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ki2rins · 1 day ago

Text

⟢ lowkey - nsr

pairings: badboy! riki x fem! reader || fluff, crack || wc: 5k

synopsis: news flash! nishimura riki is finally mature enough to acknowledge his feelings for you and he wants to let you know! but what would he do? A. try to feed you? B. walk you home? C. many more. or D. all of the above? warnings: hes not really a badboy...just more of a get into fights/suspensions boy, loosely based / integrated from the anime - my little monster, highschool! au, petnames, playful banter, teasing, confident ni-ki, shy reader, swearing, - lmk if i missed out anything! playlist: lowkey - niki, moonstruck - enhypen, your eyes only - enhypen, is this love - XG rin's yap: gawddd first try at writing an actual fic, big thanks to bby who sent in the ask, ily smm <3 do let me know what yall think about it!

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nishimura riki or ni-ki was too boisterous. too boisterous for your calm, simple minded nature. he was noisy, you were quiet. he was sporty, you were not. he had a reputation that followed him wherever he went, while you preferred to stay low and blend into the background. yet, despite these stark differences, he always seemed to gravitate towards you. shocking you by leaving random candies on your desk, doodles on your notebook and even occasionally gives you a smile or two whenever your eyes meet. you thought to yourself, countless times even, on the reasons why ni-ki would shower you with these subtle affections. little do you know that the man, the myth himself, has a major crush on you. ni-ki took note of every simple detail about you. from how you’ll do your hair - a simple ponytail on mondays to thursdays and a small tidy bun on fridays since there was gym class. he also noticed how you’ll forget to have your lunch when you are caught up on annotating your textbook, and today was the day he spoke up about it.

ni-ki’s footsteps echoed through the classroom as the door swung open. his usual confident stride was back after his suspension, as if nothing has changed, though the whispers around him had already started. he flashed his signature smirk to the few people who dared make contact, his reputation clearly preceding him. most of the students avoided him, but not you. you didnt really have time to keep your head into these dramas, and you certainly didnt understand why everyone cared so much about his return. yet, for some reason, there he was, standing at the entrance of your usual seat. “you mind if i sit here?” ni-ki asked, his voice laced with a lazy confidence, like it wasnt even a question.

you blinked, trying not to show the hesitation in your eyes. the desk next to yours was the only one left open. you nodded, but the words caught in your throat as he slid into the seat without waiting for your approval.

his eyes briefly scanned the open space on your desk - notes, pens, textbooks and the untouched lunch you had packed earlier.

“you busy?” ni-ki asked, as if making small talk with you was his second nature. his tone was nonchalant, like he was speaking to someone he had known for years, even though you had barely exchanged a couple of sentences before.

you glanced at him, then back at your notebook. “kind of.” ni-ki hummed, playing with the contents in your pencil case. “kind of? looks more like youre drowning in notes.”

you sighed, placing your pen down. “its lunch period, if youre not here to study, why are you sitting here and bothering me? shouldnt you be in the cafeteria or something?” he leaned forward slightly, elbow propped on the desk, resting his chin on his fist. “but you havent eaten.” ni-ki said lazily. his eyes stared at your lunch then back at you. “how do you-” “you do this a lot, get too caught up in work, forget the time then boom - lunch period passes and your lunch gets forgotten.” your mind went blank upon hearing the words that just escaped from ni-ki’s mouth. he described that usual routine so perfectly that for a second you wondered - do doppelgangers exist in this world? you were so lost in your thoughts that you didnt realised until you heard the presence beside you speak up again.

“eat.” ni-ki said as he nudged your lunchbox towards you.

you hesitated, scanning his face for any sign of teasing, but he looked…oddly serious. it was strange, having someone notice such a small habit of yours, much less some like ni-ki. at that moment, you found yourself staring at him - from his jaw to the countless moles on his face, to his lazy-looking eyes and the stray strands of hair resting on his nose. damn. he look…good.

“do you want me to feed you or something?” you blinked as you register his words. what in the world was he saying now? “come on yn, lunch period is ending in 10 minutes. chop chop.” ni-ki said as he took your lunchbox, opening it and passing you the sandwich you prepared for yourself earlier this morning, bringing it up to your lips.

“i-i can eat it myself.” you snatched the sandwich away and turned the opposite reaction. taking a bite as you feel blood rushing up to your cheeks.

upon seeing you shying away from him, ni-ki leaned back on his chair, arms crossed and a knowing smirk growing on his face. he admired the sight in front of him and it killed him to not take this chance to tease you even more, and what he says next really drove you insane.

“good girl”

then you choked. ➽──────────────❥➽──────────────❥

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you barely noticed the bell ringing, signaling the end of class. as you packed your thing into your bag, your mind drifted back to earlier - specifically, the moment when ni-ki pointed out that habit of yours.

“but you havent eaten”

“do you want me to feed you or something?”

“good girl”

your cheeks warmed again at the thought of his words. he was right, as much as it embarrassed you. it wasnt the first time you had forgotten to eat, but hearing him call you out on it felt different somehow - like there was a tinge of affection wrapped up in those sweet words.

as you were wrapping up your thoughts, you attempted to slip out of your seat, but you froze when ni-ki’s voice reached your ears.

“ready to go?”

you turned your head, confused. “ready to go where?”

his smirk remained as he gave you a nonchalant shrug. “home.” and that was how you suddenly found yourself walking side by side with ni-ki.

you cant lie, you dont have many friends. you chose to be part of a small, quiet circle that only hung out every once in awhile, mostly just to study or to catch up. your day to day was simple and predictable - go to school, proceed home, study then lastly, sleep. and so, it repeats again and again.

is he doing all these out of pity? is he…looking down on me?

it was unplanned, uncalled for even. you cant help but wonder if his actions covered up for any malicious intentions. but here you were, leaving the classroom and walking down the hallway, your footsteps in sync despite the silence hanging between you as you both made your way out of school. you glanced up at him, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“so, whats your deal?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, glancing at you sideways. “my deal? you have been avoiding me.”

you stopped walking for a brief second. “i havent been-”

“yeah, you have.” he cut in smoothly. “you have been acting different lately, quieter. you dont usually keep to yourself.

fuck. why is he noticing every single thing?

but you could feel your heart skip a beat at his words. was it that obvious? you tried to brush it off, but his presence was so overwhelming, it was hard to hide anything. you forced a casual shrug. “its nothing.”

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “uh huh. sure. you have been way too quiet. no more random laughter with friends in class. not raising hands to answer questions anymore. you are usually…not this distant.”

you tried to think of a response but found yourself coming up short. was he always this perceptive? or were you just that readable?

“what about you?” putting up a more defensive front after being called out. “you dont exactly make it easy for people to talk to you.”

he just gave you a lazy grin. “i dont need people to talk to me. i have got everything i need.”

you blinked, unsure how to respond to that. his self-confidence, or maybe arrogance, was something that always threw you off. it was like he know he had the power to make anyone talk, but didnt care enough to do so.

“so, whats the plan after school?” ni-ki asked, his voice casual again, like the conversation had never left that easy, confident tone.

“im going to study.” you said quickly, almost instinctively, though your thoughts were drifting to the last few hours of class.

“of course you are. you always study, but you need a break.” he said as he turned, walking backwards now, his gaze never leaving you. “maybe i’ll join you someday, keep you company while youre at it. who knows, maybe i could even tutor you.”

your heart did a strange flip at his words, but you tried not to show it. “yeah, right. you spend more time being suspended than actually being at school, and you think you can tutor me?”

he shrugged, as if the idea didnt faze him at all. “well if you never try, you’ll never know.” he shot you a wink. “the invitation is always up, you could just give me a ring or drop me a text whenever.”

you hummed, trying to stay calm while still processing the casual ‘invitation’ ni-ki had offered to you. you wanted to snap something back, but the air between you was thick with something you didnt quite understand. was this the way he usually operated? you couldnt tell if he was serious or if he was just messing with you.

the walk home continued in silence, but your thoughts were racing. ni-ki was… unpredictable, and that made you nervous in a way you werent used to.

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and so, the weekend came along and not once did you leave ni-ki’s mind.

it wasnt like he didnt have other things to do. he had a routine - friends, his usual chaos - but somehow his thoughts kept drifting back to you. the way you blushed when he teased you about your lunch, the way you avoided meeting his gaze and the strange tension between you both that had been hanging ever since that walk home.

he didnt get it. you were different from the usual crowd he interacted with. quiet, reserved. he was used to people talking around him, trying to get his attention, but you…you didnt try at all.

maybe thats what made you so interesting. and alluring.

he found himself staring at his phone more than usual, waiting for a message from you. he had dropped the invitation, and part of him thought you had just ignored it. but another part of him wonder if maybe, just maybe you would reach out.

his fingers hovered over the keys, typing and deleting messages, not sure how to play this out. he wasnt used to feeling like this, like there was something worth waiting for.

with a frustrated breath, he tapped out a quick message, keeping it casual, trying to convince himself.

okay, you got this. just send the message. easy-peasy, no pressure.

he stared at the screen for a moment longer, then, with a sigh, he sent it.

ni-ki hey, its ni-ki just thought i'll remind you the offer is still open ;)

ni-ki stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, waiting for a reply. his thumb hovered over the phone, already anticipating the silent rejection or the awkward radio silence that might follow. you see, ni-ki is a boy who dreams big, but he does not know how to achieve his dreams. he is not sure on the ways to approach or even to impress you. he is just placing his bets on the weird and awkward gestures he does to catch your attention, and something about his gut told him this time - that it he has a shot.

still, he tried not to get this hopes up too much.

the minutes dragged on, and his eyes flicked back to his phone again and again, even though he knew it was ridiculous.

finally, the screen lit up. his heart skipped a beat.

it was a reply.

yn thanks for the reminder i'll think abt it

his lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. it wasnt exactly a ‘yes’, but it wasnt a ‘no’ either. but he was determined to make you say ‘yes’.

ni-ki well if ure gonna think abt it u might as well take me up on the offer

he hit send, then tossed the phone to the side, trying to distract himself with anything else. but as always, his mind drifted back to you. was he coming off too strong? was he annoying you?

a ping sounded, and he instantly grabbed his phone.

yn youre serious about this huh?

ni-ki smirked, tapping a finger to his chin like he was trying to play it cool. he then replied quickly.

ni-ki i mean it wasnt a joke in the first place besides im pretty sure i could teach u a thing or two

yn im not so sure abt that im fine studying on my own

he grinned, sensing an opportunity.

ni-ki i know u'll say that but we both know ure not the greatest at keeping up w anyth and everyth remember what happened during that lunch period? classic example of u getting lost in your work dont think i didnt notice

there was a long pause, and ni-ki started to think he might have pushed it too far. but then, his phone buzzed again.

yn youre really observant huh? you sound very much like a stalker but abt ur offer im not sure abt it im not yk the best study buddy

ni-ki laughed to himself before replying almost instantly.

ni-ki ure prob right but thats why u need me and yk me irl so i cant be deemed as a stalker :) plus i promise i wont bite unless u want me to

ni-ki cringed at the last part but he didnt want to delete it. thinking to let you decide how to comprehend that.

yn :l fine i'll give it a shot but dont expect me to enjoy it

ni-ki's grin widened. he had won this round.

ni-ki deal see? that wasnt so hard

yn whatever i'll see u tmr then mr tutor

he laughed before typing out his last reply.

ni-ki cant wait to see u tmr promise it'll be fun :)

once done, he leaned back against his bed, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. he wasnt sure what he had been expecting, but the fact that you agreed made it feel like progress. it wasnt much, but for ni-ki, it was a step forward and a win, is a win.

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you found yourself in the strangest places at the oddest times.

and here you are, standing outside ni-ki’s doorstep on a bright and sunny, sunday afternoon.

honestly you didnt expected yourself to agree to his offer at all, but something about his persistent messages and the way he would playfully pushed you to study with him had gotten to you. so here you were - standing in front of a you never thought you would be near, at a time you definitely never saw coming, door.

you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, wincing at how loud it sounded against the silence of the street. your thoughts were scattered, your mind racing through the worst-case scenarios. what if he gave you the wrong address? what if hes not home? you swallowed hard, trying to shake off the wave of nervousness crashing over you.

just then, the door opened with a soft creek, there he was - ni-ki, standing in the doorway, donning just a simple tank top with sweats, greeting you with that familiar cocky smile on his face.

“hey” he said, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “you actually showed up.”

you couldnt tell if his smirk was a teasing one or was he genuinely impressed at the fact that you were standing right infront of his doorstep. either way, it did little to calm your nerves.

“well” you cleared your throat. “i said i would, didnt i?”

he grinned wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “so uh. where are we studying?” you asked, doing your best to sound casual.

he stepped aside, gesturing you to come in. “follow me. i have a study spot all set up.”

as you entered, the tension in your chest started to ease slightly. it was just studying right, right? you could handle this. but still, you couldnt shake the feeling that something had shifted between the two of you ever since that walk home.

the study session wasnt anything out of the ordinary - at least, thats what you tried to tell yourself. you and ni-ki were seated side by side, books scattered across the desk, his room quiet except for the occasional rustling of papers and the soft tapping of your pens.

you tried to focus on your notes, but it wasnt easy when he kept glancing at you. his gaze was so intense, and it made your stomach do these weird flips you couldnt explain. every time you looked to your side, he’ll be looking at you with that half-smirk of his.

“need help with that equation?” ni-ki asked casually, leaning over to look at your paper, your shoulders making contact, making you tensed.

“i-i got it.” you stuttered, quickly writing down the the answer and shifting your body aside, slightly tucking yourself inwards.

he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “relax cutie, im just making sure youre not stressing too much.”

your heart beat faster at his words, especially by the petname he just called you. it wasnt the first time he had said something to put you at ease, but somehow it felt different today. you couldnt help but notice how gentle his tone was, how patient he was with you.

there was a brief silence before you felt him brush his fingers against your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch was light, but it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“youre too close.” you muttered, trying to distract yourself by scribbling down more notes, but it was hard when his hand lingered in the air, still so close.

ni-ki didnt seem to mind the tension. instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. “youre cute when youre flustered, you know that?”

you tried not to blush, but the heat creeping up your neck was unavoidable. “stop messing around.”

“im not messing around.” he replied softly, his voice suddenly more serious. he leaned towards you, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze softening. “you know, i have been thinking about something.”

your eyes met his, and for a second, it felt like the whole world stopped. you felt nervous, your chest thumped in anticipation. you didnt know what he was about to say, but something told you it was important.

“wh-what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

he hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“i like you. a lot. like, more than just a study buddy. im not sure if you could tell, but i have been trying to get closer to you and i was praying all my gestures wouldnt shoo you away instead.”

your breath caught in your throat. you had not expect this moment, your heart raced, and you could feel the color rising in your cheeks, “ni-ki…”

he reached out, his thumb brushing the back of your hand gently. “i know this might sound sudden, but i like the way you are. quiet, thoughtful. you dont make a big deal out of anything. and…i think youre a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

there was an awkward pause, and you werent sure what to say. you had been so focused on the fact that he was always the cool, aloof guy, that you had not noticed how serious he had been about this whole thing.

you did reciprocate his feelings back, but there was just one thing that was stopping you from doing so - his reputation. he was the headstrong boy who gets into fights and treats the world as his playground. you, on the other hand, were just an average girl exploring life one step at the time. both of you were polar opposites, and that scared you.

people had warned you about him before - teachers who sighed at the look of his bruised and battered sight, classmates who gossiped about his flights, the way he always seemed to get himself into troubles and brush it off like it was nothing. ‘he doesnt care about anything’ they said. ‘hes just looking for fun.’ but sitting here now, with the way he was looking at you, speaking so softly, so genuinely…you werent sure if that was true anymore.

before you could summarised your thoughts, ni-ki broke the silence, his voice playful again but with that soft edge of sincerity. “dont worry. im not expecting anything, not from you anyway. but i thought you should know.”

those four words that he slipped in hurt you in ways you couldnt explain. you wanted to admit your feelings for him but the fear still stays. however, something inside of you just wanted to give it a shot, not caring if you would get hurt in the process. life is full of growth anyways right?

“ni-ki” you said, still unsure of how to phrase your words.

he hummed, leaning close to you. “yeah?”

“im scared, but i want to try…wanna make this work. make this work with…you.”

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you and ni-ki did not settle on any label of your current in-between-friendship-situationship-relationship-state. instead, you both agreed to take this one step at the time, keeping things lowkey.

so when he texted you on a saturday night with a simple “wanna go out?”, you werent sure if he meant a date or just another random meet-up. but then again, did it matter?

the waves crashed gently against the shore as the two of you walked side by side, your footsteps sinking into the sand. the beach was quiet, save for the distant laughter of a few night strollers and the occasional rustling of the breeze. it wasnt planned, wasnt fancy - just the two of you, sneakers in hand, the salty air clinging to your skin.

“didnt think you would actually show up.” ni-ki mused, kicking a stray shell along the sand. his tone was light, but you caught a small smile tugging at his lips.

you scoffed, hugging your arms. “you do realise you texted me at, like, ten, right?”

“yeah, but youre here anyways.” he nudged you with his elbow. “you just cant resist me huh?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat at the way he said it - so effortlessly, so naturally, like this thing between you had always been there.

the night stretched on as you walked, exchanging quiet conversation and playful remarks, but beneath it all, there was something else - something unspoken, lingering between your words - until ni-ki finally brought it up.

“you still scared?” he stopped to face you, his voice soft and you could tell he was serious, no teasing, no laughter. he didnt elaborate, but you knew exactly what he meant.

you hesitated, staring out at the dark horizon, “a little.”

ni-ki hummed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “good. means you actually care.”

he said it so simply, yet it made your chest tighten. you glanced at him, searching his face, and for once, he wasnt smirking. and in that moment you could tell - the facade was gone, he wasnt ni-ki but riki, just a boy looking at you like you were the only person on the stretch of sand.

you both now settled to sit on the sand, hearing the waves clash against each other as you both kept quiet. you studied his face once again, ni-ki hugged his knees, toes playing with the sand, the usual smirk on his face replaced with a faint frown. you could tell that he was distracted and for the first time, you felt his confidence falter and it was worrying you. his eyes didnt hold their playful spark, they were distant, thoughtful. you couldnt but ask.

“is everything okay?” your voice was soft, careful, unsure if you were stepping into something you shoudnt.

ni-ki looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he sighed. “you ever wonder if people only see what they want to see?”

“what do you mean?” you blinked, processing his words, unsure of the hidden meaning behind his question.

he ran a hand through his hair, letting out another frustrated sigh. “i mean…im this ‘bad boy’ that everyone perceives me to be. i get into fights, i skip classes, i dont care about anything or anyone. people see that, and they think the know who i am. hell, even i have convinced myself that its easier to just be this…persona. its just easier to let people think im this heartless guy than to show them that…im more than that.”

his words tugged at your heartstrings. you knew the troubles, but you never understood it, not until this moment. the playful, cocky ni-ki you knew, that chased you, was suddenly nowhere to be found. instead, you saw someone who was burdened by an image that never felt like it fit.

“youre not heartless.” you said, your voice steady but filled with sincerity. without thinking, you reached out and gently placed your hand on his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the quiet stillness of the night. “you never were.”

ni-ki looked down at your hand, gaze softening. “you dont get it. you dont know what its like to always be the guy everyone expects to mess up. i even made you second-guess this whole situation didnt i?” he turned to face you, eyes locked on yours.

you tried to search for the usual playful spark in his eyes, but it was gone. there was only vulnerability. he was no longer the confident, untouchable ni-ki, but just a boy who had learned to hide behind walls. his gaze searched yours, and for a moment, you felt the wright of his insecurities pressing down on you.

you couldnt help but feel guilty. you couldnt help but blame the world for putting so much on his shoulders. for making him self-doubt himself, for making you doubt him.

“you dont have to be that guy for anyone.” you said, your voice soft but firm. “youre more than what people think. i see you. the real you.”

ni-ki looked at you, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but didnt know how. his usual confidence seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by a quiet, raw sincerity that made your heart ache for him.

but to ni-ki, that was all he needed to hear from you, that was all he wanted from you.

acceptance.

ni-ki remained still for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, as if searching for a hint of insecurity in your words. when he found none, a flicker of something softer passed through his expression. the tightness in his shoulders eased, but he still didnt smile - not in the way he usually did.

instead, he simple nodded, his voice barely across a whisper. “i guess…i have been waiting for someone to see me like that.”

the words were simple, but they carried a weight that you werent sure you were reading for. it was as if, for the first time, ni-ki was letting down the walls he had carefully built around himself, trusting you to catch him if he fell.

you didnt hesitate, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his cheek. “i see you, riki. just you. no one else.”

his eyes softened, the guarded look that had been there moments ago replaced with something much more vulnerable. the usual cocky grin was nowhere to be found, but there was something more meaningful in its place - a raw, unspoken gratitude.

slowly, ni-ki leaned forward, his breath warm against your face as he closed the distance between you. it wasnt fast, and it wasnt rushed. it was a quiet, tender movement, as though he was giving you the choice, the space to decide.

and for once, you didnt need time to think. you leaned into him, the kiss gentle at first, as if both of you were testing the waters - treading carefully. but as the kiss deepened, the walls between you both seemed to crumble further, and in that moment, you realised that despite everything - the doubts, the insecurities, the fear - you werent as different as you thought. you were both just two people trying to figure things out, finding solace in each other’s presence.

the world around you faded. the waves, the sand, the night - it all disappeared as ni-ki’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as if he, too, had been waiting for something to finally feel real.

when the kiss ended, you both lingered in the stillness for a moment, breathing in the night air. ni-ki pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a playful spark finally flickering back to life in his eyes.

“so…are we, like…boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asked, his voice light but with a hopeful smile.

you blinked, surprised by the directness, but then you smiled, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “youre asking me?”

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, teasing. “well, im pretty sure i have earned it.”

you rolled your eyes but couldnt stop yourself from smiling, the warmth between you undeniable. “i guess so.”

he grinned and pulled you closer, the playful glint in his eyes still there, but there was something more sincere behind it now, “good, because im not going anyhwere.”

you leaned into him again, realising that whatever this was between you, it was real. no labels, no expectations - just the two of you, finally figuring things out together.

#enhypen #enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #ni ki #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #enhypen riki #riki x reader #rin's works

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loveesiren · 1 day ago

Note

Hi lovely. Hope youre having a great weekend. I had short question. I love your writing and was wondering if you do requests? If so could I ask for one where y/n meets GD's cats for the first time. Theyre both nervous but it goes great.

If not, sorry for asking

Have a great rest of your weekend<3

Ｚｏａ'ｓＦａｖｏｒｉｔｅ

a/n: Oh my sweet angel, if only you knew the creativity this request sparked for me!! I even had to add some SMAU to it! Thank you so much for sending me the cutest request! I hope I did it justice!

Also, I just got a new phone and all my fake social apps got deleted so sorry if they're wack lol

synopsis: Jiyong finally decides that the girl he's been dating should meet his precious babies, and he's blown away by the result.

warnings: FLUFFFF, alochol, language, very light mention of sex, still SFW

wc: 3.2k+

Soft music filled the car as you tapped your fingers against the steering wheel, your stomach twisting with nerves. The GPS on your phone read you were five minutes away, and suddenly, the reality of where you were going sank in deeper.

You and Jiyong had been officially together for two months, though the pull between you had been there long before. Late-night texts that stretched until morning, goofy pictures exchanged on Snapchat, secret moments stolen at his shows. But privacy mattered—to both of you. Being in the public eye made everything more complicated, so you took your time, let things unfold naturally. And you liked it that way.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he had invited you to his home.

It was a big step, one that spoke volumes. Jiyong was careful about his personal space, rarely letting people in. More often than not, he preferred to meet somewhere neutral or come over to your place instead. His past had taught him to be guarded, to protect the things he held closest. That included his home. That included his cats.

Princess Zoa and Iye weren’t just pets to him; they were family. And the fact that he was willing to introduce you to them—on their turf—meant more than words could.

You exhaled sharply as you pulled up to his building, quickly sending him a text to let him know you’d arrived. Within moments, your phone buzzed, and you saw his response:

Come up. Already called it in. Park next to me.

Of course, his building had top-tier security. Nothing less was expected.

You found his spot and eased your car into place beside his, gripping your bag as you took a couple of steadying breaths. Just as you turned to get out—

"Ahh!" You yelped, heart slamming against your ribs.

Jiyong stood outside your window, a smug grin on his face, clearly proud of himself for making you jump.

"You’re a dick!" you huffed as he opened the door for you, still chuckling.

“Mmm, sorry,” he murmured, clearly not sorry at all. His hands found your waist, pulling you in effortlessly as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Missed you.”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie as you smiled. “Missed you too, JiJi. I’m really excited you invited me over.”

He hesitated for a second, then let out a breath, his lips quirking up in a nervous smile. “I just... trust you.” His voice was quieter now, more serious. “I want to share this part of me with you.”

That made your heart do an embarrassing little flip. You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin. You were head over heels for this man.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your bag from the car before lacing his fingers through yours. "Let's go."

Inside the elevator, he swiped a key card, granting access to the penthouse suite. A comfortable silence settled between you as the numbers climbed, Jiyong absentmindedly toying with the ends of one of your long braids.

When the doors finally slid open, he led you down the hall to his front door. He hesitated, scratching the back of his head.

"Uhh… it’s been a while since I’ve had someone… new over,” he admitted.

You squeezed his hand gently. “As long as you want me here, Ji, that’s all that matters.”

“I do!” he said quickly. Then, after a beat, “Zoa and Iye might be a little nervous, though…”

You chuckled. “That’s okay. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

A soft pink dusted his cheeks as he bit his lip. God, he was adorable.

“Okay,” he breathed, then unlocked the door, pulling you inside.

Your eyes widened as you took in your surroundings. You had seen glimpses of his place through Snapchats before, but nothing prepared you for seeing it in person. It was an effortless blend of artistic chaos and meticulous minimalism—every piece carefully curated, every detail intentional. The sleek furniture, the carefully arranged artwork, the shelves lined with vinyls and rare collectibles. It was stunning.

“Damn,” you muttered, turning in slow circles. “You really put my place to shame.”

Jiyong laughed as he placed your bag on the couch. “I like your place,” he said. “It’s homey.”

"Ji, I had no idea you were this clean and organized.” You teased.

"I’m not," he admitted with a smirk. "The cleaners came this morning. Gabriella has been cleaning up my messes for years. Bless her heart.”

You shook your head, grinning as he sauntered toward you, fingers grazing your exposed hip, playing with the waistband of your pajama pants.

“Can I get you a drink?” he murmured, his smirk deepening.

"Please," you teased, matching his energy.

He led you toward the kitchen, rambling about drinks and dinner. But before he could finish his sentence, a soft brush of fur against your leg made you pause.

“Hi, Princess Zoa!” you cooed, crouching down as the elegant gray cat moved gracefully around you, rubbing her face against your outstretched hand.

Jiyong blinked. “No way. She was hiding before you got here…”

You beamed, gently scratching behind her ears. “She’s so sweet! I love her already.”

And just like that, the tension in Jiyong’s shoulders eased. His lips curled into something soft, something real.

Yeah. This was a big step. And it felt right.

Jiyong handed you a drink—a simple vodka soda, but he knew it was your favorite. That small detail alone made your chest tighten in the best way. You took slow sips as you followed him through his home, the quiet intimacy of the moment settling over you like a warm blanket.

He showed you everything. His personal recording studio, where half-finished lyrics and melodies lived. The spare bedrooms, each one somehow still curated with his impeccable taste. The breathtaking view from the balcony, where the city stretched out endlessly beneath you, glittering like a dream. And finally—his bedroom.

This was your favorite.

His presence was everywhere in this space, woven into every little detail. The artwork, a mix of chaotic genius and sentimental treasures. Clothes draped over the back of a chair, half-folded laundry on the bed—tangible proof that he lived here, existed here. His knick-knacks, collected from different parts of his life, told a story only he could tell. It was personal. It was beautiful.

Something on his bedside table caught your eye, drawing you closer. A photo. A small, colorful rock. You picked them up, curiosity humming in your chest.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the photo over in your hands.

Jiyong chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s, uh… a picture Daesung took of us. From that beach party a few months back.”

The moment flooded back instantly. That warm summer night, the waves crashing in the distance, music thrumming through the air. You and Jiyong, tipsy and tangled in laughter, dancing with the kind of reckless abandon only a new connection could bring. You’d forgotten Daesung had been running around with a camera, documenting the night in blurry snapshots of joy.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as your thumb brushed over the image. That night was when it had really started for you—the way Jiyong had held you close, how he never stopped making you laugh, how gentle he was even in the midst of chaos.

You glanced at the small rock in your other hand. “And this?”

Jiyong grinned, taking it from you, rolling it between his fingers like it was something precious. Because it was, to him. “This, my dear, is the first gift you ever gave me.”

You blinked. “It is?”

“Mmhmm.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Remember that time you called me drunk, asking if I could pick you up? You got in my car, all excited because you found a rock that ‘matched my hair.’” He mimicked your voice playfully. “You put it on my dashboard, declared it a masterpiece, and passed out before I even made it to your street.”

Your face heated. “Oh my god.” You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “Jiyong… you kept my drunk gift?”

“Of course.” His voice softened. “I have it in my pocket at every show. It’s my good luck charm.”

Your heart swelled, emotions tangling in your throat as you looked up at him. “You really are the kindest man I’ve ever met, you know that?”

He smiled, that soft, intimate kind of smile that made your stomach flip. “Can’t help it with you…”

His lips met yours, slow and sure, his hands finding your waist and pushing you toward the bed. Your back hit the mattress as his lips traced along your jaw, down the curve of your neck, making warmth pool in your stomach. You tangled your fingers in his hoodie, pulling him closer—

A sharp bap landed right on Jiyong’s head.

“Ow, Zoa!” he yelped, rubbing the spot where his beloved cat had just smacked him.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as Zoa hopped onto your lap, settling comfortably.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Jiyong shot you a mock glare, eyes twinkling with amusement. He sat up as Zoa curled into a loaf on your stomach, kneading at your shirt like she had claimed you for herself. “Did my cat just cockblock me?”

“Shhh, don’t say those words in front of the baby!” you scolded, scratching behind Zoa’s ears.

Jiyong scoffed. “Wow. Okay. I’ll just fuck off then.” He stood dramatically, shaking his head as he made his way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t stop laughing as you carefully moved Zoa to the side, hopping off the bed to chase after him, the cat trotting behind you.

“Hmmm, later, Oppa,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Let’s watch our show.”

He sighed dramatically but smiled as he turned in your arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Fine.”

The two of you curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs as Breaking Bad flickered onto the screen. Jiyong’s hand rested on your thigh under the blanket, absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin.

Zoa stretched out across your lap, already fast asleep, and moments later, a soft meow announced the arrival of another visitor.

“Iye!” Jiyong grinned, patting his lap. The sleek gray cat hesitated before slowly making her way over, her small paws pressing into his legs as she perched there, still wary of you.

She craned her neck, sniffing at your arm cautiously before pulling back.

“Hi, Iye,” you murmured, keeping your voice gentle. You let her come to you, holding out your hand for her to investigate. She gave a single curious sniff before rubbing her face against your fingers—just once—then retreating back to Jiyong’s lap.

“At least you still love me, huh?” he cooed, scratching under her chin.

Iye kept sneaking glances at you as the show played, inching ever so slightly closer with each passing minute.

Jiyong leaned against your shoulder, exhaling a long drag from his vape as he glanced toward the window. The sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, painting the city in soft gold.

“You hungry, babe? I can start dinner.”

You stretched, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Mmm. What’re we having?”

“Lobster,” he said casually.

Your head snapped toward him. “Lobster?” You scoffed. “Jiyong, how fancy. I should’ve worn a cocktail dress.”

“As much as I’d love that, Jagi,” he mused, standing up, “nothing beats sitting on my couch in pajamas with my gorgeous girlfriend, eating lobster with no judgment. We can be as messy as we want.”

You leaned against the couch, watching him with a warmth spreading through your chest.

“God, I love you…” you murmured, without thinking.

Jiyong froze mid-step, turning sharply to face you, his expression unreadable.

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I mean—” You stammered, face heating. “Ah, fuck.”

“No, no, don’t take it back.” He crossed the room in seconds, dropping onto the couch beside you. His hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours. “Say it again.”

Your heart pounded. “I said… I love you.”

His lips crashed against yours, deep and urgent, a raw kind of emotion surging between you. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, too.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shy but filled with absolute joy.

Jiyong grinned, standing abruptly. “Okay, I’m gonna go make you the best dinner ever. Because I fucking love you and you fucking deserve it.”

You laughed as he dashed toward the kitchen, grabbing your phone with trembling fingers to text your friends.

Laughter echoed through the kitchen as you and Jiyong moved in perfect sync, playfully bumping into each other while prepping dinner. The rich aroma of butter and garlic filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of freshly squeezed lemon. His two cats sat perched on the counter, their sharp eyes tracking every movement, their tails flicking lazily as if silently judging your cooking skills.

“Babe, they’re totally waiting for us to drop something,” you giggled, nudging Jiyong as he reached for another ingredient.

“They’re opportunists,” he scoffed, turning to Zoa. “Aren’t you, Princess? You’re not slick.”

The gray cat blinked at him, unimpressed, before returning to watching your every move.

The two of you tossed back shots between chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food. Each time the tequila burned your throat, Jiyong was there with a teasing smirk, leaning in to steal a quick, lingering kiss that tasted of citrus and salt. You felt light, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, but it wasn’t just that—it was him. This moment. This feeling of being completely and utterly alive.

“Voila!” Jiyong announced dramatically, placing the finished dish on the counter with a flourish. His grin was downright giddy, like a little kid proud of his creation.

You clapped your hands together, eyes lighting up as you took in the masterpiece before you. “Holy shit, babe. This looks amazing.”

Jiyong preened under your praise, already reaching for a piece of lobster and popping it into his mouth.

“Should we sit at the table?” you asked, glancing toward the neatly set dining area.

“Fuck no,” he said through a mouthful of food. “Couch. Show. Now.”

You giggled, warmth blooming in your chest. You had finally found someone who matched your energy—who understood the joy of ignoring formalities in favor of what truly mattered.

Plates in hand, you both made your way back to the couch, curling up under the softest blanket as Breaking Bad resumed on the screen. Every so often, Jiyong would feed you a bite, and you'd do the same for him, laughing when he dramatically moaned about how good it was. The alcohol settled over you like a warm embrace, your limbs heavy, your mind blissfully light.

At the edge of the couch, Zoa and Iye sat patiently, their eyes fixed on the two of you, hoping for a dropped morsel.

“Sorry, ladies,” you teased, waving a lobster claw in front of them. “This one’s all ours.”

Jiyong chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. His body was warm against yours, his scent a mixture of cologne, blueberry vape juice, and something inherently him. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling completely and utterly at home.

It hit you then—how much you loved him. How he wasn’t just your boyfriend. He was your best friend. The person you could be unapologetically yourself around. No pretense, no walls. Just laughter, love, and this perfect, ordinary, extraordinary moment.

By the time dinner was finished, the two of you had knocked back a few more shots, and your bodies had melted further into the cushions. The warmth of the alcohol, the lull of the TV, and Jiyong’s steady breathing made your eyelids heavy. Even the cats had settled into slumber, Zoa curled up at your feet while Iye stretched out on the back of the couch.

Jiyong shifted beside you, his lips grazing your temple as he whispered, “Can we finish the show in my room?”

You hummed in agreement, unable to form words in your sleepy haze.

With an exaggerated groan, Jiyong forced himself up, stumbling slightly before pulling you to your feet. The two of you giggled as you made your way to the bedroom, tripping over each other’s steps, hands wandering, lips meeting between bursts of laughter.

As soon as you passed the threshold of the bedroom door, it was a tangle of limbs, clothing being shed in lazy, drunken movements, laughter giving way to slow, heated kisses.

Jiyong took his time with you, his hands mapping the curves of your body like he was committing you to memory. Every touch was reverent, every kiss deep and lingering. The world outside ceased to exist—the only thing that mattered was this, the warmth of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together like a puzzle that had finally found its missing piece.

There were moments of whispered confessions between soft moans, giggles breaking the tension as you both found yourselves too tipsy to be completely coordinated. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was here, with you, holding you like you were the best thing he had ever known.

Because to him, you are.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Jiyong pulled you close, his arms securing you against him as he pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder. You sighed in contentment, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“G’night, JiJi,” you murmured sleepily.

He hummed against your skin, his lips still brushing over you. “Night, baby girl.”

Within moments, sleep claimed you both.

Jiyong was the first to wake.

A groggy groan left his lips as he scrubbed a hand over his face, his body still heavy with sleep. The golden morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows over the room.

When he turned over, his breath caught.

You were still fast asleep, your hair spilling across the white sheets, your lips slightly parted as the softest snores escaped.

Nestled under your arm, Zoa was curled into the smallest ball, her tiny frame rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Jiyong felt his heart clench.

He had never been a morning person, but waking up to this? To you? He could get used to that.

A quiet meow pulled his attention, and he shifted his gaze to Iye, who sat perched on the pillow beside your head. The slender cat stretched lazily, then turned to look at him.

Jiyong raised an eyebrow. “Well?” he whispered, as if Iye would actually respond.

The cat let out a soft chirp, then glanced at you.

And then, in the smallest of gestures, she leaned forward and rubbed her face against your cheek before settling back down.

Jiyong blinked.

That was it. That was the moment.

He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Iye, his most reserved, most particular baby, had just given you her silent approval.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his gaze drifting back to you.

The love that swelled in his chest was almost too much.

He reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

And in that moment, with the sun painting you in gold, his cats nestled around you, and his heart feeling fuller than it ever had—Jiyong knew.

He had found his forever.

Tags: @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan @infinetlyforgotten @staryscorner @blu-brrys @come-as-you-are-111 @nicklet94 @vamplivivi @3mma-lovely @hanadulsetaad @sayugarper @forevervibezzzz1 @shieraseastarrs @mooonologyy @skzdreamz @stillpervert @seunghyunwifey @juliskopf @mirahyun @mattsturniolosbabymama @kai-277 @rotten-toenails @i-might-be-vanny @zzhengyu @petersasteria @manuzicaveyr @maskedcrawford @gdinthehouseee @aishallnotbefound @babygirlewis @multifanxtvshows @readin0nsense @anonymip @lilysdoll @uuchii @pinkpunkdynamite @lariem-blog2 @sherxoo @honeyblossom112-2 @succulentpk @topluvr @bvbgirl21 @1950schick @gdgirl21 @hotbutbothered

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slutsareteacherstoo · 18 hours ago

Text

Gonna be blasting all these songs that came up below like wow, Reina. You got me fr. Its highkey a sign for me. Like lemme not block my blessings and get my shit together real quick but amazing

First up gon be that Keyshia Cole

Me reading the warnings more clearly know and sending praise 😩🙏🏿

OH SHE IS FREE?!?! GRACIAS MI REINA 🙏🏿🧎🏿‍♀️I WAS STRESSING!!!!! but damn that’s not freedom frfr but she out!

Come on inner dialogue tingz!!! 🗣️🗣️ “Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.”

“For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.” Its giving sisyphus😪free my girl fr!!!!

Shit that freaked me out but i too would freak out and had i heard someone fall to the floor

“I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.” - you be writing poetry? 🧐🤨 just curious 🤓 it’s very lyrical, very verse!!! I like that last sentence.

OH GOT HE TOGETHER REAL QUICK!!!!!

Nah Havana. We nuh av dat!!!! 😤 THE PERSON IN FRONT IS SHOWING YOU THEY LOVE YOU BABY YOU NOT PRETENDING!! And ol boy knows its not an act 😩

“…Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.” - well *claps hands* so when’s the wedding??? 🤭 no but that was some real shit. This IS some real shit. Havana’s inability to accept her relationship with Terry and his love for her for what it is is def a situation ik all too well, even when all the conditions are met that doesn’t change the mindfuck and guilt can be consuming. And also like being able too see the grey. Cuz like yes 🙄 Vana couldve reeled it in a bit but/and/also Terry was being communicative and ignored Vana when she brought up what happened and how it clearly bothered her. So the moral is that there’s shared accountability in all this!!!

*LEARN SOMETHING FROM THIS*

Yes we love big bawling, emotional Terry being raw and vulnerable

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.” 🥺🥺

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.” - WHEW THATLL DO IT!!!!! 😭

Not his voice metro booming i wouldve [redacted] right there

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.” - THEY GON BE MAKING LOVE TONIGHT YALL 😫 play “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” by Elton John

OH SHIT WE DOIN AFFIRMATIONS NOW?!?!

I blinked in between the pumps like sorry Vana. scooch over real quick i need to hear this 😅🙈

HEY SIRI PUT THAT DESTIN CONRAD “IT’S YOURS” ON REPEAT!!!

Lmaooo ok ok ok Reina 😌Mi Reina you’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of your public. Now i know (partially)why you had the girls [gender neutral] up in arms. But wow!!!

This was sooo disarming. Like you stripped me raw and got me reflecting like fuck. I don’t do fisticuffs but that anger and being quick to use it on people who aren’t careful. Them words could cut a bitch fr!!! But like wow im like taken aback and in awe. Like shoutout to Vana for seeing herself through it. I mean Terry helped or whatever 🙄 but again Vana did the heavy lifting and thT makes me soo proud to see.

And you’ve done such an amazing job crafting these characters, esp your OC and making her face her shit and be real with herself, always for the better. Like chile lemme get myself together so I can be present in my future relationships like damn. It took me a minute to catch up but it was actually perfect timing. Like wow.

Im constantly blown away by you and seeing you expand in your craft. Ik im a behind but ik that means theres more in store to give flowers to always 💜

Big Mama Pt. 12 | Enough

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +5.1K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, light smut (fingering), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument, self-deprecation

🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Early That Morning

“Monnie, I don't know… Everything is just…,” I said, crying softly.

“Girl! If you don't just praise God right quick, and call that man to thank him.” Monnie said, smacking her lips. She was understandably agitated with my response. Was it lackluster? Yes, but I didn't know what to say or do about it. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I honestly wasn't happy with the outcome.

After almost three weeks of pure hell, I received a call from a lawyer that Terry himself hired. I was told the conditions for maintaining my freedom as I was currently living in the aftermath of the incident between Terry, me, and Taylor. It was finally over, but here I was still crumbling under the weight of it all.

The terms and conditions were as follows:

Terry agrees not to sue Taylor as long as she agrees not to sue me.

Terry agrees not to file and pursue criminal charges against Taylor as long as she agrees to drop the charges against me and forfeit her right to refile.

I would not be allowed to approach Taylor in any public setting, but we could be present in the same vicinity.

There would be no established restraining order from Taylor against me, just a peace order since we have no standing or pre-existing relationship.

Terry's family agreed to take care of any outstanding medical bills for Taylor, along with her receiving a small undisclosed amount.

The records would be expunged after 90 days.

The terms were simple and clear. I just hated how much Terry had to give up for it. The outcome was obviously unfavorable and one-sided. The single impartial party who deserved justice and compensation received none— Terry. Because of that, I felt like crawling into a hole and never resurfacing. Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.

My faith in love had been tainted by my own doing not because I didn't think Terry loved me but because I felt like he shouldn't. Every voice in my head told me I was and should've been deemed unlovable years ago. Honestly, a person like me is not capable of accepting a love as pure as Terry's. For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.

2 Hours Later

KNOCK

I was startled awake by the thunder of someone pounding on my front door. I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my living room.

Jumping up, I attempted to make my way to the door. I used the oversized plush blanket as a cover and held it tightly against my body. I was only wearing a sports bra and micro-biker shorts.

As I walked around the edge of the coffee table, the blanket snagged the corner and positioned itself under my feet. My right foot got trapped in the sea of fabric, causing me to crash onto the floor. My knees collided with the laminated wood with vigor. I had no time to lick my wounds.

“Shit!” I yelled.

At this point, I was more than agitated. I tore the blanket off of me and tossed it to the floor. Using the arm of the recliner, I regained my footing and stood up. I placed my hands on my hips and drew in a deep breath as my body registered the pain from the fall.

Before I could make another move, the knocking began again. This time, the sounds were harder and louder.

KNOCK

Each knock sounded off, shaking the front door. I paused in fear. My anxiety peaked as my mind began to race with disturbing thoughts. I wasn't expecting visitors, so who was this?

“I can hear you inside, ‘Vana. Please, just open the door.” said a muffled voice from outside.

No. No. No. It couldn't be. Why would he be here?

“Terry?!” I yelled back in confusion and relief.

“Yes, baby! Now, can you open the door? We really need to talk,” he said.

I remained frozen in place. Losing the ability to hear, Terry's voice began to drown out.

“Havana!” he yelled again.

“Uh, Terry. I just… I don't…,” I whimpered loudly.

Before any coherent thoughts left my lips, the door swung open. I couldn't help but stare at Terry in shock.

“How the fuck……,” I asked as I approached him slowly.

“I had a key made months ago. I wanted it for emergencies. This counts as an emer….,” Terry said.

“Terry! Get out! Now!” I yelled. I was beyond frustrated and tired.

Today has worn me thin, and my patience was at its lowest. I wasn't in the mood for tolerating any form of nonsense or mess.

“No! Havana, baby… We need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do.”

I knew I owed Terry an apology, a conversation, and everlasting grace; but I couldn't even find it in me to give myself the same.

I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.

“Havana, look at me!” Terry said, grabbing my chin. Oh, how a firm yet loving hand can change things. My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest as his fingers stoked the surface of my skin.

“Terry… I… I'm sorry,” I said as tears finally broke free. “You… Y-you deserve more than I can give you. I want… I want you to be happy. I just don't think that can happen with me.”

“Mama, don—,” Terry said.

“No! Terry, just lea—leave. Please!” I yelled, pushing him away.

“Havana,” Terry said, grabbing my arms. His eyes dropped to meet mine.

Yanking away from him, I yelled again, “Ter—!”. Before I could finish, Terry's face shifted into a look of utter aggravation.

“That's it! Havana Rose,…. sit down or I'll sit you down,” Terry muttered through gritted teeth as he pointed towards the couch.

I stood there for a second frozen in shock. I never expected Terry to put up this much of a fight.

“Aight, I'm done. I'm sick—,” he started to speak as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, “—of this shit!”.

Terry began to carry me down the hall. I pushed against his back in a feeble attempt to be released. I knew struggling was pointless, but I wasn't ready for the conversation Terry clearly wanted to have.

As we rounded the corner of my bedroom door, I could feel the tears falling with ease. There was no noise leaving my body as I silently wept. I should've prepared for this more productively. Instead, I tried to choose a coward's way out, and Terry wasn't having it.

Like always, life had a weirdly tumultuous way of making me confront my feelings.

Placing me on the bottom edge of my bed, Terry stood in front of me. His eyes scanned my face as he watched me teeter on the edge of implosion.

“Hav—,” Terry started. He squatted down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

As much as I wanted this to end, one question was burning through my mind— heavy and bitter as it weighed on my tongue. Unfortunately for me, the four words could not be swallowed back down, allowing the unpleasantness of the discontent to fester in the back of my throat. I knew how to rectify this feeling, and I knew how to pacify the voices in my head. But, should I, and did I deserve it?

“Do you love me?” I asked, avoiding Terry's gaze. I could see his lips begin moving, so I placed my hand over his mouth. “No, just listen to me. I want you to think about what happened. I can't even control my anger. W-what if… you wake up one day and finally realize y-you… deserve better… than me. I'm sick of pretending like… like I'm enough. Terry, we both know I'll never be enough, so let's just end this now,” I spoke barely above a whisper.

Terry's hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. As his eyes pleaded with me, I saw a glimmer of something I wish I didn't— hesitation and uncertainty. I slowly pushed his hands off my shoulders, waiting for him to just say what we already knew.

Terry didn't love me. He loved what he thought I—

“’Vana, let's get something clear. I love you with all my fuckin' heart. Just saying I love you isn't enough for me because you're everything to me. What can I do to show you that? Huh? Tell me, love. What can I do?”

I hung my head in defeat. Most women would be swooning over this, but it only added another layer to the guilt that was consuming me. Now, he was giving me unconditional love when I couldn't even allow myself the space to apologize.

“Terry, no. Please, just—,” I choked, wiping away tears.

“No, you stop. Stop beating yourself up about this. I understand that what I did made you doubt me, but don't ever feel like the problem was you. I was. I did it. All of this is on me. If I would have been man enough to tell you the truth about what happened, there wouldn't have been a fight. That one mistake caused all of this. This is my fault, not yours. And—,” he spewed breathlessly.

“Terry…,” I interrupted him.

“No, let me finish. Believe me, when I say this, I'll fight the devil himself for you. I'll climb the mountains in heaven just to find you again. I don't think you understand me, baby. I love every part of you. I hope that one day you can see that. Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.”

Terry stood at his full height, towering over me. His eyes were bright yet somehow lacking their normal vitality, seeming to be void of any indication of happiness. It became clear to me that this was wearing Terry down just as much as it was me. As much as I wanted him to give up, the idea of causing him such grief and fatigue weighed heavily on my heart.

He drew his hands into fists as I watched his eyes. His face became flustered, and his breathing became ragged. Every breath choppier than the last. I could sense something brewing inside of him. His hands were shaking slightly as they rested by his side. As he unclenched and clenched his fists, his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes glossed over, and his gaze became lethargic. No… No… This couldn't be happening.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I just feel like we can't—,” I said, standing from the bed.

Tears were streaming from Terry's eyes. The strength in his face was faltering right before my eyes.

I slowly reached out to touch his face, stroking his cheek while I wiped away the tears. He grabbed my hand, holding it tightly against his cheek.

“These… these last few weeks have been pure hell for me. I missed you so much, mama. It's like for the first… for the first time in my life, I know love; and that's because of you,” he paused for a moment, taking long deep breaths. “It was a funny feeling at first…. and coming to terms with it was hell. You only hear of women wanting to be seen and heard, but now that I know the feeling—. I don't think I could ever go back to what I thought love was.”

“Terry, you really feel that way?” I asked, sobbing with him at this point.

“Yes, it honestly scared me when I realized how much I loved you… Whew… I had to sit with the fact that I had never loved someone that much… and… and I had never been loved properly before you. Baby,… listen to me… I can say this before God and before you… that this is a love worth fighting for. Havana Rose, YOU'RE worth fighting for. Do you… please, tell me you understand,” he sobbed into my hand.

“Terry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't want… I just didn't know what to say,” I said, pulling him into a hug.

“You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you're not leaving,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

His hands wrapped around my waist even tighter. I rested my face in his chest and mumbled a quiet no.

How could I leave him, especially now? For the first time, my heart felt— full.

“Thank you, ‘Vana. I love you. Okay?” he said, leaning into me.

“I love you, too,” I confessed, wiping away my tears.

I reached out to touch Terry's face, tracing the outline of his jaw. As if that was all the reassurance he needed, his shoulders dropped slowly. I watched patiently as his body returned to a state of normalcy— shoulders broad, chest out, and head high.

As we stood there silently refusing to let each other go, he let out a long yawn.

“Tired?” I questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Wanna take a nap… uh… together?” I asked, praying that he would say yes.

There was nothing I craved more than his touch right now. I needed him bad. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for his answer.

“Hell, yeah!” he blurted, lifting me. His hands carefully wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards the head with me in his arms. He gently laid me in the center of the pillows. I released my legs and let them fall onto the bed.

Finally untangling from each other, Terry lifted himself onto his hands. He scooted down so that his head was resting on my chest. I used one hand to run my fingers through his velvety hair, massaging his scalp with my fingertips. The other hand soothingly rubbed his back like a baby. Terry's arms wrapped under my body, embracing me tightly. I let my lips rest at the top of his head.

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.

2 Hours Later

Waking up to Terry's body on mine felt like home— a place I'd never been allowed to experience. As I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I released one of my own. With him here in my arms, I could breathe again.

Terry's presence was a breath of fresh air because, admittedly, he was the air that I breathed. I had never felt so attached to anyone or anything. Every part of him called out to something in me. His voice soothed my soul, his lips electrified whatever they touched, his hands… God, his hands absolved me of my suffering, and his eyes knew how to see my heart.

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.”

Terry's arms adjusted underneath me, causing me to hold my breath. Embarrassment washed over me, warming my skin. I was silently praying that he didn't hear me. Releasing a deep groan after a few minutes, I realized he was in a deep sleep again. His shoulders slumped forward, allowing his body to melt into mine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I leaned over and kissed Terry's forehead. I knew that lifting this man off of me would be damn near impossible. I was debating on if I should wake him up or not. I shifted to one side so his hold on me would loosen. His arms fell away from my body, allowing me to scoot out from under him— barely. I carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. I slowly turned my body so my feet softly landed on the floor.

I stood from the bed, stumbling as the feeling in my legs returned. They felt like jelly as a deep tingling sensation went to my toes. I kicked my feet and flicked my ankles.

As I sauntered across the room, I heard Terry stir in his slumber. I glanced over my shoulder to see him now on his back. His arm thrown across his chest left him posed so… so… delicately like an angel. Terry’s face alone could render even the most wicked defenseless.

I smiled brightly at the sight of him. I quietly opened the bathroom door. Stopping to stare at the mirror, I took in my appearance. Yikes! I looked like… something, and it wasn't nice.

I mentally made plans to do my hair— or maybe I'll just pay someone.

Using the bathroom as quickly as possible, I reentered the bedroom and dried my hands on a towel. I glanced over at Terry to see his chest still rising and falling. I half-smiled at the sight. Walking towards the door, I entered into the front room. I closed the door softly behind me.

Before I could reach the kitchen, I heard a noise coming from behind me. The springs of my old mattress were loud and alarming.

“Havana! Where are you?!” yelled Terry from the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking again.

I turned around to walk back to the bedroom door. “Why is this man yelling?” I asked myself quietly as I giggled.

“HAVANA!” Terry yelled even louder than the first time. The tone of his voice contained a sense of urgency and concern. Panic set in for me as soon as I realized the distress in his voice.

Sprinting towards the door, I flung it open. “What's wrong?” I inquired softly.

Terry was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door. His eyes shot up to meet mine. The look on Terry's face made my heart thump. My breath quickened anxiously. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. His head swayed on his shoulders as his breathing quieted. His fingers dug into the bed with a ferocious grip.

I approached him slowly. Softening my voice before speaking, I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. “Baby, are you okay?” I asked him.

Terry's eyes darted from my face to the floor. The worried look on his face cut deep as his eyes seemed to search for mine. This was not a look of simple anxiety or worry. His countenance was charged with— despair and desperation.

I leaned over to place kisses on his forehead. “Hey, I'm right here. Wh—,” I whispered as Terry threw his arms around my waist.

He pulled me into a fervent embrace. His arms felt like a second skin against my body. I felt his shoulders fall forward as his body went limp against mine. I couldn't understand the overwhelming range of emotions this man was displaying.

“I… I… I th-thought you were gone,” he said with his face pressed into my belly.

I squatted down in front of him. “Terry, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I told you that, honey,” I said, cupping his chin in my hand.

He slowly shook his head in understanding as if he was coming to terms with my words.

That's when it hit me. HE THOUGHT I HAD LEFT.

“Terry, look at me. I love you. You big baby,” I said, smiling at him somberly.

“I know. I just panicked I guess. I'm sorry about that,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Awww, don't apologize. I'm okay, papa,” I said, rising on my feet. “You hungry?” I asked him while softly caressing the side of his neck.

His head leaned up slowly as a slight grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah,” he laughed.

Later That Night

“You done, baby?” I asked Terry as I stood from the couch. I held my hand out to take his plate.

“Yeah, here—,” he started. “Wait! Give those here. I got it. You sit down,” he said, taking the plates from me.

“Terry, I could've washed them. It isn't that many.”

“Nah… I told you I got it,” he said, kissing my forehead as he walked past me.

I stood there in silence. This was so adorable to me. How could this man get any cuter?

“Ok. Fine. I'll sit, I guess.” I sat down on the arm of the couch.

Terry entered the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. I don't know why, but the sight of this man washing dishes was so… I could feel the butterflies in my tummy going wild.

As I watched his back muscles move, I felt something. I immediately felt my panties grow damp as his shirt clung to every curve and crevice of his body.

I bit my lip as I crossed my legs. Feeling my body come alive, I released a quiet sigh. I needed this man— on me, in me, with me, however.

I repositioned myself with my legs on both sides of the arm of the couch so that I was straddling it. I was losing a silent battle between my mind and my body. I could feel my hips move slowly. There was no way this man had me grinding my pussy against a fuckin' couch. The friction of my labia and clit rubbing against the couch through the thin material of my biker shorts aided in creating the slick pool in the seat of my shorts. I knew they were ruined, but I was too aroused to stop.

I gulped in desperation, trying to fight against whatever this was. I didn't want to attack this man just yet. I knew words needed to be said and feelings needed to be discussed. I looked down at my body, covering my face in shame. I was being betrayed by the only thing I thought I had control over— myself. Every movement I made and thought I had was overpowered by him.

I was suffering, and I knew it. There was only one way to stop it. I had to feed the beast.

With eyes stricken with defeat, I looked over at him. I feverishly hummed in desperation, “Terry. I… um… I-,”.

To my surprise, he was no longer facing the sink. He was looking directly at me. I froze in shame. I watched his eyes lower as his gaze dropped. I dropped my head and looked at the floor.

“You need something, ‘Vana?” Terry asked. His voice boomed through the air. The intense weight of that question landed right where I needed it— my heart and my pussy. I was past hot and bothered. I was in the middle of having a sexual crisis.

I looked back at him and nodded. At this point, I was a needy mess. If Terry so much as touched me, I'd cum. I wanted to speak, but I knew whatever sound my lips released would be lascivious.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you need something?” Terry asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island.

“Yeessss,” I whined.

“And what do you need?” he asked, moving to the other side of the island.

I drew in a breath and spoke, “YOU! I NEED YOU!”.

The speed at which Terry made it to me was incredible. His movements were so swift and fluid that his feet never made a sound.

His arms wrapped around my body as he picked me up. My legs instantly found their home around his waist. As soon as his gaze met mine, our lips crashed into each other's. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, begging for entry. I parted my lips and without pause, our tongues went to war. Each of us fighting for more.

I leaned back to catch my breath. I was shocked to discover that we were now standing in my bedroom. I was too wrapped up in that kiss to notice our location changed.

Terry softly placed me in the center of the bed. He slowly lifted his shirt above his head before tossing it across the room. His hands dropped to the top of his waistband.

I watched intently as his hands moved to remove his clothes. I was practically salivating in anticipation for his pants to fall. I knew what I wanted to see. Terry sensed my eagerness and released a rumbly laugh. “Patience, baby,” he said, removing his pants.

My eyes locked into the large tent at the front of his boxers. I reached out to palm the ever-growing bulge in need and desperation. My neediness had slowly built up in the pit of my stomach becoming a slow churning ache. Terry’s hand grabbed mine and brought it to his lips. He began gingerly kissing my inner wrist.

“Daddy,” I whimpered, pulling my hand away.

Terry's demeanor shifted as his hand once again grabbed mine. Interlocking his fingers in mine, he pulled my hand towards his chest. He placed it over his heart while leaning over me.

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.

I stared straight into his eyes. Lost for words was an understatement. For some reason, I fully understood the intention behind his declaration. This was between Havana and Terry, and this was NOT a scene.

Moments Later

“Say it, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” Terry said, placing his mouth back on my nipple. Using nothing but the tip of his tongue, he flicked the overly sensitive bud repeatedly.

My body was growing more and more enraptured by nothing more than Terry's touch. The feeling of his tongue and hands all over my body was intoxicating. I was in love, love drunk, and high off him.

“I'm yours,” I moaned out quietly.

“And… What else?” Terry asked, switching to my other breast.

Pushing my chest up, I wrapped my hands around the back of his head. Fully enthralled in the moment, my grasp on reality slipped.

“I'm… I'm enough. I'm enough,” I rasped almost chanting into the air.

Terry's licks became suckles as one of his hands found a home between my legs.

He moaned as he found pleasure in his own sentiments. “Enough for who?” he asked back in reinforcement.

“For you!” I screamed, feeling myself come undone as two of Terry's fingers pushed into my pussy.

The gasp I let out became trapped in my throat, leaving me choking on air.

“Breathe, ‘Vana. Hey, take a deep breath for me,” Terry pleaded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

I swallowed hard and struggled to find air. This was too much. For the first time, I didn't know how to respond or react. The control of my body was no longer in my hands. Terry's voice quickly became the guiding light drawing me to whatever awaited me. Whether that was pleasure, happiness, or a combination of both, I would gratefully accept my fate after wholeheartedly surrendering to his every desire, urge, and craving. I was HIS, and his authority was absolute— there was no doubt about it.

“Look at me. Don't… you… ever… doubt… how much… I… love… you. Understood?” Terry demanded in between kisses as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of me.

“Y-yes. I'm sorry,” I whined, clenching around his fingers.

“All I want you to focus on is breathing. Let me handle everything else,” Terry whispered into my ear.

“Ughh….” I sobbed as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

“Baby, I missed you,” he cooed, resting his lips against my chin.

“I… I mi-missed you, too,” I panted breathlessly.

Terry's lips covered mine in a kiss fueled by desire, stealing my breath and filling me with his. A heavenly set of plush full lips left a soft trail of kisses along my chin until they reached the side of my neck. Tongue swiping back and forth over the supple skin. I gasped as I felt his teeth nip on the sensitive area.

Every action led to one conclusion— this was yearning in its purest form. LOVE.

“Talk to me, ‘Vana. I need to hear something,” he whispered into the side of my neck. All while his two fingers were stealing my soul— slowly.

Against my better judgment, I attempted to speak. I whimpered in delirium as my mouth released nothing but haphazard babbles. All poor attempts at speech as words slipped from my recollection. I just hoped, for my sake, that my body could tell Terry what my mouth couldn't.

As I was sinking and falling simultaneously to a place I had never been, a new question arose. Is this what being stripped raw felt like?

Without my permission, Terry had pulled me into a state of vulnerability and surrender. Using only his hands and his tongue, he had left me exposed with nowhere to hide. I was being forced to hand over my heart and soul. I was finding myself with every kiss.

To myself, I was Havana Rose Taylor. A black woman who deserved love in all forms. I was an exquisite piece of art— rare and invaluable. I was flawed yet virtuous, in my own right.

To the man I loved, I was deserving and admirable. I was the world in human form. A woman capable of love— potent and everlasting. I was desirable and alluring in every facet of the terms. I was… HIS.

And most importantly, I was enough— for me and for Terry.

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

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lieslab · 18 hours ago

Text

My baby here on earth showed me what my heart was worth

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: When the world beats down on the guys, you're there to be a voice of reason.

Genre: Reverse comfort/hurt

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Whoever requested this, you know I love you, right? These are so fun to make, I love them. Take this as a reminder to please take care of yourself and be gentle with your heart <3

_ _ _

Chan:

The vividry is in the details and in Chan’s head, it was not enough. This industry will chew up your hopes and dreams. It will swallow you whole before you can fall to your knees and beg, bleeding and bruised, for an ounce of forgiveness. Chan knew that over a decade ago. Today, nothing else rang true far more than that.

You can string your teenage years in the back of your closet. You can let them hang as the years go by, always focusing on work instead of play, and no matter how much hard work, blood, sweat, and tears you go through, this industry will ring you dry.

It will blast a bullet in your heart. Each fragment comes from the people you’re supposed to trust most, upper management, fellow producers, other idols; everyone you’re set out to please. No matter how close the relationship is between the two of you, or even if you’re not close at all, the words still hurt. They still found a way to sting Chan’s heart, burrow into his brain, and push his soul to drown in defeat. Swallowed by the icy waters of the industry, lately it became harder and harder to breathe within it.

You noticed something amiss when he came home a few days ago quiet. A silent scowl sat on his face. When you brought it up, he dropped it, sucked in a deep breath, and lit up with a smile. You knew the hurt behind his eyes. That hurt stayed there and no matter how hard he tried to push it down, the tension sat heavily between the two of you.

Producing and writing lyrics, it quickened his heart. It kept his body young. No matter how many years passed by, that passion would forever stay young. He’d tuck it close to his heart; a child with a balloon tied around their wrist. It made life worth living. He didn’t dare to give it up without a fight. That’s why he picked out the members of his group. It’s why he did what he did and yet…

Recently, that balloon popped.

When you questioned a late night session on his laptop, he sat in front of the screen with a frown on his face. His fingers hovered above the keys. Everything he needed to produce a beat, it was available and pulled up, but hesitation glued his fingers mid-air.

“What if I never make another good song again?”

“What?”

“I feel like I’ve done everything right. What if I’m just…” The screen reflected off his eyes. “What if I’m not meant for this anymore? What if I’ve run myself dry? What if I don’t have that spark anymore?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you tried to understand. “What could you possibly be talking about? Babe, you’re amazing at creating songs! Do you know how many people love your stuff?” You approached the couch and sat beside him. The warmth of his thigh pressed against yours. “What’s got you all bent out of shape?”

“Everything. I’ve been submitting songs to the uppers and they don’t think they’re good enough. They say-”

You pushed out a hand to stop him. “Do you like the songs?”

“Yes.”

“What about your other members?”

“They haven’t heard them yet. Han and Changbin have heard a few and they seem to like them, but-”

“You’ve had a multitude of other songs that have been successful before, so why does it matter now?”

Pink lips parted and then shut. Your words struck a nerve in his core. “I don’t know. I guess they think they won’t be as successful as the last ones.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

He sighed, wiped his eyes with a hand, and leaned back. His laptop slid back against his stomach. “I’ve become so worried that I’m not as good as I once was. I feel so pressured and everything. I’m trying my best.”

“And your best will always be good enough.” You shifted, laying your head against his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around one of his. “I believe in you, you know? If Han and Changbin are on your side, I’m sure the rest of the guys will be on your side, too.”

“You think it’s that easy?” He glanced over, catching your eyes.

“If your management isn’t convinced, I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

“How scary.”

“Use sarcasm again and you’ll really see a new form of scary.”

_ _ _

Minho:

“You’re quiet tonight,” you pointed out. Minho had not spoken since he walked through the front door an hour ago. You thought he’d shake off whatever tension he brought home from work, but it didn’t happen. “Is something troubling you?”

Across the way, he sat slumped on the couch. The quietness drove you crazy. You hated the blank look on his face. The way he stared off into the distance, unsure of the person he became. When did his personality become extra baggage, rather than an admission of who he was deep down?

“People are idiots.”

A single sentence. No other explanation. You nodded and quietly agreed. Some people could be. Speaking before thinking. Jumping on the bandwagon, a desperate attempt to fit in and prove themselves worthy. It wasn’t everyone, but some people never took the time to think for themselves.

You waited for him to speak again, but he didn’t. The wooden grandfather clock across the way, his grandmother thrifted it many moons ago. Each second ticked away and drove the tension between you higher and higher. Something that used to be comforting in the background, it began to drive you mad.

You pushed yourself from your chair, walked over to him, and plopped down beside him. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong? It’s not like you to act like this.” You reached a hand out to his forearm, a simple gesture to provide comfort.

“Do you think I’m too cold and emotionless, sometimes? People have said it before and I’ve always ignored it. I know people form their own opinions. They only know bits and pieces of me. Today, an interviewer commented on it and I can’t help, but ask myself, ‘what if she’s right?”’

“As an interviewer, that was an unacceptable question to ask you. Interviewing people shouldn’t make them uncomfortable, unless you’re a criminal hiding a crime. I don’t think you’re cold and emotionless. I think whoever says that hasn’t taken the time to enjoy the content that’s online and available to them. Screw them.”

He chuckled at your words. His eyes cast to the floor and your hand tightened around his forearm. “I mean it, Minho. Screw them. Seriously. Don’t ever take their opinions to heart. I don’t want you to change. I like that side of you. They’ll never know that you’re a softie deep down.”

He jerked his head back, rolled his eyes, and let out a loud groan. “I’m not a softie!”

“You totally are.”

“Screw you.”

“I’ll gladly take you up on that offer!”

“AH! Not in front of my cats! Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, cover your ears. You didn’t hear anything. A sinner trying to taint my perfect children, unbelievable.”

_ _ _

Changbin:

“Okay, I’ve got on my good shoes. The ones that you suggested because they’re better for long distances. My bag, my wallet, my keys. Am I missing anything else?” Your eyes scanned the corridor, wondering if you were forgetting anything.

“Forgetting anything for what?” Changbin asked.

“For our river date! Remember? We planned this last week. We agreed to walk to the Han River and grab some Ramen from a convenience store. Please don’t tell me you forgot, I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

His face fell at the reminder. “Oh, that…”

Your eyebrows furrowed. His words came out funny. The excitement usually filling his eyes disappeared. He didn’t seem nearly as happy and excited as he always was for your dates. The thrill in your heart began to fade. “Did you forget?”

“Kinda.”

“We can reschedule it for another day,” you offered. Your heart sank at your words, but it was better than pushing it onto him. Maybe he made other plans with someone else. You were pretty flexible when it came to these things.

“I kind of forgot, but it’s more like I don’t want to go at all. If I’m being honest, I realize that maybe I like food too much. Earlier this year, I promised the fans I’d show my abs, but…” He frowned and looked down at his stomach. “I don’t have them.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Ramen isn’t very good for creating abs.”

“Maybe not, but who says you have to get abs? You’ve always been good at working out your arms. You don’t have to work out what you don’t want to, Bin. If you want to target abs, fine. If not, that’s fine too. You don’t have to get a four or six-pack to be worthy in the eyes of your fans.”

“And I know that, I just want to look good and make them proud.” His hand reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. Black curls shifted as he moved. “I don’t want to make them unhappy.”

“You always look good. You’ll always make your fans proud, Bin.” A smile appeared on your face. “Real fans love you for who you are, not who you could be. Abs or not, you’re in good shape. You eat healthy and work out. That’s what matters the most, isn’t it?”

“You have a point, I just don’t like letting people down.”

You stepped closer, nearly pressing your noses together. “For what it’s worth, you haven’t let me down. Abs or no abs, you're hot either way. I feel like I scored a home run with you.”

His cheeks flushed red and he waved a hand at you. “Stop it! Now you’re making me feel all warm and embarrassed. You know how compliments make me feel.”

“Come with me and get ramen; there’s so many more from where that one came from.”

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t stop shaking your little ferret ass and get yourself home, so help me, I’ll drag you out of this room by your ear.” The words spilled from your lips as you shoved the door open. For the past four hours, you’d been calling and texting Hyunjin, trying to figure out where he was. It wasn’t until you managed to get a hold of Chan that you found out he was still at the studio.

Hyunjin whirled around panting. He sucked in a sharp breath and wiped away the sweat pouring down his face. It soaked his oversized shirt and his sweatpants. He bent over with his hands supporting his hips. “How did you know I-”

“Because your leader was nice enough to tell me. What is this? You were supposed to be home a while ago. You said you wanted to find a work life balance last week and this week, you’re spending time working late when it’s not mandatory. What are you doing?”

“Dancing,” he uttered breathlessly.

“Yeah, no shit sherlock. Why? You’re already a good dancer and-”

“Because I feel like I fucked up by buzzing my hair, okay? The amount of comments that I’ve seen about my long hair. They just never fucking quit!” He ripped the navy blue baseball cap from his head and threw it to the ground. “Maybe if I improve my dancing, I can make up for my-”

You held a hand out to stop him. “Don’t finish that sentence. I know Hwang Hyunjin isn’t letting the opinions of other people ruin his self image. Not when you expressed just how much you liked the short hair because it wasn’t in your face while dancing. You said it was nice to be seen for once.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I have some regrets.”

“Do you really?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I just wish the fans liked it as much as I do. I wanted to do something different, so I went ahead and-”

“Stop that. Stop belittling yourself. If you like it, like it. Love it. Don’t throw your original thoughts and feelings to the side just because people think they need to shove their opinions down your throat. You’re thee Hwang Hyunjin. They should be honored that they get to see you openly and honestly. Every side of you, not just the ones they want to see. This is who you are and they can get over it.”

“You’re very passionate about this topic.” He wiped more sweat above his head. “It’s endearing, don’t you think? You like me that much?” His arms spread out and he came towards you. “Come give Hwang Hyunjin a hug.”

You gagged and backed up. “Oh no, not with all that sweat. That’s the most disgusting and horrendous thing that I’ve-”

“Come here!”

You screamed and took off, cursing the entire time. Hyunjin laughed and bobbed along with your fleeing figure. Hwang Hyunjin or not, you hated sweat and bodily fluids, not even he could change that.

_ _ _

Han:

“You can go to prison. You can go to the state penitentiary. You can go to the county detention center and you-”

You glanced up from a spoonful of your cereal. “Excuse me?”

Across from your spot at the wooden table, Han’s cheek rested against his hand. His eyes scanned his phone as he swiped through the social media app that he was on. “This just feels so stupid. A few fans caught glimpses of my tattoos and tried to copy them.”

“Oh?”

“And that should be illegal. My ideas. My fun. I brought them to the tattoo artist first. Not to be a gatekeeper, but these are special to me. I don’t want to have to deal with this, you know?”

You hummed softly and placed your spoon back in the bowl of now empty milk. “I think I’d be upset, too. I can’t blame you for feeling that way. You probably shouldn’t say that in front of your management team because they’ll end up-”

“Lecturing me like they always do?” He sighed, turned off his phone, and tossed it to the side. “It’s always about my tattoos. If I don’t show them off, I’m lectured by the fans. If I do, I'll be lectured by management. It’s like I can’t win.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He sat up and looked over at you. “What do you think I should do in this scenario? Do I show them off or keep them hidden?”

“Well, what do you want to do? If you ignore the lectures for a moment, what do you want, personally?”

“I want to live my life without being lectured, but that’s simply not possible as an idol. If I show the fans, more people will want to copy them. However, I really do want to show them off sometimes. I mean look at them!” Before you could understand, he stood up and ripped off his shirt.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks went red. “Woah, wow, um… okay” You shielded your eyes and looked away. “That’s a lot of skin for seven in the morning.”

He scoffed, “you’re not half the saint that you pretend to be.”

“Put your man boobs away, please.”

“Man, HUH?” His eyes widened and he looked down. “Man boobs? What the hell are you talking about?”

“If you don’t put them away, I’m going to take you to buy a training bra. Your nipples are staring right at me and I want to drink my cereal milk in peace without an audience.”

He huffed, but grabbed his shirt and began to pull it back on while grumbling.

“But really, lectures or not, you should do what you want. This is your life and the lectures from both sides are stupid. Tell them to fuck off and live how you want to live.”

“You would not survive as an idol.”

“And you wouldn’t survive the torture of restricting your boobs in a training bra. Please find some breakfast and keep your man boobs out of my line of sight until at least ten.”

_ _ _

Felix:

At some point in the middle of the night, you woke up to soft sniffles and quiet whimpers. You rolled from your bed to find Felix. Leaving you barren in the bedroom, he disappeared out into the kitchen. To your surprise, you found him teary with a whisk in a metal bowl. Tears streamed down his cheeks and soaked the collar of his shirt.

“Lix, what are you doing? It’s nearly two in the morning. Why are you crying this late?”

“Because I’m emotional and weak,” he uttered softly.

“What?”

His bottom lip quivered and your heart softened. “I-I can’t help it, I get worked up about things. I get emotional and then I cry. I ruined these brownies with my tears. I didn’t even add salt because I figured that my tears would be enough.”

“Who on earth is making you feel this way?” You stepped forward with open hands, eager to comfort him. “Emotional? Maybe? Weak? Absolutely not. Crying doesn’t make you weak.”

“It does to some of the fans, they say-”

“Maybe they should focus on their problem of being heartless bitches instead. You’re not weak, not in a million years. So you get a little more emotional than others, who cares? There’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, it’s sweet.”

“They’re saying it makes me less of a man and they think I’m doing it for attention.”

“Societal standards are stupid. Men cry. Men wear makeup. Men can have long nails. Whatever people are saying,” you waved a hand, “bullshit. I hate when people are idiots. Crying isn’t designated by your biological sex or gender. That’s something we do to release pent up emotions. Why would you do it for attention? People are so stupid sometimes.”

“I-I know that, I just-” He blinked rapidly and used the side of his arm to wipe at his face. “I have feelings, you know?”

“Of course, I know that. Everyone should know that.” You leaned forward and carefully wiped your thumbs beneath his eyes. “You are wonderful and one of the best people that this world has. Don’t let a few losers ruin that, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Now where are you on your brownie mix?”

“I still think I ruined it with my tears.”

“Don’t worry, baking them will cure it from your eyeball germs.”

_ _ _

Seungmin:

Seungmin buried his head in his Nintendo Switch until you destroyed the moment. You climbed up over his body and sat down directly on his lower stomach. He looked up from his pokemon game and raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

You toppled over him on the soft mattress. With his hair scattered in different directions, he looked at peace, but you could sense the inner turmoil. Over the past few days, things within Seungmin began to change. It all started when he began to cover his smile again.

“You took something from me and I want it back.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t taken anything from you.”

“You took your smile away from me and I’m here to get it back.”

His eyes narrowed and then he rolled them. “You are so annoying at times. All this, just so you could ruin my game play. Get out of here and go bother someone else.”

“Nah. I’ll stay put until I get what I came for. I miss your smile and lately, my heart has been feeling devastated since I haven’t had it.”

“Why does it matter? There’s a mirror in the bathroom over there.” He lifted a hand and gestured behind you. “There you go and good luck. Don’t forget to say cheese beforehand. Maybe you can summon Bloody Mary to take a photo of it before you smile.”

You lunged and he yelped. His Switch dropped onto his chest. You squeezed his cheeks, desperate for his usual smile. “I’m going to hold you captive like this for hours if you don’t smile at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“It’s ugly!”

“I know my sweet, lovely, little Kim Seungmin didn’t just say that about his smile. You better start cheesing or else. Do you want to watch me go mad? Don’t think I won’t.”

“You’re insane.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “All this because I won’t smile.”

“I’ll die without it.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“But you love it. Come on!” You grinned and put on a baby voice. “Where’s my smile? Who’s got Seungminnie’s smile? Where is it?”

He didn’t mean to, but his lips tipped up. As you cooed, he burst into a fit of laughter, accidentally pushing himself into a smile without meaning to. You grinned and pinched his cheeks. “There it is! That's my favorite smile!”

“You’re such a dork.”

“With a whole lot of love for you.”

_ _ _

Jeongin:

“Jeongin?” You called out from the couch.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Can we talk for a moment?”

He appeared from the back bedroom. A t-shirt sat in his hands and he ran a hand through his messy black hair. “What’s up? Something wrong?”

“Can you sit down, so we can discuss something?”

He swallowed nervously, but he walked over and sat beside you. You stared at him for a moment, shifting, trying to find comfort before you spoke. “Today is the day we usually take care of chores. That’s fine, but you’ve been wanting to do them by yourself today.”

“Mhm.”

“And that makes me feel bad.” Your fingers nervously intertwined. “I’m capable and I want to help you, too. I don’t like just sitting by and watching you do everything. Every time I try to help, you push me away and insist you’ve got it.”

Jeongin stayed quiet as he took in your words. After a while, he found his voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do everything. I don’t want to be seen as an incapable baby, so I felt like if I did everything, I-”

“Is that what you think?” Your words cut him off. “You think I see you as a baby? Childish?”

“Well, the guys do. I’m trying to prove that I’m capable and it’s nothing against you, but I-” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I want to prove myself worthy and capable.”

“I’ll always believe that you’re worthy and capable. Just because you’re the youngest in the group, it doesn’t mean you’re not capable. You’ve proved it time and time again just how worthy you are. I’d really like to do half the chores with you. I don’t mind them and sitting around watching you do everything on your day off, it makes my heart hurt.”

He nodded and let out an apology. “I’m sorry for making you feel that way. If you want to, you can help me fold clothes. I dumped everything out in the middle of our bed. I think the dryer must have swallowed some of my socks. I’m trying to mate them first and can’t find them.”

“Or maybe they’re just buried beneath the mound of clothes.”

“I guess that’s a possibility, too.”

You chuckled and stood up to help him. His hand slipped into yours and he tugged you in the direction of your shared room. He forgot how giddy his heart felt around you.

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

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yandere-sins · 2 days ago

Note

OMFG I absolutely LOVE your writing and the overall creepyness of it💕😩 May I request a yandere childe with a crybaby s/o who Gets scared way too easily? Ik this might be basic but I really wanted to interact with you 💗🥹

Aah, thank you so much, you're so sweet! Sorry it took me so long, but thank you for requesting and interacting with me, I appreciate it! I gave the reader a good reason to be scared this time, hope that is okay! ♥

Extra Warning for Murder, Blood Mention

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Shh, babe, what's wrong? You don't have to worry about them anymore."

A calloused hand caressed your cheek, the other arm wrapping around your body as Childe drew you close to him. You were shivering, sobbing in his embrace. Still, he didn't seem to mind at all, a gentle smile on his face as he cradled you, having had more than enough practice with comforting his siblings to know how to comfort you. With the weight of his head on top of yours, you were nestled perfectly in the crook of his neck, his hand wandering back to brush down your hair while the one at the small of your back rubbed its thumb up and down. It was a perfect hug for a perfect darling, as Childe liked to call you. But there was one thing off about it.

The stench.

The squishy, wet feeling smeared all over your cheek and soaked into your clothes, together with the biting, iron smell of blood that stuck to him. Or perhaps it came from the corpses that lay behind his body, shielding the view. Or maybe you were only imagining it. It was hard to believe that you had just watched people die, their deaths caused by this almost stranger's hands. These people were your friends, and yet you couldn't believe it was real.

"I-I'm scared," you stammered, barely able to get the sound out of your throat. "They- They're d-dead."

"Oh, that's true," Childe replied, his voice full of pity and gentle reassurance. As if it hadn't been him who killed them. As if it was a coincidence, you stumbled over the bodies when, really, your friends had been laughing and talking next to you just mere seconds ago before Childe struck them down out of cold-blooded malice.

More tears dripped down your cheeks, countless of them. You were in too much shock to scream and run, but the flow of tears seemed endless as regret, guilt, and horror mixed. You felt nauseated, and yet you couldn't throw up, couldn't do anything. Frozen in place, you listened to the rapidly beating heart of the monster comforting you, feeling Childe take a deep breath, letting it out with a content sigh.

Whatever he was feeling, he seemed... proud of it.

You whimpered miserably as he pressed you tighter against his chest, swaying you side to side before pulling away a few inches. Not enough to let go of you, just so much that he could look into your eyes. Instead of pupils, there was only endless darkness, the moonlight dimly reflected in them, causing swirls of infatuation in the madness that was his gaze on you. Even with barely any light, you could see your own scared reflection. The blood stain on your cheek, the shock etched in every inch of your features.

"You need to keep it together, babe," Child whispered, the same broad, boyish grin on his lips that he had the first time you met him. Where you still thought he was a good guy, helping you carry some groceries home and inviting you to see the festival with him. You had to tell him "no" back then, since you already made plans with your friends. But now, they were no more, and he remained. Only now, that grin was nothing short of psychotic, standing in stark contrast to his eyes so devoid of emotions and the gore on his clothes.

"The guards will be here soon. You wouldn't want them to find you covered in the blood of those people, would you? They might think you did it."

Humiliating as it was, you could see your features grow desperate as a sob escaped you, your eyes crinkling as more tears fell. Childe hushed you again, pressing his lips to your forehead and kissing it over and over as he told you everything would be alright. That he wouldn't let anyone take you or take the blame for him. You could only listen half-heartedly as your feelings threatened to take over your whole body, controlling it and cementing you in place.

It had always been this way for you; the tears were your lifelong friend. Crying was the reaction your body knew best, whether in good or bad situations, and there wasn't much you could do. As a child, you had been mocked for being a crybaby, and as an adult, you were pitied for not having better control over your emotions. Fear had been your constant companion. Whether it was about making a mistake or not feeling like you were good enough to finish a task. You soon began fearing your own incapability, but no one—sometimes not even you—understood that this fear was a force to be reckoned with, one you were completely helpless against.

Unless there was another person stronger than it.

"Aaand up!" Childe proclaimed, having stood up and gripped your hands in the time you spiraled into anxiety and desperation, the overwhelming guilt not helping. But suddenly, you were on your feet despite the tears still falling. Even though you didn't know how to move or act. First, he had comforted you for the crime he committed, and now he did what you had never managed before—pull you out of the trance of your fears.

"Let's go!" he announced chipperly, a slippery, bloody hand gripping yours so tight that it hurt. Jerking you forward, you could only watch Childe's back as he began to run, laughing carefreely as if the death of your friends didn't bother him. As if he was free, unbound by laws and those feelings, you felt so strongly.

Only when you looked down did you notice your own feet moving—rapidly, swiftly. You didn't need to look up as Childe led you through the labyrinth of people who were so occupied with the Lantern Rite in Liyue Harbor that they didn't notice the two blood-soaked individuals passing through.

Breathing was hard, moving was straining, and his grip on you was relentlessly painful. Yet, neither of you stopped until you were already partway up on a mountain outside the harbor, Childe panting just like you, trying to catch his breath. He collapsed with a groan on the dirty trail up the mountain, and with your hand still in his grasp, he pulled you down with him.

It should have hurt when your body was forced to give out, but you landed cushioned in his chest and on his lap. The vibrations of his laugh against your skin felt weird, your senses not yet having returned fully. Lifting your head, you saw the countless lanterns rise to the sky, illuminating it beautifully with the people's memories of those they lost—and you should have been there, lightning lanterns for your friends.

"There we go," Childe muttered, catching your attention as he wiped over your cheek, sticky skin against more sticky skin. Only now did you realize that your tears had dried up, and you looked at the monster that had both made you cry and took care to run them dry—literally.

"You're a pretty crier," Childe sighed, the glow of the lanterns returning some life to the blue in his eyes. Or perhaps the sight before him returned his emotions to him, making him almost look normal despite the red stains. "But I like you better when you're happy. One of us has to."

Leaning his head on your shoulder, Childe reached for your hand, giving it another tight squeeze. Above you, the night sky was filled with beautiful lights, the view even better than from the harbor itself, but you couldn't forget even a second of what had happened that day. That you weren't enjoying this view with your friends, but with some murderer you barely knew, who had pulled you out of the sadness in your heart, only to leave it empty, no feelings able to fill it.

"I'll keep you happy," Childe promised, a faint blush on his cheeks that reached up his ears. "Everything will be the way you want, so you don't have to cry anymore."

Only then did you realize what it truly meant to be afraid, sitting on the lap of someone who thought manipulating the world to his liking would make you happy. Someone who didn't bat an eye before killing an innocent soul. Someone determined to make you feel as empty as he was, just to keep you by his side.

And when Childe looked up grinning, you managed to wipe the smile right off his face, a tear dropping down your cheek.

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iscdisc · 13 hours ago

Text

Whiteboard doodles for today !

Tang Shen supremacy 5ever- 🫶

I desperately want a 2012 timeline to exist where Shredder gets redeemed (At least, as much as he can realistically speaking-) and Tang Shen never passes away- But I know it's kind of impossible for both those things to exist at the same time,, 😭 Lmao

But imagine if Yoshi (Splinter) acknowledged Saki's (Shredder's) deteriorating mental health (Which is canon. Have you seen this man in Season 4? LMAO) and tries to reach out more. Despite knowing how much his brother wants his dead. Despite knowing he's the reason his wife is gone and his daughter didn't know he existed for years / painted him as her Mother's murderer.

Because if you really dissect Saki as a character, he's kind of an understandable / "relatable" antagonist-?? His biological Father (Honestly whole family I'm sure-) was murdered by his new adoptive Father (Yoshi's), his entire clan was taken out and he was swiftly indoctrinated into the Hamato Clan as an infant, I'm sure he practically got the Naruto treatment from the Hamato Clan (Always being judged for descending from the Foot Clan, like he asked for that or something-), Yoshi presumably was treated significantly better than him + was most definitely the favorite child between the two of them when it came to their Father-

This is getting a little theoretical here, since we don't exactly know the timeline between Tang Shen and Yoshi & Saki, but my personal opinion is that:

Saki met Tang Shen first- He had a very surreal connection with her and finally felt understood by somebody / wasn't treated differently because of his bloodline connections, right. Probably because he still has a lot of growth to do as a person, they had a falling out and the relationship ended (Tang Shen absolutely being the one to call it off-). Then after some time she ends up being in a romantic relationship with Yoshi and stays with him. To me, this is the most logical course of events considering what we see in the S3 episode, "Tale of the Yokai"-

But the reason I explained all this is because I feel like this is yet another thing that Saki feels the Hamato Clan has stolen from him. He has nothing, everything that he did have was taken from him, and he's treated as some sort of vile creature that needs to be "shown the proper path". I also want to throw out the possibility that their Father (Yoshi's Father-) being an unreliable narrator, since we don't get a lot of context behind the Foot Clan and whether or not they were actually bad people- I know historically speaking, the Foot Clan has always been the villains in this franchise, but for 2012 specifically we never truly got any proof of that (in my opinion) prior to Shredder's reign as head of the Foot- You know what I mean? (Though I know this is yet another thing that can be chalked up to poor writing / world building-)

During the same episode, "Tale of the Yokai", we witness Saki openly call out Yoshi for not caring about Tang Shen enough and for not caring about him. This is something I'd also love to get into at some point, since I think this would've been a really deep and complicated Character Arc for Splinter to have potentially gone through ! Because in my personal opinion, I don't think Splinter doesn't care about the people that he claims to care about + love immensely, I just think he doesn't show it in the way that he believes he is showing it- He doesn't always understand how his actions are being perceived by those people, you know what I mean?? That's exactly why I say Shredder should have had a Redemption Arc and Splinter should have been a huge part of that, because at the end of the day you can understand why Saki is so upset as a person-?? All he wanted was somebody to genuinely love him for who he was and not try to change him or blame him for something he wasn't even alive for at the time. I think Splinter really needed to prove to him that he does love him. I also think Splinter should go through similar efforts with his sons first before making an attempt with Saki- Since I know a lot of people have issues with his parenting / feel he didn't love any of his sons except Leo (Which I half agree, half disagree- Also talking about Splinter's lack of self-awareness or situational awareness sometimes, I feel like that's why he never really addressed the favoritism with Leo.,, Because he was his Father's favorite child, so why would he have that kind of self-reflection when he didn't notice it between himself and his brother- You know? 😭).

The point is, I think Saki is just a deeply hurt / scarred man and because he was constantly left his own devices and quite frankly self-isolated, he just got worse and worse,, You can honestly see that deterioration throughout the series with how delusional he becomes towards the end- I promise I'll stop yapping after this, but can we talk about the moment that Shredder had during the S4 episode, "The Super Shredder" when he was describing constantly seeing Splinter in his nightmares and him having this condescending face all the time-?? 😭

#mikey #michelangelo #karai #karai hamato #miwa #miwa hamato #raph #raphael #tang shen #oroku saki #shredder #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #whiteboard fox

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bingbongsupremacy · 2 days ago

Note

Hey I saw your old post asking which fanfics you should do next. I know it didn’t win but could you please please please do “Tell Me You Love Me Again” with Eddie. Im in dire need of some good angst ❤️

Tell Me You Love Me Again

Sorry this took me so long to write! I have had some massive writer's block. Hopefully, this is okay!

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x reader

Story Type: Angst

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, Eddie's a bit of a greedy ass ngl

Summary: You've been with Eddie since before he was famous. It used to be a loving relationship. As the years have passed, things have changed. Can you save the dying spark between you?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□

"Baby, you wanted to talk. Why are we just sitting here in silence?" Eddie asks with a grin. He casually flips through a music magazine, observing all of the new instruments for sale.

I take a deep breath. How do I even start this conversation? He's been so busy launching his band's new line of merch that I doubt this is a great time to talk about our relationship. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity? This is the first time I've been able to see him privately in weeks. I don't know how long I can keep harboring my frustrations.

"We do need to talk...here goes nothing." I sigh. "It's about our relationship."

Eddie pulls his eyes away from his magazine, his smile fading into a serious expression. "What about it?"

"I've been feeling very frustrated lately. I feel like you're never home, and I never get to see you anymore. I miss you." I reply honestly.

Eddie sets the magazine on top of the coffee table that separates us. "I know it's been busy lately, but it's great for us! Now I can take you anywhere you want to go. Name any place, and I can bring you there." Eddie's playful smile returns.

I let out a tired laugh. "Eddie, that's nice and all, but the problem is you don't have the time to take me anywhere I want to go. I just want you to dial it back a bit, please. Spend more time with me, and I'm sure Wayne would love it if you spent some time with him, too."

I'm not even sure if Eddie has time to call Wayne anymore. I might be the only one talking to him regularly.

"I spend plenty of time with Wayne." Eddie's expression is slightly offended.

"It's just the past year; you've rarely been back. Can't you take some time off? Cancel a few tour dates or reschedule some photoshoots?"

"I can't just abandon my career, Y/N. My band has worked so hard for this." Eddie argues. "It wouldn't be fair to the boys."

"What about what's fair to me, Eddie?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not asking you to abandon anything, Eddie. I just think you should prioritize our relationship a little more. We barely see each other anymore!" My heart pounds. "When you're not on tour, you're constantly doing promotional videos or photoshoots. We haven't gone on a date in almost a month."

My flurry of emotions has caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. Fuck, I can't cry right now.

Eddie's shoulders are tense. His usual animated and playful exterior is replaced with a frustrated and angry one. One I rarely see, especially not when talking to me.

"That's part of the job. I'm a fucking rockstar, Y/N. I can't exactly blow off the world tours and photoshoots. My label and manager expects me to get shit out quickly. You don't understand! The moment I stop making songs and producing new shit, the moment all of this, " He gestures around the room to all of his expensive nicknacks and furniture. "disappears. I'll become irrelevant. My band will become irrelevant. This is my life, Y/N. And you're going to need to learn to accept it."

My frown deepens. "Do you hear yourself? How can you not see how greedy you're becoming? What happened to just loving music? Loving the art of creating, no matter how many people heard. When did this all become about money?" I stand up from my spot on Eddie's couch, needing to put some distance between myself and the man. I avoid making eye contact with him, knowing if I do, I'll burst into tears.

This room suddenly feels so suffocating. "Is this really all you care about? How many shows you can sell out? How deep your pockets can get?"

"For fucks sake, Y/N." Eddie groans as he leans back against his recliner. His head hits the back of the seat, an annoyed expression flashing across his face. "You're being so fucking dramatic."

I shake my head. "This is not what I signed up for. You are not the man I signed up to be with."

Eddie stiffens. Hurt crosses his eyes. His face turns stoic as he looks me dead in the eye. A dark anger replaces his hurt. "Things change. People change. Obviously, I've changed. If you hate me so fucking much, why don't you get the fuck out and find someone new? Someone who better suits your lifestyle since you're not happy with me."

I freeze. My heart drops at his bitter words. He's never spoken to me like this before.

He's so different than the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Life seemed simpler in Hawkins. I'd work the night shift at The Hideout and he'd play with his band. I was able to see him regularly while he was still able to do what he loved. No massive world tours to separate us for months. No partying until early the next day. Just the two of us, supporting each other and doing what we loved.

I feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment and anger. He's right. He's changed, and it's obviously been for the worse. "You know what, you're right."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly in surprise, like he didn't think I'd agree.

"You don't want to work this out like an adult, so I'm going to leave. We're done, Eddie. I can't do this anymore. I deserve someone willing to set aside time for me. I shouldn't be the only one giving 100% to the relationship. I need someone who respects me and what I need. You can't give that to me." I grab my purse from the couch. I pause right before I reach the door. " Eddie, " I turn to look back at the man.

He doesn't meet my gaze. His eyes are trained on his locked hands. He looks like he's in disbelief.

"I hope you find what you're looking for. Just know that you'll never have enough money or fame to please yourself. Materialistic things can only bring you so much happiness. You'll suffer until you realize that. I just hope it isn't too late when you finally do."

With that, I leave the apartment. As soon as the door behind me clicks shut, the tears begin to fall. I lean against the wall near Eddie's door and wrap my arms around myself for some sort of support.

I wish he loved me enough to apologize. I wish he would come out here, tell me he was wrong, and that he was going to try to fix things.

I finally garner the strength to push away from Eddie's wall and make my way downstairs. With every step, I think of new things I wish Eddie would do.

When I take my last step out of the apartment building, disappointment settles in my chest as I realize none of my wishes came true.

Eddie's a rockstar. He'll never love me as much as he loves his lifestyle.

I was stupid to think he'd always be the man I fell in love with in Hawkins, Indiana.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x you #x female reader #stranger things x reader #xreader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #x yn #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction

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slayerdurge · 3 days ago

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Regarding The Busts in Gortash's Office

So because I'm endlessly obsessive, I did what I said I would do & wrote down the names and descriptions of all of the people that Gortash has busts of in his office because they seem to be people he admires so I wanted to analyze them, as one does when one is endlessly obsessive. I also did additional research on the ones that I could find more information about. Here they are, and some of my own thoughts on why they might have been included (under a read more because it's long because, again, obsessive).

Baron Alec Bormul - First of the Bormul patriar family to start his own venture, Alec is the unscrupulous bastard who made their fortune in mines and vineyards.

Now, as far as I can find, this is the only information we have about this character. However, there are several other Bormul family members that exist in the game (including an NPC called Callem Bormul who is present at Gortash's ordaining ceremony). The one that stands out more to me though is Ilza Bormul, who is mentioned in the in-game book "Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder" and stated to own "slave-labour mines in the mountains of Amn". Presumably therefore Alec is an "unscrupulous bastard" due to the use of slave labor. Not particularly surprising Gortash would approve of that since he is a known slaver himself. Interestingly, that same book also mentions Xeremiah Eltan, who is another of the busts in the office, as another example of the fact that Baldur's Gates patriar families are all founded by blood and immorality (which the author of the book says no one ever talks about). So I imagine both busts are also included as confirmation of his worldview that no one innocent ever gets far in life. I think it's also notable here that Gortash chose to commemorate the "first" of the family who "started his own venture". We know he loves a self-made man, no matter how brutal his path was. Commodore Morgan Redlocks - Baldur's Gate ship captain Morgan Redlocks wed a man thrice her age. After the wedding, the groom suffered a heart attack. Redlocks converted his merchant ships into a pirate fleet.

Unfortunately not a character that I can find any more information about, but how much do you want to bet that she killed her husband? I mean, come on. He has a heart attack so soon after the wedding that he's still being referred to as the "groom" and not the husband? Plus it wouldn't even remotely surprise me that Gortash would appreciate a subtle femme fatale assassin. Also, of fucking course he would admire a pirate. Magnate Carric Ilphescient - Carric started from nothing, built a financial empire, and founded the Counting House. He refused to mingle with the other patriars, saying, "They didn't want me when I was an urchin, and now they can't have me."

Another self-made man, and one who does not mince words about it. Easy to imagine that that quote reflected Gortash's own mentality. Only other reference I could find to him was in an in-game book in the Counting House called "Record of the Honoured" but all it tells us is that he did in fact found the Counting House. The Cockeyed Stranger - This is a bust of the god Bane as he first appeared to Gortash in dreams, and was then described to a Rivington sculptor.

Bane is obviously a far more established D&D character than anyone else here, so I could write a whole page just about Bane and how I imagine Gortash sees him. I swear I've seen a bit of loading screen flavor text in BG3 that states that when Bane was a mortal man, he was originally a battleslave of Mephistopheles, but it is possible that I'm wrong about that because I cannot find confirmation of this lore anywhere on the internet. (If anyone else has seen that loading screen flavor text, please confirm so I know I'm not hallucinating!) But if it is true, then it's immensely clear what Gortash sees in him. Gortash's whole thing is he absolutely loves the idea of someone who started from the bottom and rose to the top through sheer ruthlessness. He likes the idea of overthrowing his oppressors and taking their place. As a whole, Bane's doctrine also fits Gortash really well. The Forgotten Realms Wiki says that Bane "embodied the principles of ambition and control and believed that the strong had not only the right, but the duty, to rule over the weak." I can easily imagine Gortash having the same mentality. Bane is also known for being a lot more open to having alliances than is typical for an evil god, but he always makes sure he ends up on top. (I could write a whole other analysis about how the original plan hatched by Gortash, Durge, & Ketheric leaves Gortash in the best position. Ketheric gets to be a fearsome conquering general, Durge (later Orin) gets to spread chaos in the streets, but Gortash is the one who ends up being the hero who can actually not only have the benefit of his legitimate ruthlessness but also the benefit of it remaining hidden! By far the best position in the alliance. Orin actually is mad about this (she gives a little speech to Durge about how Gortash betrayed them because all her murders only drive the people of Baldur's Gate into the arms of his Steel Watch) but it is implied that Durge didn't think of it the same way since those were always the terms of the plan... something that always makes me wonder about what exactly it is that Durge & Gortash originally had planned in the long-term. Were they really just both always planning to betray the other eventually? Because I'm honestly not so sure about that. I think they're both too smart for that. But I digress.) Dame Amafrey Ephemial - Dame Amafrey, the Orphans' Friend, founded several orphanages in the Outer City, as the Lower City was no place for children (and the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage).

Okay, this is by far the black sheep in the set. A philanthropist? Seemingly without an ulterior motive? Why is she included here? I mean, on the one hand, I could almost believe that Gortash is sympathetic to the plights of children in a way he wouldn't be for adults (since he suffered so much as a child & since children don't have as many ways to help themselves and take responsibility as adults do), but on the other hand, it is so deeply inconsistent with his character too. But then again, maybe he's just a hypocrite. Maybe this really is some sort of secret soft side. Or perhaps it has more to do with the fact that she seemed to be bogged down by the corruption around her (the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage) so maybe he keeps her bust around as a reminder that good intentions don't get you far enough. I genuinely don't know with this one, and I was unable to find any more info about Dame Ephemial. Grand Duke Eltan - Founder of the Flaming Fist. Later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time, which portray him as a cruel and hard-handed mercenary commander.

According to the same in-game book mentioned previously (Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder), he "founded the Flaming Fist as a ruthless mercenary company that slaughtered and burned for pay along the entire length of the Sword Coast". He is also a character in the first Baldur's Gate game and the expansion Baldur's Gate: Siege of Dragonspear. According to the Forgotten Realms Wiki, he was Lawful Neutral and he was known as "steadfast and principled" because of his "tactical genius" and "a sincere belief in maintaining the balance of power among the many small kingdoms of Faerûn". Also apparently he survived a whole lot of assassination attempts. Easy to see why Gortash would see this one as a role model, I think. He is described as a "tactical genius" himself. I also think it's interesting that it says that "later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time". I mean, we know Gortash is huge on propaganda and controlling the narrative. I would imagine he cares how he might be remembered.

#pls enjoy by unnecessarily deep analysis it took me forever lol #enver gortash #bg3 #durgetash #implied durgetash anyway... everything i say is implied durgetash

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shehungers · 1 day ago

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CRACKS KNUCKLES let's get to business, Kiri

I want to say that this was SO MUCH FUCKING FUN to read! I'm not much of a superhero-loving gal, but spider-man is one of those heroes that is much more approachable and likeable than a lot of other ones. you "friendly neighborhood spider-man" after all. so, I'm glad that you chose that to go with and that you used Caleb as the hero because it just fucking fits so well!

before I dig in, just know that I haven't played LADS for a long time and certainly haven't played any of Caleb's storyline. so, I can't really make any comment on characterization besides what exists about him in the early parts of the game. if we're going based off of that, this feels very authentic and loyal to his character.

going off of my opinion of how you wrote a character like him: exquisite. you gave me the impression of a responsible older sibling or caretake with a mischievous streak. particularly in regards to the playful banter they share throughout the story, which is equal parts so bratty and caring and sweet that I love, love, love it!!!

a lot of the details you used to describe their relationship: Caleb usually does the cooking, but they dutifully split chores, eat together, consistently yapping with each other throughout the day, that worrying "stay safe" "be home before curfew" "I'll be home for dinner" stuff is just so domestic and ordinary, but something about how you used it in this fic is just so comforting to me; their normalcy is cozy and familiar and loving and lifelong and you did it SO well!!!

one thing I'll mention before I forget is when you were talking about jumping ahead/around w/o dividers or a time skip and having worries about it: don't be. I was purposefully searching for an, ah, rough division in the fic so I could maybe offer a suggestion on improvement. If you did do that, it's nothing so obvious that I noticed it at all!!! I think what "jumps" you did made sense for the narrative and were well-placed, so great work there!!!

what I will get out of the way in terms of a critique, but it's a light one: the length of some paragraphs did become a bit tedious here and there to get through. it's not always easy to figure out how to split up massive thoughts like that bc it all feels relevant to fit into one place, but it makes for more approachable readability to break them down a bit. and I'm saying this as someone who has tendencies to do exactly the same thing.

my proofreaders will tell me to dial it back or split things up sometimes bc I can get so, ah, wordy.

however, I'm also giving you credit here that your readability and flow is excellent! for the most part, I was able to keep scrolling down on my phone without experiencing any hangups, any awkwardness in phrasing or reading. so, truly, wonderful work with that bc achieving good flow can be a difficult task.

okay, that's all I can think of off the top of my head, so I'm dropping screenshots of stuff to yap about:

so fucking same oh my god. I feel this so bad and would've done exactly the same.

there is just something so particularly human and sweet about this paragraph that I just really adore. It does sort of give that childlike idolization where we mimicked people we admired, were inspired by the things they did. But, I love this in the context of mc being an adult and using it as motivation to overcome life challenges. idk idk I just love it

oh my GOD—same. thief running off with my shit? but the crosswalk has 10 more seconds 😫😫😫😫😫 so fucking real. mc is so real for this.

okay, now we're getting into the stuff that I live for when it comes to writing nuanced or small details. agitation causing sleeplessness; overstimulation by way of hyper vigilance, clothes feeling rough? these are excellent little details that can really bring depth into pieces. these are the sort of details that people can feel. the rough clothes are coarse and itch, y'know?

there wasn't much conflict in this fic, which is a-okay, but one thing that I particularly liked was mc's borderline paranoia and hang-up over the fact that he had kept secrets and lied to mc, which I think leans really well into their bond and sort of dynamic that they have. this little passage really stood out to me and was quite potent.

and, the last one:

I also like that in this fic, it was less an issue of caleb's dual-idenities vs MC and more mc vs MC, bc I feel like this entire section you wrote was basically mc internally warring with their own insecurities and fears, rather than having any true issues with Caleb. You present Caleb as surefooted—he knows what he wants, what he's doing, what he's committed to. he is unwavering, he is a solid force and doesn't budge once. that includes his dedication to mc.

MC is the one who wavers and worries and frets and withdraws because it takes them a long time to come to terms with the change and how their lives were going to be inevitably altered forever. and I REALLY love that that's the vibe I got from everything bc sometimes the war within yourself is worse than exists against others, y'know?

I think you did really well exploring all of that!

overall, kiri, I can see all of the heart and work you've put into this piece and I'm so proud of you that you saw it until the end. you have every right to be excited over this piece bc you did the concept justice and executed it beautifully!!!!!!!!

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

#.02 #.recs #.reviews

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okdamage423 · 2 days ago

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chat gpt headcannons

Asked chat gpt to give me some outsiders headcannons for fun and here are the best ones!

Soda can fall asleep anywhere

Dally can tell if a lighter is out of fluid by the weight of it

Two bit draws mustaches on people's faces when they fall asleep

Ponyboy doesn't know how to whisper and Darry gets so mad at him for it

If Darry had a phone his texts would be formatted like a business chat

Dally will dramatically throw himself onto whatever surface is nearest when he is annoyed or upset

Ponyboy writes poetry in the margins of his school notes and forgets about them until he finds them later.

Darry makes lists for everything but can't read his own handwriting

Two bit has a love for soap operas but doesn't want to admit it

If you throw something at Johnny he will not catch it. It will hit him. Every time.

They cannot take a group picture without someone ruining it. Someone’s blinking, Soda’s making a stupid face, Two-Bit’s photobombing, or Dally flips off the camera.

Edit: To all the bullies in my comment section tweaking out over absolutely nothing—take a seat.

First, we had the activist crying, "Was this worth a forest? Delete this please." Babe, do you think I printed this post on paper made from endangered trees? Go touch some grass since you’re so concerned about it. Then we had old gramps with, "What’s the point of Chatgpt headcanons? Just think of them yourself, like we did back in the day" Oh I’m sorry Pops back then were you handcrafting headcanons with a feather pen and ink while your dad chopped wood in the backyard and your mom grounded flour for biscuits? But wait, the snarky comments continued with, "Don't use ChatGPT. Why would anyone read something you couldn't be bothered to write yourself?" Like damn I didn’t realize using tools FOR FUN was illegal. Let me just go chisel my next post into a stone tablet for authenticity. And my personal favorite: the intellectual who graced my comment section with "EW." Wow. Such a compelling argument. You must be exhausted from all that critical thinking. But the real grand finale? "Society has reached a new low." Babe, society didn’t hit a new low—you did when you came back to my post for a second time to reblog and keep my notifications busy.

Until then keep commenting I love watching people embarrass themselves for free. Just be aware that you might get digitally slapped across the face.

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #ponyboy curtis #soc #tulsa #sodapop curtis #chatgpt #ai generated #headcanon

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almostfoxglove · 24 hours ago

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I wish you would bless us by writing a lil drabble about Javi

You two dated but you got sent back to the states and he had to stay in Columbia. You go back after a year and pick up where you left off and it's sweet and lovely because so much happened to him in that year

✉️ I wish you would write...

HI HONEY BEE omg. okay. listen. you know how I feel about javi & angst but also javi & love so HEAR ME OUT HERE OKAY, JUST STICK WITH ME. I'm gonna have to pop this under a cut because I've never once in my life been concise.

let's say you're the same girl javier falls for first,

and you used to work at the us embassy, one floor below his desk. spent your days with your head down and no small number of nights waiting up after javier called, telling you he was on his way. you only ever got twenty minutes warning, tops. often less. sometimes you wondered if he'd called you from the car, like he'd taken off toward you apartment before remembering to tell you he was coming.

for a year, you fucked on and off as his job or interest allowed. for you it was the perfect, pressure-free release. for javier, it was torture. having you like that, taking you apart as you unraveled him, always plagued by this nag at the base of his skull, greedy and vicious, that wanted more. he thought you'd eventually ask him to stay the night, or ask him for coffee, breakfast, anything, but you never did.

then your dad got sick. or your mom? he doesn't know. all he knows is that one day he goes into work and on his casual, totally unrelated but necessary loop past your cubicle, you are gone. desk cleared off. that little photo frame of you and another girl—your sister, he always guessed—vanished. your coworker, when they catch him staring, says you had to leave. that someone is dying back home and you went back to be with them while you could.

he nods, maybe grunts, and is gone, a cigarette already lighting itself in the cup of his hand. swallowing the bitter scorn he briefly feels rising in his throat that you didn't tell him shit. didn't even bother to say goodbye.

because you didn't have to, he thinks. he sure as hell hasn't told you shit about his life back in the states. so why the fuck should he care? why does he?

he doesn't have any way to contact you, but javier knows himself. he wouldn't call even if he did.

a year later, you return to colombia and cross the concrete slab outside the embassy. in your absence, escobar has died and the cali cartel has risen like cerberus in his place. you steel yourself as you approach the pewter steps, hoping you might slip back into the routine of the job you left behind without any fanfare. you don't want to explain your absence—you want to pretend it never happened. you just want to do your job.

but javier is smoking on the steps, and he sees you coming. and though neither of you ever really acknowledged each other at work in all the time you slept together—not even passing hellos—you watch in mild horror as he drops the cigarette from his hand, crushes it under his polished shoe, and stomps down the steps in your direction.

he looks different. you've never seen him in a tie, let alone a whole suit. your steps slow as his legs scissor the distance, crossing the courtyard as if nothing at all exists beyond the two of you. your frown doesn't phase him, your halting. nor the half-baked "what the hell are you—" that you get out before he's made it to you and yanks you against his chest.

he reeks of smoke and nerves. the only time you've felt the iron-grip of his embrace this tight is during particularly vigorous fucks, and they always, always unlatched the moment you were both done.

and yet javier is hugging you, tightly. out here in the open, with other people milling about, sometimes turning their heads to catch a sidelong glance at the man who mumbles into your hair, "m'sorry" with a strange awe in their eyes, like he's some kind of celebrity.

his voice, though, carries none of that vanity. he sounds throttled, ruined, wrecked. it is the shock, you think, that has you allowing this display. that has your arms cautiously, loosely wrapping around his waist, too stunned to process anything but a single question: what the hell happened to him.

you don't know what he's apologizing for. you don't know what strange, alternate dimension you've found yourself in. "javi—" you whisper eventually, arms slacking as if to pull away, but javier's grip only crunches tighter around your frame.

you aren't sure why your heart skips over itself.

you aren't sure why a little part of you, dazed as it might be, likes that he won't let go.

"hermosa," he mumbles, his breath hot in your hair. "m'sorry."

#asks #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #freya speaks #i wish you would write game #ask game #<3 #oops this was mostly angst #but like #do we see the vision #the *potential* for love #HAHA

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guiltyleisure · 12 hours ago

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Hello! I really enjoy your art style and your comics! Your style is very unique, and makes what you make stick in my brain longer than most posts!

I was wondering about what your thoughts were on the Interns/junior agents in the second game?

Honest thank you. General Psychonauts 2 spoilers below. Nothing major.

My feelings on them weren't very positive at the beginning. I grew fonder of them throughout the game though. But after beating the game; Them, and many other aspects were revealed to just be that. They're okay, but nothing deeper. If I had to like any of them it'd be Sam, Adam, and Lizzie. I either forget, don't care, or dislike the others.

Although, while occasionally fun to draw and think about, they suffer from from not having anything extra about their lives to latch onto, like the campers. I like sticking to and basing stuff off of canon, and there is not much canon to write off of.

Mixed feelings on them as a whole, again. I find the hazing they did to Raz a bit silly. In a negative sense. How old are they? Teenager or Adult? Doesn't matter much. At any age I can't imagine doing that to someone. Nevertheless a kid instead of someone your age. Call me new-fashioned, but I think its cruel and unusual. I don't find the scene after funny either. It's a bit weird to sit through.

And characters don't have to always do morally good actions. Doing the opposite doesn't make a character bad. I just don't see why/how we're supposed to ever like them afterwards. I don't understand how they ever get along or "become friends" with Raz. Remembering this detail really sours my opinion of them all. Unless I'm recalling wrong. Even if they aren't friends by the end, they're still at least a bit chummy. If I was Raz, I'd never interact with them again if I didn't have to.

But I'm not Raz. And he can do whatever he wants. This self-disrespecting, approval seeking kid. A kid who thinks that if he impresses the people older than him he'll be treated on their level. A kid who believes that he if he just proves himself, they'll treat him like a regular human being. And that's not unrealistic. He's 10 after all. But it makes me sad.

I enjoy these asks, really. But letting you all know now, many aspects solely about Psychonauts 2 I am not the biggest fan of. I love Psychonauts, I just think many new aspects of the sequel are contrived or boring. Not that people can't or shouldn't be fans of the stuff! Just please don't expect too much here.

I actually have a mild comic written and drafted out about them. Hasn't been worked on in a while.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2

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12amintoronto · 14 hours ago

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𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ... omar marmoush x reader 🩵

"every time you try to forget who i am, i'll be right there to remind you again... you know me." - abel makkonen tesfaye

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wc: 2.6k

synopsis: you truthfully tell omar that the other guy's name you're repping on the back of your jersey is someone who's never been any more than a friend to you - but a jealous omar gives you a real reason to never wear another man's name on your back regardless.

contents: jealous and possessive omarrr, engaged, female reader, passionate, swearing, kisses, physical touch is presentttt, evidently heated but tension comes down and story gets fluffy

notes: should i add i am so grateful people are enjoying my writings i am so sorry the wait was longer than expected i hope i have you guys' forgiveness 🩵 anyways heres another moushy fic for u guys 🥹

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it was time - the day after fa cup matchday where manchester city took on leyton orient at brisbane road - and had happily won. you'd finally see your beloved fiancé omar since he and the club bussed altogether to london.

that day in all was a busy day in front of the television for you! for nearly every moment that television inside the living room of you and omar's recently settled-into manchester condominium was on - the pitch, the players, and goal playbacks were the images it showed.

busy not only for the love of your life was playing in london...

but you kept up to date with the happenings in la liga... an old friend very dear to you was at girona - in the starting xi, at that.

the obligations you felt to tune into both matches were massive!

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full time had come in... city win! a smile tugging the corners of your lips apart and up, you reached for your phone and sent omar a text message right away.

- that's my loveee!!! you did so brilliant out there. you make your soon to be wife so proud. waiting for you at home babyy. tell the driver to drive safe. xo 🤍

and so after having a cheerful moment at full time for man city, as a tribute to your omar, all while wearing your city away kit with his name across your back... you knew it wouldn't hurt to also act on that little superstition of good luck as long as you wear the playing team's kit... so that they'd win.

you slipped off your marmoush no. 7 kit, carefully placing it back onto the hanger it was on before, and hung it up where it stay with your several other football kits.

most were not assigned to a player with the exception of your omar's jerseys, of course... and your girona friend.

your sense of sight acknowledged the first girona badge you saw out of the array of badges... and you reached for that red and white kit, bringing it over your head, your arms through the sleeves. you gave your tresses a gentle flip, and looked at yourself in the mirror, confident in yet another win from your old friend's club, in hopes of all your football wishes being fulfilled for the day.

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had not all of those matchday wishes come true, for girona had lost - athletic club's sancet scoring a hattrick.

but it was better than having to witness city lose. during the coach ride home, omar talked on the phone with you for a generous bit, exchanging i love you's... congrats to city... sorrows for girona, with the necessary "maybe next weekend they'll win."

it was okay. you were so happy because your future husband's club won, and you could hear in his voice over the phone just how elated he was.

you kept yourself occupied with your hobbies for the few hours it would be before the coach finally made it way back to the etihad... where omar would soon get off and hop behind the wheel of his own car, making direct way back to you.

it was always sweet to finally jump into omar's arms especially after an awesome win. which you were bound to do, certainly nothing will stop you!

had you paid mind to your kit though and switched up your attire, the night's events would turn out differently... but it was according to the lord's plan that you'd like the vibe.

as you were in the middle of putting away dishes that had dried, you hear the jingle of keys together.

"habibti! you there?" the egyptian called out.

"in the kitchen, baby! come." you replied from the distance.

"coming, my sweet. i missed you so much."

you looked over your shoulder to see your fiancé omar approach you... smiling that unforgettable smile of his, dressed in an outfit that never failed you make you weak... nike tech fleece, black on black.

omar finally had you and you finally had him back. his big hands gently grazed your waist, turning your body 180 to face him... and now his grip on either of your sides was firm, you were now in between him and the kitchen countertop...

...eyeing you like prey. big time.

the sight of you with another man's name on your kit registered... and his facial expression settled back into neutrality... jealousy clearly underlying it.

"well come on then... give your fiancé a kiss...

...he won the match for you." he spoke up, in this sultry tone... that egyptian accent only making this sound like even sweeter music to your ears.

"what the pharaoh asks for, he gets..." you suggested... bringing yourself to stand on your lip toes to reach omar... your lips now pressing into his, as you gently took hold of his chin between your thumb and index, feeling the softness of his facial hair (props to omar for only using a straightblade).

after having enjoyed your kiss, you pulled back only to make this inference from omar's attitude - almost unimpressed by what you had just told him.

"yes? has that always been the case, habibti?" he asked, his tone now absolutely humourless. you had no idea what he was so serious about until you noticed...

while holding you by the waist, omar balled one hand into a fist holding onto the fabric of your girona kit.

"yeah, i will finish these dishes for you. go. change, baby...

...thought i would not have to ask this of you again." omar said with a rather sharp sigh followed, as he reached for the cutlery pieces to sort them away in one of the kitchen's drawers.

he looked up at you, his brown eyes telling you something along the lines of omar feeling... hurt?

"well omar, can't i wear whatever i-"

"i spoke to you about this. i love you too much to argue. change...

...please."

it sounded as if omar had to force out the "please" for seeing another man's name on your back infuriated him deep within, but omar seriously hates taking things out on you like that... always ensures to keep his emotions in check.

you, though, found his behaviour surrounding your girona kit utterly silly.

"jealous omar."

scoffing, you walked away into you guys' bedroom.

omar returned to the task at hand and thought to himself. it's not like the friendship in itself you shared with the fellow girona player was a problem in omar's eyes.

it was more so the fact that the vinyl lettering on the back of that kit you wore comprised that particular friend's surname.

not as if it was a more or commandment in a romantic relationship to be forbidden of wearing another man's name across the back of your kit, for that would obviously be silly...

but omar... he did not play about.

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you laid on your stomach with your feet kicked up, scrolling through your instagram timeline... still wearing your friend's girona kit. it was only three minutes of alone time that you had until to yourself until you heard omar making way back to you.

getting hot after his body temperature adjusted from having been outside in the frigid weather... now in the furnaced environment of you guys' condo, omar undid the zip to his nike tech hoodie and slipped his arms out the sleeves, draping it over the bedpost.

you couldn't act like you didn't care... so you watched him do so, now tackling the issue of his t shirt he wore underneath... that in which he took off too. he was now just in his sweats, his tanned and toned chest, back, abs, & biceps all there for you to take in.

when he noticed you staring, he was not one to fold right away.

"not a fan of that, habibti."

he sat on the edge of the bed, doing that same thing he did just minutes ago... his hand firm on the small of your back before tugging at the fabric of your kit, holding just a bit of it in his fist.

you rolled your eyes. is he really so serious about this?

"it's a jersey, omar. how long have you been hung up on it? it's just fabric!" you sighed, wishing that he would just leave you be. "plus, you say i look cute in anything and everything. that is... until i wear this jersey. hypocrisy, omar-"

he had snapped from where he was at before. he sharply inhaled at your attempt to refute his argument, and his hand wasted no time moving to your side, pushing you over so you rolled to lay on your back... and he climbed over. your body was underneath his.

"quit this fucking game." omar said, low near your ear. before you could even react, he kissed you. hard.

a whine was coaxed out of you as the kiss took you by surprise. but this kiss was just maddening... omar, usually gentle with you, now so agitated. you could feel his heavy breaths as he kissed you, already sounding breathless as he dipped back down to bring his lips to your ear... his hand firm on your side, the other lacing his fingers between yours, pinning that hand of yours.

"habibti, i'm done with it." he started, his egyptian accent seriously making you cave already... sounding all the more sexier because he was upset.

but you had to hold your own.

you wanted your way. you wanted to push omar's buttons.

"he's my friend, omar! for the love of god..."

"you say this is just fabric, habibti? this... with your friend's name on your back?"

"omar, you're being irrational-"

it was already that omar has had enough. he had dove down a second time... his lips finding way to yours. kissing you... but giving you the action in more places now.

like your jaw which he now attacked with heated kisses, and soon enough with these slow, languid movements that drove you insane...

...omar had found the weak spot of your neck.

whispering against it...

"don't go making the world think you don't belong to me, baby..."

and nipped at your neck again. your hand rested on the nape of his.

his hand slithered up and down your side.

you had the determination to keep pushing his buttons. but the fact that actual power and control could not accompany you as he kissed your pulse point... that determination has therefore become utterly useless.

"omarrr~ stop~!" you said with the minimal fight remaining in you.

the sound of his breathing laboured that close to your ear was just another factor of this whole predicament. it sounded so hot you had not a clue how much it unravelled you before omar.

"shhh... habibti..." omar whispered again.

that egyptian accent. it had you already asking for mercy with the glint in your eyes speaking it.

it was not long until omar made a move taking you by surprise, grasping your wrists briefly and tossing them over his shoulders, making you instinctively hold on tight. that you did, as he let go of your wrists and quickly hooked his hands underneath your thighs, lifting you off the bed.

carrying you like the spoiled princess you were made out to be... and were. even if omar was jealous, lifting you like that is his treat.

and he set you on the vanity, him still holding your legs at either of his sides, your arms still draped over his shoulders. he kneaded at your thighs possessively.

"we're going to fix this..." omar murmured, and to you it was evident what he was going to "fix" as you watched his hands impatiently begin to gather the fabric at the very bottom hem of your jersey that sat at your hips.

this, you did not want to fight off. you could not be bothered to.

you simply, softly bit your bottom lip, watching his big hands work for what he wanted.

"yeah... this comes off of my girl." he smirked to himself, the pride in his tone undeniably present.

it was a tone that told you... "i don't wanna see you in that bastard's kit again. and that's what he is to me whether i know him well or not."

"arms up." omar demanded.

you did so quickly.

"mmh, good."

and the girona kit was slipped off of your body before you knew it... it was now laid on the floor. out of sight, out of mind for omar.

and the feeling of his hands on your now bare sides... you were left with just your black bralette adorning your top half. his tone was almost dreamy now that he had you without that stupid jersey that wasn't his.

"habibti. mmh~" he sighed, completely snaking his strong arms around your waist, admiring the sight of him holding his girl in the vanity mirror.

you laughed softly after a minute of omar holding you, as if seeing you in another man's jersey was the worst thing in the world, even if the man on the back of the jersey was just your longtime friend omar had no reason to worry about.

"you calm down now, babe?" you asked omar.

"mhm...

...fixed the problem." he replied, then adding. "i best not catch you watch that name and number on your back ever again, habibti."

you giggled at that. "okaaay, suuure~"

"i mean that." omar added... the sternness in his facial expression telling you he clearly isn't playing games.

you sighed contentedly, rephrasing your response. and you smiled as you did so.

"understood."

omar's brown eyes glimmered with hope. you saying you understand, it reinforced love. it was always strong, but it was a reminder.

"too jealous, baby?" he asked.

you smiled. "i like jealous you...

...means you want me."

"i'll chase you all the time, habibti." he admitted shamelessly, going in to kiss your jaw... watching himself do so to you in the vanity mirror, then watching your reaction as he pulled away to look at you.

with one arm still around your waist, he took his right one, taking hold of your left hand... not looking at it though. he held the gaze as he felt about for the foreign entity that you donned on your left hand... smiling as he had quickly done so.

"this is proof of it." he said in a sultry tone, bringing your left hand between the two of you... both of you lowering your gazes to that rock he invested in, the couple carats he slid onto your ring finger a couple months back in the perfect moment, shining away.

"correct, omar~" you blushed.

he could not stop looking between you and your ring... as if something had hit him in realization. that was the case.

"ya allah..." omar sighed.

"...still processing it, my love. this means you'll be mrs. marmoush."

you nodded eagerly. you always knew ever since that moment he was on bended knee before you that omar is your forever. not like you never pushed away or doubted that fact.

but he just needed an excuse to remind you.

"i hope this means i only see you in my jerseys. can we make that a deal, habibti?" he proposed.

"deal."

"you can have any football kit in the world...

...as long as i only see 'marmoush 7' on your back." he whispered to you.

your cheeks blushed pink at that.

from this moment on out, after being reminded like such... you didn't even have to put it into words. you just let him know with a sincere look.

marmoush 7 is all you want.

#man city #omar marmoush #omar marmoush x reader #football fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #manchester city #footballer fanfic #mcfc #football #premier league #man city fanfic

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butlervibesonly · 1 day ago

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𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐺𝐼𝑅𝐿 || 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐭 || Austin! Elvis

PREVIOUS PART <- -> NEXT PART COMING SOON

• Summary: Living with Elvis has made your life so much better. But it has visible effect on your school results. But that doesn’t stop you. At least that’s what you thought…

• Pairing: Austin! Elvis x female reader

• Warnings: slight angst, Elvis being possessive, arguing, kissing, maybe typos,…

• Note: NEW ELVIS PART IS HEREEEEE! Enjoy! + NOTE!! My acknowledge of Elvis is not so big, all things I know are from movie, documents, webs etc! So I deeply apologize for any mistakes/typos/misunderstanding that have nothing to do with reality. All of this is fic and has nothing to do with no one or anything. Based just on Austin's role of Elvis!Thank you for understanding! 🫶🏼

From the moment you moved to Graceland, Elvis spoiled you the best he could. He wanted to make you feel the love you deserve. He buys you all the clothes, from dresses to night gowns, all the makeup you never had because your father never allowed you to wear it. He gifted you jewelry on random days just to show his love for you.

Since the first day you moved in you sleep in Elvis’ bed with him. He wants to make sure you feel safe. And his bed now doesn’t feel empty like it always had. With you in it he feels more than happy. More than happy that he has you in his life. And his family? Gosh, they adore you.

Now you are sitting curled up on the couch in the quietest corner of Graceland, books and papers spread out in front of you. Warm glow of the lights over your notes, but the lights did not help to reduce the exhaustion that you feel.

You sigh, rubbing your temples, trying to make sense of the essay that you are writing. You are finishing last semester of university and it’s more than demanding. It is late today… too late. You should probably be in the bed next to Elvis now but you have a deadline, and you can’t afford to fall behind.

A deep familiar voice cuts through the silence. “Darlin’, you still workin’?” You glance up to see Elvis standing in the doorway, in his navy blue pajamas, arms crossed on his chest, looking at you with something between amusement and concern.

“I have to finish this essay,” you murmur, blinking tiredly. “It has a deadline and I can’t miss it…” Elvis smirks, approaching you. “You’ve been starin’ at that essay for hours, Satnin. I know ‘cause I’ve been standin’ here watchin’ you.”

You groan, flopping back against the couch. “I can’t think straight. It’s due tomorrow...” Elvis perches on the arm of the couch, leaning over to skim the page. “Ain’t nothin’ on here but a bunch of big words meant to make folks feel important.” He shoots you a teasing grin.

“C’mon, tell me what it’s supposed to be about. In simple English.” he adds, sitting down beside you, before pulling you on his lap.

You huff as you sit straight in his lap. “It’s about Southern literature… How writers use nostalgia to explore their ideas of home.” Elvis tilts his head, considering. “So, like, how people remember things better than they were?”

“Exactly.”

Elvis nods, clenching his jaw while thinking for a moment. “Well, take you for example. Your daddy. You know about how strict he was, how you felt like you couldnt’ breathe in that house. But I bet there’s somethin’ you miss about it, even if you don’t wanna admit it.”

You hesitate, your thoughts going back to your house. “I guess. I miss my mama’s cooking...” Elvis smiles, stroking your thigh. “That’s nostalgia, Satnin. Ain’t that what you’re writin’ about?” You stare at him, the weight of realization hitting in. “You just explained my entire essay in few seconds.”

He chuckles, his hand trailing to your hip. “Ain’t my fault you make things more complicated than they gotta be.” You mock offense and can’t help but smile. “I should make you write it for me, then.”

“Ah. Now, don’t go gettin’ any ideas, darlin’.”he teases you, but then his expression softness. “I mean it, though. You gotta finish school, Y/n. You ain’t givin’ up on it, not for me, not for nothin’.”

You nod and start finishing the essay. The minutes pass by as Elvis sits beside you, rubbing your back and watching you and after you finish scribbling down your thoughts, your mind is now clearer than it had been in hours. You lay down on the couch, your head in his lap.

“Finally…” you murmur, playful smile on your lips. “I think I actually made something that could make sense.” Elvis smirks, glancing down at you in his lap as he caresses your cheek. “Told ya you would, sweetheart.”

You smile at him, loving him so much words can’t even explain. “Thank you.” You say and he shrugs, but there is something thoughtful in his expression. A quiet kind of seriousness that isn’t usually there. “What?” you ask, narrowing your eyebrows playfully. “You look like you got something on your mind…”

Elvis lets out a slow breath, reaching for your hand, gripping it. He doesn’t play with your hair no more. This time, he just holds your hand, his grip tight.

“I been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ for a while,” he says, his voice possessive. “And seein’ ya like this – so damn smart, so determined – it just makin’ me want it more.”

Your expression changes into concern. “Want what, El?” He glances down for a second, then back at you, his blue eyes roaming your face. “About you… About us. After you graduate… I wanna marry you, Satnin. I wanna have a family. Little ones runnin’ ‘round.”

Your breath caught. You feel your pulse in throat, her hands, everywhere if that’s even possible. “Y-you do?” you let a out shakily.

“I do,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Ain’t never wanted anythin’ more.” Your chest feels heavier at his words.

Elvis cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over your soft skin. “Hell, I don’t even gotta close my eyes to picture it. I see it. You, me, sittin’ on a porch, kids laughin’ in the yard, while you sit there with my another baby in your belly... I see you happy. And if you’ll have me… I wanna be the one to give you that all.”

Your breath hitches in your throat just by picturing it. You never wanted anything more. A love full husband and kids. And now Elvis is promising to give it to you. He kisses you hungrily, his grip on your hips. “I love you, darlin’. And I wanna spend my life showin’ you just how much.”

And that’s what you want the most right now To graduate, and have him all for yourself. Marry him, give him babies. Be his wife.

Weeks passed and you were getting closer to graduating every day. Your academic results were poor, definitely not the same as when you lived with your parents. But not bad enough to fail.

You are just to finish your last class when your head master stops you. “Miss Y/l/n, do you have a moment?”

“Yes, ma’am.” you nod and your stomach does a flip. You follow her to her office and the moment you sit down you know something is off. “I’ve been reviewing your academic results lately,” Mrs. O’Conell starts. “Miss Y/l/n, your results are tripping. Your attendance, works and grades,”

“Ma’am I am trying, really, I—”

“Trying is not enough, Miss Y/l/n.” she cuts off your words. “You have been our best student. And I know you are bright and wise young lady. I fear you are letting distractions pull you away from your career.”

You take a deep breath. Sooner or later this had to happen. Mrs. O’Conell takes a breath. “I understand that life outside of these walls can be… more enjoyable, you name it. But you must understand that education is a foundation. I hope you take this seriously, Miss Y/l/n.”

“I do, Mrs. I promise I will do better.” you reply, fidgeting with the hem of your uniform’s skirt. Mrs. O’Conell nod and sighs. “Well, I hope so. You used to be the too student of our school. Don't let this ruin your graduation.”

With a nod you look down at your lap. All you can think of is Elvis. You wish more than anything for this all to be over so that you can be with him and him only. “You are now dismissed. And remember what we talked about.”

You leave the office feeling tense but relieved. That wasn’t as bad as it could have been. But that feeling changes the moment you step outside — your breath catches. Your father is standing at the school gates, arms crossed, his expression stormy. The school must have let him know.

You feel your blood freeze. Your pulse pounds as you walk towards him, gripping the books so tight against your chest, knuckles turning white. The moment you stop in front of him, a low and deep growl leaves from him. “So this is what you left us for? Throwin’ away your education for some damn fool?!”

Your jaw clenches. “I am not throwing anything away. I am graduating.”

“Barely!” he shouts out. People around the campus look at you with wide eyes and he lowers his tone. “You are nearly failin’, Y/n! What did you thought is gonna happen once you leave us, huh?! What happened to you? You were supposed to be better than this!”

“I am better! I am finally living the life where I can breathe freely!” You can almost sense how blood is boiling in your father’s body. “That man—“

“Don’t!” you warn, your voice sharp. “You don’t get to talk about him like that. Never again. He has been treating me better in those few months than you during those 22 years of mine!”

As if summoned by the mention, the low rumble of an engine cuts through the tension. Pink Cadillac pulls up beside the school gates and the driver’s door opens and Elvis steps out. The girls all around the campus freeze, seeing Elvis.

Little do they know he is here to pick you up. His jaw tightens as he notices you, the way you clutch your books like they are armor to protect you. Then his gaze settles on your father. You can see his hands shape into fists. Elvis slowly approaches you and takes your hand. “Somethin’ wrong here?”

“This ain’t your business.” your father barks out. “The hell it ain’t,” Elvis says smoothly, his Southern accent thickening with something sharper. “Y/n is my business. Mine.” he pulls you closer.

“You think you can just swoop in, take my daughter, and turn her into—” your father scoffs in. “Turn her into what?” Elvis’ voice is dangerously calm, making you even more tense. “A woman who makes her own choices? A woman who ain’t afraid to live her life?”

Your father’s face turns red. “You’re gonna ruin her.” Elvis shakes his hand in amusement, he laughs under his breath. “Sir, I’d ruin myself before I ever let anything happen to her.” his voice is dropping lower. “Besides, Y/n already knows what she wants.”

Your father exhales sharply, his control slipping for the first time. For a second, he looks less like the overbearing man you have always feared and more like someone lost—someone who knows he is losing you.

“Y/n,” he says, being quieter now, “you still have a chance to fix this.” You shake your head. “No, Daddy. I’m not the one who is broken.” At that, Elvis squeezes your hand, proud of your statement.

Your father watches you with speechless expression. Know he knows he has lost. “This ain’t over,” he says, his voice low. Your father turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you and Elvis standing there.

“You okay, darlin’?” Elvis immediately checks on you, pulling you in his arms. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I think so…” He studies you for a moment before nodding. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”As soon as he pulls away he takes your hand in his , leading you away. Now you know—no matter what your father thinks, this is where you belong.

To him. To Elvis. You are his girl.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler x you #austin butler fandom #austin butler x y/n #austinbutler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagines #elvis 2022 movie #austin butler elvis presley #austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis #Spotify

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