i would beg to differ with her…especially after this album release lol.

taylor is an extraordinary storyteller and song writer. i believe this album is full of evidence of that, but it also has some faults that prevent from being as good as i felt like it could have been. overall the album feels rushed.

i also feel like it’s important to recognize the elephant in the room. i know we probably all expected this to be a joe breakup album, so the fact that it turned out to be a “fuck you matty healy” album shook us all a little bit. i know matty had a controversial history, im not gonna sit here and defend him. i don’t know much about him other than what is forced against my will. i do however know that he struggles with mental health issues/ substance abuse/ addiction. i’m not gonna comment much about his personal issues, i don’t feel like that’s right and taylor’s constant references to drugs throughout ttpd definitely rubs me the wrong way. i should also mention i grew up with an active addict and do view things from that perspective, so i feel slightly triggered by the topic and my feelings about that may just be personal but i do mention that in my notes when it’s relevant.

lastly, i am not a music production girlie idk shit lol. i only know i am a aaron dessner stan so any song with his name im already biased towards and i am aware, if u don’t like that idk what to tell u lol. i just know what i feel like is “good” or “bad” but music is subjective🫶🏻

1. Fortnight:

Hate the functional alcoholic part. Like the beat, the chorus is catchy. One thing i love about a taylor swift song is that theres always a story and its always visual. I like the metaphor of the “good neighbors” of like having this teasing/ longing feeling for someone that you could have had a life with. “Your wife waters flowers/ i want to kill her + my husbands cheating/ i want to kill him” feeling like you were robbed of her life, feeling “all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february” reminiscing about the short period of time where you were together and convinced it would last forever (only for it to end before it even started). I do not listen to much post malone but i enjoyed his verse!! So many florida references we get it everything bad happens in florida.

i have not seen the video yet oooopsies

2. Ttpd:

i thought this was the opening of Hey Stephen (the remix) or something at first. gotta say i absolutely love the way she sings “you left your typewriter at my apartment/ straight from the tortured poets department” i enjoyed the vibe of this song, and lyrics up until the “you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate (OKAY SOOOOOOO ME CODED NGL I LAUGHED at this point i could let this lyric slide- bit then she had to mention the charlie puth and golden retriever thing and ngl it almost ruins the song entirely for me. Tbh when i first listened to the leak i thought this was a fake AI song and that i was sending around a fake leak bc these lyrics started to get a little weird to me. ‘Sometimes i wonder if youre gonna screw this up with me/ but you told lucy you’d kill yourself if i ever leave” …………girl i am begging you to see a therapist (side note did anyone else have a friend in hs whos bf would say that shit a lot?? I remember straight up fighting with a friend who refused to break up w her bf bc he would threaten to end his own life is she did and he was like 16? If an adult is saying that same shit i would be Very concerned not gossiping about it???) “i chose this cyclone with you” my first reaction was: ride the cyclone the musical? Overall i liked the first half but you lost me at charlie puth (hes the one with eyebrow right? I think i get him and miles teller mixed up) (i dont know who either of these men are)

3. My boy only breaks his favorite things:

Okay tbh i thought this was gonna be one of my least favorites, but the total opposite happened. I think this is one of my top 5 favorites on this album. I do think that there is a difference between a poem and a song and that they are not always interchangeable. I feel like if this was edited into a poem it would be KILLER. The visuals, the the story, the vocabulary, the sadness in it. “Im queen of sandcastles he destroys/ There was danger in the heat of my touch/ once i fix me/ hes gonna miss me/ i felt more when we played pretend then with all the kens / cause he took me out of my box” i feel like ever since folklore, taylors been trying to push these big fancy words and sometimes it feels awkward and forced, but this is one of the rare songs that doesn't suffer from that.

4. Down bad:

meh. Chorus is catchy. I dont love the narrative “fuck it if i cant have him/ i might just it would make no difference” but i also have never once experienced that over a person before lmao……….taylor go to therapy. Nothing really stands out about this to me otherwise. No offense, but it sounds like a generic jack antonoff song lol. Like maybe if another artist released this, i would enjoy it more but idk i wouldnt expect it from taylor i guess. Just kinda feels boring to me sorry if u enjoy it <3

5. So long, london:

oh man were done with british men now for real for real. “ two graves one gun. I'll find someone” its over for joe and matty (but thats fine if all she has to say about joe is what i think she said on this album i am happy i think We Get It…) Aaron dessner i love u (remember when he reposted me on his ig ahh).”i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/ pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” + “I stopped trying to make him laugh/ stopped trying to drill the safe/ i didnt opt in to be our odd man out/ im pissed off you let me give you all of that youth for free” oof i FELT that one a LITTLE too hard. I think this is both a song about matty and joe- i think she had a life and an attachment to london just in general through both relationships, “im just mad as hell because i loved this place” and so reflecting back on how both are over and how all those plans with either are done. “You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days” OKAY kinda hate this phrase bc it feels like shes placing blame on whomever’s mental health/ depression, like as if they made the conscious decision to sacrifice the relationship solely. This very much feels like “how much sadness did you think i could take before i got bored???” overall top favorite songs bc it doesnt have too many cringey or odd lyrics and the production is 10/10 thank u aaron dessner ilysm king

6. But daddy i love him:

tbh when i got the leak this was the first song i listened to bc i thought it was gonna be the worst one and i wanted to get it over with (i was RIGHT until she dropped that second half……..) and i DIDNT have the lyrics obviously so i couldnt for the life of me figure out if she really said “im having his baby…..NO IM NOT!” until the VERY end of the song and bro…….the cringe. The cringe. The cringe. This is also when i started to question if this was real or if i was passing out a fake leak, lol. I dont understand how she could be saying this shit about matty. And like we all know it lol. “Sometimes growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all” …….but like does it??? I feel like thats kinda an oxymoron or something like i understand what shes trying to say and MOST of the time her metaphors and comparisons make sense to me but like this one doesnt. Growing up precocious means to grow up more advanced in maturity, how would that also mean not growing up at all? Is it just me getting stoned and overthinking things? “Ill tell you something about my good name/ its mine alone to disgrace” true that bestie ur doin a great job by being so politically quiet over the past couple of yeats after making a whole asss documentary about wanting to be on the right side of history. But I digress i am just one of those bitches performing soliloquies you'll never see. Overall this song is very weird and cringey imo and i wish it stayed in whatever vault it was sitting in lol.

7.Fresh out of the slammer: “In the shade of how he was feeling” -_- dont like this narrative already. I could honestly go on a rant about why i dont like this song but im going to spare for the sake of my sanity in this review of thirty one fucking songs but its along these lines “to the one who says im the girl of his american dreams” oh brother. otherwise i dont care for many of the lyrics, the chorus/ melody/vibe is mid i guess. It sounds like another jack song (i was right)

8. Florida!!!: “all my friends smell like weed or little babies” okay i know what she was trying to say but im SORRY you cant tell me she couldnt think of ANY other way to say her friends are either parents partiers lmao. Deserves jail for that but luckily the vibe and the chorus of the song are really catchy and florence’s voice is beautiful in it. “Well me and my ghost we had a hell of a time/ yes im haunted but im feeling just fine” CHILLS i loved it. I didnt think i would like this song but (maybe as much as i like no body, no crime which is meh) but no i lowkey love this song and think its really fun. Once again the drug references start to get heavy here in the album and like i mentioned i do get slightly triggered by drug mentions.

9. Guilty as sin?:

okay taylor we get it you masterbate. Another strong jack song and it’s pretty similar to others on the album so nothing besides the sexual lyrics stand out.

10. Whos afraid of little old me?:

“if you wanted me dead you should have just said/ nothing makes me feel more alive” ooooooooooh i love that. I feel like a live or an acoustic version of this song would give me CHILLS. “Is it a wonder i broke / lets hear one more joke/ then we can all laugh until i cry” honestly so relatable, “i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean” oh :( that hurt bc it just reminds me of the vibe shift during midnights era/ eras tour where it *feels* like she started to pull back from being taylor swift and started to become Taylor Swift (™) and the way her fans/ media has treated her made her mean or cold or something and that just makes me feel sad. “Whos afraid of little old me? You caged me and then you called me crazy! I am what i am cause you trained me! SO. WHOS. AFRAID. OF ME? Again the narcotics line kinda makes me feel icky but thats bc i have that thing about drugs and just dont LOVE all the references to them. Like i know its not that serious but theres a reason why i dont seek out artists that typically talk or write about that stuff ya know so its weird. Overall i think the production is one of the most unique ones on this part of the album.

11. I can fix him (no really i can):

i hate it all around i think. I hate the narrative of “i can fix him!! I can handle a dangerous man!!! No really i can!!!” there is a reason why this song is barely 3 mins long lol it should have been cut but i think taylor wanted to Be Edgy. i dont care for the productions or the lyrics, its very forgetful imo.

12. Loml:

okay i really thought this was gonna be a joe song (rip) so i was thinking it was gonna be really deep and sad and like it IS but with the context of it being the pt 2 fling with matty it doesnt seem like it now. Anyone who thinks this is not about matty please look at the lyrics and be so serious “whos gonna stop us from waltzing back into reklndled flames/ if we know the steps anyway” I think matty just said too much shit to taylor during their fling and taylor WAS truly convinced this her invisible string and he promised her a lot that he couldnt upkeep and ghosted her and she took it SUPER hard, i mean two breakups in one year is a lot (me, whos never been through a single breakup once). I just dont understand how she feels like matty is the greatest loss of her life. One of my favorite tracks on the album, “our field of dreams engulfed in fire/ your arsons match your somber eyes” a LOT of these lyrics are actually really good imo. I think im the only one that didnt find the “mr. steal your girl and make her cry” line idk i thought it was actually kinda neat, the phrasing of it, kinda contradicts the title “love of my life” because he was never that serious or respectful of her and only use her from the beginning. This is another song that i think would make KILLER poem over song. Overall i think the piano is haunting and a live version of this will make me die, thank u again aaron dessner 10/10

13. I can do it with a broken heart:

ngl i thought this was the opening to mastermind for a hot second- also gave me a scare on whether or not this was a fake leak lol. Catchy ass chorus but very YOYOK. “Breaking down i hit the floor/ All the pieces of me shattered/ as the crowd was shouting “more!” ooffffffff seeeeee that is exactly WHAT i was afraid she was feeling durning the eras tour after the joe breakup/ matty situation and all these stupid twitter and tik tok swiffers were out here overanalyzing EVERYTHING and demanding rep tv like every other day. “Im so depressed i act like its my birthday” …….okay taylor. Like a lot of people have said, i think she interchanges “depressed” for “sad” a lot and the two are not the same. I think taylor wrote this song (but specifically the “i cry a lot time but i am so productive” and was like “yup this part is gonna go viral on tik tok,” initially i wrote “feels like taylor saw that depression barbie commercial in barbie 2023 and wrote a song based on that” lol which i still agree with. Overall the production of this screams midnights reject lol, very jack antonoff. Over time this song has grown on me a lot. Originally i didnt care for it but now its kind of a bop but i think its bc its so similar to YOYOK. “Try and come for my job” @taylorswift deadass you couldn’t think of anything else to say instead. cmon. I was mostly on board until that very last part, just seemed very cheesy lol like its not a big deal but i thought it delivered well without it.

14. The smallest man who ever lived:

(aaron thank u for saving me and this entire album) “they just ghosted you/ now you know what it feels like” OUCH. “i dont even want you back i just want you to know/ if rusting my sparkling was the goal/ and i dont miss what we had but can someone give/ a message to the smallest man who ever lived” oh this was somber af. I am obsessed with the phrasing of the chorus. I also LOVE taylors deeper voice its def giving me the same feelings MTR gave me from folklore, that made me CRY and this was very similar. This is another classic taylor song that i could EASILY write like a ten page essay about if someone put a gun to my head. I know that its about a *romantic* relationship, but it feels general enough to be able to relate to anyone who is close to someone with an addiction or struggles with substances. A lot of addicts dont understand the impact of their addiction or their behaviors that they display while struggling. To meeeeee, this feels very much like “you were self centered and betrayed my trust, was any of this true? Real? Am i paranoid or is this that deep?” “it wasnt sexy once it wasnt forbidden” has me thinking lots of things. I think that describes taylors “type”if that makes sense? Like i said i would need to literally break this song down line by line like its ridiculous i have too many thoughts about this song i have listened to it on repeat six times by the time im typing this. “In public showed me off/ then sank in stoned oblivion” FUCK. “you treat her like an also-ran” honestly i have never heard of that phrase/word thank u dr. swift. “Were you sent by someone who wanted me DEAD/ did you sleep with a GUN underneath OUR BED/ were you writing a BOOK?/ were you a sleeper cell SPY? IN 5O YEARS WILL THIS BE ALL DECLASSIFIED?/ AND YOU’LL CONFESS WHY YOU DID IT!/ AND ILL SAY GOOD RIDDANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” tears were formed besties. Also love the gracie abrams reference. “And you deserve prison but you wont get time” i feel like is very metaphorical like you DESERVE to be punished for what you did to me but you won’t admit to the guilt, you wont admit your wrongdoings, you wont admit that i would have done anything for you and you have no problem replacing me. “You said normal girls were boring/ but you were gone by the morning” first of all red flag girlie, nonetheless heartbreaking. “And in plain sight you hid/ but you are what you did” i say this with all the love in my heart, someone take taylor swift to a really good really private therapist. I could say more but i think i need to move on because i am now on my eighth cyle of listening to this song.

15. The alchemy:

already kinda hate it. “What if i told you im back/ the hospital was a drag/ worst sleep i ever had” do you think taylor swift has ever been admitted to a real hospital in this context. Feels very out of place and like i said earlier i dont love the psych ward visuals/ references she keeps inserting in this album. “He jokes its heroin but this time with an e” thanks! I fucking hate that line so much. Feels very icky, not funny. I get what shes going for but it falls so flat for me. The football references (yall know my opinion on meathead!!!!!!!! I will not engage!!!) are fucking dumb. Production is kinda lame and uninterested. Will only listen to this song if by force and will not repeat it ive head enough lets move on.

i have Lots Of Thoughts. i don’t think anyone cares about what i have to say though so i don’t think i’ll bother posting the rest lol but i did do a lot of work so ill post just a bit to make myself feel better.

#personal #ts ttpd #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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dreamtydraw · 10 months ago

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Hello from the Fishbowl!

Oh I’m so glad you and plant anon agree with me on my vn red flags/icks! Like I said a lot of the red flags and icks I tend to have are really subjective so I get that some people will love what I kinda hate but it’s nice to see I’m not alone on stuff :)

Also, is it bad that I kinda wanna hear more about Heir to Love and Lie? I’ve never played any Fictif games but this sounds like some hot gossip I want in on, tell me more about how bad of a game it is lol. From an outsider perspective I think it’s kinda funny how it’s like “Yes the Fictif app has a bunch of great and fun stories with a ton of good content- NO DONT LOOK AT THAT STORY ITS HIDEOUS-” I know the stories are probably made by different teams so it makes sense that there’s differences in quality but still

Last Legacy and now Roadkill have peaked my interest since I’ve seen you talk about it here (I had never heard of Fictif at all before) but I’ve been a little hesitant to give the games a try because they’re mobile games and frankly I’m not the biggest fan of playing vn style games on mobile, I used to all the time but the grinding for stuff like story keys just to get content that may or may not be good kinda grated on me so I stopped and haven’t looked back. But idk maybe I’ll decide to give Fictif a chance when I have the time, your love for the games are definitely convincing me to give it a shot :)

Also I hope you get better soon and you’re not sick with anything too serious! Take care of yourself!

-🐟

( ok i’ll do proganda about the good game of fictif ask me about htlal on another ask )

Ok so i’ll start by saying that you should def play roadkil, last legacy and monster manor on the fictif app, WITH A CRACKED VERSION! If you have an Android play with a mod app and you won’t have to pay for the special choice ( you still have to wait for keys tho but it’s manageable) I personally use Modyolo. With the mod there is no grind, you just wait for your keys to regenerate to play the chapters.

Why you should play last legacy ? Last legacy is a really well written fantasy romance made by queers, for queers with good queers characters. The narrative is limited but realize that fans of this game haven’t had update in 2 years and we all still love this, that how good the game is for us. What I really appreciate is the approach of the romance, the well-written worldbuilding, and the interesting plot and evolution of the li throughout the story + bonus points the art is really pretty + the music is awesome

This is an otome where you feel the passion of the dev because of all the details and care they put into the characters. It sad that we’ll never get an ending but just because it’s my second favorite otome after Our life i really recomand.

Now another wonderful story on the app is Monster manor. It’s a reviseted tale of beauty and the beast where mc is a reparator that come helps the resident of the manor to fix the place and also fix their issue. Again it’s very well written and although you can get subtile subtext on romance this one is very axed on exploring the character's mental health and their story of self-improvement. ALSO IT HAS A CANON TRANS DRAGON CREATURE WHO’S THE SWEETEST I LOVE HIM HE’S SO WHOLESOME-

Bonus the music is so good i even added it on my spotify- and good art

Monster Manor is one of those stories that leave a very specific feeling in you. I don't know how to describe it but it just has a lot of wholesomeness and character going troughs sad but relatable problems that you see get better and makes you happy that they're healing.

now.... my guilty pleasure.... Roadkil !

THE BROMANCE OF THIS GAME IS SO GOOD I swear

Objectively: This game feels like a wild mess of fan fiction with random scenario after scenario and cliché horror moments, but oh man the ambiance. The best trio of Li, they are close friends, and in the 3 routes the group is just such an amazing friend group. The characters are lovely and it's like reading a bad yet good wattpad fanfic : well written ? no ? But the ideas ? good !

Like i said, this game is based on cliché of horror movies but also on american culture ( which I learned trought this game lol ). It has longer chapters than the other two games (except Tess but Tess got hit by the sexism of a greedy company that wants shirtless men in dating sim to attract gurls ) BUT they all shine.

Poe's route had me ugly crying in the end, Howie's ending is AWFULL but I had a great time, Tess is actually a superbe F Li even whith the dev having to cut her short and ruin her ending, she shine very britgh in the other routes and her own ( for ex she's the one with a shotgun and the one that won you and howie a teddy bear )

I really need more people to play roadkill because it's an underated banger in my opinion and it has many great scenes in the mess of scenarios ( the intro is really good for ecxemple )

Like, when I say not all game needs to be well written? That's what I'm talking about, this one is a hot delightful mess

ANYWAY! My rambling was long but I hope it was interessing !

#fish anon #ask answer #visual novel #fictif app #monster manor fictif #last legacy #fictif roadkill #dreamty's ramble

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matan4il · 7 months ago

Note

what does it mean when you call us nonnie?/genq

It's just a cuter (in my mind) way of addressing an anon.

And in my attempt to catch up with replying to asks (all of which you can find in my ask tag), here are a few more with responses:

yo, as an openly jewish person, i just wanna make this post to appreciate you and give you a virtual hug :)

Thank you sooooo much, Nonnie, I'm so happy that I can do anything that helps fellow Jews! I hope you're doing good and taking care of yourself throughout this, and please know my blog is ALWAYS open to you if you need anything. Sending much love! xoxox

I vaguely remember someone saying Hamas/Gazan health ministryss numbers haven't been reliable despite that being the quote that keeps getting passed around. Do you know where this was discussed?

I've discussed it a lot on my blog, and you should be able to find posts about it, more and less recent ones, between my UN tag on my blog and my resources one.

congratulations on Independence! I only have some Jewish ancestry but I grew up being taught what an amazing miracle it was that Israel was established, that the hope of thousands of years of exile came to pass! The people who hate you only ever convinced me to dust off my duolingo Hebrew lessons. I really hope I get see your beautiful country for myself one day עם ישראל חי

Thank you so much, Nonnie, and I absolutely believe in the same thing, that our return to our ancestral land, de-colonizing it, re-establishing our ancestral language and culture, reviving our native roots, allowing us to walk the same streets and sites our ancestors (and yours!) did is nothing of a miracle. This should be a cause for celebration for all people who believe in native rights, not just for people with a Jewish identity and our allies. That notion is only reenforced by the fact that the generation who got to see this dream realized included so many Holocaust survivors, people who were human skeletons in May of 1945, and were called to defend the Jewish state from the invasion of several Arab armies in May of 1948, people who somehow won that war, despite having inferior numbers of soldiers, weapons, less training, no British help (including donated airplanes, weapons and even British commanders in the field) like the Jordanian and Egyptian armies did, and when many of these survivors were not even all speaking the same language (so just imagine how difficult even giving a simple order was)... Truly, even when I put Jewish sentiments aside, Israel winning its Independence War is a true miracle.

Just take a second to process that the people on the left are also the people on the right, who won this war, a victory the anti-Israel crowd mourns, because I guess they think it would have been better if these Holocaust survivors would have been subjected to a second genocide, this time at the hands of the Arabs? For having the audacity to return to their ancestral land after Europe almost completely wiped out their families and their people?

I love that you're studying Hebrew! :D It's so beautiful and so rich to me, and I hope you enjoy it, too. Don't hesitate to listen to Israeli songs as well, it def contributes to learning and to enjoying it! And congrats to you as well, since it feels like you're very much a part of this celebration, too! Am Yisrael chai! <3

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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threadsdemiseif · 9 months ago

Text

Made by @sapphirestones09

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS AUSGHSJSGDKSHSI

CRYING SHITTING SOBBING

TYSM FOR THE FANFIC, I AM FLOORED

Note: It took an embarrassingly long time to find the submission post. Cons of being tech averse. First fanfic? Yey? English isn’t exactly my first language, and some sentences may sound weird and also punctuations are my enemy. Was supposed to be just a drabble, just a take on the “The Incident” nothing too fancy. It was supposed to be straightforward and simple but then 2.7k words.

During this time the story didn’t even start and there are a lot of details that I may have missed, and plot points are not addressed directly. The fic maybe embarrassingly incorrect when it comes to the events and the interpretation of characters. I know…but I did it anyway.

This is just purely written with no certain Doctor MC in mind but gained inspiration by asking myself “What would a psychopath in “love” do in this situation?”

***

You have never been a romantic.

Although there are times that you convinced yourself you are.

People describe romance and love with words that when put together only sounded like ancient language to you. Foreign. Alien. You drowned yourself in poetry, art, songs, movies, books, you consumed all kinds of media you can get your filthy hands on that emphasizes that kind of ideas, all that work and yet the concept remained an enigma to you. Try as you might it seemed like there is a buffer in your brain causing the words to become static and incomprehensible. Like wisps of smoke and childhood bubbles that pass through your hands when you try to catch it.

People seemed to revolve themselves around it though, becoming the center of their worlds. You? You only saw yourself as an outsider when it comes to this subject. You witness the people you tolerate spinning themselves dizzy around it until they collapse, vomit, and destroy themselves in the process.

You like that. Not romance no, you like the aftermath of it. The chaos left in its wake that you can’t help but marvel. You are curious, intrigued, determined to understand the nature of it and see if you can truly bend it to your will.

How odd your interests are…

And so your experiments began, you engaged yourself for a time. The people around you were more than happy to, it’s a wonder how humans quickly drop to their knees at the sight of a pretty face. Never quite understanding the kind of wretchedness hidden beneath. You instantly learned the system, a smile there, a touch there, a wink, a reassurance, a kiss, a bite, and they are wrapped around your pretty finger.

It quickly got boring. Frustration building inside you. All this time and you still don’t understand it. Everyone says its fun, fulfilling, gratifying in a way that resembles the feeling of jumping from a skyscraper. It overcomes all types of high that you can get from pills and drugs. It’s exhilarating. Maddeningly so.

You want that. That type of feeling. You want to understand it and judge it. If it was truly as amazing as they said it is. If it was worth the wars that waged for it. The lives lost in the name of it.

You want to know the ruin. The hurt. The despair. The madness.

But alas, monsters can’t love, can they?

If that is so, then what is it that you are feeling now?

Why is it that when you look up to their face marred with insanity and tears, do you feel that your heart skip a beat. They look good with hate twisting their soft and gentle features. They look so adorable as their eyes become wet and red with tears and blood. They look so delightful when they sob and growl as they continue to bash your kneecaps.

You are supposed to be feeling pain.

There is a theory you read that when humans experience so much pain beyond their limits of tolerance the person does not feel it. Stimuli overriding the nerves and senses that the person just becomes so numb to it.

Maybe you crossed the threshold of it already as you just feel the lightheaded.

Does the theory even apply to you?

Afterall, you never even thought of yourself as one of them. You could always look beautiful enough. You could always mimic their behavior to the best. You could replicate the twinkle in their eyes and yet. There is always something wrong with you.

You’re only a mess of organs. A casket made of flesh. A jumble of limbs. All to contain nothing but raging madness. You feel it sometimes. Licking the part of your brain and whispers, tickling you with thoughts so vile you can’t even understand it half the time. But sometimes it screams and during those moments you contemplate bashing your head on a rock and watch as blood and brain viscera scatter like red fireworks.

But you don’t feel the madness right now. Pleasant numbness coating you in warmth and comfort.

You can’t really remember what happened that lead to this situation. Them above you, ramming a steel chair on your lower half. Did you even fight back? Did you injure them? Did you curse at them first or did they?

No, you don’t want to think about that, you just want to revel in this moment on how they look so lovely covered in your blood. Yours.

How beautifully tortured they look right now.

So beautiful as they look broken, so so broken by your hands.

You stare at them determined to commit the image to your memory. You will your synapses to work, embedding them to a part of your mind that not even the sickness would touch it.

They were supposed to be another pretty thing to play with. They were so cute and foolish enough to be swayed by your words and touch. Just like the rest, it was so so easy.

And yet here you are underneath them on the cold hard floor covered with your warm blood. Instead of defeat or rage, it is ecstasy that fills you. A sense of pride swells inside. This feeling so exhilarating, gratifying, making you giddy with the excitement.

Is this the love the people spoke about? Then you can understand it now, like puzzle pieces placing themselves until a sense of completion fills you.

You never felt like this before. So whole. So full.

For a moment you are not broken. You are not insane. You are not a disgusting mimicry of everything that is wrong with the world.

You want more. You need more. More...more…

More of what?

More of them.

Of their hate, their ruthlessness, their violence, their cruelty.

Give them all to me, Deziree…

I’ll take it all.

Give me everything that is wrong with you and I’ll kiss it, cherish it, nurture it.

Thank you for existing Deziree, now I don’t have to be alone.

Now, I have someone I can drag with me to the pits of hell.

A siren blares in the background. Shouts of composed terror echo outside. Loud enough to pierce through the cloud of your deliriousness. It seemed to have the same effect to Deziree too as their eyes began to shine with clarity. Horror, regret, disgust, quickly replacing the ferocity of their wrath.

No!

You will not this moment to be over yet! For the first time you felt your heart soar, you felt complete, a sense of belongingness together with them. You can’t let it be over so soon! You simply can’t.

Along with the clarity, the madness began to whisper again. Its tendrils crawling their way to consume any resemblance of sanity left from the previous moment. It offers a way to make the most out of the moment. A way to bind both of you for life. A perfect ending for this absolute freak show.

Your stomach tightens pleasantly. You felt your spine shiver in excitement. Electricity tingles down to your- oh you can’t feel your toes anymore. Nevermind.

Mustering up your strength, your bloodied hands reached over to their face.

Eyes on me.

Only me.

Their attention is now back to you. And you feel complete again.

Oh, how far have you fallen?

You give them a weak smile to which they reciprocate with a blank stare. Mind racing, rationalizing what just happened, remembering the moments that lead them here. Just how did things get this bad? The ever loving Deziree…

You can see them shivering, are they cold? You were the one who’s meant to be cold, considering the blood loss, you are certain you’re going to die if left to your own devices. Well, if that will be the end, why not have some fun.

Your hand slides down to their arms. Their muscles underneath taut with tension and through the stormy expression you can see as clear as day the gradient of emotions. Madness, rage, confusion, love, tenderness, all hues of suffering flicking from one to another. You could sit here all day and watch them in reverence.

They have never been more beautiful as they are now.

Your hands connect with theirs, your smile widening even bigger as your fingers intertwine. You’d be blushing like a fair maiden if it wasn’t for all blood gushing out of you. If your head would have been any clearer, you would question the absurdity of the situation, but its not. It’s filled with chemicals actively trying to keep you alive. The kind that makes you high in glee.

You would also have half the mind to check your own condition being on the brink of death. And you would remedy that immediately. You’re far too smart to be killed aren’t you?

But not this time.

There is nothing as important as you and him in this little corner of the world you marked with red.

His eyes track your movement with the accuracy of a hawk. Then finally, you place his hand around your throat. You’re now a willing prey, baring their most vulnerable to a bloodthirsty predator.

There was no need to wait, their hands immediately applied pressure on your neck. Their fingers that previously held warmth and care now ice cold and harsh. It squeezes your carotid veins, blocking your air until you feel yourself turn blue in seconds if it wasn’t for the blood loss. They grit their teeth even more as a small moan spilled from your lips. Did he take it as a sign of pleasure or pain? You would lick your lips if he could, but you could only manage a pained smile.

“Disgusting. Evil. Vile. Why?! I loved you! I trusted you! And you used me! Ruined me!” they sob.

There were no thoughts in your head. Not a whisper of regret or remorse. You are only staring at him, pupils blown at how beautiful he is under the alternating blues and reds from the window. You now choke and as survival instinct begins to kick in and you thrash. You dig your fingers into their wrists in an attempt to let you go.

You know this is futile and this can cause even more damage to your neck than it already has. But still your body moves in self-preservation. Your mind and body disagreeing in the most beautiful way. You are dying no doubt about that, but by the Gods do you feel so alive.

You feel the precious air being taken away from you. Your blood rushing to your head. Your life slipping away at their hands. It makes you appreciate these little things when you are on death’s door.

Your body begs them to stop, trying to pry away their hands, to push them away from you. You feel the heat of them against you. Your body screams for mercy. But you don’t and you will never want that now, don’t you?

Please don’t let go.

Please hold me.

Please kill me.

“You deserve this. I did nothing wrong! The world will be better without you. I hope you burn in hell,” they spat.

You wheeze as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The lack of oxygen and blood finally hitting you as you feel your consciousness ebb away.

A bang echoed the walls of the room from the door opening harshly, footsteps and harsh voices goes in. The weight on top of you was then pulled away, you whimpered at the loss. Practiced and efficient hands began to land on you to check on your condition and at the edge of your vision, see that they had restrained Deziree a few feet away from you.

Face planted on the red floor as they thrash against the restraints of police, their voice panicked but their bloodlust evident from the string of curses they release in your direction. The officers are successful in putting them in their place.

You are promptly carried away. The paramedics dons a concerned expression as they talk ensuring to keep your consciousness awake. You close your eyes only replying in tired hums. You don’t have to look at yourself to see that you’re all levels of bad for seasoned healers to panic.

And even though you can’t see, you feel the people’s righteous fury and sympathy for you like water. From the officers to your neighbors who watches from the sidelines parched and in need of some new gossip to talk about. You can already pinpoint their thoughts, their sadness, relief, worry at how such a young thing was already subjected to the cruelty of such a harsh world.

The human mind is truly such a wonder. People will determine who received the most injury, who is more sympathetic, unnecessary details that help them fuel their own beliefs. Twisting it to suit their own narratives. You can hear them talk words that will end up being printed by tomorrow’s newspaper. And that made you sneer in amusement inwardly.

Because they have never been so wrong than equate you to a pitiful little victim.

It was a good thing the old lady next door was fond of gossips. You made a show of yourself spilling your relationship problems acting all teary and vulnerable, not-so-subtly hinting that you may be in possible danger. So, when the crash and fight started you were sure they were the one who called the police on time.

The strangling part was seriously a last-minute plan, the blood loss making you all loopy and droopy. The police force has body cameras attached to them. Meaning that they have caught Deziree strangling a person on camera. A person who in addition, mutilated your legs you might need it amputated and end up a cripple for the rest of your life.

You shrug. You’re plenty resourceful. You can imagine the opportunity it presents.

Mutilation, strangulation, and the other deeds of Deziree will be revealed in the court. Even if they plead not guilty, the evidence will stack upon them one by one, drowning in proof that you orchestrated like an elaborate game of chess. There is such a thing we call as falsified truths.

Deziree will be hated, scrutinized, their entire being skinned and every part of him will be laid bare for others to see and judge. You mentally calculate and figured they’re going to prison for 10 years give or take. 10 years of living in hell that you personally decorated.

You can taste their pain already. Their expression falling at the verdict of the judge. People cursing their name both inside and outside the bars. And even when they are alone, they’ll never be rid of you. Making sure that their thoughts will always be haunted by the image of you. You only you. What a pretty mental cage you put them in.

There was no regret or remorse as you allowed yourself to smile.

Not one of pleasure nor pain.

It is simply a smile of victory.

Deziree came close, but it’s not enough. They’ll have to become stronger, smarter, better. You needed a drive, you needed them to improve to beat the game you have designed. They might go to prison but you’re far too smart from thinking this is all over. They’ll come back, you know they would.

You inflicted just the right amount of pain for them to persevere. Not too much that they would give up and think that this is all pointless. Not too little that they won’t grow from this. Every factor of this event, taken into account into your pretty little head, all for what?

For an elaborate game of course.

A game that will not begin until later. But you don’t worry, after all patience is truly a virtue especially in this sense. Even though you’re already achingly awaiting the moment.

The cards are dealt, the stakes are ready, and the table is prepared for all the players that will be involved.

You’re already buzzing with excitement. You wonder what they will become. What kind of monster have you created? What kind of chaos and destruction will they bring? How much will be left of you when they’re done? Or will there be any left?

How you long to see it already.

Them in their full potential to end you.

Ah, see, you can be a romantic after all.

#submission #thread's demise #li : deziree #Myrr Answers #the doctor #interactive fiction #if game #if wip #FANFIC

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