#and i just got so frustrated i decided not to go out

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (three)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

masterlist | < two

⟢a/n: if you want me to add you to the taglist for this fic, add yourself to this form: taglist

ᯓ⟢

When you get back to your on-campus apartment, you went straight into your room to take down the photos you had up of you and Zach, pulling a random old shipping box out from your recycled area to shove things into. 

The drive back to campus was pretty smooth. You blasted Gracie Abrams and Maisie Peters on repeat, and your mind went into autopilot. 

So, Zoey Miller was his girlfriend. That was pretty rich, considering you didn’t even realize when you stopped being his girlfriend. Didn’t even realize a guy as soft as Zach MacLaren had a mean bone in his body to be able to do something like this to you. You went to his house that morning half ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe something came up, maybe he lost his phone, maybe last minute his parents decided for it to be a family-only trip and took his phone from him in the name of “reconnecting with nature” and so he was never given the chance to inform you.

But then his mother said those words, she said that Zoey Miller was Zach’s girlfriend.

You had pulled most of his sweaters that you’d had from your closet, throwing them into the box, by the time there was obnoxiously loud knocking at your front door. You had no plans, no one who was supposed to be coming over, so you paused for a moment to see if maybe your roommate, Bree, was home or not. When you didn’t hear any movement from her side of the apartment and the knocking persisted, you let out a frustrated sigh, walking over to the peephole.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of him. What, he felt bad that he got caught and drove himself all the way back to school to finally have that talk with you in person. Between the few moments it took for you to open the door, your mind raced with all the different cliche breakup lines he could give you.

“I’m sorry, I just wasn’t feeling the spark between us anymore.”

“Let me explain…”

“I didn’t mean for this to be how you found out.”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Yeah, as if his mother confirming that Zoey Miller was Zach’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly what it looked like.

And more and more, until you finally wrapped your hand around the doorknob, unlocking the top latch, and swinging it open to look at him. He towered over you, guilt etched into his face and a small cut on his lip where you could only imagine he had bit over and over as he contemplated how to let you down softly on his ride over.

You peered out into the hallway, half expecting Zoey Miller to be outside, looking at you with those same eyes of remorse, but you only saw Zach’s luggage by your door and redness under his blue eyes.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out in a hushed, annoyed whisper, holding the door open just enough so that he can see you.

“Let me explain,” he pleaded, his voice raspy. So, we were going with the scripted breakup line number 2. 

He paused for a second, but when he saw that you weren’t going to step back to let him inside of your apartment, he locked eyes with you. One thing about Zach MacLaren? He was very good at making intense eye contact. He licked his lips and sighed, as if searching for what else to say with his excuse.

As you waited for his lips to continue moving, you thought of what he could say next.

“...it just sort of happened.”

“...I didn’t mean to fall for her.”

“...can we stay friends?”

But instead, what came out of his mouth was, “I got hit by a car.”

Your annoyed facial expressions dropped into a confused one, squinting at him in reaction to his words. Your chin moved closer to your neck as your head moved backwards in confusion. Your lips curled upwards, not in a smile, but in a bewildered grimace.

“I’m sorry, you got what by a what?” you asked, baffled.

He was staring back at you, so so so serious. He pulled a folded up paper out of his pocket, holding it out in your direction.

“My after visit summary from the emergency room on Friday,” he mumbled.

He got hit by a car on Friday? you thought to yourself, wondering how he was going to use his, “I got hit by a car” as reasoning for taking another girl as his girlfriend to a family ski trip that he had invited you on, first.

“Patient Zachary MacLaren is a 21 year old male who was brought in after a collision of a moving car with his bicycle occurred. At onset, he did lose consciousness for a few minutes, before regaining consciousness before the paramedics arrived. No sprains or broken limbs or joints have been sustained in the incident. Patient has some swelling to the left side of his skull. Tests and examinations are concurrent with a diagnosis of a concussion and anterograde amnesia.”

Anterograde amnesia, you learned that in one of her psychology courses last semester. Short term memory loss.

“Are you telling me you have amnesia?” you asked him, holding the paper up after you’re done reading it.

“Yes—No, had. I had amnesia,” he stuttered out while nodding his head.

“So you don’t have amnesia right now?” you asked to clarify.

He shook his head and rounded his lips in a pucker and put his hands behind his back, swaying a little. “No amnesia right now.”

You blink a few times, still lost on what and how this was connecting to him bringing a different girlfriend on his family ski trip.

“And did this amnesia make you lose your goddamn mind and bring some random girl with you to a ski trip?” you asked, trying to find the connection here.

Though, you do feel really bad he got hit by a freaking car, and then he got amnesia, that sucks. You wished you had been there to help him with that.

“No, no, see, what had happened,” he started to explain, putting his hands out to grab onto your upper arms and crouch a little down to your level so he could stare you in the eyes again. “I thought she was you.”

“Excuse me?” 

He licked his lips, turning his head to the side as if to say, “I know.” He sighed and continued with his story, “After I got hit with the car, she was there.”

“Zoey was there with you when you got hit by this car? Why was Zoey with you?” you questioned.

“She works at the bookstore.”

“The bookstore,” you repeat after him with a nod, trying to keep track of all the different ways this story was branching out. “The one with the book on Battletoads.”

“Well, no,” he shook his head. “I had to get her to order me a book on Battletoads for Idiots because they didn’t have any in stock.” Then, he shook his head again when he realized you two were getting off track. He let go over her, using his hands to motion around and talk. “Point is, I left my credit card.” He points to his side to emphasize leaving his credit card. “She came outside to give it to me, I turned around to look at her,” and he mimicked how he looked at her, peering over his shoulder. “And a car didn’t see me, I didn’t see the car,” he pointed to himself and then down, before making a hitting motion with his palm, “and bam! I go flying onto the pavement.”

You’re just nodding along with his entire story, waiting for him to finally give you that missing puzzle piece that could make it all make sense.

“And then when I woke up, she was there crouching in front of me. My brain was all mushy,” he made circular motions around his head. “And I knew her name was Zoey, and I somehow could remember that I called you Zoey a few times… and I… uh…” he looked more sheepish as he got to this part of the story. “In my moment of anterograde amnesia—that means short term memory loss by the way—”

“I know,” you said, and if this was any other time, you may have laughed at the way he over pronounced “anterograde amnesia” and looked so proud of himself for knowing the term, a small smile on his face.

“—I may have thought she was.. you,” he trailed off as he said this part, looking guilty. “I just… I don’t know how,” he put his hands up and them down in exasperation, practically breathing out his words. “I don’t know how I thought she was you, baby, I don’t. But then you came to my parents’ house, and I saw you drive away, and it all… I knew she wasn’t you.”

You just nod as you process the information. This sounded like some cheaply made romance plot, that one look at you and his amnesia would wear off. There was a lot of information processing that was happening at this point.

You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of footsteps, seeing a group of girls walking through the hallway, some of your various neighbors. They looked over at you and Zach, and you knew how this looked. The serious look on your face, the luggage, the pleading one on his. They probably thought they were watching a breakup between a tutor girl and the college’s soccer star. 

You opened the door wider, not wanting anyone to somehow overhear the conversation. You stepped aside for him. “Come in.”

He smiled, hopeful, and rolled his luggage and walked himself into your apartment.

You two went straight for the kitchen, him just following you as you said nothing back to his explanation. You went straight to the coffee machine, and as you brewed yourself some espresso, Zach went to your fridge, pulling out the creamer he knew was yours and not your roommates, you know, since he didn’t have amnesia anymore.

You stood there in silence for a little while, leaning against the kitchen counter as you sipped your latte, having made one for him after yours.

“So… you thought she was me…” you finally talk, and he’s standing across from you with a guilty nod. “Do we really look alike?”

“No! No! You’re like… a superstar, and she’s… not you,” he said with a nervous laugh, unable to insult Zoey Miller just to bring you up.

And that was fine with you. You didn’t need or want him insulting her. Just wanted to know if you two looked similar enough that he could mix you guys up in an amnesia concussion haze.

“So it was just because her first name is also my middle name?” you questioned.

“I know, it sounds stupid, I don’t… I don’t really know how to explain it.”

You nodded your lips forming a line.

“So… she just… pretended to be me?” you questioned, thinking about how insane that sounded. “For what? Revenge for hitting her in the end with that soccer ball?”

He laughed at your questions, the way you sounded so irritated at not being able to understand Zoey Miller.

You continued with your little rant, “I mean, I heard that girl is anti-romantic, so what? Did she have some secret crush on you or something? Had to strike while I wasn’t around, and you didn’t know any better?”

“She had a crush on Miles, actually,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Kissed him in the pool while I was sleeping and everything.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out an unbelievable laugh.

“And Miles just… let her? Thinking she was you girlfriend? And wait, what about Emily?” you asked, putting the cup down on the counter. Loving Zach was knowing about all of the people he loved, too, which meant knowing his cousin Miles was dating a nice girl named Emily. “Sorry, but your cousin’s an asshole! Cheating on her with the girl he thought was cheating on you while she was pretending to be me!”

Your voice kept raising as you got riled up on his behalf, and he couldn’t help but let a small smile stay on his face because of it.

The more information you got, the more insane this whole story sounded. But he smiled at your reaction, the way your facial features were showing less and less that you were mad at him. He really hoped you weren’t mad at him.

“Apparently, they’re poly.”

“Doesn’t mean you are,” you retort back, walking to where he was to stand next to him.

You let out a deep exhale, leaning your head against his arm as you two stood against the kitchen island. 

“It felt wrong, the entire time,” he said softly, squatting down a little bit so he could lean his head on top of yours as well. “Like I knew deep down she didn’t really like me. Like she didn’t even know me, and that I didn’t really know her. She said she was a computer science major and that made no sense to me, since we met because you were my English tutor. She had all these hobbies I don’t remember you ever liking. Wouldn’t let me hold her hand, spent most of her time with Miles instead of me since they could go out on the slopes and I couldn’t because, ya know, mushy brains,” he sighed. “And then, she found out about Emily and got mad at him. Then, she finally spent the day with me.”

Despite being upset that some other girl went on the MacLaren ski trip instead of you, you couldn’t help but feel bad that Zach spent the entire weekend with an inkling feeling that his girlfriend—or who he thought was his girlfriend—didn’t even like him.

He keeps talking, just expressing how the weekend felt and how things had gone.

“And it was sad coming back, you know?” he sighed. “I mean, I spent all of yesterday thinking I was having so much fun re-getting to know her, feeling like we were finally having a connection, feeling really good about it… just for it all to be a lie.”

You frowned and took your head off of his arm, making him move straight as well.

“You felt like you and Zoey had a connection?” you asked softly.

His face contorted in concern at his misstep.

“Wha—No. No, baby, no,” he moved to turn in front of you, his arms going to hold yours. “It wasn’t real. It’s not real.”

“But a part of you really liked getting to spend time with her,” you point out softly, looking away. “So much so that it was disappointing when you came home and it was… me that’s your girlfriend, and not her.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Zach said softly, shaking his head, trying to lead down closer to you to get you to look at him. “I’m not disappointed that I came home and there was you.”

“But you were disappointed that your weekend with Zoey was built on a fake premise,” you said back. “And not entirely because she lied to you, but because you felt a connection to her.”

“No!”

“Zach.”

“Okay, fine, yes. I admit that I was… feeling something towards her on this trip, but baby, I thought she was my girlfriend.”

“So, you’d date her?” you hated yourself for somehow twisting it the way you were, but a part of you was just hurt that this happened, hurt to know he spent the weekend falling for someone else, regardless of why and how. “In a different world where I don’t exist to you, you’d fall for her. Because you did. This weekend.”

A permanent frown etched into his face at your words.

“But you do exist in this world,” he whispered, pleading. 

“Did you kiss her?”

It’s not fair, you know it’s not fair to be jealous or upset. Zoey practically catfished and scammed and lied and pretended to be someone she wasn’t. But she didn’t pretend to be you in the sense of your personality. Zach said it himself, she sounded so unlike you, with a different major, different personality, different hobbies. And despite that, he liked her. 

“I thought she was you,” he reiterated, saying “yes” to your question without the word itself.

“You thought she was your girlfriend, not that she was me,” you denied, shaking your head and moving from your spot trapped between Zach and the kitchen island. 

The pleading in his eyes could haunt you.

“You didn’t think she was me personally. You just thought you were with her. And you liked being with her, for her personality and her hobbies and just her,” you said softly.

Every part of you was screaming at you to take your words back, to stop yourself from talking. You knew it was irrational to be upset at him for something he had no control over. He had amnesia for crying out loud. But there was no rationalizing this situation. 

There was no rulebook telling you how to react and respond to finding out some girl pretended to be your amnesia patient of a boyfriend’s girlfriend. There was no guide on how to take in and process him openly admitting that while she was so drastically different from you, he was starting to really like her.

“I’m sorry this happened, Zach,” you said softly, your bottom lip wobbling. “It’s not fair, and it really really sucks.”

He just stared at you, tears forming in his eyes as if he knew what you were about to say. His chin wobbled, and it pushed you over the edge, too. A string of tears fell from your own eyes.

“But I’m really hurt right now, and I don’t mean to be upset with you because I know… I know it’s not your fault. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” you admit, wiping your tears on the back of your wrists. 

He steps forward to try and comfort you. You step back.

“But I need time to…” you suck in a breathe and lick your lips as you try to figure out what it was that you needed from him. “I need time to process this all… process that you were starting to fall for someone else.”

“Baby…” he begged you not to do this with one single word.

“Please,” you pleaded back. “Just… please.”

And how could he deny you, the one he loved so much, the one thing you were asking of him right now?

“Okay,” he whispered and nodded, a singular tear falling down his face as he forced himself to listen to you. 

And that look on his face really felt like it could haunt you.

ᯓ⟢

a/n: so i realized i have messed up the movie’s timeline, remembering that it started on valentine’s day, not december LOL, but soccer season for college is august-november for actual competitions and spring time for non-competition training and games… and I’m also from California so while I knew some schools have like “ski week” breaks in february (we always just called it president’s week break), it absolutely skipped my mind that that is a thing LOL. in this story it is a few weeks before holiday break lol.

taglist: @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx

[ineffectualdemon]

Ok this is really interesting because my kid got diagnosed as autistic as a preteen and then I got diagnosed over a year ago

And my husband's family while not diagnosed...a lot of them are likely on the spectrum

This is relevant because when my child was small I had to teach them how to ask for help but also that asking for help and not being able to do things automatically was normal and okay

When they were a baby they were a late talker in part because they would just go get what they needed. It was easier for them. It was also harrowing at times because a toddler climbing furniture to get what they want is a lot

But they would also be frustrated trying to do things and they'd either keep trying until then had a meltdown or throw it away and insist they couldn't do that

As parents we had to explain:

1. Things take time. No one knows how to do anything the first time and everything takes practice. Introducing them to mythbusters and the concept of "failure is useful information" helped a ton here

2. Asking for help is something everyone does and it's okay

3. Say "I need help with [thing] " and then show us if you can't explain in my more detail

For Kiddo it was very much that they felt they should be able to do things perfectly the first go or that if they kept trying they should be able to figure it out. Sometimes it made them angry when someone was able to help because once they committed to doing something they had entered into a pass/fail scenario in their head and getting help was "cheating"

This was not something we instilled in them at ALL

But I do know me and my husband have these tendencies as well but we have managed to smooth them out a bit through the years and because we want to help the other person

So I personally think it's because sometimes when we engage in a Task we decide it's a pass/fail scenario like it's an escape room or something

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[amirasainz]

https://www.tumblr.com/amirasainz/768246287260942336/i-have-a-request-for-lando-norris-x-sisterreader

if you would could you write a part two?

like she really leaned on lando but also ollie and ollie was serious when he could he her bf …. and they get together

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Part 1

Big Brother to the Rescue Part 2

The following months were a whirlwind for Yn. Since that difficult weekend at the Grand Prix, Lando had made it his mission to bring her along to as many races as possible. At first, she’d been hesitant, worried about being a distraction. But Lando insisted.

“Come on, Yn,” he said one evening over dinner. “I drive better when I know you’re there. You’re like my good luck charm.”

Yn snorted. “You can’t use me as an excuse for a bad weekend, you know.”

“Never,” Lando said with a grin. “So, what do you say? Come to the next one?”

She agreed, and soon, race weekends became a regular part of her life again.

---

At first, Lando kept a close eye on her. He’d constantly check in—asking if she needed anything, cracking jokes to make her laugh, and making sure she wasn’t overthinking about her ex. But as the months passed, Yn’s laughter returned, and her smile became brighter.

Lando couldn’t help but notice the change. She seemed genuinely happy again, which filled him with relief. But something gnawed at him. Why?

---

It was during a particularly busy race weekend when Lando finally got his answer. The McLaren garage was bustling with engineers, mechanics, and team members preparing the cars for qualifying. Lando had just finished a debrief and decided to swing by the garage to check on Yn.

As he stepped inside, he froze.

There she was, standing off to the side with Ollie.

They were deep in conversation, their faces lit up with wide smiles. Yn’s laugh echoed softly over the hum of activity, and Lando narrowed his eyes. Why is he making her laugh like that?

Then he saw it.

Ollie leaned in, saying something that made Yn blush and look down shyly. And before she could tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Ollie gently did it for her.

Lando’s jaw tightened.

Oh no, no, no.

He started striding toward them, fully prepared to put an end to whatever this was. But before he could take more than a few steps, a hand caught his arm.

It was Oscar.

“Where are you going?” Oscar asked, his tone calm but firm.

“To remind Ollie that he’s not allowed to flirt with my sister,” Lando said through gritted teeth.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why?” Lando repeated incredulously. “Because she’s my little sister. That’s why.”

Oscar glanced over at Yn and Ollie. They were still talking, completely unaware of Lando’s growing frustration. Yn laughed again, her eyes sparkling in a way Lando hadn’t seen in months.

“Look at her,” Oscar said, nodding toward them.

“I am,” Lando snapped. “That’s the problem.”

“No, that’s the solution,” Oscar replied. “She’s smiling again, Lando. She’s happy.”

Lando hesitated.

Oscar continued, his voice softer now. “You’ve been worried about her for months, and now she’s back to being herself. Don’t ruin that because you’re being overprotective.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He looked at Yn again—really looked at her. She was radiant, her cheeks flushed from laughter as she teased Ollie about something.

And Ollie...

Lando hated to admit it, but Ollie looked at Yn with genuine affection. The way he leaned toward her, hanging on her every word, and the tenderness in his gaze—it wasn’t just flirting.

It was something more.

Oscar gave Lando a pat on the back. “Think about it,” he said before walking away.

Lando stood there for a moment, torn. His instincts screamed at him to protect Yn, to pull her away and remind Ollie who she was. But Oscar’s words lingered in his mind.

She’s smiling again.

With a heavy sigh, Lando took a step back. He turned and walked out of the garage, leaving Yn and Ollie to their moment.

---

Later that evening, Yn found Lando sitting outside the hospitality area, staring at the sky.

“Hey,” she said, sitting beside him.

“Hey,” he replied.

She nudged him with her elbow. “You okay?”

Lando glanced at her, noticing the contentment in her expression. “Yeah. Are you?”

Yn smiled softly. “I am.”

They sat in silence for a while before Yn spoke again. “Thanks for bringing me to all these races. I needed this.”

“You needed more than that,” Lando said, his voice teasing but warm.

Yn tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Lando said quickly, shaking his head. “Just...I’m glad you’re happy.”

She studied him for a moment, then leaned her head on his shoulder. “I have the best brother in the world, you know that?”

“Obviously,” Lando replied with a grin.

They stayed like that for a while, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background. And though Lando still had his reservations about Ollie, he decided he could live with it.

As long as Yn was smiling, that was all that mattered.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Can't sleep, and this post from @v88sy inspired me.

****

Tommy had never been a deep sleeper, and his line of work made it even worse. He was more than used to the klaxon pulling him from sleep, signaling that they had a call. But that didn't prepare him for the pounding on his front door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Tommy looked at his phone. 12:46.

Silence. Then more pounding.

"Wake up Tommy, piece of—"

Tommy pulled open the door. "Hey Buck."

"Don't you 'hey Buck' me," came the angry response. " I'm not Buck to you. 'm Ev-n."

Oh. He was drunk.

"Okay, you're right. Hi Evan."

"You ruin-d it, T'mmy." Buck slurred, swaying slightly. "You blew us up and It's not fair."

"I'm so sorry, Evan."

"I went on some dates."

"Oh yeah?"

"Hated 'em."

"You did?"

"They all sucked," Buck mumbled.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Not like that," Buck slurred, waving his hand dismissively. "They were stupid and boring."

"Really? All of them?"

"They weren't you."

"You don't want me, Evan," Tommy said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Why do you get to decide that?" Buck's voice rose with frustration. "I'm a grown man. Why do you get to tell me what I need and what I feel?"

"Evan, I'm not—" Tommy tried to interject.

"Why don't you want me?" Buck's voice cracked as he started to cry.

"Evan, that's not—" Tommy reached out instinctively but stopped himself.

"I went on a date tonight," Buck announced, his words still slurred but clearer now.

"I kinda figured," Tommy replied softly.

"He was handsome and charming." Tommy flinched at Buck's words. Buck's voice dropped to almost a whisper, "And it was awful. All I did was talk about you the whole time."

"Evan—" Tommy began gently, but Buck cut him off.

"He got frustrated. Said I was wasting his time," Buck's voice was hollow. He paused, swaying slightly. "And I was. There's no one after you, Tommy. So if you won't have me that's fine, but you're still my last. I'm giving up on love."

"You don't mean that," Tommy protested.

"Don't tell me what I mean," Buck's voice rose sharply before breaking into louder sobs. "I love you, and you ruined me for everyone else. You showed me what the world could be, and then you ripped it away." His next words came out in a rush, raw with emotion. "I am so mad at you, Tommy. But I still want you. I wanna be your boyfriend."

"You do?" Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Have you even been listening, dumbass? I'm yours. I will always be yours whether you want me or not."

"We need to talk," Tommy said carefully.

"Yeah, no shit," Buck retorted, but there was less bite to his words now.

"How about we get you inside and sober you up, and then we'll talk. Really talk."

"You mean it?" Buck asked, vulnerability creeping back into his voice.

"I do."

"Wait," Tommy reached out and wiped a stray tear off Buck's cheek. "You didn't drive here, did you?"

"Of course not. I'm clearly drunk off my ass."

"Fair enough."

"I walked. It was like 3 miles. Helped me get good and mad."

"You walked?" Tommy's voice rose with concern.

"I had to get to you and my fingers couldn't figure out how to order an Uber."

"Oh sweetheart," Tommy said softly.

"You called me sweetheart!" Buck's voice brightened despite his tears.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"You loooove me," Buck sang out, swaying slightly.

"Evan, let's go inside," Tommy said, fighting back a smile.

"Whatever you say, boyfriend," Buck replied with drunk confidence.

Tommy shook his head fondly as he guided Buck inside. They were still broken, and it was going to take a lot of work to repair them, but Tommy knew now that they were both willing to fight for it.

[pbaz7]

It’ll Always Be Her Chapter 5

AN: I’m trying to write consistent enough so I can publish at least once a day. Can you guys leave live reactions and comments so I know what people like/don’t like and which direction I should go!

TW: Verbal abuse, mention of death

Word Count: 3.3k

The hum of conversation filled the athletic lunchroom as different teams gathered around tables, laughing and sharing stories. Paige sat with KK and Ice, her tray of food untouched. Her gaze was distant, her thoughts completely occupied.

KK nudged Ice with a smirk. The two of them trying to figure out who’s going to break the ice with the senior. KK decides to speak, “Alright, Paige, spill it. What was up with you and Azzi the other night? The tension was crazy.”

Ice leaned in, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Yeah,it was impossible not to notice. Your eyes were glued to her all night.”

Paige’s cheeks flushed as she looked down at her tray. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” KK chimed in, laughing. “You were raking her over like she was the last piece of dessert. And don’t even get me started on how you two just happened to disappear together.”

“And when you came back?” Ice added, raising an eyebrow. “Both of you looked flustered. Something definitely went down.”

Paige groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “You guys are impossible.”

KK grinned, leaning forward. “We’re just saying. It’s obvious there’s something there. So, what’s the deal?”

Paige sighed, her hands dropping to the table. “Look, what happened that night stays between me and Azzi. That’s all you’re getting.”

KK crossed her arms, giving Paige a mock glare. “Girl boo, keep your secrets. But you’re not fooling anyone. I know something happened”

For a moment, Paige stayed quiet. Then her expression softened, her voice dropping. “I really like her,” she admitted feeling vulnerable.

KK’s teasing demeanor shifted to curiosity. “Like, really like her?”

Paige hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah... maybe even something more.” Her eyes grew distant as her thoughts drifted to Azzi, her best friend for years. Memories flooded in—late-night talks, shared victories, moments where Azzi’s laughter had been the only thing to pull her out of a funk. It all swirled together, making her chest ache in the best way.

KK and Ice exchanged a look, their teasing forgotten.

“Wow,” Ice said softly. “That’s serious. So why haven’t you made a move?”

Paige sighed again, leaning back. “Azzi and I talked about it. We’re waiting until I can break things off with Jess. She’ll be back soon, and I owe her that conversation first.”

KK frowned. “That’s... responsible, I guess. But it sounds rough.”

“You have no idea,” Paige said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Azzi’s intoxicating. When we’re together, it’s like nothing else matters. But I want to do this right. Azzi deserves it”

Ice reached over, squeezing Paige’s arm, surprisingly being serious for once. “You’re doing the right thing. It won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it.”

KK nodded. “Yeah. We’re here for you, P Boogers. And honestly? We’re rooting for you and Azzi. After all I need my parents together”

Paige chuckles slightly and smiles, her heart feeling a little lighter. “Thanks, guys. I just hope I don’t lose my mind in the meantime.”

KK chuckled. “You got this. But hey, if you ever need to vent, we’re all ears.”

…

The rhythmic thud of the basketball echoed through the empty gym as Paige sprinted from one end of the court to the other, her breathing heavy and her shirt clinging to her from sweat. Each shot she took landed clean, the ball swishing through the net. She wasn’t keeping score—she was too lost in her own head. Her emotions were a storm: guilt over Jess, frustration with herself, and that overwhelming pull toward Azzi that she could no longer ignore.

Her muscles burned, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The gym was the only place where she could let everything out without saying a word.

Azzi stepped through the gym doors quietly, her sharp eyes immediately spotting the familiar figure of Paige moving across the court. She lingered for a moment, leaning against the doorframe, watching Paige in her element. The 6'1 blonde was a force, her movements fluid, her focus intense.

Azzi smirked. There was something captivating about Paige when she was like this, pouring all her energy into the game. After a few moments of quiet admiration, Azzi decided to approach, her footsteps light as she sauntered across the gym floor. “You trying to make the hoop fall in love with you too?

Paige startled slightly, not fully processing what the younger girl said, stops mid-dribble throwing Azzi a half-smile. “Just needed to work some things out.” She bounced the ball once more before tucking it into her arm..

Azzi smirked, stepping closer. “Seems like you’ve been doing a lot of that lately.”

Paige shrugged, her eyes dropping to the ball in her hands. “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s the only thing that works.”

Azzi’s eyes softened as she reached out, gently taking the ball from Paige and setting it aside. “Or maybe you just need a better distraction.”

Paige huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You offering?”

“Always,” Azzi said, her voice playful but her expression serious. She took another step closer, her hand reaching out to brush against Paige’s. Without hesitation, she intertwined their fingers, giving Paige’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The gesture was simple but grounding, and Paige felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. She glanced down at their joined hands, her heart skipping a beat.

Azzi tilted her head, her voice softer now. “You’ve got this look on your face, like the world’s sitting on your shoulders. What’s going on, Paige?”

Paige hesitated, her thumb unconsciously brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. “It’s...complicated.”

Azzi smiled gently. “When isn’t it?” She leaned in slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Paige’s cheek—the same spot she has been gravitating towards lately when she wanted to offer comfort without pushing too far. “Take your time. I’m here.”

Paige closed her eyes briefly, the warmth of Azzi’s kiss lingering. “You make it sound so easy.”

Azzi chuckled. “That’s because you make everything else look so hard.” She squeezed Paige’s hand again, her thumb now drawing small circles against Paige’s skin. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now, you know.”

Paige let out a shaky breath, her gaze meeting Azzi’s. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” Azzi said, her smirk returning. “But seriously, Paige. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, the weight of Azzi’s words settling in her chest. “Thanks, Az,” she said softly.

Azzi smiled, leaning in just a bit closer. “Anytime, P.”

For a while, they stood there, the only sound the faint creak of the gym floor beneath their feet. Azzi finally broke the silence, her tone lighter. “You know, as much as I love seeing you like this—sweaty and intense—you really should take a break. Recharge that beautiful brain of yours.”

Paige chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Nope,” Azzi said, grinning. “But that’s why you love me.”

Paige’s breath hitched slightly, but before she could respond, Azzi gave her hand one last squeeze and pulled away. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. I can tell you’re not done. Meet me later?”

Paige nodded, her voice quiet. “Yeah. Like always.”

Azzi winked before turning to leave, her presence lingering even after she disappeared through the gym doors. Paige stared after her, her hand still warm where Azzi’s fingers had been. She knew she wasn’t ready to say everything yet, but she also knew one thing for sure—she didn’t want to let Azzi go.

…

After spending a few more hours in the gym Paige opened the door to her room, expecting a quick stop before heading to Azzi’s, but the moment the light flicked on, her stomach dropped. Jess was sitting on Paige’s bed, her shoulders hunched and her eyes red from crying.

Paige froze for a moment, a knot forming in her throat. The sight was unexpected. “Jess?” Paige asked softly, trying to mask her discomfort.

Jess looked up at her, her gaze unfocused, but when she saw Paige, she stood up quickly. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know where else to go. I—I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Paige’s heart clenched, but she kept her voice calm. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Jess’s face crumpled again as she took a breath, barely able to hold it together. “My dad… he passed away,” she whispered. “I had to take a break before the funeral, and I just—everything’s falling apart, Paige. I don’t know who else to turn to. I really need you right now.”

Paige felt the weight of the words settle in her chest. She wanted to be there for Jess, truly, but at the same time, everything inside her screamed that she couldn't keep pretending anymore. She’d been doing that for months now, and the reality of what she’d been hiding, the feelings she’d been trying to push aside, were too strong to ignore.

“Jess, I’m so sorry,” Paige said, her voice soft, though the words felt foreign in her mouth. “But I don’t think that’s the best idea… I think we should break up.”

Jess blinked, her face going from shocked disbelief to something darker, a mixture of anger and pain. “You’re kidding, right?” she spat, standing up from the bed, pacing. “You’re doing this now? After everything?” Her voice trembled, but it didn’t take long for the hurt to turn into sharp, biting fury.

“I just—” Paige started, but Jess cut her off, her voice rising.

“You’re fucking heartless, you know that?” Jess’s words sliced through the room, and Paige flinched at the venom in her tone. “I come to you in my worst moment, and you just walk away?” Jess’s eyes were wild with rage now, the tears mixing with her anger. “I’m here grieving, and you’re just dumping me? You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know how you’ve been with her? How you’ve been fucking her behind my back?”

Paige’s stomach churned. She never expected the words to sting this much even if they weren’t true, but Jess wasn’t done yet.

“You think I don’t see how you look at her?” Jess continued, stepping forward, her finger jabbing toward Paige in accusation. “You don’t even care about me, do you? You’re just some selfish bitch who thinks she can do whatever the hell she wants and leave me hanging when I need you most!”

Paige opened her mouth to speak, to explain herself, but Jess wasn’t finished.

“Don’t fucking act like you’re the ‘good person’ here,” Jess sneered. “You’re not. You’re just a slut who can’t keep her hands off her best friend. God, I knew I was always second choice to her, but this? You’ve been making excuses for months. You’re such a fucking coward, Paige. You’ve been playing me this whole time.”

Jess’s words hit harder than anything Paige had expected. She stood there, frozen, feeling the sting of each insult. But despite the tears welling up in her eyes, she didn’t fight back. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there stoically, taking it, letting Jess’s words sink in.

“You think you’re better than me, but you’re just as fucked up as the rest of us,” Jess spat, her chest heaving as she took in a breath. “Maybe worse. You’re a fucking liar, Paige. Always have been. Always will be.”

The room fell into an unbearable silence, except for the sound of Jess’s heavy breathing. Her face was twisted in a mix of grief and disgust, and Paige could barely look at her. She wanted to say something—anything—to make this stop, but all she could do was stand there, feeling the weight of what felt like the world on her shoulders.

Finally, Jess’s voice broke, though it was laced with rage. “You know what? Fine. You’re done with me. I get it. But don’t you dare pretend like you’re some fucking angel when you’re just as much of a mess as I am. Go to her. Go be with your precious little Azzi. I hope she’s worth it.”

Jess stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The sound of the door banging against the frame echoed through Paige’s mind like a hammer.

Paige stood there for a moment, her chest tightening, her heart pounding. The silence in the room was deafening. And then, as if on cue, the tears came.

They started slow at first, the first tear falling down her cheek like a steady drip. But once the dam broke, they came in a flood, her entire body shaking as she collapsed onto the bed.

She just wanted it to stop.

She buried her face in her hands, her body trembling as the weight of everything she’d been holding in finally spilled out. She had waited so long to try and do the right thing. She’d tried to be a good person for Jess, to make things work, she basically forced herself to be with Jess so she wouldn’t be embarrassed but it was never right. Not in the way she felt for Azzi. She had put herself in this impossible position, and now, after everything, she was being told how awful she was for trying to make things right.

Her breath hitched, and the sobs came harder. She slid down onto the bed, curling into herself, trying to catch her breath. Her head spun, and she just wished Azzi was here. She wanted to feel Azzi’s warmth, her gentle touch, something to remind her that she wasn’t as terrible as Jess had made her feel.

…

Azzi paced around her dorm room, glancing at the clock. Paige should’ve been here by now, she had texted Azzi that she was leaving the gym a while ago. Her stomach twisted, a strange unease settling in. She’d tried calling, but Paige didn’t pick up. A flash of worry crept up on her. After a few moments of hesitation, Azzi grabbed her phone and decided to checked Paige’s location—her friend was just a few doors down in her suite.

Something wasn’t right.

Azzi threw on her jacket and grabbed her things. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. As she started walking toward the door, her phone buzzed. It was Ice.

Azzi’s pulse spiked.

"Hey," Ice’s voice came through the phone, a little strained. "You need to come over. Paige... Paige has been crying. I don’t know what happened, but she won’t talk to me about it."

Azzi didn’t wait for another word. She practically ran out the door, not even bothering to grab her keys as she bolted for Paige’s suite.

When she arrived, Ice was standing by the door, giving her a strained smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "She’s in there," Ice said, stepping aside to let Azzi in. "I don’t know what’s going on, but... just be gentle with her, okay? She needs you Azzi."

Azzi nodded, her chest tight as she made her way to Paige’s room. The door was cracked open, and as she stepped inside, the soft glow of the neon lights illuminated the chaos of Paige’s room. Paige was curled up on her bed, her face streaked with tears. Her eyes were swollen and red, and her expression was a mix of exhaustion and devastation. The sight alone was enough to break Azzi’s heart into a thousand pieces.

"Paige," Azzi whispered, her voice cracking. She moved to the side of the bed, kneeling down beside the blonde, her heart shattering even more when Paige didn’t even look up at her. "Baby, what’s wrong?" Azzi whispered again, slipping into a familiar tone as she reached out to gently touch her friend’s cheek.

Paige didn’t answer immediately. She just sniffled, her body trembling as she fought to hold herself together. Azzi noticed this and, without hesitation, slipped under the blankets next to her. She eased herself into a comfortable position, pulling Paige gently against her chest. She wrapped her arms around the older girl and traced small hearts on her back with her fingers, just trying to offer comfort, to let Paige know she was there.

It didn’t take long for Paige to begin speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "Jess... Jess came to my room today," she began, her words broken. "Her dad... he passed away. And she was asking me to go with her for the funeral. But I... I couldn’t. I can’t be with her anymore, Azzi. I—" Paige hiccupped on a sob, her voice cracking. "She just... she called me horrible names. Told me I was a player basically, that I’ve been lying to her, that I’m a terrible person. And the worst part is... I kind of believe her. Pretending to like her was selfish."

Azzi’s jaw clenched as she listened. Her heart ached at hearing Paige speak so softly about something so painful. The thought of Jess saying those things to her, especially in such a vulnerable moment, made Azzi furious. She could feel the anger building in her chest, and if she ever saw Jess again, she’d be sure to make her know just how wrong she was.

But that wasn’t her priority now.

Azzi tightened her grip on Paige, lifting her chin to make their eyes meet. "Paige, stop. You are not a bad person. You never have been. It’s okay to put yourself first. And you’re not a player for having feelings for someone else. You deserve to be happy, to be with someone who makes you feel good—who makes you feel safe."

Paige’s lip quivered, and her eyes welled up again. "I don’t know anymore, Azzi. I just feel... I don’t know who I am."

"Yes, you do," Azzi reassured, brushing a stray strand of blonde hair away from Paige’s face. "You’re Paige. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re brave. You’ve done everything you can for Jess because you care, but this? This is about you now. You deserve to be loved the way you’ve always dreamed of. And I can’t sit by and let you think you’re anything less than incredible."

After a while Paige finally let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly, the tension beginning to ease from her shoulders. Azzi’s words settled in her chest, a warmth spreading through her as she realized just how much she needed this—needed Azzi.

"I’m so sorry, Azzi. Thank you for dealing with me." Paige whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Azzi returned the smile, brushing her lips against Paige’s forehead in a soft kiss. "I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ll always be here for you."

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost foreign to her after the storm of tears. "You’re such a tease," she murmured, her voice lightening.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk playful. "What? I’m just showing you some love."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "Yeah, love, huh? I think you’re a little too comfortable with that, Azzi."

Azzi grinned. "Maybe I just can’t resist you."

Paige’s smile widened, her gaze softening as she leaned in slightly, her voice low and teasing. "Well, you’ll just have to try harder, then."

Azzi’s lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming.

They spent the rest of the evening together, the weight of the world slowly lifting from Paige’s shoulders as they joked, flirted, and just spent time in each other’s company. Eventually, they settled in to watch a movie. Paige’s head rested against Azzi’s shoulder as the movie played, but it wasn’t long before she drifted off, a peaceful smile on her face. Azzi kissed her cheek gently, watching her sleep with a tenderness that filled her chest.

The movie continued playing, forgotten in the background, but neither of them cared. Paige was safe, and Azzi was right where she belonged—by her side.

[chancloud8]

Keep Playing

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Summary: you tease chan while he plays the piano. he returns te favor, nearly destroying his piano in the process.

Tags: nsfw, smut, oral (m), a little touch denial, fingering, cumshot, piano s3x, just pure smut.

It started out innocent, with Chan playing random songs on his piano to help you relax. 

You've always enjoyed watching him play. You could sit there for hours, listening to the melody and watching his fingers move over the keys as he too got cought up in the music. When he played you could just feel the stress leaving your body, your muscles would relax and your eyes would automatically close. 

This time however. This time you're on your knees. 

'What are you doing?' Chan asks, his head cocked to the side and his eyebrows raised as he watches you settle on the floor between his legs. 

He stops playing and you pout up at him, patting his thighs with the palms of your hands. 

'Keep playing, babe,' you instruct him. 'Don't mind me. Just pretend I'm not here.' 

He raises his eyebrows at you as if to say 'Yeah sure, like I can do that?!' 

'You can,' you say as you slowly let your fingers wander over his thighs and towards the tied strings of his sweatpants. 'Please play for me baby.' 

Chan opens his mouth to protest, but when you stroke him over the fabric of his pants he closes his eyes in defeat and moves his fingers towards the keys of the piano again. Music starts to fill the room again and you smile in victory, moving your other hand upwards as well so you can grab the waistband of his sweatpants and tug a little. 

'Keep playing, but lift your hips,' you tell Chan, looking up at him through your lashes.

Chan swallows and does as you say, allowing you to slide his pants down. As instructed he keeps playing, but when you press your lips to the inside of his thighs, he messes up a few keys.

You giggle and push his thighs open further, watching goosebumps appear on his skin when you crawl even closer between his legs and kiss a trial towards the place on his leg where his boxers end.

'Y/N,' Chan whines when you pull at the fabric with your teeth before once again moving your hand up to trace the outline of his cock teasingly.

'Yes, my love?'

'Please don't make me keep playing, I want to touch you.'

You squeeze Chan's thighs and lift your head to look at him. 

'If you touch me, you can't play for me and if you don't play..' you nip at his thigh with your teeth. 'You won't get my mouth where you want it.' 

Chan groans and throws his head back in frustration, but his fingers keep moving on the keys, playing one of your favorite songs. He barely wavers when you press a kiss on his growing bulge so you decide to go a step further and close your mouth over his length, wetting the fabric of his boxers. 

'Fuck,' Chan mutters, his fingers slipping off the keys. 

You chuckle and wait till he starts playing again to tug at his boxers till it rips. Chan lifts his hips again and you easily slip the fabric off, freeing his long hard cock. There's a drop of pre cum on the tip and you happily lean forward to lick it off. 

Chan whimpers and messes up the melody again. You briefly wonder what the neighbours will think of the melody going up and down from good to bad, because they could definitely hear him play. 

'Y/N, please,' Chan pants. 'Please.' 

You know he wants to stop playing to touch you, to make you pay for teasing him like this, but you're not done with him yet. He'll get you back no matter what you do and you're already looking forward to it. 

'All in time babe,' you whisper. 'Just be good for me and I'll be good for you.'

He groans again and switches to a different melody, one you don't recognize, but it sounds pretty non the less. You don't give Chan any warning before closing your mouth around the tip of his cock, your tongue pressing against the underside as you softly suck and lick up another drop of pre cum.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Chan mutters out, his body collapses forward and his fingers smash against the keys.

You wait till he finds the right notes again and gently wrap your fingers around the base of his cock while your tongue swirls around the tip. Even more salty liquid coats your tongue and you hum in delight at the taste. He might complain, but he sure as hell loves what you're doing.

'This is so unfair,' Chan moans, bucking his hips.

You ignore him and take his cock deeper in your mouth, bobbing your head as you messily suck and move your tongue up and down to slowly drive him insane.

The song Chan was playing ends abruptly and his hands find your hair, pulling hard. You let go of him with a wet 'pop' sound and look up through your eyelashes.

'What's the matter babe,' you tease, licking your lips. 'I thought you understood the rules.'

'Screw the rules,' Chan growls. 'If I have to suffer, you can at least take off your clothes.'

Chan's eyes are wild, his pupils so dilated that the black nearly swallows the brown. It's incredibly hot and you fight the urge to just stop this game and jump your very sexy boyfriend.

'Okay,' you nod and smile sweetly at him, bringing your hands up to cover his.

Chan's grip relaxes and he moves forward to get closer to you.

'Nuh-uh,' you shake your head. 'I didn't mean you could touch me. You're going to keep playing and I'm going to take off my clothes.'

Chan glares at you and you just know he's debating whether to give you your fun or if he'll take over control.

'You like my mouth on you, right?' You wink,  caressing his muscled chest with your hands. 'If you keep playing for me, I'll give you everything you want.'

'I already have you,' Chan counters. 'I'll play for a little while longer, but then you're mine.'

'I'm yours,' you grin, ignoring what he actually means.

Chan rolls his eyes and lets go of your hair so he can place his hands on the piano keys again. He starts playing the same song as before, his eyes locked on yours.

You bite your lips and try to look as sexy as possible as you pull your soft cotton dress over your head.

Chan makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a mixture between a groan and a whine when he sees what you wear underneath.

Nothing but a black lace thong.

His eyes rake over your chest hungrily and his fingers twitch over the keys of the piano. He keeps playing though.

'Good,' you praise, leaning down again to reward him with a kiss on the inside of his thigh.

Chan's cock twitches against his stomach and you take it in your hands, slowly stroking the soft skin and leaning forward to lick a thick stripe all the way from the base to the tip.

'Do. Not. Tease. Me,' Chan let's out between pants.

You nod and take him in your mouth, enjoying the heavy feel of him against your tongue. He's warm, hard as a rock and the tip is soaked with pre-cum again. You circle your tongue around to tip to lick it up before taking him deeper.

Chan's hips buck forward at their own account and his pants get louder, but to his credit he keeps playing this time. 

You increase your rhythm and move your hand along with your mouth, coaxing more sounds out of Chan's throat. His leg tenses under your free hand and his hips buck forward again, more powerful than before, the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat. You moan around him, knowing the vibration of the sound will make it feel even better for him.

'Aarghh,' Chan groans. 'Y/N, fuck.' 

Drool leakes from the corner of your mouth, but you don't care. This is about Chan, about his pleasure. 

'If you don't stop, I'll--' Chan starts to say, but you suck harder and twirl your tongue just the way he likes it to silence him. 

The music stops with a loud clunk of Chan's hands coming down so hard on the keys, that it hurts your ears. You look up from under your eyelashes to see the exposed skin of Chan's throat as he tilts his head backwards, his mouth agape in pleasure. 

It only takes one more twirl of your tongue and then he's coming in your mouth. Hot, sticky and salty. You swallow every drop as you caress Chan's thighs with your hands before letting go of him. 

'Now wasn't that fun,' you grin up at him, only to be met with a nearly feral looking Chan. 

The veins in his neck are clearly visible and he has this look in his eyes that makes you clench your thighs together. 

Uh. Oh. 

You don't get a chance to tease him some more as he pulls you up from under the piano by your hair. It doesn't hurt at all, all it does is makes heat pool in your belly. 

His lips are on yours then, hard and demanding while his hands roam your naked skin. You gasp when he lifts you up and his tongue wastes no time invading your mouth. The both of you groan and you climb into Chan's lap, wrapping your legs around his waist to get as close to him as you can. 

Chan's hands grab onto your naked ass, massaging the flesh as he kisses you like he's starving. It's messy and wet, but you don't mind at all, giving just as much back as he gives you, meeting his tongue for every stroke.

Without warning Chan stands up, bringing you up with him and the piano bench clatters to the floor at his sudden movement. You let out a squeal and pull back from his mouth to say something, but Chan won't let you, chasing your mouth and capturing your lips once more. 

Chan's hands move to your hips and you yelp into his mouth when your ass and back touch something cold and smooth. Goosebumps erupt all over your body. Did he just put you down onto his beloved piano? You get no time to think about it when Chan's fingers hook underneath the fabric of your thong and rip it from your body like he's the hulk.

You want to giggle, but once again Chan gives you no time to respond, licking into your mouth as his hands are everywhere. On your thighs, your hips, your breasts. He explores every inch of your skin with his big warm hands until you're a quivering mess and he hasn't even touched you where you most want it yet. 

'Chan,' you moan when he lets go of your lips to attach his mouth to your neck. 'Chan, please.'

Chan just hums and leaves a trial of open mouthed kisses from your neck to your breasts. He trials his tongue around your right nipple and you arch your back, wanting more, needing more. 

'Chan,' you whine, your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders. 'Please, more.' 

You know you probably deserve his teasing after what you just did to him, but you also know that he loves it when you beg for him. 

'Tell me what you want baby,' Chan says against your skin, his breath tickling against the wet spot he left behind. 

Everything. You want it all, anything that he can give you. 

'I need your words baby,' Chan urges, scraping his teeth over your sensitive nipple. 

‘I- anything, please, just-’ you breathe out, tangling your fingers in the black strands of his hair. ‘I want- I need-, fuck.’

Chan chuckles and moves his mouth up to your neck again, licking and nibbling as he goes. 'I'm definitely planning on fucking you, don't worry.' 

You groan and pull on his hair, lifting his head up from your neck so you can look at him. It takes everything inside of you to take a deep breath and lift the lusty haze from your brain long enough to tell him exactly what you want. 

'I want you to touch me, I want your fingers inside of me and I want you to fuck me against your precious piano,' you say, your breath quickening with each word until you're nearly panting. 

Chan bites his lip and lets his eyes wander over every inch of your naked body. 

'You're so goddamn beautiful,' he whispers. 'How did I get so lucky?' 

You let out a whine and reach out for him. 'If you don't hurry up, I'm not sure how lucky you-' 

Chan doesn't let you finish. His soft lips are on yours once more and you sigh in relief, arching into him as he kisses you. His hands wander from your breasts, to your sides and finally to your legs. He pries your thighs open further and your heart rate spikes in anticipation, but then he pulls back again. 

‘Noooo,’ you whine. 

Chan chuckles and you instantly know it’s payback.

‘Look at you all wet and shiny, just for me,’ he says, slowly inching his fingers closer to your cunt. 

When his finger finally slides through your wet folds you moan in relief at the feeling. Chan chuckles again and moves forward to kiss your neck, his tongue slipping out to leave a wet stripe on your collarbone while he collects your juices with his fingers, moving up and down in a deliciously slow rhythm. 

‘More,’ you beg him. ‘Please.’ 

Your body jolts when he finds your clit, bumping it with his knuckle before repeating the same movement as before. He does it again and again until you’re a quivering mess, moaning his name and clawing at his back. 

‘More, Chan, please,’ you moan, grabbing onto his arm with one hand to try and move his hand. ‘I need you.’

Chan shushes you and slips his finger inside at the same time as he kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You gasp and your fingers fly to his hair again to steady yourself. He picks up the rhythm, flicking his thumb against your clit every time he plunges his finger inside.

Your body feels hot all over and your vision gets blurry when Chan crooks his finger in just the right way. 

‘Come for me, baby,’ Chan whispers against your breast before latching onto your nipple. 

And you do. Blackness fills your vision for a moment as your body goes taut before relaxing. 

‘Fuck,’ you whisper, feeling slightly drunk on pleasure. 

‘So beautiful,’ Chan grunts, moving you a little on the piano to get better access to you before plunging into you with one hard thrust, no warning whatsoever.

You let out a strangled moan, still sensitive from your orgasm and your eyes roll back into your head as your body tingles with pleasure. You wrap your legs around Chan’s waist for a better angle and the both of you groan when his long length pounds even deeper. 

‘Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,’ Chan pants, his hands on your hips to keep you steady. ‘So wet, so tight, so perfect for me.’ 

You capture his lips in a bruising kiss. It’s messy and wet, but it makes you feel even closer to him. Pleasure builds in your core deliciously and you pull back from his mouth.

‘I-I’m close,’ you moan, throwing your head back and giving Chan access to your neck instead.

His lips latch onto your pulse point immediately, sucking and nibbling at the skin. 

‘Me too, baby girl. Let it go.’

He pumps into you even harder, the piano creeks dangerously below your body but you give it no mind. He could break the damned thing as long as he wouldn’t stop fucking into you. 

‘Aaarghh,’ you cry out as overwhelming pleasure electrocutes your body. Your legs shake violently as Chan thrust into you once, twice more before coming deep inside you with a loud sexy as hell grunt.

You hold Chan close as you both come down from your high. Your fingers lazily trail his muscles as your eyes grow heavy. You always get sleepy after an orgasmn, and there's nothing you want more now than to curl up in bed under a pile of blankets and cuddle till you fall asleep.

'Carry me to bed?' you ask Chan, kissing his shoulder.

Chan slowly moves, still burried inside you. He presses his lips against your nose, your brow and then your lips, a little ritual he always does after the two of you have sex.

'Anything for you, love.'

*************

a/n: uhhh this was my first time writing y/n and m/f smut so i hope it's any good haha. please let me know your thoughts and be kind <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket

[cerealforkart]

Well, if you're really curious, I do have a couple thoughts about my imaginary anime adaptation of this podcast!

Here's some ideas I had:

*Anime timeline is obviously different from podcast timeline, the anime dawdles in several filler arcs while the podcast got ahead (which does not make sense because you would be able to get at least a couple episodes of anime out of every episode of podcast, but leave me alone it's not real).

*The ski lodge arc takes place very early in the season, I’m thinking after Scary Movie 2 the teens don't immediately free Willy (lmao) and go to the Forgotten Realms, in between they play around in the monster of the week vibe, going on missions for D.A.D.D.I.E.S. and the ski lodge arc is one of these adventures

*Mae Hailes sends the teens on a mission to wherever the nearest ski location is to San Dimas California to deal with an incursion

*When they arrive, they meet the real world Chris, who also happens to be there to ski. Lincoln is very excited to meet his simulation spouse in the real world, and the two quickly connect and begin to get close

*Scary is obviously not happy with this development, but her jealousy isn’t strictly romantic, it’s like when Erica was around, Scary’s threatened by an outsider that her friend might like better than her

*This arc is gothcleats bait though, so the romantic angle is definitely prominent

*Normal, ever the #1 gothcleats shipper is pushing as hard as he can for the idea of Scary having a crush (which she always denies) and is really excited by the situation, he firmly plants himself in Scary’s corner to help her win Link over

*Taylor on the other hand quickly figures out that they’re in a romance-forward arc and he is Not Into It because he knows that it isn’t about HIM. He just wants to get to the cool monster part, he doesn’t care about the relationship drama even a little bit

*Hermie is also around, I don’t really have any ideas for what he’s up to specifically, but he’s around, mostly getting forgotten by the rest of the cast

*Lincoln and Chris get on really well, and there’s some obvious flirting from both parties, but the relationship isn’t as smooth as Link had hoped, the knowledge from the simulation makes things a little awkward, and they get in a big argument at the climax just before the monster shows up

*Fight sequence, Chris and Link make up, but ultimately decide to remain friends for the time being

*Arc ends with Link choosing to stay in with Scary on their last night at the lodge after Chris invites him out skiing. This is mostly because Link is really bad at skiing and getting frustrated with it, rather than because he noticed Scary’s jealousy

*Still, Scary takes her win and spends a really nice night with her friend

*Chris continues to make minor appearances throughout the rest of the series, often as Link’s love interest, always to Scary’s annoyance, and has a major role in one more filler arc later in the series

I know people are always complaining about filler, but I really loved the Ski Lodge/Chris arc that definitely isn't just something I made up to dress the teens up in their winter gear after I realized there was no opportunity for them to wear it within the constraints of the podcast

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Six)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, fluff at the end, hurt/comfort (literally), knives, cutting open wounds, mentions of blood and puss and scars [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 6,085

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

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You waited another day to see if your side would get any better but it still hurt, and it was still shiny and red. It was even hot to the touch which you knew wasn’t good. You decided it most likely was infected, and you would take care of it once everyone went to bed that night. The problem was waiting that long because it hurt more than it did the last few days, so even just sitting the wrong way made you almost whimper in pain.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Chan asked as he walked into the den.

You looked up from your book, laying across one of the couches so it would cause less strain on your side, “No thank you.”

He frowned, “Why? You always like leaving the house, you said it’s boring staying inside.”

“Yeah, but…” you paused for a moment to think of a good excuse, “this one part is getting really good.”

Chan squinted at your book before giving you a look like he knew you were lying, “The Ultimate Guide to Gardening?”

“...I finally got to string beans.”

He sighed and took the book from between your hands, “_____, what’s wrong? Ever since Minho said...that to you, you haven’t wanted to do anything. Are you…depressed maybe?”

You knew Chan would go insane if he found out you were actually depressed being with him and living in his house. You weren’t, but if he ever thought you were, he’d surely go berserk trying to figure out what to do and how to fix it.

“If anything were going to make me depressed, it would be whatever’s goin’ on up here,” you pointed to your head, signifying your conflicting thoughts that hadn’t stopped since you first laid eyes on Chan, “rather than whatever comes out of Minho’s stupid mouth. I swear, I’m fine.”

“Did someone else say something?” he wondered.

“No.”

“Is it something physically bothering you?”

“No.”

“You know you can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Chan was frustrated, he made it clear when he groaned and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands, “Can you please just tell me so I can help you? It’s not healthy being cooped up inside all the time. You haven’t been outside in over 24 hours.”

“You’re the one who imprinted on a werewolf hunter,” you reminded him. “Stubborness is a given.”

“That’s still not my fault, it was out of my control,” he explained for the umpteenth time, “and stop trying to change the subject.”

Something else that was different after your talk with Chan was that you two hadn’t been that close again since. You went back to sleeping alone in your room, and the most contact the two of you had was his hand on your shoulder or back. It wasn’t that you told him to stop, but you didn’t necessarily make any moves to be closer to him. Your body did crave that contact again – more than just those touches, actually – but your mind would implode. You were still fighting with yourself and needed to be away from him, otherwise you knew you’d just turn into putty in his hands.

And then probably cry again. Which you were still embarrassed about.

“I’m tired, okay?” you lied easily. “I don’t sleep that well.”

He didn’t seem shocked by this. You knew he knew that you were hardly sleeping, so technically you weren’t lying to him. It just wasn’t the real reason you didn’t feel like moving lately.

“_____…” he sighed and knelt on the floor beside you. You twitched to sit up until you remembered you’d probably wince and give yourself away. “What can I do to help you sleep better? Have you tried Felix’s bed, maybe? It might be warmer.”

“It’s not that,” you shook your head. “The thoughts keep me up at night.”

Again, another not-lie.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered.

Your eyes narrowed slightly in an accusatory way, “You just want to stay with me again.”

“No, I–” he paused and then shrugged. “Well, yeah. But no.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “Give me one more night and if I don’t get a good night's sleep, you can…y’know.”

His eyes brightened but his mouth fell into a frown. You knew he was excited, but he was afraid you felt pressured to say that, “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I know, but the only time I slept well was when I…stayed with you…”

He sighed softly, patting your hand that rested on the couch close to his shoulder, “Alright, _____. If that’s what you want.”

You scoffed and smiled, “Don’t act like you weren’t waiting for me to give in.”

“I just want you to finally get some sleep, ba-” he cut himself off, something you noticed he did a lot. You assumed he was about to call you pet names and realized he shouldn’t in case it made you uncomfortable. “I want things to get better for you.”

“Me too.”

-

You waited for about an hour after Chan left the bedroom after saying goodnight to get up and go to the bathroom. It wasn’t abnormal for you to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom so you hoped he wouldn’t assume anything of this. Maybe he was already asleep anyway – you did your best to keep your heartbeat and breathing even so he’d think you were safe and sound asleep.

Quietly closing the door, you locked it and flipped the light on before lifting up your shirt and peeling the bandage off. The ugly red and sheen were still there. You took a deep breath, going through the cupboards to get the leftover medicine that Chan had originally cleaned the wound out with, as well as the ointment you put over it to help it heal, and a pair of scissors that they kept with the medical supplies. With everything ready, you took the scissors in your hand and tried to steady your breathing.

You can do this, you told yourself, Just do it quick like back home.

Before you could do anything, though, there was a loud knock on the door, causing you to drop the scissors with a clatter that seemed somehow too loud.

“_____?” it was Felix’s voice that was talking to you. “Your heartbeat is really fast. Are you okay?”

Why is he awake? you asked yourself in a panic because you were pretty sure everyone was asleep like, y’know, normal people.

Obviously, your panicked silence mixed with the weird clang of metal made the wolf think you were definitely not okay. He had no problem forcing the door open and seeing your makeshift surgery setup on the counter of the bathroom sink. Then his golden eyes zeroed in on the inflamed wound on your side, sucking in a breath.

“That doesn’t look good…” he commented with a quiet tone, walking forward to examine it better. “How long has it been like this?”

“Few days,” you mumbled, embarrassed that you’d gotten caught.

Felix sighed, his warm fingertips brushing the wound every so slightly, but still enough for you to wince, “Yeah, this isn’t going to get better on its own. We’ll have to clean it out again. Although...it seems like that’s what you were trying to do.”

He glanced up at you through his lashes with a pointed look.

You frowned and stared anywhere but at the wolf, your face warming up, “I just didn’t want Chan knowing, okay? If I fixed it myself, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about or anyone to fight with it about.”

Felix straightened and cocked his head to the side slightly, “None of us can heal this for you without him knowing. I mean, maybe we could sneak you out to Josh, but we wouldn’t get back until morning…”

“No,” you hissed. “Chris absolutely cannot find out. If he knows this is infected, he’s gonna scream at Seungmin.”

It was no secret that Seungmin and Minho were on thin ice with the alpha. After Minho’s latest remark to you and how poorly he was treating you when he ran into you, and the two of them assaulting you twice, this would be the final nail in the coffin for sure.

Felix seemed to mull over your condition as he bit his lip as stared at the claw marks. He definitely had to do something about this, but how was he going to heal this himself and keep this from your mate? Chan knew everything that went on when it came to you. Hell, he probably could sense something was wrong while he slept right now. But Felix couldn’t just let you walk around with it infected or let you try to fix it yourself.

“Fine,” he finally sighed, staring at the tiled floor, “but I’ll need help from some of the others. Probably Changbin and Jisung.”

You nodded, “Anyone but Chan.”

-

You were laying down on the desk in Changbin’s room, looking up at the ceiling as several wolves ‘prepped you for surgery’ as Jisung put it. You still weren’t very comfortable with having any of the wolves touch you, but you refused to use Chan as a security blanket right now. If he found out that the wound Seungmin gave you was infected, he’d not only kill Seungmin, but he’d never leave your side for the rest of your life.

So you just stared at the ceiling and kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting for the wolves to be ready to cut you open or whatever their plan was. Minho seemed way too casual about it as he watched with arms folded, while the other three seemed kind of stressed about the whole ordeal. You didn’t really blame them since he had to keep this from their alpha, but why was Minho humming to himself and acting perfectly fine? Why was he even here other than the fact he had woken up because him and Jisung still had to share a bed?

Then again, he was also the one who hated you and was probably hoping you would bleed out or something. If you died and Chan managed to live through the heartbreak, he’d just find a new mate. Seemed like a win/win for Minho so he'd probably want to witness it.

You hated that you had that thought because it just made you feel worse, so you tried not to think about it.

“Okay,” Changbin sighed, stepping over to you with a sharp pocket knife in one hand, and a glass jar in the other, “let’s get this over with. Jisung?”

“Y-yeah,” Jisung’s eyes snapped to Changbin, the younger wolf clearly on-edge. “I’m ready.”

“We’re gonna start now,” Felix told you.

“You know the best option is to just tell Chan, right?” Minho asked, looking between the three wolves. “He’s the only thing that can take the pain away unless we bring her to one of the healers.”

“She had a point when she said he’ll reem Seungmin for this,” Changbin pointed out, looking back at Minho. “Do you want to break up a fight at midnight?”

When Minho just rolled his eyes and conceded, Changbin put the two objects on the desk beside you before opening up the jar. He spread the contents over your wound, numbing it so you wouldn’t feel as much of the pain as normal. Then Felix held up a t-shirt that he’d rolled up the long way.

You eyed him warily, “What’s that for?”

He frowned, “Just…put it in your mouth; trust me...”

You obediently opened your mouth and let the wolf place the cloth between your teeth. Then you realized it was to muffle your cries of pain – you hoped this would quiet most of the noise so Chan wouldn’t wake up. You hoped he was too sound asleep to hear you, but just in case, you’d have to try to be as quiet as possible.

“Ready?” Changbin asked, but the question was aimed at you now.

You nodded, not saying anything with the towel in your mouth.

Changbin looked over to the younger wolf, “Do you want to clean the wound or help hold her down?”

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror, while Minho’s widened for a different reason.

“Hold her down?” Minho repeated, sounding almost…excited.

“I don’t know if I can handle…all of that…” Jisung admitted, eyeing your wound.

“You make all of the medicine but can’t handle what it’s for?” Changbin asked.

“I’ll hold her down,” Minho immediately volunteered without any prompt to do so.

Changbin shot Minho a dirty look before he sighed, “Just help Minho hold her. Felix, try to comfort her, okay?”

Felix nodded, “Got it.”

The three wolves shifted around, Jisung and Minho standing on either side of you with their hands braced on your shoulders. Felix stood between them and looked down at you with his classic bright smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did.

You saw Changbin pick something up out of the corner of your eye, and then you felt something sharp poke your side, but it was bearable. It wasn’t until Changbin dragged the blade of the knife down one of the scratches that you felt white hot pain in your side that made you arch off the table and groan into the shirt while your eyes screwed shut.

“It’s okay,” Felix shushed you as one of Minho’s hands moved down to your hip to force your body back down, “it’ll be over soon.”

“If she moves, I’ll accidentally cut where I’m not supposed to,” Changbin warned, his golden eyes staying trained on the wounds the whole time.

You bit down on the fabric as hard as you could, trying not to make any noise. You were sure your jaw was going to snap from how hard you were clenching on the shirt, and you couldn’t stop the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, slipping out and down your temples to your hair. Felix tried to wipe most of them away while Jisung and Minho pressed you down into the wooden desk.

Changbin began cutting open the second one, sucking in a sharp breath when he saw just how much blood and puss there was. He was so sure they had cleaned the wound out, so he wondered if maybe somehow stress was affecting the healing process. Or maybe Chan just didn’t do the best job of cleaning it despite how thorough he was with wounds. Or maybe it was some third thing they didn’t know about. He wasn’t sure.

The whine you let out was bordering a scream, the third one hurting more than the others, and all three wolves by your head tried to calm you this time. Changbin paused and leaned his head toward the door like he was listening, before the door opened and a very-tired-looking Seungmin came in with a half-asleep Jeongin and a slightly-terrified Hyunjin behind him, taking in the scene before them: you laying on the desk desk, three of his brothers holding you down, Changbin cutting your side open, and all the blood and fluid coming out of you and onto the towels Changbin had laid out.

“What the fuck are you–?!”

Before Jeongin could even finish his question, Minho was in front of him, gripping the back of his head with one hand and firmly placing the other hand over his mouth, “If you wake up her mate, we’ll do this to you too. Got it?”

“We’re just draining her wound,” Changbin explained, not looking away from his work. “It’s infected pretty badly.”

Seungmin quickly gathered everything he needed to know, and realized this meant his ass was on the line, “You better know how to fix that before Chan wakes up.”

“A ‘thank you’ might be better than a threat,” Changbin sneered.

Jeongin, however, had decided he didn’t want any part in the ordeal, yawning, “You never saw me in here,” before he left the room.

“Channie is gonna be so mad,” Hyunjin panicked, looking around the room for at least one sane person.

“Then go back to bed so it’s one less person to be mad at,” Changbin said gruffly. “I’m busy.”

But instead, he closed the door and went to stand by Felix. Changbin called Minho back over to help with you, and Seungmin followed behind him and stood at the foot of the desk, taking everything in. You were squirming and crying, and Changbin couldn’t do anything when you were moving around so much.

“I know, _____,” Changbin sighed as Minho stood on the other side of him and put his hands firmly on your abdomen, “I’m sorry. I’m…almost done.”

This time when the door opened, you knew it could only be one person – unless Jeongin randomly decided he did want to be involved. But your eyes were so filled with tears that it became too blurry to see, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open because of the pain.

Despite that, the voice you heard shook you to your very core, and actually sent pure fear straight through you. You’d never heard Chan sound this angry – not since the first night.

“What are you doing to her?!” Chan roared right before you felt his large, familiar hands cupping your face.

You didn’t dare open your eyes to meet his that you already knew were red with rage. But you weren’t going to let him get angry at his brothers who were only trying to help you. But you still had a shirt in your mouth being held there by your jaw that wouldn’t unclench because of the pain, therefore, you couldn’t do much to back up the wolves.

“Chan, the wound is infected,” Changbin told him, his voice trying to calm the alpha. “Look.”

When you heard him suck in a sharp breath, you knew he saw all the blood and puss that was in the wound. But then you heard the growl of Seungmin’s name leave his mouth, and you blindly tried to find your mate. Your hands flailed and searched, but Chan was already backing Seungmin into a corner.

“Um, a little help might be nice,” Minho spoke up. “Considering she’s, y’know, in severe pain.”

He paused and his head whipped around. Then he was rushing over to your side and crouching down beside you, his eyes full of hurt as he let out soft whimpers.

“_____,” Chan’s voice was much softer than it was previously, and the shirt was removed from your mouth, “I’m so sorry I let this happen.”

You opened your eyes now that the tears had cleared out more, and the pain of Changbin opening the first three scratches had become a dull, burning ache – you almost wanted to thank him for stopping before he went on to the final scratch. Chan’s eyes were still red, but they were soft when they looked at your paling face. You placed a hand on his cheek and felt somewhat better when Chan leaned into your touch.

“Please don’t get mad at Seungmin,” you croaked, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Or any of them; they’re only trying to help.”

“You wouldn’t have to be in this mess if Seungmin hadn’t–”

“Seungmin didn’t know,” you cut him off with a whine, knowing it would be difficult defending the younger wolf from his alpha’s anger. “Nobody thought anyone would imprint on...the idiot hunter that broke in. He just wanted to protect his brothers.”

“Chan? Help?” Changbin prompted again, breaking the two of you out of your conversation. “I still have to get this last one open before she loses too much blood and I need you to help.”

Chan moved away from you, and your hand dropped back off the desk. Changbin moved slightly to the side to make room for him as Chan placed his large, warm hands on either side of your wound.

“I wish you asked me to do this originally,” he grumbled as his hands started to feel warmer and warmer, and the pain in your side faded more and more. Chan sucked in a sharp breath as he winced. “Can’t believe you let her be in this much pain.”

“Don’t worry, it gets worse,” Changbin told him before he placed the tip of his bloodied knife at the last mark. “Ready?”

He nodded, bracing himself for the worst of it.

Meanwhile, your body slowly untensed, relaxing onto the table. You didn’t feel anything. You wondered if Changbin was waiting for you to completely relax before he started again, but you just breathed heavily and enjoyed not feeling the sharp, hot pain of the knife. You actually didn’t even feel the sting of the other wounds Changbin had cut into your side. You felt a little warm there, but that was it. It was nice. You almost fell asleep like that.

Chan, however, felt everything. He twitched in the opposite direction of the side he felt the intense pain. He bit down on his lip, trying to keep his sounds of pain to himself but letting out grunts as his eyes squeezed shut. Seungmin could see from where he was standing that three claw marks had already been scarred into his side, matching the ones on yours. And as Changbin dragged the knife, the fourth one was carved into his skin.

These scars were bigger than most of the others that littered his skin. He had a few on his neck, and only a couple on his face. But the rest of his body – mostly his torso and arms – were covered. And yours were now his newest addition.

“Are you okay, _____?” Felix’s deep voice pulled you up from the waves of grogginess that were washing over you.

“”M okay,” you mumbled, your eyes closed. You were too tired and still felt the ghost of the pain you had felt before Chan’s hands were on you.

“How do you feel?”

“Warm…”

Felix looked to Chan, who was catching his breath after Changbin finally brought the knife away and began cleaning at the wound. This hurt less, but was still painful nonetheless and made him wince with every pass of the clean cloth and cotton balls that Changbin used.

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” Minho mumbled as he looked down at your face.

Your breathing was even through your lips and the pack could tell you’d fallen asleep. It was probably for the best anyway. 

“You alright, Channie?” Changbin asked quietly once he was done cleaning you up, looking down at the alpha that had removed his hands from your side and sat back on the floor, laying back on the floor.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, so the cool hardwood felt nice on his back.

“I don’t know how she stood that,” he breathed, one arm laying across his forehead as he laid there with his eyes closed.

“Masochist,” Minho suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

Seungmin stayed silent, still standing in the corner where Chan had backed him into. His eyes stayed on your unmoving body, but his expression was unreadable.

-

The only thing keeping Chan from ripping Seungmin’s head off was making sure you were safe and would wake up. He stayed beside you as Changbin and Jisung worked to drain your wound properly and patch it back up, and he stayed beside you after he tucked you into his bed in a large t-shirt of his. 

Now, Chan was sitting on the hardwood floor, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair and cheek as he studied your face. He wanted to hold you closer but if you woke up with him like that, it might freak you out.

“Hey, Chris?” Felix spoke up as he entered the room. The alpha didn’t look at him, but hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t think you should be so hard on Seungmin.”

“It’s his fault for scratching her in the first place,” Chan stated harshly. “He deserves whatever comes to him.”

“She told you not to be angry with him,” Felix reminded him, “and I know you can’t ignore that. She’ll be upset with you if she finds out you did anything to him.”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Jeongin began as he wandered in through the open door, “but I couldn’t sleep because of all the noise, and from what I heard, I can’t help but think she didn’t want you to worry about her. Hyunjin said she told everyone not to tell you what they were doing.”

At that, Chan turned his head, “Why would she not want me to worry?”

“Because she does care about you, idiot,” the youngest wolf sighed. “She’s said it before – we’ve heard all the breakdowns.”

“It’s conflicting, we know, but she can’t help how she feels, either,” Felix said with a shrug. “Emotions are hard. We all know that.”

“Why would she care if I’m upset with Seungmin or not, though?” the alpha quizzed.

“I think that’s her way of caring about you and your relationship with us. You know how Minho and Seungmin are sometimes? I think that’s just her all the time.”

Chan turned back to you, watching your sleeping form. He wondered if you’d wake up soon so he could just ask you himself. He didn’t care how long it took, he’d coax the answer out of you even if it took days. He wanted to know if you really did truly care for him enough that you’d go through all this trouble so he wouldn’t worry about it. He thought it was stupid of you but it still was sweet if it was true.

Like you were connected enough to hear his silent plea, you shifted a bit and your eyes fluttered open. The three wolves studied your movements carefully as you pushed yourself to sit up, wincing and hissing in pain. Chan helped you up the rest of the way, doing most of the work until you were sitting up against the headboard.

“How do you feel, _____?” Felix wondered quietly, keeping his voice low so as to not scare you. “Are you still dizzy?”

“No,” you shook your head as you rubbed your eyes that still stung from crying, “my side is just sore.”

“Which is normal,” the freckled boy shrugged. “Changbin said if it’s still looking rough in a couple of days, we’ll drain it again. Otherwise, keep applying the ointments. Jisung mixed up a new one that should help with keeping infection away.”

“I think it’s time to head back to bed,” Jeongin decided, putting a hand on Felix’s shoulder and nodding toward the door.

“Right,” he nodded like he just realized Chan probably wanted to talk to you privately – or, at least as privately as he could in a house full of werewolves that heard everything. “Have a good night, guys. Channie, please remember what we said, okay?”

Once the two boys made it out the door and Felix turned around to close it, Chan’s eyes looked at you. They were still their warm gold, but his expression was unreadable.

“That your power?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your question, not expecting the first thing out of your mouth to be that, “What?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” you mumbled, your eyes looking down to scan his exposed torso, “and you have those marks on your side where mine are. Those weren’t there before.”

He nodded a little, “I can take away others’ pain. The only catch is I feel it instead, and I get their scar, so…”

He held out his arms for you to see, rolling them over to examine all of the scars that littered his skin. It was silent, and then he let his arms rest on the bed beside you, both of you waiting for the other to say something.

“Are you mad at them?” you asked him quietly, finally breaking the silence. “Or me? …Or both?”

“Dunno,” he murmured as his eyes looked back at the blood-stained bandage covering your side. “Trying really hard to not be mad at all, but it’s hard.”

“I did this to me, not them,” you insisted, immediately going into defense mode. “I made Felix and Changbin and everyone promise not to tell you; I was basically holding the knife myself!”

His eyes darkened. You noted it was definitely a bad choice of words.

“_____, why did you keep this from me? You should’ve told me.”

You cast your eyes down to your bare lap, toying with your hands nervously. “Well...I thought it was getting infected and I wanted to fix it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you intentionally kept it from me. You made my entire pack swear to secrecy for what?” he pressed, sounding like a father scolding you.

“Because you’d get worried and get mad at Seungmin…” you admitted softly, still not making eye contact. It felt embarrassing to admit all of this to him. Was it because you were basically indirectly telling him that you do care and then it would set that in stone instead of it being kind of ambiguous by your actions? “I didn’t want to make you angry at anybody, and I didn’t want you to have to waste time worrying about me.”

“Listen to me,” he demanded softly, holding your chin gently and forcing you to look at him. His eyes were now sad as they bore into yours. “Worrying about you is not a waste of time. You’re constantly in my head; I think about you all the time. You’re never a waste of my time, _____. I love you and you know that.”

“But why do you love me when-”

“So this does have to do with Minho, too!”

Hot tears pricked your eyes, getting frustrated because you were making him angry at more person than one, when your goal was zero. “No, this is different!”

You hated yourself for being a frustrated cryer.

But having you cry, especially because of him, was the last thing Chan wanted. In a swift movement, he was sitting on the bed and had pulled you into his lap, cradling your head against his chest as he softly rocked you and shushed you, “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking right. I just...I’m angry at myself for not being able to help you or stop you from doing this. I hated seeing you like that. I think I almost died.”

You were going to make a, ‘no, I almost died’ joke just to lighten the mood but you knew it would upset Chan, so you just hid your face in his chest. This time, you would let yourself just rest there in his hold.

He held you closer, rubbing your back soothingly. He purred softly in approval at the amount of contact, and you were just as happy, albeit a little confused because of your heart battling your instincts. But were you making any movement to leave his hold anytime soon? Absolutely not.

“Please don’t be mad at them,” you mumbled, your words getting muffled by his chest. “Any of them. Not Seungmin or Changbin or Felix...even Minho.”

He sighed, trying to see it from your point of view. He felt he had to take it out on someone or something or he’d just make himself more miserable for not being there for you. He felt like a bad mate. 

“If you promise to always tell me when something’s wrong…” he began slowly before taking a deep breath to calm himself, “I won’t be angry with any of them. Although I do have some strong words for Minho for the things he said to you.”

You forgot Chan had been ignoring him ever since he found out the things he said about you being his mate. You pulled back a little to look up into his eyes. “I can’t tell you all the time.”

“You can try,” he smiled softly. “Promise me you’ll try?”

You nodded, “Promise.”

He cleared away any stray tears but continued to hold you in his arms, his back against the wall. 

“I know it’s late but...I don’t want to move,” he admitted with a warm laugh.

“My head is still screaming to run,” you laughed softly, your head resting against his shoulder.

“What about your heart?”

“God, Chris, that’s so cheesy,” you whined.

“Come on,” he laughed, carding his fingers through your hair, “just tell me.”

You sighed and closed your eyes, “I guess…I think it’s kinda nice.”

“It’s just a matter of getting that pretty little werewolf-hunting head of yours to agree.”

“How did you just...give in to it?”

He hummed softly as he thought it over, wanting to give an answer that might actually help you, “Well...I think part of it is that the feeling is much stronger for us. But I think it helped that I started to trust you being around my brothers. I knew they would still be safe with you here, so I didn’t have to hold myself back anymore. I had to be near you and make you happy.”

“So...I should just ignore my head?” you asked slowly, repeating what you’d gathered from his speech.

“I know it’s easier said than done,” he chuckled, moving his head to look down at you, “but it’s worth a shot. Just start small.”

Start small, huh? What’s something small you could do? Your eyes wandered around a bit before settling on his hand on your thigh. You carefully took it off your thigh and put your hand on his like you were measuring who had bigger hands – you noted that Chan’s were a bit larger. Then you laced your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze that had his inner wolf grumbling with joy.

“Is this...okay?” you asked, still unable to make eye contact with him – especially now.

So you didn’t see his wide grin as he nodded, “This is perfect.”

-

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep in his lap. You were exhausted, too exhausted to move, so you ended up knocking out while he hummed softly and told you stories of his brothers and the pack.

When he noticed you were asleep, he carefully shifted you onto the bed, laying you down and tucking you in before he got up, deciding to go sleep on the couch again. He thought you’d want it to yourself as he said you should take small steps, and he didn’t want to just assume he could sleep in the same room as you, even if it was in Felix’s bed. Although you’d slept in the same bed together before, that was when you said you wanted to. Now, he wasn’t sure, and it was better safe than sorry.

He laid down on the couch that was a little shorter and thinner than his bed, and tried to get as comfortable as he could. He laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and trying to listen to every move and sound you made in your sleep. That’s why it didn’t take him long to get to you about an hour later.

“No!” your tired voice gasped, and he jolted out of bed and ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Upon flinging the door open, he saw you were still sound asleep, the moonlight shining in onto your sleeping face. “No…”

Your brows were creased slightly, a small frown etched onto your face. You kept softly repeating ‘no’, so Chan took a cautious step in, wanting to wake you up in case you were having a bad dream.

“Finley…”

He paused. You’d mentioned Nolan, who was your brother. But…who was Finley?

He heard a bedroom door open a split second before he heard, “She’s already talking about other men?”

The voice made him jump and he quickly but silently closed your bedroom door. He whipped around to see Minho standing in the doorway, smirking playfully at the alpha, but it was clear he had woken up from the hour or so of sleep he’d gotten between then and everyone cleaning up after the incident.

But Chan just looked at him expressionlessly before turning and going back downstairs to the couch.

Minho’s expression fell as he watched his brother go.

»»————-　　————-««

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[dat-town]

so high school

Characters: Woonhak & female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, fluff

Summary: Woonhak decides to confess right after graduation before he loses his chance.

Warnings: nothing if a bit of cheesiness (and calling out Taesan) doesn't count

Words: 1.4k

Author’s note: happy bday to our giant baby! based on the prompt “wait, you knew?” “you haven’t exactly been discreet…”  from here; work title was just obvious, so i ended up using the Taylor Swift song instead

Woonhak was going crazy.

He lost sight of you after Jaehyun shoved a huge bouquet of roses into his hands and insisted on taking a picture with ‘his baby’ because he was so proud that this day finally came. Woonhak however had bigger problems than taking terrible graduation pictures with him being half-distracted and his hyung’s dramatic ass looking like he was on the verge of crying for real. Sungho, being the supportive friend he was, still tried his best to take pictures of them until Woonhak decided he had enough.

“Okay, great, thanks, hyungs. Can you like… leave?” He blurted out, the words not coming out right in his hasty frustration and while Sungho was left speechless with a widened mouth, Jaehyun put a hand on his chest and faked a gasp. “I mean, to the BBQ place, jeez. I will catch up with you quickly. I just need to… uhm, do something real quick.”

There was no way he would tell his friends what he was about to do. They already babied him, god forbid they knew that he was about to confess to the girl he had liked the majority of his senior year. They would go on and on about how fast he grew up and all that. Or even worse! If you rejected him, they would turn the teasing into pity and comfort which would have been somehow worse even if appreciated. So no, Woonhak didn’t want anybody to know what he was planning not until, hopefully, he got himself a girlfriend he could brag about.

“Alright, but if you are late we get started on the food even if it’s your big day,” Jaehyun threatened at which Sungho rolled his eyes and thankfully whisked their big mouth friend away before he could further embarrass the tall boy in front of his high school classmates.

When Woonhak was finally left alone, he had his hands full with the flowers he got and a confession to make. He had half a mind to run after the guys to give them the bouquet to take with them but not wanting to lose more time he decided against it and headed to the classroom. Dropping everything he had onto his desk to collect them later he looked around in the room searching for your smile but he could only find some of your friends who were busy taking selfies to commemorate the big day.

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Woonhak walked up to Kyujin, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He wasn’t sure that’s why or just the question in general that made the girl raise an eyebrow suspiciously at him. He didn’t dwell on it though, glad enough when she answered.

“Yeah, she left with her parents. They have a reservation and now they are running late because of the principal’s long ass speech,” Kyujin grimaced but Woonhak was already halfway out the door by the time she finished her explanation, yelling a quick ‘thanks’ back while starting to sprint down the corridors towards the parking lot.

He was going crazy for real. If he missed you, would that be a sign from the universe that he shouldn’t even try? He had it all planned out (okay, well, he was still a P, so it was rather an idea that came to him before bed the night before), he couldn’t give up like this. After all, he wasn’t Han Taesan for heaven’s sake to miss out on this chance and then turn it into a heart-wrecking love song. He won’t be. He would tell you now how he felt and if you didn’t feel the same way it wouldn’t be as awkward as it would have been if you had to see each other every day afterwards. But he would rather have that no matter how broken he would be than losing touch with you and having to wonder about the what ifs.

It seemed like luck was on his side though because the parking lot was just as crowded as the corridors and a long line of cars was waiting to leave. He caught a glimpse of your hair as you put your flowers into a car’s trunk.

Woonhak called out your name, yelled it loudly for the entire yard to hear when you got ready to get inside the backseat and at any other time he would have been embarrassed for his actions and the attention he got for his behavior but now he had more pressing matters at hand. It was worth it in the end because your movements halted and you turned towards him instead of getting into the car.

Needless to say Woonhak was panting by the time he made it in front of you. He really should have put more effort into his PE classes because his lack of stamina was showing but for that he made up with sheer determination and a blinding smile as he looked down on you.

“Hey, what’s the matter? What happened?” You spoke up with furrowed brows and gosh, you were so cute with confusion and a bit of concern written all over your face, Woonhak wanted to smooch you but he was getting a bit ahead of himself with that.

“Nothing, I just need to tell you something,” he stated, rushing the words out before he could lose the courage he was running on.

You looked at him with big doe eyes, questioning and curious and the boy was seriously so gone because he adored the way your cheeks rounded with a smile or the moles just under your eyes. You laughed even at his lamest jokes and played video games with him until late instead of scolding that he should have been studying. You lended him your notes without him having to ask and hell, he even thought that your handwriting was cute with those doodles you tended to draw in the corners of your notebook.

“Y/N…” Woonhak called your name before he took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes. “I like you!”

He declared it right in the middle of the parking lot in earshot of at least a dozen people including your parents. This certainly wasn’t how he planned it but he didn’t want to prolong it any further or he would have gone crazy for real.

“I thought you would never say anything,” you giggled but Woonhak was too nervous to process it right away.

“You don’t have to answer right now, I know it must be sudden‒” He started before his thoughts came to a screeching halt and his eyes widened like saucers. “Wait, what? You knew?” He gasped and his voice went octaves higher as he stuttered.

“Well, you haven’t been exactly discreet…” you smiled so sweetly but Woonhak’s thoughts had been going back to replay all your interactions. Had he really been that obvious? Was it because he kept giving you his plus one drinks from the corner convenience store even when there was no such discount in place? Or that he carried hair ties with him in case you forgot yours? Or was he staring too much? Too easy on you when you played? Oh jeez, what if he blushed near you?

But if you knew and didn’t say anything, was it because you didn’t like him and he set himself up to failure? Is it the part where you tell him it’s better to stay as good friends? Are you‒

“It’s okay. I like you too,” you said before Woonhak could have hyperventilated and you tiptoed closer to peck him chastly on the cheek. Your soft lips left a tingle in their wake and the boy could feel himself redden.

“Really?” He mumbled dumbly but you just kept smiling brightly.

“Really,” you confirmed and giggled when you heard your father clearing his throat. Oh, right, you were late. Woonhak felt a bit sheepish that he kept you up and hoped he didn’t earn negative points in your parents’ favor as you whispered that you had to go.

“Text me later,” you mouthed through the darkened window after you got into the car and Woonhak felt stupidly giddy, he couldn’t stop smiling even when Sungho called him whining that they would eat up all the meat at this rate. Fortune indeed favored the bold and the lovesick.

[firestarter91]

Arthur is much nicer this episode, it’s a return to the good old days of Merthur. We could have got Arsehole!Arthur of the first few episodes of this season but instead we get a more emotionally mature Arthur and although it’s very frustrating they keep flip flopping him, I’m grateful for small mercies. I was getting tired of him being a dickhead where Merlin was concerned. I like it when they’re both being playful and Arthur is softer with him.

Arthur sneaking about trying to figure out what’s going on with Merlin is hilarious, it’s like he’s bored with his princely chores so he’s decided to find out what the servants are up to instead to amuse himself lol.

However, Arthur’s behaviour non Merthur related is somewhat more problematic, we don’t get enough to ascertain his feelings or see much conflict about having to obey his father’s orders which involve rounding up and possibly executing (we never know for sure if this happened) a lot of seemingly innocent people and going after the druids who seem peaceful and chill. I would have liked a little less of practical “okay I’ll get this done sire” attitude from Arthur and a bit more emotional conflict.

It’s not as if we haven’t seen Arthur prior to this show his disquiet over his father’s actions, so it’s odd he seems a rather remote disengaged figure here. I certainly don’t think he’s enjoying himself but if you’re not going to have Arthur address these issues or equally importantly have Merlin address Arthur’s part in this situation, then don’t involve him at all.

Instead they should have had Arthur off doing something else that puts him out of reach of the uncomfortable questions posed by his behaviour this episode and get Leon (who was also in this episode) do Uther’s dirty work instead. Whether it’s a case of luck or judgement on the part of the writing team I have no clue but thankfully they ensure we don’t see Arthur involved in wholesale slaughter of innocents, they do just enough to avoid being overly tainted by events.

Then we get Arthur at the end giving Merlin some advice on women which is laughable in itself given Arthur’s horrible with women but it’s still a sweet affectionate moment between them. Arthur genuinely seems worried and his advice seems heartfelt, sure he’s partly talking about his own situation but he really does want Merlin to be careful otherwise Uther will certainly have his head.

I’m glad we see Arthur doubts Morgan’s ‘kidnapping’ at the hands of the druids, it doesn’t add up and Arthur realises that but he keeps quiet, she’s back and he managed to avoid a bloodbath. However, the writers need to take care, they can’t afford to have Arthur involved in things that make him look like too much like Uther.

Arthur Pendragon

2x03 “The Nightmare Begins”

(Merlin) (Morgana)

A gif set for each episode

[mohntilyet]

same anon, do not apologize about taking an excuse to rant because it was a very enjoyable read 👍 especially because i share similar frustration regarding the lack of lore on rivain and even less lore on the lords as a faction. My very first rook was a lord and it was honestly kind of a miserable playthrough roleplaying wise 😭 i think i only got like five faction related dialogue options throughout the ENTIRE game!!! That combined with rook acting like they dont know anything about their own factions or even their own nation was absolutely maddening… anyway whoops sorry for my own little rant

RIGHT.... you do not have to apologise either anon i am right there with you. the map surrounding rivain being so nothing is just insult to injury when 1) like you said, almost no dialogue choices, 2) jack all content because i was running around for 70 hours hoping to find decor related to them/finding none because there IS none/absolutely nothing in the lighthouse being customised as a result and 3) they have decided the only thing you get to say about being a lord is repeating their catchphrase like this shit is scooby doo

the art book also has some pages on the lords that gave me mixed feelings lol spread that i scanned under the cut

i really thought that they would lean into the "mix and match" thing especially because even when i was designing my rook pre release, i was trying to incorporate elements of this! i was looking at duncan's armor to try and patch together something that reflected rivain! but when the game comes out it's just. orientalist. and there's a bull on my crotch. even though the art book discusses this idea of the lords having patchwork armor that they've stolen or put together because they're so diverse. there's a few designs in here that i would have loved to see in the game with the more piratey longcoats and hats, and if they were going to draw inspiration i wish they'd looked more at mauritius and south india (kerala, tamil nadu) instead of . i'm not actually sure what the fuck they were doing here. my first thought when i saw the jewelry and design in game had been indigenous south american? but ofc the longer i looked the more i leaned away from that initial judgement and the more i got confused, and what little we know of rivain is obviously inspired by south asia (asha's maiden name being bahadur, bharv, hari, etc. but there's also mateo?) so i think it is the tried and true method white people looove to do where they mishmash cultures into one place and then get defensive when poc say "we aren't interchangable like that"

visually i think veilguard is so so successful in most cases with that consideration of shape language, colors, etc (though sometimes i think it goes too far. let the crows wear black again) but rivain/the lords is one of the weaker ones because i wish there was something specifically rivaini that tied it all together. like if dragons are found here (presumably. taash has a reputation as a dragon hunter. they would need to hunt dragons in rivain) then maybe scale armor as an identifier. or if rivain is known for pearl farming then it features more in their armor. or if the climate is hotter, so the fabric they wear would be linen and would actually cover more of their skin to avoid sunburn! or if they wear lots of blue, is that because they're a producer of that dye? just worldbuilding things like this completely ignored to make their main thing 'lots of gold and it should be revealing' and be weirdly racist/orientalist in the process.

[auclairedetoru]

Best friend!Eren loves college, he really does! He got into the one he wanted and is majoring in something he loves, and in return his grades are doing fantastic, top of his class even!

Except for that one specific class.

God, just thinking about it pissed him off. He doesn't know why he couldn't understand it, it's like the professor was speaking in a dead language. He came back home with a headache every time he tries to focus and learn like everyone else. He swears it was going to be his 13th reason eventually. It made him rethink his entire life plan and whether it was worth getting his degree.

Seeing his frustration, his best friend y/n decided to help him out. Did she understand anything he had written in his notes? Absolutely not, it wasn't a class she needed to take, but she hated seeing him so lost and stressed, especially when they were so close to finales week.

“You like rewards, how about you give yourself a little treat every time you memorise something, if it works on dogs it can work on humans.”

Eren thought it was genius. The smile that spread on his face gave her hope that she might've finally solved his problem and gave him at least a little bit of motivation, but what Eren was thinking about was the opposite of hers. He agreed with the idea of a reward, but what kind of reward specifically?

Well...

“How about I memorise everything, and if I'm successful, you give me a kiss.”

Y/n felt dizzy at how fast she turned to look at him, eyes nearly popping out of her skull. A kiss?! What was he thinking?! She might have always had a suspicion he was dropped on his head as a baby, but this just confirmed it.

“Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her making her roll her eyes. God, he was so annoying, why was she friends with him again?

Despite thinking he's mentally unstable, she did give it a thought. Not every day you get the chance to kiss your hot best friend that you have a massive crush on, right? Might as well take the opportunity, it might never happen again. Plus, he clearly wants it to happen, he wouldn't suggest it if he didn't want to kiss her too.

“Fine,” she adds a hint of annoyance in her voice so he wouldn't figure out how nervous the thought alone made her, “let's see if you can do it.”

Eren was motivated, to say the least. He locked himself in his room for three days, only leaving for the bathroom and to grab food. He missed out on two parties, his neighbors fist fighting, the release of a new season of his favourite show and a boba tea date with Armin.

On Monday evening, he went to y/n's apartment and sat in her living room with the biggest confident smirk she has ever seen on him. He has always been very cocky, but not over something he was crying over three days prior.

“Ready?” she shuffled his flash cards to give him a little bit of a challenge and to see if he can remember everything if they're not in the order he memorised them. Eren nods, “let's do this, I'm ready for my reward.”

... And it worked.

She quizzed him on everything in every possible way. She even tried to trick him, but he was able to catch on quickly and prove her wrong. After weeks of struggling and threatening to drop out over this subject, Eren finally got a hold of it... All because of a promise of a kiss.

A kiss he was eagerly waiting for.

Y/n has never felt her cheeks heat up like this in her life. As much as she knew her best friend is very smart and could do anything he sets his mind on, she really didn't think he could pull this off, not after he tried everything. Tutors, bombarding the professor with questions, help online, they all didn't work! How was she supposed to have any faith that a stupid little kiss reward would make his brain magically start understanding this class!?

It's dumb, really. But she did want it too.

“Well,” Eren started with a huge smile, “I've proven myself, now please give me the reward I worked hard for and rightfully deserve.”

With a shaky breath, y/n leaned in, and without wasting any more time, Eren leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

She was expecting it, of course she was, but did that make it any less shocking? Did that make her heart beat steadier? No, quite the opposite actually. Her hands were shaking, her heart was performing acrobatics behind her ribcage, and she wanted to run away and never be seen after they pulled away.

For Eren, it felt like heaven. The kiss was quick, too quick in his opinion, but he was able to feel the softness of her lips against his. God, the things he would do to feel them again. He wanted to pull her on his lap and kiss her until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, then he would pull her into his arms to sleep just to go back to kissing her the next morning.

“Can I have one more?” he asked while looking down at her shy expression.

“no! Stop embarrassing me!” she hit him on the chest before burying her face in his hoodie. He laughs and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her a little and teasing her a little more.

When Eren thinks back to their first actual kiss, he laughs at how oblivious both of them were to each other's feelings. They were very transparent about them, showing the other very clear signs that they wanted more, but they chose to ignore them and instead overthink about getting rejected and ruining their friendship.

That was all in the past now, and with the way the present is going, they can't be happier.

More best friend!Eren.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

hey, im assuming its a mistake but just fyi the whole vague "noticing patterns" language is an antisemitic dogwhistle: https://www.tumblr.com/onethirdofimpossible/726829590062006272?source=share

no idea who the account you shared from is, just wanted to pass this on!

Okay so I got this message when I woke up this morning and decided to delete the post until I got around to checking out the OP's blog. Nothing about their blog has anything to do with antisemitic movements or even hints at potential content like that.

The original post is this

It's specifically referring to literature and academia (don't love that it's tagged with harry potter but I know that fandom is still tied up to those circles)

I think we have to be careful about policing speech and "calling out" things that may not actually be there. I get that the point of a dog whistle is that no one is supposed to understand what it means except the Nazis. But these people really aren't as slick as they think they are with this sort of thing.

A good example is the "okay" sign that got co-opted as a white power dog whistle. It's been used pretty obviously by white supremists who think they're being really clever about it but like... they're using it in the middle of a "white power" rally while waving Nazi flags. It's not exactly subtle.

Whereas we also used that sign in scuba diving to signal "okay", with a thumbs up being "ascend" (which confused the hell out of me as chronic "thumb up-er" when I was learning). I'm pretty sure when we're signaling "okay" 20m under the ocean we're not secretly signally "white power". Context is important.

This post and everyone reblogging it is not talking about any sort of conspiracy theory - just how being in a fandom and being excited about something makes you notice patterns and parallels. It's also kind of an "autism meme" too.

But idk... I know when people reach out to "let me know" about something, it's in good faith but it's... frustrating when the context is pretty obviously not that. Being paranoid about dog whistles is kind of the whole point of them.

White supremists/antisemites ect. like having power over others by making them question reality and gaslighting them. But again, they're usually about as subtle as a brick wall about this sort of thing. Not saying they can't be quiet about it sometimes but ... it usually isn't hard to spot. Especially on personal blogs.

Maybe I'm just tired that leftist spaces continue to try to tone police and "call out" their own in-groups *just in case* someone might be a secret Nazi while the real actual Nazis and Christian Nationalists are quite literally taking over the American government (which affects the entire world, especially countries where I live like Australia that are allies with the US and extremely influenced by their politics).

And actual Nazis aren't even using dog whistles any more, they're marching in the streets loud and proud because they feel empowered enough to do so...

So idk... maybe lets focus on that and work on mobilising and organising against what is going to be a really rough 4 years.... Though I wouldn't even be surprised if it goes beyond that, looking at past history and what happens when fascism takes power...

[growth-opportunities]

casting a spell on the girl you wish had a bigger chest against her will

AN: Definitely longer than I intended (1700+ words) but sometimes I start writing and I can't stop! I hope you enjoy it!

Dana had been my friend for a long, long time, since we were too young to be stopped by the idea that boys and girls weren't allowed to be friends with each other. It made our bond special and it meant that we could really talk about anything with each other. There were no secrets between us, even when we started growing up and going through changes.

Well, some changes.

While I did okay, puberty was less kind to Dana. Her face changed and she got a little taller, but even before she hit five feet, her body decided that it was just done growing. Done growing upward, done growing out. She transitioned from a training bra to a 28AA, though one could hardly call that a transition. Her hips stayed narrow. I told her that her slender waist have her body a really feminine shape, but I could tell she didn't really believe me. She said she was fine with it, though. We'd talk about girls in our classes who had shot through the alphabet and turned into bombshells overnight and Dana insisted that she didn't want any part of that. Tits made people dumb, she said. Tits made people boring. As soon as you could rely on your figure, your personality shriveled up and withered away. She said she was far happier with her smaller body than she could ever be as some huge-boobed bimbo. It was pretty obvious that she was just trying to bury her jealousy in pride, especially when she said that she'd never sully her body by get implants or trying to grow even a single cup size bigger.

The fallout of her first girlfriend leaving her for a bustier woman was intense. Dana was practically catatonic for a week, and I did all I could to look after her. She barely ate. She barely slept. It was the most depressed I had ever seen her. One night, when she was delirious from lack of sleep, she grabbed me by the collar and told me that big tits made someone a bad person. Busty women were all homewreckers who deserved to be shunned from society or be forced into brothels where they can perform their singular service to society and they can't hurt anyone else. She finally fell asleep with her arms crossed over her chest.

In hindsight, casting a spell on her against her will to make her tits grow probably wasn't the best way to go about helping her. It was a bit of a panicked idea; I just couldn't bear the thought any longer of not being able to help. Nothing I did could drag her out of her slump, so I resorted to an admittedly extreme measure. There was a decent chance, anyway, that the magic would be bogus or be indistinguishable from natural growth, which made it easier to justify. Neither of those were the case.

It was interesting, at least, to watch her reaction to growing. The first few cup sizes, grown quickly over a day or two, were met with a trepidatious pride. In her mind, she could still consider them "small", even if they were magnitudes bigger than the next-to-nothing she had before. There was an adjustment period, getting used to having weight and wobble on her chest. I occasionally walked into the room just in time to see her yank her hands away from her tits, blush on her cheeks, embarrassed for having acknowledged them at all. She'd stammer out something along the lines of "Well, this is fine. They're still small. I'm not a big titted, girlfriend stealing whore. As long as I stay this big, I'll be fine."

She didn't, of course. Dana's growth continued unbothered by her own feelings about her tits. Once she passed the DD mark, she couldn't really excuse them as being small. The timid fondness that marked her early growth quickly turned to dismay and frustration. A glass was knocked off the table and shattered on the ground, a casualty of Dana's slow acclimation to her own size. She was so angry at herself and her tits in response, that she punched her boob hard enough to leave a bruise. "Fuck these things! I never wanted them! And now they're huge and in the way! Gross bags of fat, never fucking stop moving! The moment you stop growing, I'm chopping you off, you hear me!"

She wouldn't get the chance. By the time the bruise healed, she was pushing the limits of common bra sizes. She never gained an inch in height, still standing with the top of her head below my chin, and her hips stayed narrow as ever, but that slim waist of hers was rapidly being concealed behind her growing tits. She was growing too fast to even buy a bra to contain them and so she milled about my apartment in shirts that were rapidly becoming too tight, struggling to contain that much tit. I could hear the seams straining whenever Dana arched her back and lifting her arms above her head inevitably caused a bit of underboob to slip out.

As much as I tried to keep myself under control, it was about that time that I started staring. I couldn't help myself. These were the biggest tits I had ever seen in real life and rapidly encroaching on being the biggest tits I had seen ever. The first time she caught me staring, it caught her off-guard and I could tell she dismissed it as nothing. The second time, she got angry, punching my arm a bit harder than just "playfully", reminding me that she's a person and more than a pair of tits. The third time, though, I could tell something was different. She blushed and turned away, but her body betrayed her, two little indents forming on the front of her stretched shirt, her nipples stiffening beneath.

It was a few days later, when we were both watching TV (or, rather, we were on our phones on the couch while the TV was on) when Dana turned to me. By now, her breasts nearly rested in her lap, only an inch or two between her thighs and the undersides of her tits. "Do you, um..." She bit her lip. "Do you like big tits?" My face flushed and I stammered something completely incoherent, but she waved her hand in the air, her tits wobbling. "No, no, it's okay. You're fine, dude. I was just... You've been so nice to me through all of this. The break up first and then these." She gave the side of her tit a little slap, the impact rippling across her bust. "And I realized this morning that, um..." She bit her lip, her toes (not reaching the ground past the edge of the couch) curled and uncurled. Her nipples stiffened beneath her shirt, larger and more obvious than ever. "I realized that I'm bigger. Not just bigger than I was before, I mean, anyone would be bigger than I was- hell, you're bigger than I was-" She waved her hand and cleared her throat. "What I mean to say is that I'm bigger than her. The one that stole Nadia away from me. By, like, a lot." The more she talked, the wider her smile grew. She sat up straight, pushing her breasts forward slightly. "I think... I think it would help me get my confidence back if I, y'know, did something with them."

She shifted in her seat, turning her whole body towards me, climbing up onto her knees. There was nowhere for me to go except back into the corner of the couch where Dana quickly trapped me. There was nowhere I could go that wouldn't have me brushing against her bust. "I've never felt... attractive. Before. I told myself it wasn't important. The closest I ever got was the first date Nadia and I went on, but clearly that didn't pan out. But now I have these huge fucking boobs. And you can't stop looking at them. And I've seen you, er, react to them. A little tent in your pants." Now both of us were blushing. The tension in the air grew thicker by the second. "It wouldn't surprise me if you, ahem, jerked off to them. I've already done it myself a few times. They're... they're really sensitive." Her hands felt so small as they reached out and grabbed my wrist. I could barely believe what was happening as she dragged my hand up to her bust, my palm hovering an inch over her left tit. Warmth radiated out of them and into me. Her breathing became deep and slightly ragged. "If you wanted to, we could... I mean, it would be alright if... We'd still be friends either way, but..." Her confidence was wavering so I bridged that final gap, pushing my hand forward and taking her tit in my grip.

Instinct took over. I squeezed. Hard. The initial shock was quickly broken through by a wall of arousal slamming into Dana. She arched her back, pushing her tit into my hand. I don't even think I could describe how it felt to have that massive breast bulge around my fingers, spilling out through every gap, her nipple twitching and quivering against my palm. Even now, the memory of pulling her shirt up and exposing her massive tit, how it felt to have her little hands on the back of my head guiding my lips to her nipple, moaning in time with the rhythmic sucking and squeezing of her head-dwarfing tit, leaves me feeling a bit dazed.

Dana would grow a little bit larger before finally stopping, the spell wearing off. Nadia was quickly forgotten (though I had to talk Dana down from sending her a Big mistake. Huge. style text with a picture of her cleavage) and Dana's attitude on tits quickly normalized. Dana and I didn't end up together, though we did briefly have a friends-with-benefits relationship. Then she met Lillian and the two have been together ever since. I did, eventually, tell Dana about the spell and there was an awkward couple of days, but apparently Lillian helped her through it and she was able to, eventually, thank me for it. She said that I probably should have asked, but admitted that she probably would have said no and then she would have missed out on something wonderful. Lillian occasionally sends me pictures of Dana's bust as continuous thanks for my part in making them. She says it's the least she can do.

[eroticdarling]

Choso brainrot because I need this man to fuck me out—AHEM! I meant take me out! On a date...

✦ Art credit to rednoki0 on Tumblr

I am a firm believer that Choso can be a sub ninety-nine percent of the time, but when he's extremely horny and can't get what he wants is when you find that one percent.

This can be caused by you teasing him to a certain extent, whether it's in public or during sex. In public, he prefers waiting until you get home so no one won't hear you call out his name from the rough pleasure. Now, in bed, you're always in control, which is why your favorite thing was edging him on. But even though doing this was a guilty pleasure of yours, there was a time when you went a bit over the top.

Whenever you feel like he's about to cum while you're riding him you completely stop. He's blushed out just begging to cum inside you as soft whimpers slip past his lips. You then pepper wet kisses along the sensitive parts of his neck and drown him in praise. His favorite combo.

You kept this cycle going for about a good twenty minutes till he got frustrated. Refusing to give him what he wanted, you wondered how far he could go before giving up. Unfortunately for you, his pent-up frustrations got the better of him already reaching past his max.

When his rough hands grabbed your waist without any warning you were instantly taken aback. This was the first time you saw Choso like this, which is why you were surprised by how easily he picked you up off him to pin you to the bed.

"Fuck (Y/N), You know how to make me like this." He says flipping you over to an ass up face down position before he's balls deep in your pussy.

He knew if you weren't going to give him what he wanted then he had no choice but to get it himself. And that's exactly what he's doing by fucking you at a tempo to make you cock drunk. The way he's gripping your waist while pounding into you just to find his high got you on cloud nine.

The way your body is in sync with his hips, your pussy clenching around him with every hard orgasm you have to the point your sweet juices drip down his cock, even the squelching sounds of your cunt mixing with moans. It's all putting him in a heaven-like state making him go insane.

You'd cry for him to at least slow down but it goes unheard and he'd reply with, "Remember when I begged you to let me cum? You didn't listen to me so why should I?" Hearing this you assume he isn't going to let up until he's done.

Your heated face buried deep into the pillow stained with tears of pleasure. Your legs are on the verge of giving up because of the friction including how many times you've cum already. Not to mention how much lewd noises you're making being overstimulated.

And of course, once Choso finds his orgasm he buries his dick deep in your cunt before filling you up to the brim. When he removes himself from you, he visibly sees the white mixture seeping out of you. His face is filled with amusement, having the thought of how pretty you look in this position.

I also feel like when Choso comes back to his senses after sex he's already apologizing for how rough he was. All because you still somehow seem fucked out. You, on the other hand, thought this side of him was cute and would wrap yourself around his arms.

Even though you're somewhat new to acting dominant Choso still loves your attempts. He was the one who gave you the idea when you found out he was the submissive type. Despite the fact you didn't want a submissive boyfriend, you decided to stay with him and learned how to be dominant.

Since then, you haven't pushed him past his limits unless you were positive you could take him.

[msriri030]

Save By Hare Pt 3: Mine to Hold

Mobster!Konig x Docter!Reader

Sorry for the long post

That night, sleep was elusive. You tossed and turned, your mind racing with thoughts of what to wear, how to style your hair, and what to say after dinner. The anticipation made your cheeks flush, and you buried your face in your pillow, hoping to quiet your racing thoughts. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, but the flutter of nerves lingered even in slumber.

Meanwhile, in another room, Roche took a bite of his candy bar, focused on repairing his gear from the latest mission. The operation had involved a dangerous covert surveillance of a drug deal orchestrated by KorTac, a rival gang. The silence of the room was broken only by his quiet muttering as he worked, until he finally spoke, his voice casual, though his mind was elsewhere.

"I'm pretty sure she's asleep by now," Roche said, his tone unfazed.

Across from him, Soap sat fidgeting, his leg bouncing restlessly. His eyes flicked repeatedly to his phone, which remained stubbornly blank. He sighed heavily, the frustration evident in his voice. "Maybe you're right... but why König? I just—"

Before he could finish his thought, Roche choked on his candy bar, coughing violently. Soap immediately jumped to his feet, his concern evident.

"You alright?" Soap asked, his voice tinged with alarm.

Roche waved him off, clearing his throat, his eyes widening as he processed what Soap had just said. "König? KorTac's König? Why didn’t I know about this? You need to tell her! If Don Shepherd finds out—"

"He won’t," Soap cut in quickly, leaning back in his chair, his tone firm but edged with frustration. "Ghost and I decided not to tell her. It could put her in even more danger if we push her to reject him. Besides... who are we to make that decision for her?"

Roche raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the guys who want to turn a twosome into a threesome?"

Soap’s face turned bright red. He glared at Roche, but the man only grinned wider.

"What?" Roche teased, clearly enjoying the discomfort. "Your relationship isn’t exactly a secret, you know. You two aren’t exactly quiet during your ‘sleepovers.’"

Soap looked away, his ears burning. "We don’t... it’s not like that," he muttered, his voice softening as he avoided eye contact. "It’s more like... she’s a sister—the kind you’d do anything to protect."

Roche’s teasing expression softened, though his smirk remained. He decided to drop the subject, sensing Soap’s discomfort. Roche turned his attention back to his equipment, but Soap’s curiosity got the best of him.

"What about you?" Soap asked, his tone casual but the question clearly catching Roche off guard. "Do you... love someone?"

Roche paused, his hands stilling over his gear. A faint blush crept up his neck as he avoided Soap's gaze. After a moment, he sighed, setting the piece of equipment aside.

"Yeah," Roche admitted quietly, his voice low. "I love some people, but I don’t think they’ve noticed. So... I'll just leave it alone."

Soap nodded, understanding the sentiment but unsure how to respond. Roche cleared his throat, shifting the subject back to more pressing matters.

"Anyway," Roche said, his voice more focused. "What do you think about Don Shepherd? Ghost still thinks he's up to something big."

Soap’s expression darkened as he glanced at his phone one last time, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Yeah," he said finally. "We all do."

It was finally time. You stood there, your heart fluttering in your chest as the anticipation of the evening settled over you. You paced the room, each step heavy with excitement and nerves. The soft click of your shoes on the floor was the only sound breaking the silence as you adjusted your clothes for the hundredth time, striving to get everything just right—the perfect fit, the perfect look.

What would you say? Would everything go as planned, or would it be awkward? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but there was no turning back now.

You ran your fingers through your hair, once again contemplating how to style it. The evening was important, and you wanted to feel ready, to look your best. You glanced at the clock—time was running out.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. There were so many things you wanted to say, so much you hoped would happen, but it all seemed too overwhelming at once.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and you froze.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was it him? Was it time?

You quickly made your way to the door, every step deliberate, every breath sharp with anticipation. When you opened it, you were met with a smile—a warm, familiar face..

There König, the mafia boss with a reputation that spanned the city’s darkest corners and its highest towers, stood at the door. His presence commanded attention without a single word spoken.

He wore a deep navy suit—almost black in its richness—crafted from a luxurious wool and silk blend. The suit’s understated elegance spoke of power, the kind only those who truly understood wealth could appreciate. It fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. His trousers were sharply cut, breaking just above polished black shoes. The jacket was impeccably tailored, the lapels wide but not exaggerated. Satin accents caught the light as he moved, adding a quiet sheen to his commanding presence. His tie, a dark navy silk, was simple yet perfectly tied, and his crisp white shirt stood out sharply against the dark suit.

For a moment, you wondered if you were underdressed. But as your gaze met his, everything else faded into the background.

König, still wearing his signature mask, reached out and presented you with a bouquet—a stunning mix of red roses, lilies, baby’s breath, sunflowers, and delicate filler greens. The bouquet was as carefully curated as his entire appearance—elegant, bold, and striking.

“Guten Abend, Hase." I hope you like the flowers I picked out,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you took the bouquet. The vibrant colors and delicate petals were perfect, and it made your heart flutter. You brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with appreciation. “Thank you, König.”

As you stepped aside to let him in, your heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, but in a way that made you feel safe, protected. The evening was just beginning, and you had no idea what it would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt certain that whatever happened next, you were ready.

You held König’s hand as he drove you to Diamond Petals, a high-end restaurant nestled on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town. The drive felt surreal, with every turn and mile heightening your anticipation. As the car approached the restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. The place was more breathtaking than you had imagined.

Floral plants cascaded over the exterior, their vibrant colors glowing against the soft, ambient lighting. The building itself was a masterpiece, the marble and stone walls catching the light in a way that made the entire place seem otherworldly. It felt as though you were about to step into a dream, where beauty and elegance existed at every corner.

The soft hum of music could be heard from inside, and as you entered, the first thing that struck you was the dance floor at the center of the space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the twinkling lights above. It was the perfect setting for an evening filled with romance and charm.

As König pulled the car to a stop, he turned to you with a warm, almost teasing smile. “Ready, Liebling?”

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, where the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of the music from within. It was a perfect evening in the making

The moment you moved toward the entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the crowd. Whispers and curious glances followed you, some filled with intrigue, others tinged with disdain. The people around you were all too aware of König's rare presence, and perhaps even more curious about the person accompanying him tonight.

You blushed, instinctively shrinking into the shadow of König’s towering figure. His presence was enough to shield you, but you could feel the weight of the stares, the curiosity of those around you. It was clear that König was a figure few dared to approach, yet here he was, walking confidently at your side, unbothered by the attention.

The whispers quieted when König shot a cold, sharp glare in their direction. He leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur that only you could hear, “Don’t worry, Hase. They’re just jealous of me having someone so lovely by my side.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and the weight of the stares seemed to fade. His reassurance was enough to ease your nerves, and you stood taller, walking with him toward your table. The faint buzz of murmurs continued behind you, but all that mattered in that moment was the quiet strength and assurance that König exuded, and the way he made you feel—protected, cherished, and entirely his.

When you reached the table, König gently pulled out the chair for you, his actions so graceful and deliberate that you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only person in the room. His care and attention were impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, König,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “This is lovely.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he sat across from you. “Anything for you, Hase. That being said, order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth in his words making your heart flutter. Just as the moment settled, a waiter approached, ready to take your orders. You looked up, meeting König’s gaze before turning to the menu.

“I think I’ll have the steak,” you said, smiling as you felt a rush of excitement at being treated so thoughtfully.

König raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “And what else, Hase? Do you want anything sweet… like you afterwards?”

You burned red at the comment, pausing for a moment before you added, “Maybe the chocolate mousse for dessert?”

The waiter jotted down your choices before turning to König, whose deep, steady voice carried authority as he placed his order. With a courteous nod, the waiter excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet intimacy of your table.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

König leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, warm and unyielding. “But I want to,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I want this night to be perfect for you, Liebling. Because I hope you’ll enjoy having me around… next time, and the time after that.”

He leaned forward, resting his large hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made your heart race. His eyes flickered with a nervous energy, his thumb brushing softly against the top of your hand in a calming rhythm, though you suspected it was more for him than for you.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and unusually vulnerable, “I was terrified when I decided to pursue you. You’re… an angel compared to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprise evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, though his eyes held a shadow of seriousness. “You know what I am, Hase. A mobster.” His gaze dropped momentarily to the table, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps more of a monster than a mobster.” He exhaled heavily, then looked up at you again, his gaze searching. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you’ll still want this, want me, even knowing the dangers that come with it.”

He broke eye contact again, his gaze falling to where his hand rested over yours, as if bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart. For a man so strong and imposing, seeing him wrestle with his own insecurities was almost overwhelming.

“König…” you said softly, reaching across the table to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Regardless of the danger, I want this. I want us, because I feel the same way.” You smiled tenderly, your voice steady with conviction. “I love you, König. These feelings… they consume me. You’ve given me a place to feel safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw it made your chest tighten.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “But I’m so glad I did.”

Before he could say anything more, a voice sliced through the air like a blade—smooth, deliberate, and unwelcome.

“Don König, I didn’t know you had such a beautiful woman at your side.”

König’s warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. His eyes, once alive with affection, turned icy and detached. He knew that voice.

Don Shepard.

König’s jaw clenched as he slowly stood, his imposing frame radiating a quiet threat. Despite his clear disdain, he forced a tight, polite smile, walking toward the older man with a calculated ease that spoke of years of practice in dealing with people like him.

“Don Shepard,” König said, his tone measured but laced with an unmistakable tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he had stirred. “Ah, I have a knack for being where I’m least expected,” Shepard quipped, his gaze shifting briefly to you. His eyes lingered just a second too long before König subtly shifted to block his view, his posture protective. “But I must say, König, you’ve outdone yourself. A woman like her? Quite the catch.”

König’s expression remained calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Shepard,” he said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

But Don Shepard wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh, but it is my business. You’re playing in dangerous waters, König, bringing someone like her into our world.”

König’s smile was razor-thin, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m sure I don’t need you to remind me of the risks,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner to enjoy.”

There was a moment of unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills, before Shepard finally raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something darker. “Just don’t forget, König—our world doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

König barely acknowledged the veiled threat, giving Shepard a curt nod before turning his back on him and returning to you.

As he sat down, his features softened once again, though a trace of tension lingered in his jaw. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “He’s… difficult.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

König’s gaze softened at your words, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, his tone resolute. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

König’s words hung in the air, a quiet promise wrapped in steel. His hand over yours was firm, steadying you in the aftermath of the brief but tense exchange. His gaze softened, a stark contrast to the cold, commanding presence he had wielded just moments ago with Don Shepard.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, König.”

His expression shifted, relief flickering in his eyes as his thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Liebling,” he murmured. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

After the warm moment, the waiter arrived quietly, placing your dishes in front of you with practiced precision before retreating with a polite nod. The aroma of your steak and König’s carefully chosen entrée filled the space between you, but neither of you moved to eat right away.

König cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “I hope the food tastes as good as this evening feels.”

You chuckled softly, picking up your fork. “If it’s half as good as your company, I think we’re in for a treat.”

König chuckled too, the low rumble of his laugh warming you from the inside out. It was rare to see him so relaxed, so at ease.

As you both began to eat, the tension from Don Shepard’s interruption faded, replaced by lighthearted conversation. König told you small, guarded anecdotes about his life—safe stories that made you laugh or widened your eyes in fascination. In return, you shared moments from your own life, noticing the way he listened so intently, as if every word you said mattered.

The dinner unfolded like a dream, a blend of laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional touch of his hand brushing against yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, König allowed himself to hope—for a future, for something brighter, for you.

And as the evening progressed, you realized you weren’t just sitting across from a mobster or even the enigmatic König. You were sitting across from the man who had stolen your heart, and for the first time, you felt certain that you’d found something rare and unbreakable.

However there was someone watching beside Don Sherpard from the corner of his eye, Ghost sat down next to Consigliere Price while listening to Don's ideas. He was feared when the Don spoked to König, all he wanted was to keep you safe but it was too late. 

“Ghost? What do you think about capturing the west harbors?” Price asked him to clear his throat as the Don noticed where he was glimpsing at. He smirked devilishly with a plan in his head. 

However, there was someone else watching the interaction from the shadows—beside Don Shepard, seated at a nearby table, was Ghost. Silent and observant, he sat next to Consigliere Price, his imposing figure blending into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. While Price listened intently to Don Shepard's ideas, Ghost's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked toward König, and then to you.

He felt a pit of unease settle in his stomach when Don Shepard engaged König. He knew the man’s reputation all too well. Whatever Shepard was planning, it was never good. Ghost clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming to act, but he knew it was already too late to intervene.

“Ghost?” Price’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. “What’s your take on securing the west harbors? Think it’s worth the resources?”

Ghost cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “It’s a strong move,” he replied curtly, though his gaze flicked back toward König and Don Shepard for a brief second.

Price noticed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Don Shepard, however, caught the brief glimpse and smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as if a new idea had just sparked in his mind. Whatever he had planned, it was clear that König—and now you—were a piece of his next move.

“She’s pretty—like an angel out of heaven, isn’t she?” Don Shepard’s voice dripped with venomous sweetness as he leaned slightly toward Ghost. His cold gaze locked onto Ghost’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, like a predator cornering its prey. “It would be... horrible... don’t you think? If someone were to use her as bait. Especially if it was someone she trusted. Imagine her being sent back to heaven earlier than expected…” He let the words hang in the air, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist under the table as rage burned through him. His usual mask of stoicism wavered, a flicker of helplessness crossing his features. He hated how powerless he felt at that moment. To disobey Don Shepard was to invite chaos and bloodshed—not just for himself, but for those he cared about. Soap, Roach, and now you—all of you were in more danger than ever before.

Before Ghost could respond, Price interjected, his voice firm and composed, though there was an edge of warning in his tone. “Don, we shouldn’t involve the innocent. That woman has saved countless men, multiple times. She’s earned her place and respect.”

Don hummed, leaning back in his chair as if Price’s words were nothing more than idle noise. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before chuckling darkly. “I suppose... heaven can wait, then. For now. But the devil,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward König, “still needs to be put in his place.”

Ghost’s grip on the edge of the table tightened. He didn’t flinch under Don’s gaze, but his blood ran cold. The implications of Shepard’s words were clear. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The Don’s smile returned, almost cheerful now, as if the prior tension hadn’t happened. “Forget the dance, Ghost,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s enjoy the night, hmm? And refocus on what matters—expanding your ‘supple’ house.”

Ghost gave a curt nod, his body still rigid with suppressed frustration. But his mind was already working. He would find a way to keep you safe, even if it meant going against Shepard in the shadows. He glanced briefly at Price, who gave him a subtle, knowing look.

The night had taken a darker turn, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever game Don Shepard was playing, Ghost knew one thing for certain—he needed to stay one step ahead if he was going to protect everyone who mattered to him.

König held the door open for you as you stepped out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted you, carrying the faint hum of music and chatter from inside. You had hoped to dance with him on the floor earlier, to share an intimate moment swaying together under the soft glow of the chandeliers. But as the crowd thickened, you noticed how König’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor.

Though he insisted he was fine, you could see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. It was enough for you to decide—leaving was the better choice. You didn’t want him to endure any more discomfort, not when tonight was meant to be perfect for both of you.

As you waited by the curb, Vault, König’s trusted driver, brought his car to the front. König moved with his usual grace, opening the passenger door for you. His towering frame shielded you from the outside noise as he gently motioned for you to step in.

Once you were settled into the seat, König closed the door with care, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as though he wanted to be certain you were comfortable. The way his gaze softened before he stepped away made your heart flutter. Without a word, he circled to the driver’s side, his movements calm and deliberate, though you could sense the tension lingering beneath his composed exterior.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, König exhaled a deep sigh, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment before he turned to you. “Thank you, Hase… I know you wanted to dance, and I’m sorry we weren’t able to.” His voice was low, edged with guilt.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, offering him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, love. I understand.”

At your words, König froze, his hands momentarily still on the wheel as his eyes widened. His reaction caught you off guard.

“König? What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head to study him.

He blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze. “N-nothing,” he stammered, gripping the wheel again as he started the car. “I wasn’t expecting… that you’d call me ‘love.’”

A shy smile tugged at your lips as his voice trailed off. You could see how much the small term of endearment had affected him, and it warmed your heart.

Clearing his throat, he added hesitantly, “If… if you’re okay with it, I want to take you somewhere special to me. Somewhere we can be alone.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned back in your seat, your heart already full from his sincerity. “Sure, love,” you replied, the term slipping from your lips as naturally as breathing.

He glanced at you briefly, his blush deepening, but the way his lips curled into a small, bashful smile told you how much the word meant to him. The rest of the drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet excitement that lingered between you both. Thought raced

When you arrived at your destination, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—a sprawling sea of shimmering city lights stretching across the horizon, their vibrant colors twinkling against the stark contrast of the pristine white snow that blanketed the landscape.

You stepped out of the car, the crisp night air biting gently at your skin as you gazed in awe. The view was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a painting brought to life. You’d never been this far from the city before, and seeing it from such a distance, framed by the quiet beauty of nature, left you speechless.

“König…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to him.

He stood by the car, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his tall frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the distant cityscape. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s… magical.”

König took a step closer, his presence grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty of the view. “I used to come here when I needed to think or be alone,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But tonight, I wanted to share it with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

König’s lips curved into a soft smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. His gaze was tender, filled with an affection that seemed to melt the chilly air around you. “You make it perfect, Liebling,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying the warmth of his feelings.

Without another word, he shifted closer, his large hands carefully guiding you. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into him, while he placed your hand on his broad shoulder, keeping the other clasped in his own. He began to hum a low, soothing tune as he swayed with you, his movements slow and unhurried.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. His towering frame felt safe and steady, his hum vibrating through your chest like a comforting lullaby. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you beneath the vast expanse of the stars.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. His scent—clean and woodsy, with a hint of something uniquely him—surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

König’s hum deepened, the melody matching the quiet intimacy of the moment. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against the top of your head. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and his gentle hum.

In that moment, there was no danger, no worries—only the two of you, swaying together beneath the stars in a dance that felt as though it was meant to last forever. But then, a selfish thought slipped into your mind, one you couldn’t ignore.

“König,” you began softly, your voice hesitant as your fingers tightened slightly around him. “Can I ask you something… something kinda selfish?”

He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed down at you. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “When have you ever been selfish, Liebling? Go on, ask me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before finally speaking, your tone serious. “I… I want to see your face.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

König stilled for a moment, his large hand cupping your cheek as he gently tilted your face up to meet his. His expression softened, a tender warmth in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not stupid.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek as he let out a soft sigh. “I understand why you’d want to know what your partner looks like… You deserve that much.” He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and intimate as he added, “Let’s go to the car. I’ll show you there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart fluttering as he gently took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle, an unspoken promise lingering in the air between you.

As you slid into the back seat, König carefully closed the door behind him, his sharp eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching. The air between you felt thick with anticipation, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. You sat patiently, nervously toying with the ends of your hair, the gesture doing little to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when König gently lifted you onto his lap, settling you so you were facing him. His massive hands, warm and reassuring, gripped your hips as his forehead rested lightly against yours. The steady rise and fall of his chest brushed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

His eyes, deep and piercing, locked onto yours, scanning your face with a quiet reverence. His arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs tracing slow, nervous circles along your sides.

“König?” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a quiver of vulnerability in his tone as he continued, “I’m just... nervous. Nervous about how you’ll react to my face, Hase.” The rare fragility in his voice tugged at your heart.

You smiled warmly, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers grazing the fabric of his mask. “König,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I would love you no matter what you look like. The man I fell for isn’t just a face. He’s the one who holds me like I’m made of glass, even though I’m not. He’s the one who protects me, who cares for me so deeply it leaves me breathless.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over his masked cheek as you asked softly, “Ready?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes, Hase,” he murmured. “Only for you.”

As you slid his mask off with trembling fingers, your movements slow and deliberate, you gave König every chance to stop you. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on yours, steady yet vulnerable, as if baring his soul alongside his face.

When the fabric slipped away, your breath hitched. Your eyes widened, taking in the striking details of the man before you. His chiseled features, framed by a rugged jawline, were marred only by scars that seemed to tell stories of strength and survival. You found yourself captivated by his piercing blue eyes, which studied your reaction with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tracing the faint scar along his cheek with delicate fingers, marveling at the softness of his skin. He didn’t flinch; instead, his eyes softened under your touch. Your thumb moved to the prominent scar running across the bridge of his nose, your heart aching as you wondered what battles had left their mark on him. Finally, your hand rested on the small scar that kissed the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you brushed your thumb gently against the edge of his lips before leaning in, your lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. It was tender, almost shy, as if you were both learning to navigate this uncharted intimacy together.

König let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his hands exploring your clothed waist and back, his touch warm and deliberate. You let out a soft moan against his lips from his warm touch. But as much as he didn’t want to lose himself in the moment, he knew his restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Hase,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “Ich liebe dich.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich will dich.”

The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine, your attention fully claimed by the man holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Your breaths grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his as the air between you seemed to thrum with a charged intensity. The world outside the car melted away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate, all-consuming moment.

Leaning in closer, you whispered into his ear, your voice soft but laced with desire, “Ich will dich, mein Bärchen… Küss mich.”

The words sent a visible shudder through König’s massive frame. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his eyes darkening as he gazed at you, captivated. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if savoring the moment and letting your words settle deep into his soul. Then, with a growl low in his throat, he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was fiery, passionate, and all-encompassing, his lips moving against yours with both hunger and reverence. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The distant glow of the city lights painted the car’s interior in faint hues, casting the scene in a romantic glow as the two of you surrendered to the moment.

König’s kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if he was pouring every ounce of his love and desire into them. His hands explored the curves of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, making you feel like you were the center of his universe.

“Mein Hase,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, his voice thick with emotion and want. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The night stretched on, the cool glass of the car windows fogging up from the heat radiating between you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only König, only you, and the unspoken promise of a love that would burn brighter than any star in the night sky.

Part 1: Save by a Hare

Part 2: The Love Doctor