#and wonder what it means for all the others | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenyummy · 2 days ago

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✰ 02. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 02. a green fire—love is weird!

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: spideytorch... parksborn... I miss u... this is more introducing the ones who already like spidey but guys kon soon prolly bc i alr wrote a hella romantic drabble.. heh..

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

At least life—as you knew it—hadn't changed entirely. Sure you aren't going to Midtown anymore, but this Gotham Public didn't seem too much different. Instead of New Yorkians, it was all Jersans... yay...

Your supposed brothers and sisters went to the more prestigious school on the other side of Gotham—but all you wondered is why, really. It must've been a pain to go all the way across town to pick up one singular child.

(You realised why you had a bus pass slipped in your wallet soon enough).

You just can't believe your "dad" decided to send you to school the day after your recovery. That was really crazy. Even Alfred seemed a bit iffy with his words—but regardless, didn't attempt to fight back.

You don't blame him. Bruce seemed pretty unreasonable. Anyways—your main theory is that he didn't want people asking invasive questions... if any at all. Or that he couldn't be bothered to just leave you at home. Or he had some top secret Batman stuff to do that couldn't involve the likes of you.

Regardless—you don't care. You're still just as annoyed about either way.

The necklace resting atop your collarbones feels tighter than ever. This was scary. Real scary. You hadn't a clue what this school was like—the people, your friends (if you had any at all), your teachers, the school system or anything.

Even your Friendly Neighbourhood Spidey had their anxiety-inducing moments.

But you were met with a pleasant—very pleasant, meaning it wasn't teenager B.O—surprise when you walk into the building

A red head of hair comes barreling at you and wraps around your torso, tight. You return it with just as much glee. "MJ! You're... here! You're actually here...!!"

"[name]!" A comfortingly familiar voice rings out in your ears and you gasp in shock.

That voice felt like laying on a bed of clouds—stretching out and feeling fuzziness after all that dark leather and depression.

Mary "MJ" Jane—your best friend—is right here with you, her fiery red hair and pretty blue eyes staring like nothing changed. The only thing different is the bat symbol on her graphic shirt—and the abundance of books pressed against her side.

You squish your cheek against hers'—you feel her smile against you. "Um—of course I'm here. We go to this school, you know."

"Yeah, but [name] skips so much she's probably forgotten."

You whip your head around, smile widening. "Harry...!"

Harry Osborn—your other best friend—gives you a bright grin and holds his hand up in a wave. You wonder if your unofficial arch-nemesis Green Goblin—also his father—exists in this world. Judging from the glamour of the watch on his wrist—you guess he's still at least partially filthy rich.

Your eyes brighten and you could almost cry after the dumpster fire that was your family dinner.

MJ pouts beside you, sending your friend a glare, "Harry, you thief."

"Not my fault I'm the better looking one," he raises his arms in mock-defense—giving MJ just as hard as a look. A second later—the "tension" evaporates and they're both giggling uncontrollably. Harry elbows your arm. "What's up with your outfit? Who's that?"

Gesturing to the very inconspicuous spidey symbol on your cami. You blink. You'd almost forgotten Spidey didn't exist in this world. Not yet, atleast.

"Haven't you heard? The newest—and coolest—hero." You nudge him back and smirk. "I forget you nepo babies are never caught up."

"Um, hello? You're like—the ultimate nepo baby, [name]." MJ sends you a knowing brow-raise. "Bruce Wayne is literally your dad. That's the most nepo baby thing I've ever heard."

You'd almost forgotten this Bruce Wayne guy was now your (though neglectful) father. MJ and Harry probably didn't know this, so you laugh awkwardly and smile.

"... Oh, yeah. Right. Silly me."

Holding your arm out toward Harry, you give him a cheeky smile, "Walk me to class?"

The bell chimes (you must be the luckiest spider ever with this timing), ringing loudly in every student's ear as the freshmen start rushing to class. You've just realised you don't know where your first period class is.

...Or any of your classes, for that matter. You'd have to bring your schedule tomorrow—but for today, you'd rely on your best friends.

He takes your arm in his without a moment's hesitation, giving you a smile just as sneaky, "Anytime."

MJ looks between the two of you as you both walk to first period, chatting and laughing—the equations practically going off over her head as she grins.

First period couldn't have been any worse. Your English teacher was rambling on about anything and everything concerning Shakespeare's final play—confusing even the rest of the class, who weren't transported from another dimension.

It wasn't helping that Flash couldn't seem to stop throwing scrunched up paper balls at the back of your head. Giving him dirty looks didn't seem to halt him—he would only laugh harder with his friends.

It seemed he truly did hate your guts in every universe. The consistency was almost comforting.

"That guy...!" Harry's jaw is clenched hard, and he sends him the nastiest glare you've ever seen. "He still won't get over himself, it pisses me off...! So salty over you rejecting him and he's still insisting it was a joke."

Ah. So that's why. In your original universe, he just hated you because you beat his ass in third grade for making fun of your handwriting.

"Who cares—" You try to be the bigger person—but you have to clench your fists and bite your tongue when another paper ball flies to the target of the back of your head. "... I'm better than this, so I don't."

Harry pauses—but smiles after a moment. "... What changed?"

Huh? Has he figured you out already?

You furrow your brows, but you smile when you tilt your head. "What do you mean? I'm... the same as always, you know."

"No, you're acting different. But not in a bad way. Before, you'd take any chance you get to talk badly about Thompson." He chuckles. "Have you matured overnight, or something?"

This is the second time somebody's pointed this out.

Was this universes' you really that spiteful? Your diary entries were anything but kind, sure—but you could never have imagined you to be so... different.

Then again, your dearest uncle was nowhere to be seen either—and without him, perhaps you would've ended up just like this you. You might've never become the Spidey you are today.

... Though, you weren't Spidey in this universe, were you?

"I guess so. Nothing... nothing good comes out of being bitter. Sometimes it's best to learn from it and move on." You smile. Harry gives you an indescribable—yet fond—look.

The bell chimes once more after that dreary period—and you're out that door faster than Harry can catch you.

Two periods later, you're finally able to eat.

Lunch, a little less fortunately, is the same as always. You'd like to think it's because all the rich people (and consequently, all the funding) go to the school on the other side of Gotham, but it probably is just because all school lunches are equally awful.

After taking your tray of mashed greens (you're unable to decipher exactly what greens they're made of) and a dry, veggieless burger—you sit down at a lunch table with MJ. Harry's still waiting in line for an extra carton of milk.

She smiles at you, friendly, "Hey, you. How was English?"

"Hey to you, too. It was terrible." You sigh, slumping down on the table with your head in your hands. "Flash wouldn't leave me alone. I'm so sick of his shit."

"Nothing new, then," She snorts, clearly amused by your stress. "He'll leave you alone, eventually. The rejection's still fresh... even after three months, apparently. I'm just glad you're being the bigger person in all this."

"Yeah? Harry told me the opposite." You lift your head only to give her a tired look. "Actually... he seemed more pissed off about him than I was. ... Don't know why."

Harry, in your world, didn't seem to care too much about Flash outside of mild annoyance whenever he pushed you around. He seemed more amused by it than anything—the ass.

MJ lifts a brow at your confused tone, waiting for something—for you to continue, probably. Continue with what, you had no idea. After a few beats of silence, she almost chokes on her dry patty.

"Are you serious, [name]?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you seriously not know why he gets so pissed about Flash?" She says, incredulous. You look to the side, then back at her with a shrug. She splutters, "Wh—what...? Are you kidding? You're that...."

She shakes her head, cutting herself off. "[name]... Harry's in love with you. He always has been."

MJ begins to talk about how it's always been obvious, and how everyone's known except you for years, but you barely hear it over your own thoughts.

You've gone as red as your suit, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you'd just heard your mother died (oops). Your heart nearly drops into your stomach. You don't feel sick, but your stomach is twisting and turning like a tidal wave.

Harry's... what?

You never even considered it. Not in your universe—nor this one, you presume. You've always seen him as just your really rich best friend slash possible sugar papa (satirically)—but now, you can't help but wonder.

"You okay? You're really red."

A hand places itself on your forehead. When your vision unblurs and you see those disgustingly bright, blue, beautiful—

You almost yelp, scrambling away from Harry's touch. "Harry!" You say it like you're surprised he's here—like you're surprised he's able to be around you like this.

(Though—if what MJ said was true—he must really be a great actor).

Of course you're not unfamiliar with love—that Felix Hardy really knew how to get under your red webbed suit. And you don't even want to get started on Cindell Moon—

But this was different. This was really different. Felix didn't know you. He knew Spidey, and liked Spidey. The chase. The masks. Never you. Cindell was only attracted to your pheromones. He was never in love, and to be honest—it wasn't exactly a heartbreak.

You've known Harry longer than you hadn't. You've been friends with this nepo baby for a majority of your life. He's been there beside you even when you'd seen his dad end up in a psychiatric hospital on the news—crying in your arms.

For him to be in love with you—it's hitting you all at once, and you're so overwhelmed you can hardly breathe properly.

It means everything you know is different—everything changes.

Your cheeks burn brighter than Sentry's glowing fists. He seems shocked—almost hurt—that you look so scared of him. MJ, on the other hand, is very, very amused.

"[name]'s feeling pretty under the weather right now," She coos. You could only muster a weak glare toward her. Despite that—you choose to take her lie and run with it.

"Um... yeah... I think..." You gulp. Your eyes are lingering anywhere but on him. "I think I need to go home... I'm sorry."

Harry blinks. His eyes meet with MJ, who shrugs. Then he looks to you, again—almost sad. Like a puppy, more than anything. "I could get my assistant to drive you home, if you want—"

Your stomach twists at that look. You shake your head. "No... I'm fine. I—I'll get um..." You rack your brain trying to remember your butlers name—"Alfred to drive me... Thanks anyway."

You stand up as shakily as you feel—leaving your full tray of food on the table. You glance over your shoulder as you begin to walk away, bag clutched to your side. "I'll see you tomorrow, MJ." You pause. "Harry."

MJ waves, "Feel better soon. I'll be waiting for your response," and you groan.

"Take care of yourself, [name]." Harry says, with a sad smile. You swallow hard.

This was freeing. Really freeing. You'd almost forgotten how much you love being Spidey.

You swing from building to building, flipping and barrelling as you pleased. Flying through with the Gotham wind hitting your face and you slicing through the skies—you can pretend everything is fine and you're back home.

You can pretend Harry isn't in love with you. You can pretend you hadn't replaced a neglected child who's father and other siblings couldn't give less of a damn about for some reason—and you could pretend that they aren't super vigilantes themselves.

Sure, you're glad to see your friends existed in this universe—but learning your whole friendship with Harry was everything it could never have been—you're a little less than frazzled.

But, it also begged the question. Did that mean that other heroes—your other friends—also existed here? Were they also...?

You press your lips firmly together when you land on a building and stare down at the honking cars beneath you. No. You couldn't get your hopes up. Not this time.

You had to do your own research. And if that meant sneaking around on your family's computer—so be it.

Back home, it was like the flying world you had once known, grew into golden bars of a cage.

Walking through the halls of the manor gives you more strange looks than you'd like to admit. You really have to wonder how long this—well, you, has put up with this.

Tim is walking through the hall with his hands tucked into his cape and still dressed in his Red Robin costume. When you pass by him without so much as a look, he doubles back and speaks, "[name]? Wh—what are you doing here? Isn't it..."

He checks his phone. "It's still school hours?"

You glance back. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know. I'm just finishing up my homework."

Tim pauses. "Bruce is going to be mad. You know how he hates it when you and Damian skip."

You want to bring up how (considering he's your age) he must go to school, too, and likely skips more often than you do (again, thinking back to those diary entries), but you don't think it'll lead to anything pleasant. So you hold your tongue. "I think I'll live. Bye."

You leave with a small shrug and Tim standing behind you, brows furrowed deep.

Minutes later—you're stuck in your room, scrolling through as many articles as you can find. It's all about this Justice League, and occasionally, Batman and his Robin. Or Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Superboy. Or—

Okay. There's a lot of superheroes. Almost as many as the Avengers.

Maybe this wasn't the right approach—you think, after reading the 500th article about the two Superboys. You scroll more. Then—something catches your eye. A bright flame (on your screen, technically—but still just as bright) encapsulates your retina faster than you can react.

Your eyes widen.

BREAKING: New hero team? Four super-powered heroes saving civilians in fantastic ways.

No way.

Tim doesn't think he's ever seen that kind of expression on your face, ever.

You jump up from your bed and clutch your necklace. This was practically calling for you. You run out the door—blasting past Tim—with a newfound spark of hope.

Your heart practically lights up and you can't possibly get out of this house fast enough. Tim calls out your name as you zoom past—asking what the hell you're doing. He doesn't get a reply.

You're moving so fast, he's not sure if he can catch up.

Your suit forms over your pyjamas as soon as you duck into the dark of an alley, shooting a web and slinging up into the sky. If your predictions were right...

Then he should be here right now. They should be here. The last article you found was posted less than twenty hours ago.

"Come on... come on, hotshot... you're there, I know it."

You look around, perched on the roof. The sky is dotted with specks of red and orange—like the flames of a phoenix. Ever-burning heart. It's not as bright (yet, all the same, sears your lids) as it was when you ducked out of school—Harry and MJ surely would be home by now... wherever that home in Gotham was.

You're too locked in to try and do detective work on anything else right now.

You probably look crazy muttering to yourself like this. You feel like you're going crazy. You're sure he'd call you loony before grinning and hitting you with a bad pickup line. You're sure—

"Johnny!" Your eyes dart towards a bright speck rapidly moving. Far away. Flying, most likely. But it's him. You know it. You don't waste a second in starting to swing.

Suddenly, your eyes brighten and there's flickering in your refractive lenses.

Your entire body tenses with a pause—your spidey-sense going off a thousand beats a minute.

You call out his name as you rush toward his quickly departing figure. He's fast—but you're faster. You always have been, no matter how much he'd deny it.

Your heart races as fast as it can possibly go. Your heart—it's burning, alighting with hot, molten passion as you get closer, and closer, and closer—

"Johnny!"

He yelps, high-pitched—losing his flight for a moment and tumbling downwards. You web and swing the two of you upwards onto a roof with ease, holding him princess style in your arms. When you let him down to stand on his own two feet, he stares at you with wide, shocked eyes.

You crash into the human matchstick and wrap your arms around him—squeezing. The warmth pools through your nanotech suit like you're hugging the sun itself (though, you aren't too sure whether the warmth tickling the inside of your ribcage is truly coming from him).

You sure are thankful you made your suit heat resistant (with Johnny in mind).

His flames evaporate into thin air when he realises it's you, and you're laughing so joyously you could cry.

His hand reaches up, cautiously. Like you'll shatter if he isn't careful. "[name]...? Spidey, is it...?" Making sure it really, truly is you.

You nod, slowly, and the nanotech of your mask dissipates around your face. He lets out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding and engulfs you into a hug, holding you steady in his arms as low flames begin to tickle your face.

"[name]...!! [name]!!" He holds you so tightly you could be squeezed to death—but you're not complaining. Not like you usually would. Not like this. Not now. "You're... you're here? How...? How are you...?"

You pull away—though, his arms refuse to linger away from your upper arm, "What about you, idiot?! I was scared half to death when you, Sue, Ben and Reed just... disappeared one day! I was scared you...!"

You can't bring yourself to finish, so you just hit his chest, hard. He hisses and clutches the area, claiming it's going to bruise—yet, he does not stop smiling.

He slinks an arm around your shoulder (being sure your hair doesn't catch onto his flaming limb), smiling as charmingly as you remember, "Oh come on, Spidey—we both know you were just worried about me."

Your eyes squint up with your smile. He's just like you remember. Whether this was your Johnny or not... it didn't change the fact that you'd never felt closer to home.

"Try again in the next dimension, hot stuff."

And he simply grins.

Your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, a burger (courtesy of Johnny letting you know where are the good joints were) wrapped up nicely in your hand. Your mask only leaves your mouth exposed now as you take a bite.

You chew with starry eyes. "This tastes like...!"

"Like Stanley's, right?" His bright eyes squint upward into a boyish grin. "It's crazy how similar these worlds are."

You sigh contentedly at the familiarity, resting your head onto his shoulder. His suit is warm on your cheek. "So, Reed's tinkering really did transport you all to this world? And that's how Doc sent me tumbling here?"

He nods. "Yep. Sucks, huh? I just didn't expect you—the other you—to get caught up in this, too. What're you gonna do now? You know... with their treatment towards you."

He's clearly talking about how you overexplained their dismissal toward the you in this world. Since you practically replaced them—you're the one with the short end of the stick, while the other you is with your loving Aunt May.

"'Dunno. I'm not gonna tell them I've been transported universes—they'd probably just send me to a mental hospital. I just have to deal with it until Reed gets us out of here." You pull your knees to your chest and take another bite of your burger.

Johnny glances downwards toward where you chew—but you don't notice it.

"'Course. You're practically part of the family. You know, honorarily—till you decide to tie the knot." He winks and you can only laugh at his stupidity.

"Uhuh. Pretty comforting." You snicker. You throw the balled-up wrapper behind you, and sigh, content. "I just hope they don't find out I'm the new spider-hero. That's probably not gonna end well."

Johnny pauses, thinking. "You could always move in with us. Reed made us all fake ID's and everything—we have a pretty sweet apartment."

You shake your head, pulling your mask down over your lips. "No. It'd be even weirder if I disappeared without warning... Assuming they even noticed at all. Trust me, I'd love to—but I can't let them find out. No telling what they'd do."

"You got a point." He sighs, disappointed—as if admitting so was hard for him. "Well, regardless... You can come over whenever you like. My room's always free for you, babe."

You tilt your head to the side. "... I bet you say that to all the girls, don't you?"

"Nah." He shakes his head, sounding oddly serious for this moment. "Not to anyone since I've had eyes on my special spider."

... Huh?

A beat of silence passes, and he seems to almost regret his words as he laughs, humourlessly. "Hah! Well—try not to piss off the big bad bat more than you already have, babe. I'll catch you later. You know my number."

Before you can even say goodbye—he flies away, leaving a streak of light in his wake.

Johnny...

You decide not to ponder what he meant by his special spider, for the sake of your own wellbeing more than anything. You swing back—into the night of Gotham and back home, where you can fade into the dark without an eye on you.

literally johnny and spidey (was it casual when you said your heart lit on fire when you saw him 💔💔💔)

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slutofpsh · 2 days ago

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strip for me.

part eight | psh.

pairings: hyungline x reader

synopsis: hyungline got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni, sunghoon being mean, degrading, raw sex (please use protection), dirty talks, curses, masturbation, slapping, choking. slightly rough sex. this is not proof read. (read at your own risk)

note: LAST PART OF STRIP FOR ME. it took a while. i was taking a break to give time for myself and to refresh my writing skills. i hope you guys are doing well and waited for this part. i’m sorry if i kept you waiting. anyway, first post in 2025! send me asks. reblog and reply (nice) comments. let me know what you feel about this one.

“I still can’t believe that Sunghoon gets to have her for the whole day.” Jake sounded pissed as he placed yet another golf ball at its position. He stood back up then glanced at his two best pals.

Heeseung is sat down while waiting for his turn. Jay’s eyes watches him get into position.

“Can’t you just shut your mouth and take your shot quietly?” Jay scoffed right at him. It was obvious that he’s so done hearing all these repetitive rants from his friend.

Jake raises his hand to flick him off before taking his shot. He poured all of his emotions into it causing the poor ball to fly so far.

A few golfing assistant claps at his wonderful performance, but it seems like Jake’s still annoyed about something.

Heeseung pats his shoulder before placing a brand new ball for his turn.

“Give it up, dude. You know its the least we can do for him.” he mumbled. His adams apple bobs as he tried so hard to mask the small jealousy that igniting insideffy. He’s better than this.

“Its unfair.” Jake continued complaining.

Jay sighed heavily, “Then if Sunghoon suggests we fuck off since he likes her first, what will you do?” he raised his eyebrow at his friend.

Jake pursed his lips, jaw clenches hard.

“Now you stopped talking, huh?” Jay scoffed before walking to replace Heeseung to his place since its his turn now.

Heeseung lets out a strained sigh and claps his friend’s shoulder. Jake remains silent.

“I know it may sound unfair, but Sunghoon’s kind enough to share her with us. After all, he’s the first one to like her. Don’t forget that.” and with that, Heeseung walks closer to his golf cart. An assistant rushes her way near him to help him.

On the other hand, Sunghoon pries his eyes open and waits patiently for you to come out from your house. He’s been here for more than thirty minutes and you just informed him that you’ll be down soon.

He’s resting over his big bike, hands inside his pockets. The weather is so nice today and he’s excited to spend the whole day with you. But a part of him is worried. He stayed late last night to calm himself down and not lose his shit for today.

“Hoonie!” his lips instantly stretched into a smile when he saw you walk outside your house.

Wearing some shorts and a t-shirt. The smile on your face is so bright that sent instant relief towards Sunghoon. He’s excited for the day, but also very worried of what’s the outcome gonna be.

“Hey, beautiful.” he softly mumbles and pulls you into a tight embrace once you’re close enough.

He kisses your forehead gently then rests his on yours, staring right into your eyes. It tugs something in your heart, making your chest ache in a good way.

“You’re early!” you chimed.

“Yes, I am. I don’t want you waiting.” he smirks.

“Where are we going today?”

He pulls away while still holding your hand, thumb pressing to your palm. It was warm and it felt so good.

“You’ll see.” and he raises his free hand to hang some of the hairstands to your ear.

His eyes racks down on your outfit and his lips pursed into a faint pout. It made you look down on your clothes in wonder of what seems to be wrong about it.

“You need jacket. We’ll be riding my bike so the wind will be crazy.” he stated that answered your confusion.

Even before you can offer to go back inside and get one, he took off his leather jacket revealing his white sando inside. You went silent, admiring his broad shoulder and toned muscle in front of you.

He smirks while helping you wear it. He made sure you’re all warm up.

“Warm enough?”

You nodded cutely and Sunghoon chuckles sexily while trying to sink in the image of you wearing his jacket. It was obvious that it wasn’t yours. The jacket is so big that your hands disappears from the inside of the long sleeves.

“You need a helmet too.” and he walks towards the bike to get the helmet he bought just for you. It was cute and the color is your favorite.

You jumped cutely and it made Sunghoon’s heart thump, grinning widely. You’re attempting to hold the helmet so you can check it closer, but Sunghoon kept one of his hand holding it just to make sure you won’t accidentally let of it.

“Sunghoon? Is that you?” both of your heads swings over to the left and instantly stood straight when he saw your Mother walking out of the house.

“Mrs. (surname)” he greets and bows his head.

Your Mom smiled warmly as she walks towards the two of you. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen you together like this. But she surely remember it vividly how both of you are so young back then, and now you both grew up.

She can’t help but to feel a little emotional by the thought that despite all the things that happened, you two still managed to find way back to each other.

When she’s close enough, she stretches her hand to caress Sunghoon’s face gently. The boy grew up very handsome just how she expected.

It isn’t the first time he had seen him. He remembers him from the other day, with the other boys. She was hesitating at first to go and ask if he’s indeed the same boy you’re friends with. But now that she heard you perfectly calling him by his name, she’s sure of it.

While all of it was happening, you couldn’t help but to look back at your Mom and Sunghoon. A big question plays inside your head.

“Do you know him, Mom?” you asked.

They both look at your way then look at each other. Silently, they both agreed that it isn’t a good idea to bring up the past. Despite a lot of good memories you built with Sunghoon, the pain from that trauma will also give a big impact on you.

“A-Ah, yes darling. His Mom and I are good friends back then.” she smiles at you.

Your eyes grew, “Really?! How come you didn’t meet up?”

Sunghoon walks closer to you with a smile, “Because we didn’t know that you guys moved in this town.”

You nodded, trying to piece up everything together. Sunghoon rest his big hands at your back and caress it gently to send comfort. It didn’t slip off from your Mom’s eyes and instantly, she felt comfort. Like she’s now sure that you’ll be all right.

“Anyway, I should leave you guys since I have a meeting in five minutes.” she changed the topic then walked towards you to cup your face.

“Have fun, okay?”

You smiled and nodded. Her eyed diverted towards Sunghoon. “Take care of her, Sunghoon.”

He nods, “I will.” and your Mom was well assured by those two words.

Once she’s back inside you looked at Sunghoon with keen eyes. “Why didn’t you mention that our Moms are friends?”

He took a step closer then helped you wear your helmet. He smiled, “I was finding the right timing.”

You pout, but decided to let it pass since its been kind of messy before.

He rides his bike effortlessly and helped you hop on behind him. It was the first time you ever ride something like this and its fascinating but also a bit frightening for you. When its just Sunghoon, he made it look easy riding it. Its not.

He chuckles, noticing how tense you are behind him. He grabbed both of your hand and make it wrap around his body, making your chest press over his broad back and feeling his abs beneath his sando.

“Just hold on to me tight, love.” he mumbles and even craned his neck slightly to check on you.

You nodded and he smiled before wearing his own helmet. Your cheeks flushed after feeling his muscles flexing with his every movement. After making sure he’s all set as well, he grabbed your thighs and squeezed it like as if a signal that he’s start driving already.

When he opens the engine, a familiar roaring sound emerges. Even with the helmet, you can still hear it. He started droving off and the wind blew hard towards you. Once he reved hardly causing the bike to speed up, you almost let out a squeal.

It was so much fun, but also nervewracking. The thrill feeling it gave you just makes your blood pumping so hard. No wonder Sunghoon loves this kind of vehicle. This fits him so much.

When he started to add more speed, you couldn’t help but to squeal and giggle. Sunghoon tilts his head and rests one of his hand on your thigh, caressing it. Only one of his hand is in control.

“Hoon! Focus on the road!” you shouted, slightly panicking.

He glances on the road then glances back at you, “What?” he asks a bit muffled due to the helmet.

“I said focus on the road! Both hand on the bike!”

He chuckles and bit his lower lip because of how adorable you sound. The way your arms wrapped tighter around his body is making him giddy inside.

He gave your thighs one more squeeze before removing it to follow your request. It made you relieved and rests your body on his back on more relaxed way.

It took a few minutes until you arrived at their house. This will be the first time you will be coming here. Your head perks up, trying to admire the big elegant gates that surrounds the mansion.

It was fully secured and even before his bike near the big gates, it opened automatically. He drove inside and the driveway is so wide. There’s even a fountain at the middle.

Once his bike was perfectly parked, you kept looking around to check the whole vicinity. You failed to even notice the house workers rushing to greet their newly arrived young master.

Sunghoon made sure you’re stable enough to hold yourself while he get off the bike. He took off his helmet and you watch as he shakes his head to arrange his slightly messed hair. He looked smoking hot.

His eyes stares right at you, ignoring everybody else around. He smirks then settles his helmet on his bike to unhook yours. Your eyes looks cautious once its out in the open. You can now perfectly see the numerous eyes watching the two of you and its making you feel a bit awkward.

Sunghoon saw your reaction and couldn’t help himself but to place a kiss on your cheeks. You looked adorable. You’re still awkwardly staring at their maids while he gently fix your hair that slightly got messy.

“S-Should I say Hi? What should I do, Hoon?” you whispered nervously.

He chuckles and leaned again to give you another kiss, this one a little harder because you’re too adorable.

“Nah, its fine.” he assures you.

“But they’re staring.”

He smiles, “Probably wondering whose this pretty girl I’m with.”

Your pout got deeper, cheeks turning more red because of him. He snorted and carried you off his bike. He helped you take off his leather jacket before holding your hand to pull you inside.

The maids bows their heads when he’s walking pass by making it more awkward. You feel like you need to do something as well. It feels wrong to let them bow without returning the favor. It doesn’t seem like that for Hoon, tho. Its like he’s already used to these things.

“A-Are we going to hang out here?” you ask, trying to divert your attention away from the surprising scene back there.

You roam your eyes around while still holding onto Sunghoon’s hand and letting him drag you towards somewhere.

“Nope.” he said making the popping sound at the ‘p’.

“Then why did we go here?” when you guys made it at the second floor, he walked towards the right and by the end is his room.

He opens the room and you couldn’t help but to feel nervous with a hint of excitement. Even if you didn’t want to, your mind instantly plays a lot of scenarios that can happen.

Sunghoon smirks seeing your blushing cheeks and flustered expression.

“Calm down, pretty. We ain’t doing anything here.” he assures you while leaning close to you from the back. His lips grazing over your ears, hot breath fanning.

“O-Okay...”

“Disappointed?” he asked teasingly. You furrowed your brows trying to hide it, but guilty is plastered all over your face.

“No!”

He chuckles and kisses your neck before walking inside his room, leaving you standing by the door.

“Don’t worry, we have all day.” and he winks before going straight to another door which you assume to be his walk-in-closet.

“Come inside, love. Don’t be shy.” he shouts and that make you take further steps.

His whole room is designed in a simple yet manly way. Minimal colored furnitures that are pleasing in the eyes. Everything is pretty organized for a guy like Sunghoon. Well, you didn’t expect him to be this neat.

You walk towards a few picture frames after noticing them. One of them is a family picture. His Mom and Dad together with Sunghoon and his sister. You’ve never seen her before. She’s very pretty.

Beside that frame is a picture of Sunghoon with the boys. He’s in the middle and it seems like it was taken during one of his birthdays. Heeseung’s smiling widely with a piece sign pose. Jake’s arm wrapped around Sunghoon’s shoulder while he have the biggest grin on his face. Jay is smiling beside them with the same pose as Heeseung.

You can’t help but to smile at how precious they are. Your eyes wanders off and notice one picture frame from the far left corner of the room. It cannot be noticed right away, like as of it was purposely placed there so it can have its privacy.

When you’re about to walk towards it, Sunghoon went out from the walk-in-closet. A big bag on his hand and a bunch of paper bags on the other one.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“The four of you really grew up together, huh?”

He smirks, “Can you tell how sick I am from Jake’s tantrums?” he jokes that made you chuckle. They always love teasing him.

You rest your one hand over his chest and playfully glare at him. “Stop teasing him too much. You know he’s just like that.”

He snorted and laid the paperbags down at his king-sized bed. “Yeah, whatever.”

Your eyes darted over the paperbags. Just by the color and the brands, its mostly for women. He watch your reaction and smile carefully, admiring how cute you are.

“I got these for you.” he mumbles as he hugs you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Why so many?”

He inhaled your scent that he’s grown addicted to. “Because you deserve it.” and he placed a kiss on your cheeks.

“Thank you so much, Hoonie.” you said sweetly.

“You’re welcome, love.” he kissed your neck once before he asks you to sit down his bed so you can check everything out.

“Such cute dresses!” you exclaimed and even took out a few so you can see it properly.

Its sundresses that definitely fits you well. Just the way you like it. You glance at Sunghoon and he’s smiling.

“Yeah, it will look good on you.”

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Secret.” he bopped your nose once before asking you to change quickly.

You nodded and went inside his walk-in-closet after picking the dress you wanted to wear first. Sunghoon said he would pack the rest just in case you want to go change. He’s so thoughtful.

“Damn.” he cursed the moment you went outside.

Your cheeks blushed hardly due to the hot stares he’s giving you right now. The dress is on, but the way he’s eyeing you makes you feel so naked in front of him. It was almost like he’s stripping you inside his mind!

“H-How does it look?”

He struts closer to you and reached for your hand before dropping a kiss on top of it.

“Can you turn around for me, love?” he whispered oh so gently that it sent direct shivers to your spine. Its the way his voice sounded so low.

You giggled to try and mask the pounding of your heart and did as he told. While still holding your hand, he turns you around.

“Perfect...” he said with a small smile. “You look perfect.”

His intense gaze remains for a while before you decided to lean towards him to connect your aching lips with his. Its too much. The emotions, his stares, his warm touch— you just need to feel his kisses.

He returns your kisses right away, kissing you hungrily and hardly. It made you feel how much he wanted you as much as you want him. Both of your hearts heartbeats synchronized as he hold you close to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck to deepen the kiss.

He was biting your lips and sliding his tongue inside your mouth to get a good taste of you. He groans as you moan softly, he squeezed your hips as a signal and you jumped to wrap your legs on his body. He held you for support as he sat down the bed to continue kissing you, devouring you.

“H-Hoon,” you moaned his name and his brows furrowed hardly before moving away. He even gave your lips one last chaste kiss before looking at your eyes.

“Later, pretty.” he said that made you slightly frustrated. You can feel the space between your thighs dripping wet and you want him inside you right now.

He rest his forehead on yours and smiles, “I promise to make it up to you later, okay?” he tries assuring you when he saw the slight upset look on your face.

You pout and left with no choice, but to agree with him. He fixes your hair and guided you back to your feet. He grabbed the bag containing both of your things.

The two of you went downstairs and you saw the maids once again. It made you awkward, but you smiled brightly at them and tried waving.

“We’re not taking your bike?” you asked confused when you noticed that he’s guiding you inside a sports car you’ve never seen before. He never used this at school.

“No.” he answered casually and placed the bag at the compartment before opening the door for you.

“Then why not take this car at the first place?”

He smiles and rests his hand on your lower back, “Because I remember you mentioning how you want to try to ride that bike.”

Your eyes turned softly at what he said. As far as you remember, you’ve only said it once and he managed to remember that. You tip-toed and placed a kiss on his lovely lips.

“Thank you so much, Hoonie.”

“Anything for you.” he kissed your temple before letting you go inside first.

“We’re riding that?!” you exclaimed and even hopped continuously while looking over this yacht.

He chuckled and nodded, “Yes.”

“Really?! I’ve never been in one!” and you stared with so much amusement towards the fancy yacht.

There are people trying to get it ready after your arrival. They greeted the two of you with enthusiasm and helped you get on it. Sunghoon’s hand are assisting you so you wouldn’t fall as the yacht are a little unstable due to the waves.

“Careful.” he mumbles sweetly and once he’s sure you’re safe aboard, he stepped in with no sweat. Obvious that this isn’t his first time.

“Wow!” it looked so fancy. It has one room and an overview deck that is perfect.

Sunghoon talked to the people and you watch how one by one they started to leave the yacht. You glanced at him with confusion.

“Are we going alone?”

“Yes.” he answered and even fold his white polo.

“Can you drive it?” the question doesn’t sound like as if you don’t trust him behind the wheels, but more of an amusement that he can manoeuvre one. Is there something he cannot do?

He smirks, “Yeah. Me and the boys usually go out to fish whenever we’re bored.”

“So you’re taking your yacht?” and you even held onto the railings because its still moving a bit because of the waves.

“We take our own yachts, love. We race on the ocean too.” he smiled cockily that made you rolled your eyes.

He chuckles and pulls you closer to kiss you on the lips. You forgot how these boys are born rich and on another level.

“Anyway, let me show you around before we sail.” he grabbed your hand then gently intertwined your fingers before guiding you inside.

The whole yacht is pretty. After roaming around, he asked you to come up to him as he’ll start driving towards the ocean already. He even handed you a summer hat. No wonder he gave you a pair of black two piece to wear under this sundress.

“Woah.” you exclaimed amazed when he started driving. He glanced at you and chuckled at how amazed you are.

Actually, since he’ll be the last one to take you out on a date. He was a little worried that one of them would have the idea on taking you on a trip on a yacht. Thankfully, none of them did and he proceeded on his plan.

“Wow! The water is so clean here!” you even ran down the stairs so you can look over the front railings.

“Be careful, pretty.” Sunghoon reminded while looking at your direction, wearing a sunglasses.

“Do you think there’s shark here?” you asked worried.

Sunghoon can’t suppress the smile spreading across his handsome face. How come you’re so adorable while asking these innocent questions to fill your curiosity? He really can’t with you. He feel like he will lose his mind.

Once he’s satisfied enough of your location, and by that it means you’re in the middle of ocean, far from any land you can set your eyes to.

The water’s so clean and the breeze ain’t that bad too. Its such a perfect weather to come here and you can’t stop giggling to yourself while watching the crystal clear water beneath.

You failed to notice how Sunghoon sets the anchor and grabbed the mat to place it on the middle. He glanced at you and you’re now wearing your bikini. His eyes dangerously racking from your head down to your body.

He licks his lips and walked closer. You glanced behind you when a shadow looms and you smiled brightly at your boyfriend.

“Its so beautiful here.”

He smiles, “I think you’re prettier.”

Even before you can master a reaction, he reached for your arm and helped you get up. Your eyes stares right at his and mouth gapped open, unable to say a word because of how handsome he is.

“Come here.” he then guided you to the mat and your eyes looked thrilled of what’s about to unfold.

“Lay down for me.” and you obliged to his request.

You’ve gone silent because of excitement and every cell in your body is getting hyped up.

“I want to taste you.” he says and hand racks from caressing your cheeks, down to your neck, chest and tummy. He just ran his hand on your skin, very gentle. Taking all his time.

He pressed his palm on your stomach and made you lay on your back. He leans in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, then on your stomach before pulling away to get a full view of your bikini.

“It looks so well on you...” he compliments and even stick his finger on the waist band, dangerously playing with it.

He lifts his eyes trying to check for your reaction and he smirks seeing how your eyes looked so desperate for him... for his touch.

“But I think they need to be stripped off of you.” his fingers pressed on your skin. They felt so hot, burning.

You gulped slowly feeling like as if you’re being lifted in the air.

“Do you want me to take it off of you, pretty?” his voice soft, a bit teasing. Obviously teasing.

You nodded, a bit eager making his smirk grew wider. He loves it whenever you’re like this. He pulls his hand away then towards the knot on the hips. Slowly, he pulls the string to untangle it.

You bit your lips in anticipation, but unconsciously roam your eyes around.

“Here? Outside?” you nervously mumbled, also feeling a bit excited about it. “B-But what if people see us?”

“We’re so far from any land, love.” and he caress your legs to ease you a bit. A smirk still plays through his sexy lips, “And besides the fishes can use some entertainment.” he joked.

You glared at him playfully that made him chuckle as he kisses your knees. “Just kidding. Relax, okay? We’re safe here.”

Eventually, you did relaxed by his touch and his assuring eyes.

“I’m going to eat you now.” he warned and it was almost like a torture for you.

A nod is all you answer to him. Your mind was already blank. All you can think of is how you want to feel his lips on your core, his tongue deep inside you.

He placed a kiss on your inner thighs before diving in. A gasp left your mouth the moment his lips touched your core. It was warm and slightly wet. He started lapping in a slow, torturous pace. Like as if enjoying taking his time making out with your pussy.

“H-Hoon!” you called his name out like he was not there, between your legs.

His fingers digged on your skin as he looks at your over his eyes. He enjoyed the view of your pleasured face, but he’s enjoying eating you even more. He can taste your sweetness all over his mouth and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Ugh!” and your hand reaches for his soft hair when he started to eat you more aggressively.

You felt like you’re up in the sky, mind blank and like as if nothing else mattered for you. You couldn’t even worry about the chance of people seeing the two of you anymore. Just your orgasm coming your way. Sunghoon is really making you dumb using his tongue.

Your back arches when you’re almost there. Sunghoon knew you’re close so he tried reaching the depth of your pussy using his hot tongue. His lips completely attached on your clit adding to the pleasure you are having.

Sunghoon’s finger tightens on your skin making you whimper. His eyes flutters open to scan you and even before you can reach for his hand to hold it, his grip loosen. Your brows furrowed in confusion for his behavior but it was all thrown away once his his thumb rubs on your clit for added pleasure.

You are losing your mind. He’s so good with it. Knowing what feels good and what can make you completely insane for him.

“Sunghoon!” you screamed and eyes rolled at the back of your head before your release the first anticipated orgasm of the day.

You felt his lips stretched in a grin as he lapped your juice shamelessly. While still at trance riding your high, you carded your hair then looked at him again.

He moved away from your now pulsating pussy and you can see the look of lust on his eyes.

“Here,” he mumbled shortly. Without a warning, he kisses you on the lips passing you some of your own juices. It caught you slightly off-guard, doesn’t really know how to describe such new taste.

He have the biggest smirk after he succeeded making you taste your own orgasm. He looked proud even if you looked even closer.

“Now you know why we go crazy for you.”

You don’t know if you should be thankful that you moved inside the yacht after he fucked you twice outside. It was such a different experience. Clueless if it was because of the thrill of being outside having sex in the open where people can see you, or because Sunghoon looked so hot fucking you. Probably both.

While making out now on top of the bed, both stripped off of every clothes, Sunghoon’s hands were on you. It was so hot for you. The three orgasms you just had was like not enough when you start feeling your core getting wet again.

Sunghoon only managed to cum once. And you can’t help but to feel bothered about it. Not because he only released one time, but because how of how he’s acting a bit strange.

You’ve known Sunghoon. This isn’t the first time you two did this. You’ve seen how he is on bed and its not enough to describe how good he is. He’s usually very dominant and loves to be rough around you. Manhandling you every time.

But the whole two rounds, he was so gentle. It still feel good, yes. Its just you can’t help but to notice how he seemed to be holding himself back. Treating you like some fragile glass that will break if he became rough even in the slightest way.

“Hoon, wait.” you pushed him off, his lips chased you and his eyes looked so drunken in love.

“Hmm?” he hummed, not sure if he’s really in the right mind to listen.

“What’s wrong?” you asked worriedly that made his brows creased in confusion.

“Huh?” he licked his lips then ran his hand on your hair to brush them away from your face. “What do you mean?”

You gulped then search his eyes, staring right at his soul.

“Why are you acting different?” you heaved a sigh. “It seems like your holding yourself back.”

Sunghoon was caught off-guard. He is a bit tensed. This was so unlike him. He’s usually very confident in bed and always gets it the way he wants. He didn’t think that you would notice.

He glanced away and was about to move away, but you captured his face then made him stare back at you.

“Come on...” you gave him an assuring smile. “You can tell me.”

He remained silent for a while before he gave in. He sighed heavily before placing a swift kiss on your hand that was cupping his face.

“I’m j-just scared that I went overboard and scare you.” he explains that slowly shed light on you.

“You said that you don’t like us being aggressive...” his voice lowered, like as if he’s so afraid. “I’m scared to lose you. I don’t want to lose you.” he confessed.

Your heart strings tugs when he said those words to you. You bit your lower lip and smiled at him lovingly before leaning in to give him a kiss on his lips. Slow and very passionate so he can feel how much you adore him.

“Well...” you started after pulling away. “I can give an exemption.” you said staring at his eyes.

His eyes sparkles. “But..”

You shushed him with another kiss then you leaned over his ears to whisper. “It will be our little secret.”

And after you say that, you felt his hold tighten. Sunghoon’s eyes turned darker like something has flipped inside him.

He pushed you on the bed, his hand on your neck. Wrapped like a necklace, just like how you liked it.

“Is this what you want, doll?” he asked in a low husky voice.

Your stomach churns at his words and on the way he looked at you. His jaw hardly clenched while manhandling you effortlessly.

“Y-Yes...” it came out like a desperate moan, driving him insane.

“I was doing you a favor and actually being nice and yet you want this side of me.” he scoffed sexily and tilt his head on the side.

“I didn’t know that you’re so naughty, y/n.” he stated. “Such a horny doll for me, yeah?”

You nodded, feeling your core getting even more aroused and starting to clench around on nothing.

“Words... I need words.” he grunted that made you gasp when he tighten his hand on your neck.

“Y-Yes, Hoon!” you managed to say.

He smirked, “That’s my girl.”

“Now I’m going to fuck you so hard and I don’t want to hear any complains.” he said then started to align his now fully erect member on your hole.

“So wet....” he growled. “So so wet for me.”

He leaned down and rest his nose on your cheeks after one kiss. He didn’t even informed you and just slided his whole length inside making you jolt.

“Ugh!” you moaned with a mixed pain and pleasure.

“Your cunt is choking my big dick, doll. You feel that?” he whispered sensually that almost sent you to heaven.

You shut your eyes tightly because of the immense pleasure he’s currently sending you. He started moving, sliding his dick in and out with no mercy. The slapping sound of your skins echoes all over the whole yacht.

“Fuck...” he cursed and his grip on both of your waist tightens. His fingers pressed hardly on your skin, marking it.

He pulled away while still fucking you senselessly. “Let me suck those tits.” and dives in he goes. He licked, sucked and bit your nipple making you gasp.

Your teeth sunked on your lips tightly trying to suppress the moans coming out from them. But when he started to suck on your skin more aggressively, you’ve lose it. The sensation of his dick going inside in a rough way and him marking you all over was just too much to handle.

“Feels so good!”

He scoffed, “Yeah? It feels so good to get you fucked this way?!” he licked his lips and slapped your breast once that made you yelp.

It felt so good. So good that you’re losing your mind. Your whole body vibrated after you reached your orgasm and Sunghoon smirked because of it. He grabbed you on the jaw and made you looked at him straight to the eyes.

“Your pussy walls felt amazing around me, doll.” he leans and kissed you on the lips. “Nothing can ever beat this feeling. Nobody can ever replace you in my life.” and started rutting his cock even harder.

“Open your mouth.” he commanded as you felt his thrust getting faster and deeper. His dick starts to pulsate inside you, indicating his orgasm to get closer.

You obliged and open your lovely lips for him. For Sunghoon, the man that holds you and your heart on chokehold.

He gathers a generous amount of saliva on his tongue before spitting it straight to you. Then without thinking twice you swallowed them before opening it once again to show it to him.

He looked so proud before he placed his hands on your hips again to fuck you harder. He groans and clenched his jaw harder.

You whimpered, feeling another release on the way.

“I’m fucking close, doll. I’m going to breed you so good and make sure you’ll keep all my sead inside you.” and after a couple of thrust he busted it all inside just like he said.

Both of you moaned together when you finished at the same time. He clasped your lips together and thrust inside you in a slower pace to ride both of your highs. It felt so good, amazing.

Sunghoon collapsed beside you, panting. He catches his breath for a while before he raise on the bed, leaning over his elbow to check on you.

“Was that okay, love?” now, his eyes looked a lot more softer. “Too much?” he sounded worried.

You chuckled and with the remaining strength, you leaned in to give him a kiss on his lips. “You were amazing, Hoon.”

Relief washes all over him before resting his forehead on yours.

“I love you.” your heart swells.

“I love you too.” you respond. He kissed you once on the cheek before pushing himself up to grab a warm wet towel to clean you up.

He refused to make you stand up and asked you to stay completely still. You didn’t tried to argue because your whole body is aching. Now its all kicking up and tiredness is slowly taking over.

He starts cleaning you and you watch him with loving eyes. Your heart felt so full watching him take care of you that way.

“Why do you call me doll? Is it because you get off with the thought that you can use me?” you innocently asked him.

His hand stopped from wiping you off. With furrowed brows he glanced at you.

“No.” he answered right away. “Is that how you interpreted it?”

You shrugged your shoulders off, “I read online that some guys think that way.”

He sighed, “I am calling you doll because you’re very beautiful.”

You smiled. “Really?”

He leaned closer to place a hearty kiss on your lips. “Really.”

You felt giddy inside after that then he resumed cleaning you up. While mind slightly floating, you remembered the same question you’ve asked the three boys.

“Hoon?” you called his attention.

“Yes, my love?”

“When did you start liking me?”

He raised his head so he can look in your eyes.

“When I was five years old.”

- Flashback -

Multiple screams coming from the neighborhood kids surrounded the whole playground as the five year old Park Sunghoon hovers over another boy. He got him pinned on the dusty field, holding his cute little collar and punching him once on the face.

“Who’s the scaredy cat now, huh?” he hissed at the crying boy beneath him.

Nobody dares to interfere at the scene, every kid afraid of him. Park Sunghoon. The eldest son of the richest family in the private subdivision. Almost everyone knows him and his family. How can they not? Their beautiful, gigantic million dollar mansion sure is always the talk of the people.

“Sunghoon! Oh, dear!” someone finally went in between and moves him away on top from the poor kid.

His eyes remains staring at him, glaring if you may describe it accurately. He didn’t care if the other kids are giving him those terrified looks or if the neighbourhood moms are whispering with each other about how awful kid he is.

All he can think of is that he’s mad and that kid surely learned his lesson not to mess with him.

“How many times would I have to tell you not to hurt other kids?!” his Mother’s voice is stressed out as she paced back and fort in front of him.

He’s back home and sat down at the sofa, earning an earful conversation with his Mom. She’s stressed that she has to deal with that boy’s family and his hospital bills. Not that it can hurt their wealth, but sure the rumors will spread around and will be embarrassing. She has no idea what to do with him anymore. He’s uncontrollable.

He remains silent that made her even more frustrated. It was obvious that he fears nobody and that even if she talks nonstop, he doesn’t care.

Ever since the incident, as expected, no one wants to play with him anymore. Whenever he goes at the playground, he’s always accompanied with his bodyguard that can stop if ever things escalates.

He roams his eyes around and the kids avoids his eyes with fear. They’re playing in groups, their usual friends.

He doesn’t care or feel hurt about it. In fact, Sunghoon doesn’t even want to play with them. For him they’re all boring and dumb.

“Hi!” Sunghoon snaps his head over to the side after hearing this sweet voice.

That was the first time Park Sunghoon lay eyes on you. With your cute little dress and hair tied with cute bows. Your eyes doesn’t reflect any fear and you have the brightest smile flashing towards him.

‘Wait... Him?’ Sunghoon, couldn’t help but thought.

“Y/n! What are you doing?!” another little girl went close and grabbed her by the arm.

“I told you not to go near him!” she added and even shoot glares at Sunghoon’s side. But when he looks at her, she quickly turned pale and glances away.

“Why? He’s all alone, Sujin.” you even pout your lips.

The other little girl kept on insisting for you to leave Sunghoon alone and he’s just there, watching all of it unfold in front of him.

“It’s okay, Sujin. Go play with the others! I want to use the swing!” you insisted and even started walking closer to where Sunghoon’s at.

Sujin, your friend, was left with no choice but to leave. She doesn’t want to, but she also doesn’t want to be near Sunghoon.

“Hello!” your voice snaps him back to reality.

He didn’t talk and just looked at you with his intimidating eyes. For someone who is five, Sunghoon sure make kids around his age uncomfortable through his gaze. Maybe because despite the pretty eyes, his brows are too thick making him on the more arrogant looking type. The snob kids. His skin pale as snow and his clothes are all branded, indicating a clear status in life.

“Why are you alone?” you asked.

Sunghoon gulps and tried hard to hide what he’s starting to feel. Never in his life that he felt shy or conscious around anyone. He grew up with so much confidence and yet here he is, palm sweating, eyes a little shakey. He wanted so bad to look away, but your pretty eyes makes it so hard for him.

He kept his snobby face then ignores you completely, jumps off the swing then slowly walks towards somewhere. Your lips pursed into a pout because of his attitude, but it didn’t stop you from following him.

“So do you often go to this playground?” once again a small smile flashing through your pretty face.

Young Sunghoon sighs, a little annoyed. Not just because you’re not leaving him alone, but also because he hates how deep down he’s curious of you. He cannot understand himself. Was it because this is the first time someone was not intimidated by his rotten attitude?

He turns around and met eyes with your bright ones. He’s unfocused. He doesn’t know what’s it about. His young self have no idea that this will be the start of his obsession over you.

It continued that way and even before you can notice it, its been a year. Whenever you see Sunghoon around that playground, you won’t leave him alone. Following him around and asking him continuously despite not receiving any response from him.

Today, Sunghoon visits the playground once again. His eyes roams, unconsciously searching for your familiar pretty face. He wanted to say that he’s relieved that he didn’t saw you, but a big part of him is disappointed that you’re not here. He knew today won’t be as fun.

He walks towards the swing and naturally, the kids around cleared up. They still don’t want to be near him even if the last time he hurt somebody was long ago. Ever since you followed him around, he didn’t cause any trouble again. He was always too preoccupied about you that he clearly forgot about messing with the other kids.

He tries to swing his body while hoping he would see you playing with the few group of kids around. When he realized that you are really not here, he sighs heavily and get off the swing.

He was ready to head back to their family car when a small voice calls him out from a distance.

“Hoon!” that nickname.

He whips his head, in search of you. He saw you right away, jogging— almost running your way towards his direction. Excitement ignites young Sunghoon. He licks his lips and tries hard to keep his deadpan expression.

Once you’re in front of him, you stopped to catch your breath and he waited patiently for you to stabilise your breathing.

“Are you leaving already?” you asked, pouting. You didn’t even try to hide that you want him to stay longer.

Instead of answering you, his eyes racks from your head down to your feet. Its like he’s checking if you’re all right. Then Sunghoon’s brows knitted closer when he noticed something on your skin.

“What happened here?” he asks lowly and hand reaches for your arm.

You looked surprised that he managed to notice that.

“U-Uh, I fell down!” and you even followed it with an awkward laugh.

Sunghoon stares right through your eyes, checking them. It was such an intense gaze from a six year old kid. He knew you were lying, but he decided to ignore it for now.

“Next time, be careful.” he whispered full of concern.

You’re caught off guard. That was the first time you ever saw some other emotions through his face. Ever since that day, you two became inseparable. Sunghoon’s Mom are delighted for his sudden change of behavior. Well, he’s still a troublemaker. But its a lot more tolerable when you’re around.

3rd grade and both of you went to the same school. Of course, he’s still always around you. Almost everyone around the campus and your village knew about the eldest son of the Parks being whipped over you.

“Y/n,” he calls when you started bolting towards the wide field of the school ground. You’re grinning from ear to ear and chuckling.

“I told you to be careful.” he reminds.

Most people notices how Sunghoon acts maturely than his age. Or maybe that’s just how he acts whenever he’s around you. He’s always alert, like as if always ready just incase you needed anything.

“Why should I be worried? You’re here with me.” you sounded so assured and you are. As long as he’s around, you don’t feel any worries or fear. Sunghoon gives you peace of mind and you are his peace.

Sunghoon remained the very same. Protective and caring of you. But something added to it. He started to act possessive around you. If someone gets interested towards you, or even tries to catch your attention, he will go mad.

“I can’t believe you did that to him.” you looked upset while crossing your arms in front of him.

You’re at the ice rink. He’s having his ice hockey practice when he suddenly got into a fight with another one from their team. You remember him. He’s the one who tries to be friends with you last practice.

It pissed the hell out of Ten year old Park Sunghoon. That was the first time he ever invited you to his hockey practice and that happened.

He’s currently sat down at the bench, still on his hockey uniform. Hair’s disheveled after taking off his head gear and he’s resting his elbows on his knees while watching you silently.

“You punched him hard! Did you see his nose?” you added and its just making him more upset. Seeing you this affected by him is making him feel irritated towards that guy even more.

“He deserves it.” he mumbles, but enough for you to hear.

You gazed at him with an hawkeye look on your eyes. “Nobody deserves that!”

He clenches his jaw and lets go of his gloves while he stare up at you. He’s sat down and you’re standing in front of you.

“Why are you even so worried about him? Makes me want to beat him more.” his eyes looked serious and scary.

“What?” you sounded confused then added, “Why are you not worried for him? He’s part of your team.”

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t care about him.”

He stood up making your height difference visible. He took a step closer, making your bodies almost touch each other. You gulped, feeling nervous, heart beating so fast. Lately, you noticed that its always been like that whenever he’s this close to you.

“All I care about is you.” he says while staring down at your eyes. His gaze so intense.

“And I hate it whenever someone’s trying to take away you from me.”

You gulped, cheeks blushing.

“N-Nobody will ever take me away from you, Hoon.” this time, it was your turn to assure him.

You’ve grown attached to him as much as he is with you. And Sunghoon loves whenever you talk like this. Assuring him that you aren’t going anywhere, that you will stay with him.

But life truly is full of surprises. Because the next thing he knew, he was outside the hospital hallway. Your Mom on the side crying, his Mom beside her comforting her.

Sunghoon’s mind was blank while he looks at you from outside the emergency room. His blood went cold, heart being pressed too hardly that he finds it difficult to breath.

He watches how the nurses tries hard to save you from the crash. A car crash. He can’t help but to blame himself. Yes, he’s just Eight. There’s a lot of things that he doesn’t know, a lot of things he still can’t do, a lot of decisions that he regrets.

Due to your close relationship with Sunghoon, he was aware of your parent’s marriage that slowly crashing down. He was with you althrough out of it.

He was there whenever you cry about how they often fight. How your Dad always shouts at your Mom and how he would occasionally hit her.

Sunghoon wants to do something about it. He even informed his parents so they could help, but your Mom refused to file a case to your Dad. They were helpless.

He lets it pass and just made sure you have him and that you’re aware that he isn’t going anywhere. But he couldn’t take it anymore when one day, he saw you with a bruise on your face.

He managed to convince his parents to talk to your Mother about it. Thankfully, she listened this time and file a divorce with him. The case was rolling and Sunghoon’s family were doing their best to help as much as they can.

When it was finalised, your Mom having the custody of you it made your Dad enraged. He took you without her consent and drove away. He was acting crazy, saying that if you two are going to leave him alone, he might as well be dead. And he will take you with him.

That’s why you are here in the hospital, body full of blood and nurses are doing their best to save your life.

Sunghoon rests his hand on the glass that separating you two. He clenched his jaw and eyes brimming with tears. He shuts his eyes and for the first time, he found himself praying. He prayed for your safety and in return he will stay away from you.

He thought it was the end for the two of you. It was so hard to be around you while he felt so guilty about what happened to you. When he learned about you losing most of your memories including those with him, he took that opportunity and asked his parents to move town.

It was heart breaking for young Sunghoon. He knew you are his other half. You belong to him as much as he belongs to you. He lose his spark the moment he moved town. He started becoming the troublemaker that he is before you happened in his life.

Then he met his friends. He started to feel much better. Still longing for you, but better.

He can’t remember the last time he felt his heart drummed. He even forgot how it felt, not until he saw you walking inside the very same classroom five years after. A lot changed in you, but the moment you stepped foot inside he knew right away. His heart reacted like as if a dog seeing its owner after being separated for a long time.

Now that you’re back with him, he can’t mess this up. He lost you once and almost lose you again. He doesn’t think he can afford to go through those therapies again if ever you leave him.

Your eyes were full of tears after hearing it from him. He smiled and held you closer to his warmth, dropping a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m s-sorry I forgot about you.” arms wrapping around him to cry even harder.

You felt so bad about it. Yes, you can still remember how frustrating it was when you woke up one day and can’t remember anything. But for you, it was much harder for Sunghoon. Imagine having someone so special for you but they can’t remember you at all. That’s so heart breaking.

“Shh, its okay love.” he placed another set of feathery kisses on your cheeks. “It ain’t your fault.”

He pulls away to cup your cheeks. His eyes are tearstained as well, but a soft warm smile reflects on it.

“I’m just so glad fate brought you back to me.” and he rests his forehead on yours.

You sniffed and shut your eyes, feeling his presense even more. Letting everything sink to you. Embracing your moment with him.

“And I’m not going anywhere anymore. I love you, Sunghoon.”

He smiled, a tear fell from his eyes.

“I love you.” and he leans in to seal it with a loving, affectionate kiss.

permanent taglist:

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taglist:

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#slutofpsh #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen imagines #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon hard hours #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon x reader

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aewon · 2 days ago

Text

cute, no?

sunghoon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!! wc: 4157 warnings: kissing, rough sex, mouth fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, mean sunghoon, inexperienced (but not virgin) reader, mention of chaewon, yunjin, hanni and karina. both sunghoon and reader are kinda weird. name calling (reader calls sunghoon a whore), multiple orgasms, nude sending. if there’s anything i missed lmk.

note: this is a repost from my other account that is now deleted @/wonkizz, also this isn’t proofread so ignore any fuck ups lol

You knew your roommate was somewhat of a whore. It never bothered you, if anything, you were jealous.

He just….snapped his fingers and girls fell at his feet.

You wished you could bag guys that easily.

Albeit you and Sunghoon rarely acknowledged each other. How did you become roommates in the first place, you may be wondering? It’s very simple. You were living with your sister, she moved out to live with her boyfriend, you needed a new roommate, Sunghoon answered your facebook ad. Simple as that.

The only rules you had were keeping the space clean and not being too loud at night.

Sunghoon definitely kept up with the first one, never having a hair out of place.

The second, well… not so much. But, it didn’t bother you. You had really good noise canceling headphones for a reason.

Though at night, you could still hear the sounds of the multitude of girls he would bring home day in and day out.

Their loud moans, whimpers, mewls, borderline screams!

You don’t know if the sex is really good, or if they’re just really sensitive.

It must be Sunghoon though, right?

But is he really that good?

Sometimes you find yourself wishing you were in those girls' places…but you know he’d never go for someone like you.

Something you haven’t mentioned, Sunghoon is like, drop dead gorgeous. You’re surprised he hasn’t been casted as a model or an idol or something.

But he’s just a struggling student like you. Clearly not struggling in the sex department though.

You’re not a virgin, but you’ve only had sex three times in your 22 years of life.

All three times were not that satisfying and personally you don’t blame yourself.

You just haven’t found that person who can really do it for you, and your own hand and toy have started to become…tired.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve felt the touch of another person. You’ve started craving, like you’re touch-starved.

Back to the topic of Sunghoon, he’s mesmerizing and you are a stereotypical nerd.

You’re not ugly, but your everyday appearance is not exactly eye-catching like what Sunghoon typically brings home.

You find yourself thinking about him more often than not. What he’s into sexually. How far he’s willing to go.

One thing about you, you’re very, very sensitive.

You’ve made yourself come 5 times in a span of 20 minutes.

Another thing about you, you’re somewhat of a freak…or maybe a major freak?

Safe to say you think about sex way more than you should, and you are not as vanilla as your friends think you are.

God, if you could just get one crack at Sunghoon, you’d be happy.

But alas, that’s just a dream.

It’s midnight on a Friday, you’ve just gotten out of the shower after doing your whole night routine.

You slip on some comfy pjs (aka an oversized tee and shorts) and make your way to the couch with a late night snack (black raspberry dark chocolate chunk ice cream) ready to indulge in the food network.

Sunghoon isn’t home, you figure he’s out at a party or with friends.

You’re digging into your pint of ice cream when the front door opens.

Sunghoon steps inside and you hear a giggle behind him.

Someone, a woman, steps in behind him.

Their lips are about to meet when her eyes find yours.

“Oh!” She exclaims, pulling away. “This must be your roommate! You didn’t tell me she was so…cute!”

This woman is gorgeous. Sleek, black hair, beautiful body that’s wrapped in a dress that fits her perfectly and her face is something out of a magazine.

She must be looking at you, with your oversized, not to mention stained, tee and shorts, glasses and ice cream in hand like you’re a joke. An utter, complete, joke.

Sunghoon barely spares a glance at you, clearing his throat and gesturing between you and this woman, “Karina, Y/N, Y/N, Karina,” he introduces you to her.

All you can do is wave before realizing the situation you’re in.

Sunghoon has once again brought a woman home and you’re clearly in the way.

You spring up from the couch, “I didn’t mean to be in the way, I'll just go to my room!”

Before either can say anything, you turn off the tv and nearly sprint to your room, ice cream still in hand.

You shut the door behind you, listening to footsteps.

You hear them making their way to Sunghoon’s room, right across from yours.

“She’s cute, no?” You hear Karina ask.

“I guess, not really my type though,” Sunghoon responds.

Ouch. You already knew it, but hearing it said aloud stings more than you thought it would.

The sex Sunghoon and Karina have that night is so loud, even your headphones can block it.

Her moans and squeals of his name infiltrate your mind into the morning, as you barely got any sleep.

You assume Karina is still in the apartment by time you get up for your early morning class.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea when Sunghoon comes in, rubbing his eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

This is the first time he’s ever bothered to say this to you, not to mention the first time he’s ever acknowledged you in the morning.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile as you push up your glasses, “Not at all.”

Once you leave the apartment, the walk to campus isn’t far.

Your best friend, Chaewon, is already waiting for you in front of your first class.

By the time you’re free, you meet up with your other friends, Yunjin and Hanni.

“What’s up with you?” Hanni asks, “You seem down.”

You sigh, “Sunghoon brought a really pretty girl home last night.”

They all raise their brows at you, “Okay,” Yunjin says, “that’s never bothered you before? Why now?”

“Because,” you start, “she called me cute.”

“She called you…cute?” Chaewon questions. “Why is that bad?”

“It’s not, but after I went back into my room, I heard them and she said to Sunghoon ‘She’s cute, no?’ and Sunghoon said ‘I guess, but she’s not really my type’. I already knew I wasn’t but hearing it said out loud stung a lot.”

Hanni rubs your shoulder.

“Well who gives a fuck what Sunghoon thinks!” Yunjin says. “You know you’re beautiful, and he’s just a man at the end of the day!”

“I know!” You groan, burying your head in your arms, “I know I shouldn’t care about his opinion or whether I’m his type or not but it’s like, when someone so attractive doesn’t see you that way it’s like, damn!”

You continue, “It’s not like I’m even into him romantically or anything like that. If anything, I’m just into him sexually, cause if you guys heard what I did you probably would be too!”

“So it’s not about romantic feelings, just sexual feelings?” Hanni asks.

You nod, “More like sexual frustration. I haven’t had sex in so long and it’s kinda killing me at this point.”

“So what if you make him acknowledge you sexually?” Chaewon implies.

“How do I do that? Like he said, I’m not even his type.”

“Well number one, acknowledge that this is just for sex. You’re not changing anything about yourself for him because at the end of the day he’s just a man and we don’t change ourselves for men, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, then, do something to get his attention. Something sexual. Something that’ll catch his eye without changing how you are or who you are.”

You all pause for a moment, thinking of possible ideas.

Yunjin, after 5 minutes, lights up, “I’ve got it!”

After a long, somewhat agitating day of classes, you find yourself back at home.

You took another long, hot shower, did your night routine and dressed yourself in the cutest pj set you have.

What exactly was Yunjin’s plan? Take some pictures and “accidentally” send them to Sunghoon.

Now, have you ever taken nudes before? No. But you did a little research and you figure it can’t be that hard.

With your top pulled up and your tits fully exposed, you sit on your bed, front camera facing your tits.

The lighting is perfect, dim, but not too dark.

As you snap the pic, flash off, you look at it and…damn. If that’s not a good pic, you don’t know what is!

You spend the next 10 minutes debating if you should really do this. What if you just embarrass yourself completely and Sunghoon doesn’t buy into it at all?

Then you’ll never live it down.

But, you won’t know if you don’t try.

You pull up his contact, saved simply as ‘Sunghoon’

and attach the photo with the invisible ink effect and type ‘what do you think?’ before hitting send.

You nearly throw your phone across the room, but instead just slam it face down as your heart starts to beat more rapidly.

You know Sunghoon isn’t home right now, nor do you even know if he’ll be coming home tonight.

The only thing you can do is hope and pray for the best.

You exit out of the messages, not wanting him to know you’re waiting for a response and scroll through your phone trying not to panic.

After an agonizing few minutes, your phone dings.

You prepare yourself for embarrassment.

Sunghoon responded.

You’re expecting shock. An exclamation of sorts. Heck, even a question mark or two.

Instead, all you see is, ‘They’re nice.’

They’re nice.

Did he just fucking say, they’re nice?

Is that good?

You text the group chat a screenshot asking the same question.

The girls respond immediately, telling you to go forth with the plan, that that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath. Don’t overdo it.

You: omg

You: sunghoon i’m so sorry

You: i didn’t mean to send that to you

He reads it and responds immediately.

Sunghoon: then who did you mean to send it to?

You: a friend

Sunghoon: what friend?

You: don’t worry about it! just please accept my apology :( i’m so sorry again

The text bubble indicates he’s typing, then it disappears and reappears.

Sunghoon: I’m coming home.

Sunghoon: Don’t move.

That last text makes your pussy throb in your pajama shorts.

You send the screenshot to the group chat which erupts immediately.

Chaewon: oh shitttt hehehe

Hanni: i fear you’re getting fucked into the mattress tonight

Yunjin: you mean you don’t fear lmao good luck girl

You occupy yourself for the time being, knowing Sunghoon will be home shortly.

As soon as you hear that front door open, you act nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone as if you’re not ecstatic.

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother knocking, opening your door and letting himself into your room.

His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his face is stoic.

You look up at him innocently.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, knowing damn well you’re playing with fire.

Sunghoon scoffs, not saying a word as he walks to the side of your bed, grabbing your phone and throwing it to the side, not even watching where it lands.

You however do watch where it lands on the floor a few feet away and are about to protest when Sunghoon grabs you by the jaw.

“Do you like playing games you know you’re not gonna win?” He asks, voice low and condescending.

Fuck, if it doesn’t make your pussy more wet than it already is.

His grip on your jaw tightens, making you whimper. But you like the pain, and he knows that immediately.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, finally letting go of your jaw.

You move to do as he says, albeit slowly.

Starting with your top, you lift it over your head, your tits falling out into view.

His eyes latch onto them immediately, and you take note of how he licks his lower lip.

“Shorts too,” he says.

You lay back against your pillows, lifting your hips to drag your shorts down your legs, sitting back up to then throw them in the same direction as your shirt.

Sunghoon smirks in amusement, “Of course you’re not wearing underwear. You’re a little slut aren’t you?”

Your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow it.

Sunghoon begins to undress himself, starting with his shirt.

His pale skin is beautiful and the expanse of his toned torso almost makes you drool.

Your eyes find his arms, taking in his biceps and how much you want them around your neck.

“Hey, eyes here,” he says, snapping you back to his own face, making you keep your focus on him.

He unbuckles his belt, taking his time undoing it, pulling it out of the loop, letting it drop to the floor.

You know for a fact that your pussy is leaking onto your bed right now, and you don’t give a damn.

Sunghoon lets his pants fall, stepping out of them.

Now, he’s just left in his boxers.

“Come here, on your knees,” he gestures to you with his finger to the floor.

You obey immediately, crawling off the bed to the floor.

The carpet of your room scratches against your knees but you don’t care.

“Take them off.”

Your hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down gently.

His hard cock springs out, slapping against his stomach before stilling in front of you.

Sunghoon’s left hand finds the back of your head, grasping your hair tightly.

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, eager as he chuckles in amusement, “You must love cock don’t you?” He asks, using his right hand to slap the tip of his cock against your tongue, then spreading his pre-cum all over it as you hum in appreciation.

He quietly begins to push his cock into your mouth, before pulling back out.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, as saliva piles in your mouth and drips down the sides.

Suddenly he shoves himself into your mouth, until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag erratically.

Saliva spills out of your mouth rapidly, drilling onto the floor.

Your hands find his thighs, palms open, squeezing softly.

“I told you,” Sunghoon says, “don’t play games you’re not gonna win.”

With that, he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your mouth, getting off on how much you’re gagging.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as spit and pre-cum mix together to coat his cock and spill everywhere.

He uses your hair as leverage, not letting up for even a second.

You keep your eyes on his as he uses you for his pleasure, even as your tears blur your vision.

“Fucking filthy,” he sneers, “I’m gonna cum in this filthy fucking mouth and you’re gonna swallow it, understood?”

You do your best to nod with his cock still in your mouth.

Suddenly he pulls out, and you gasp for air.

Sunghoon continues to pump himself, still holding onto your hair, “Stick your tongue out,” he says.

You do so and soon he’s spilling his load all over your tongue and into your mouth.

Just as he’s finished, he leans down, dropping a glob of spit on top of everything.

“Swallow.”

You do, eagerly, showing him your clean tongue once you’re done.

He pulls you up by your hair, leading you back to the bed.

Sunghoon shoves you down onto your back, pushing you so you’re up by the headboard, head on the pillows.

He’s on his knees in front of you, cock still hard.

He pushes you into a mating press, your thighs pushed against your chest, practically folded in half.

Without warning, he leans down, tongue meeting your wet, sopping pussy.

You gasp, jerking in place as you squeal from the immediate pleasure it gives you.

“Sunghoon!” You cry, eyes wide as his nonchalant ones look into yours.

“What?” He responds, as if it’s nothing.

“I’m..I’m sensitive.”

He smirks, “Then that means I get to make you come more than once.”

He goes back to your pussy, pinning you down to the bed as he eats you like a starved man.

Sunghoon groans at your taste, licking fat stripes up and down your pussy.

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly, even having the balls to scrape it with his teeth lightly.

All this while your back arches up from the bed, hips held in place by Sunghoon’s hands.

“Oh my fucking god!” You shout into the open, knowing this would get you a one way ticket to hell.

Sunghoon then takes his tongue, fucking it into your hole.

You squeal loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of you.

More tears form in your eyes before falling like water from a faucet.

You’re full on crying from pleasure.

When you said you were sensitive, you meant it.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you whine,” one hand threading itself into his long locks.

He, who was occupying himself, makes his way back to your clit, licking circles around it, up and down, figure eights, anything to make you cum in his mouth.

You’re chanting to god, any god at this point.

With one final call of his name, you cum into his mouth, Sunghoon lapping it all up, swallowing it eagerly as you did to him.

Your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your high, noticing as Sunghoon pulls away, his lips glistening with your release on them.

He licks his lips, with that the remnants of you.

Just as you’re beginning to calm down, Sunghoon speaks, “We’re nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes his left hand and middle finger and inserts it inside you, making you gasp.

He doesn’t give you the chance to protest or adjust before he’s thrusting it in and out of you.

You throw your head back, getting used to the intrusion regardless.

Soon he’s inserting another finger, and together those fingers fuck you like no one has ever fingered you.

His fingers are long and they hit every spot inside you immediately.

Before you know it, you’re crying again in pleasure, the tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tear stains like the previous ones.

“Oh my fucking god, Sunghoon.”

“You love this, don’t you,” he says, almost like he’s mocking you.

His fingers curl, hitting that one spot inside you that has your toes curling.

Your mouth opens in shock, and stays open, refusing to close as he finger fucks you open.

Your pussy gets wetter as he goes on, more and more arousal leaking out of you onto his hand.

“You’re like a fountain,” he says, smiling almost genuinely. “You gonna cum again?”

You nod, finally closing your mouth, your lips pursing as you feel something different this time around.

“Sunghoon I think I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish, you’re squirting like an actual fountain, the liquid splashing out of you onto your sheets and Sunghoon’s hand.

You gasp, and even Sunghoon is surprised, his own mouth formed into an o.

His fingers finally slow down, pulling out of you as you finish.

Both of you are quiet for a moment before Sunghoon laughs, “That was fucking hot.”

You can’t help but blush, you’ve never squirted before.

It seems he can tell, “You’ve never done that before?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first to do it.”

He then lands a surprisingly slap on your pussy, making you jump.

Your eyes widen, looking at him in shock and all he does is smile.

“I’m still not done with you,” he says.

“More?” You question.

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this without me fucking you, did you?”

Sunghoon pulls you towards him by your ankles, holding your legs apart before aligning himself with your hole.

You prepare yourself for his size as quickly as you can, because within seconds he’s pushing in.

You take deep breaths, “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I know,” he responds accordingly.

You pout at that, smacking his arm as he laughs at you.

He gives you time to adjust this time around, and after a moment you give him the signal to move.

You realize now he’s calmed down a little bit from before, which you don’t mind, seeing as this is a new side of him.

As he starts to piston his hips, his cock hits all the right places.

Your hands find their place on his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He groans at the feeling, liking the pain.

You mewl at the power in his thrusts, the roll of his hips.

“Fuck, yes Sunghoon.”

“You like taking my cock?”

“Love it,” you manage to get out.

“Oh you love it?” He teases you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

He hums, focused on fucking you into the mattress.

You take his hand, bringing it up and wrapping it around your throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own widen for a moment before he bites his lip.

He presses down on the sides of your throat, just enough to wind you slightly.

“Dirty fucking girl.”

He keeps his hand there, steady pressure, making you feel closer and closer to cumming again.

“You gonna cum on my cock this time?” Sunghoon asks.

“Yes, yes, Sunghoon! Want you to cum in me!”

Sunghoon steadies himself, and uses his other hand to press on the bulge in your tummy.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

You feel the band in your stomach snap for the third time tonight, cumming all around Sunghoon’s cock as you feel him cum inside you, pumping you full.

As his thrusts start to slow down and finally come to a stop, he unwraps his hand from your throat and just looks at you.

Your face, adorned by your glasses. Your red, tear stained cheeks. You look up at him, blinking a few times in succession, “What?”

Sunghoon leans down and for the first time, kisses you.

You kiss him back, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

As you pull away, he looks like there’s something on his mind.

You want to ask what it is, but choose not to.

After using the bathroom, Sunghoon helps you change your sheets and you both redress.

You figure he’s going to go back to his room, but he surprises you as he slides into your bed beside you.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, and then, Sunghoon speaks, “So, be honest with me. Who was that picture meant for?”

You take a deep breath, gunning between telling a lie and the truth. The truth eventually wins the battle.

“The truth is, it wasn’t meant for anyone. I sent it to you on purpose,” you say.

Sunghoon’s brows furrow, “But you said it was an accident?”

“Yeah, I lied. The truth is the other night, when you had Karina over I heard you tell her I’m not your type.”

Sunghoon starts to stutter out an excuse, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Sunghoon,” you say, cutting him off. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting but at the end of the day I already knew I wasn’t your type. The reality is I kinda just wanted you in my bed so I devised a plan with my friends to make you see me differently and well… it obviously worked.”

Sunghoon is quiet, until he’s not.

You expect him to be weirded out, curse you out and call you names. But instead, he starts laughing.

“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard and yet…I kinda like it.”

You look at him to find him already staring at you.

“You’re not weirded out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m oddly flattered. Maybe that’s weird but I guess that makes us both weird then.”

Suddenly, he’s shifting so he’s on top of you, caging you underneath him.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you, albeit somewhat awkwardly, place them on his shoulders.

“Is it safe to say you fascinate me now?” Sunghoon asks, leaning down, placing slow, deliberate kisses on your neck and shoulder.

You naturally turn your head to give him more access, “I guess not. I’ve never had someone tell me I fascinate them.”

Sunghoon’s kisses trail upwards until his lips meet yours in another fiery kiss.

Breaking away after a while, he descends until his mouth is adjacent to your clothed pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you interrupt, “we just changed the sheets.”

He looks up at you, a twinkle in his eye, “We can change them again.”

AEWON 2025

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si3nn4 · 2 days ago

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Bakugou Katsuki started dating you in his first year of university. Now, three years have passed.

Mina, ever the observer, noticed slight changes in her friend’s demeanor.

"Kiri. Is Bakubro talking to someone?" She leaned against the windowsill of the lecture hall, carefully watching the blonde boy walk calmly off-campus.

"No. Why?" Kirishima slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to where Mina stood. His eyes followed Bakugou as he walked away, starting to wonder.

Was Bakugou talking to someone? Nah, can't be.

"He seems... calmer?" Kirishima snickered, causing Mina to smile slightly. "Y’know what I mean. He's just, I don’t know, different now."

While the two of them came up with various scenarios, Katsuki himself had just reached his car and was texting you. A small notification pinged on his phone, and the boy smiled, pocketed it, and hopped into his car.

A few weeks later, during a small get-together with the group, Kaminari, drunkenly blurting out random thoughts, caught everyone's attention.

"Heyy, Bakus." Kaminari slung his arm around Bakugou's shoulders, leaning into him. "Come with me on this double date. This cute girl will only go out with me if you come for her friend."

Katsuki sighed at the sight of his childhood friend.

"I can’t."

Mina and Kirishima, sitting next to each other, lightly knocked knees, their ears perked up to catch the reason behind his refusal.

"Why not, Bakubro? It’s a free day. You busy?" Kirishima asked, taking a sip from his cup while keeping an eye on Bakugou, who looked bored.

Bakugou glanced at his phone, which buzzed with another notification. Mina quickly averted her gaze toward the screen, trying to catch a glimpse of the name—too slow to see anything.

Wait, what was that on his back-

"I have a date with my missus."

Bakugou continued texting, unaware of the sudden silence that had fallen over the entire group. All eyes were fixed on his relaxed figure as he typed away.

"YESSSSSSSSSS!" Mina jumped up, fists pumping the air in celebration. Her face lit up with pure joy as Kirishima chuckled beside her, shaking his head.

Katsuki looked up, confused by their reaction. Then he felt a small splatter on his forearm and turned to see Kaminari sitting next to him, his mouth open, spilling his drink.

"OY! Dunce face, you’re fucking spilling everything—"

"YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND??" Kaminari grabbed Bakugou's shoulders, lightly shaking him.

"Yeah, I thought I told you guys that."

Kaminari’s face fell, then he lunged forward and hugged Bakugou while sobbing, "You have a girlfriend!"

"Dunce—You're getting my shirt wet. Bro, get off!" Katsuki was shocked by the reaction of his friends. He glanced around at their expressions before his eyes landed on the entrance to the bar.

"Kaminari, off me." He grabbed his sobbing friend by the shoulder and gently tipped him back. "Move over. Make some space."

Mina whipped her head toward the entrance, gasping loudly.

And there you were, already smiling as you clutched your bag anxiously.

Bakugou stood up and walked over to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. Kirishima scoffed in shock as he heard him greet you.

"Hey, mama. You okay?"

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Katsuki wrapped his arm around your waist and led you toward the booth.

"Well, since I must have forgotten to mention it to you guys... meet my fiancée."

#ahahaha i just had this idea come to my head #𝜗𝜚 rambles #my hero academia #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #he would so do this #only ever tell his friends about his long-term relationship when he was getting married #sighs dreamily

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writingbluerose · 2 days ago

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TWST DRABBLE #13

I had some thoughts about you and Malleus being in a relationship before the events of book 5 and everyone finding out when he came to repair the stage ;

Everyone was catching their breath after the events of Vil's overblot. Thanks to Deuce's unique magic you were able to quickly defeat him, but even so, there happened to be a tiny problem that was left after : “Hey so uhh... how are we going to repair the stage? It's fully wrecked” Ace scratched the back of his neck wondering. It was true, the stage was completely destroyed, almost nothing was left of it and hiding the events of the overblot proved to be much harder now. “We have no choice — Vil's calm but exhausted voice made its way to your ears — I'll tell the headmage that we can no longer continue with the VDC- ”

“Oh? now what do we have here?” In a flash, everyone's face turned to the deep yet commanding voice behind them, founding none other than the Diasomnia housewarden, Malleus Draconia. “Hornton! I didn't expect you to come this early!” You scratched your cheek with your finger giving him a sheepish and adoring grin which he reciprocated with a sly yet soft smile absolutely paying no mind to the mortifying expressions of the others around you. It wasn't until you heard a loud 'HORNTON?!?!!' from behind you that you turned your head to the others failing to see the big wicked grin the fae returned to the collective. “Oi Prefect?! Do you know who that is?? Why're you calling him Hornton for???!!” “...he told me to call him whatever...?” Epel and Ace's faces had a bewildered expression on them which quickly turned to horror when Malleus gave them a loud and thunderous amused laugh. “Indeed, I did tell the child of man to call me whatever they pleased — his hand made its way to your left shoulder, his body leaning on the opposite side as if protecting your blind spot, posture similar to a snake — after all, why wouldn't I let my dear beloved call me a nickname of their own choice?”

The reaction was instantaneous, you swore Vil was about to faint by the look on his face while the others looked like they were straight up praying for your safety. “How wicked of you to take advantage of the Prefect's ignorance, Malleus Draconia!” Vil crossed his arms glaring daggers at the prince, while you looked at Malleus with surprise “Is that what M.D stood for then? Hehe, well that makes stuff easier for me” “YOU'RE STILL TREATING HIM THE SAME?!!” You nodded at Deuce's words, your face turning into a frown, “Why wouldn't I? He's still a person like everyone else. Just because he's all powerful doesn't mean I should treat him any different” There was a thick silence for a minute before Malleus chuckled and nuzzled his face into your cheek affectionately “I wouldn't have any other way my dear” You patted his head softly smiling at him with joy ;

“Oh I'm going to grow grey hairs” Vil grabbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation, just what in the world is going to come out of this school if this gets out? All while Malleus had a boyish smile on his face while answering your questions and reliving in the fact that even after finding out who he is, he was still your sweet and beloved Hornton

#perhaps this is the fun of writing MalleYuu guys #no but fr this was hilarious in my mind #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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sepdet · 3 days ago

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I find it incomprehensible that Lee is not a household name, when she certainly was for my friends. Then again, we attended a women's college full of scifi nerds in the 90s, so those who hadn't found her were quickly initiated.*

Her Night's Master series is, incidentally, horny in a literary, non-explicit way that was 👌 for horny 18-year-olds back in the day, although it may seem quaint to the AO3/PWP reader. And it was in many cases our first exposure to queer and genderfluid characters.

That is by no means all it was about, however. It was original mythology of a type Gaiman would later emulate.

Sorry to bring him up, but there's another point of similarity: Tanith Lee penned two scripts for another British scifi series, Blake's 7. Both test the boundaries of the show. Sarcophagus is extremely odd, epic, unsettling, and wonderful, bringing out the mythological archetypes within each of the main characters.

* The usual method of indoctrination was for someone to read aloud this much-loved passage from the novel Delusion's Master, in which one of the characters tells a folktale:

The best beloved beast of Underearth was nothing other than the serpent. Down below in the bright shadows, he was admired for his grace and elegance, and for his cool blood and wicked self-command. Presently the demons, innocent then, or merely extremely cynical, brought the snake up to the earth, supposing thereby to make men also fall in love with him. But men took against the snake, scenting his demonical origins, mistrusting his lack of legs and ears, his smart teeth and implacable garment. Indeed, they turned on the snake, threw him out of doors when he came in, brained him with mallets when they were able and cursed him and spat on him when they were not.

The Eshva [minor demons, but demons in this universe act like Fae] mourned for the serpent, for they loved him best of all. The Vazdru [upper class demons; think Sidhe] said to each other: "Let us trick mankind into adoration of the snake." And this they did by various means, causing him here and there to be elected a god and worshipped, or venerated as useful in magic.

But one of the day-nights in Druhim Vanasta, certain Vazdru princes began to bet with each other that they could persuade men to like the snake himself. And this they tried, and this they failed at.

At last the vexatious problem came to the notice of Azhrarn [Night's Master, Lord of Underearth— unseelie Jareth]. And accordingly Azharn went by night to the world to listen to men's opinion of the snake. "How we abhor his cold scales," they complained. "And his teeth, which are sometimes venomous, and his forked tongue, which might be. And how allergic we are to his leglessness. He is all tail, and the sound of his hiss causes our hair to rise up like bristles."

Then Azhrarn smiled, and he went back to the Druhim Vanasta. There he took up a snake and he inquired, "Would it be worth while to you, in order to win the affection of mankind, to be a little changed?"

"Of what good is mankind's affection?" asked the snake.

"Those they love," said Azhrarn," fare well. And those they hate they harm."

The snake had heard reports from his cousins concerning mallets, and after some thought, he agreed.

Then Azhrarn conducted the snake to the Drin [dwarf-like demons], and the Drin made for the snake particular extras, which had all to do with what men had said they disliked about him. First the Drin make him four muscular little legs with four round little paws on the ends of them. And then they make him two little pointed ears to stand up on top of his head. Then they bulked out his body with a cunning device, and straightened his tongue with another — but it remained in fact a thin tongue, and in fact a great deal of tail remained to him at the back. Next they made him an overcoat of long soft black grasses, and decorated his face — which was now very pretty - with ornaments of fine silver wire. His jewel-like eyes, which had always been quite wonderful, they had need to alter only a jot. Lastly, to compensate for removing his venom, (although they left the shape of his teeth alone), they presented him with some sharp slivers of steel to wear in his round feet for purposes of self-defense.

When Azhrarn beheld the result, he laughed, and ran his hand over the new animal's spine. At which all was transmuted into flesh and muscle, and the coat of grass into luxuriant, velvety hair. And at the touch of Azhrarn also, the new animal made a strange sound, not a hiss, but —

"My dear, you are purring," said Azhrarn, and again he laughed.

To this day, no cat can bear to be laughed at, even in love.

However, sure enough, the animal, legged, eared and furry, was an enormous success on earth. Men were pleased by his grace and elegance, admired his cool blood and wicked self-command. And when he grew sometimes peeved, forgot himself, and hissed - they did not remember the snake, but remarked: "There is the cat, hissing." Nor did they notice how both the cat and the snake slew mice, or enjoyed milk, though both became the pets of sorcerers. And men never would credit that if they overlooked the fur and held flat the two pointed ears of the cat, then and now, you might see still the wedge-shaped demon head and the sharp teeth of the serpent, poised there, under your hand.

Tanith Lee Recs

Since Tanith Lee deserves to be known for much more than having been plagiarized, I thought I'd share some recommendations. She had a HUGE body of work, and I've seen it suggested that the reason she never became a household name in fantasy and science fiction is that she wrote so many things that were different from each other, rather than staying in one easily labeled niche. I've only begun to make a dent in her catalogue, but here's the stuff I liked the best.

Note: A lot of her stuff can be disturbing, and I can't remember everything well enough to give perfect trigger warnings.

Red as Blood and Redder Than Blood: These fairy tale collections are being talked about now for the title story, but my favorite is The Golden Ladder, an incredibly creepy and hot version of Rapunzel, or perhaps When the Clock Strikes, a horrifying beautiful take on Cinderella.

The Weird Tales of Tanith Lee: As you can see, I love her short stories. These are all the ones published in Weird Tales, which includes some of the above fairy tales (including When the Clock Strikes) but also Arthurian, steampunk and science fiction stories. It's a great sampler of all the things she could do.

Blood 20: One more short story collection! This one is (most of) her vampire stories, so I know you goths will like it! There are things erotic, fantastical and grotesque in here, but to me the most haunting is the tragically mundane The Vampire Lover.

The Secret Books of Paradys: In this series, an alternate history of Paris, bad things happen. Supernatural things, sexual things, horrifying things. And sometimes good things happen, such as a man saved by a Jewish sage an his beautiful daughter who then actually converts to Judaism.

The Secret Books of Venus: I've only read the first entry in this similar series about an alternate world version of Venice, but once again it leaves the reader feeling totally transported to this sometimes sinister, sometimes lovely place where romance and cruelty live next door to each other.

Vivia: This tragic medieval plague-influenced vampire story is maybe the darkest thing of hers I've read, but dear god can she paint a picture with words. Along with The Birthgrave (which I didn't like as much), George RR Martin definitely pulled a lot of Danaerys's story from the title character here.

Islands in the Sky: And now for something completely different- a children's book. I remember finding this at the library as a kid and wanting to cry when it was over, because it gave me an equal sense of wonder and happiness as The Lion the Witch and the Wardobe, which I hadn't known was possible and worried would never happen again.

...but if you're like me, you'll just see which of her books you find at the library and used bookstores. You may not love every single thing, but it will always be interesting!

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valeisaslut · 2 days ago

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⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. five teaser

redits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 - 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 1.9k 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭒ content: MAINLY TO BAIT AND GROW SPECULATION FOR CHAPTER FIVE OMG SORRY YALL, LOTS of tension, fake dating, cursing, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

“She” hit first. And it hit hard.

No one saw it coming—not the industry, not the fans, not even you and Ellie.

One morning, it was just a melody. A quiet hum against warm skin, a song born from tangled sheets and late-night whispers.

The next, it was everywhere.

Tearing through the charts like a wildfire, devouring streaming records before you could even blink. It was the song. The one no one could escape. The one that made people stop mid-breath, their hearts stuttering in their chests. Billboard #1 in hours. Millions of streams in days. Headlines scrambling to catch up with the sheer force of it.

And it wasn’t like people weren’t already obsessed with you two. But this? This wasn’t just a sneaky tabloid photo or a blurry Instagram story.

This was a confession.

The way your voice cracked on the bridge. The way Ellie’s guitar solo cut through the final chorus, sharp enough to scar. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate in the way only truth could be. The kind of song that made the world wonder if they’d stumbled onto something too intimate, something they weren’t supposed to witness.

And then came the music video.

The barely-there touches. The weight of Ellie’s gaze, dark and all-consuming, like she was seconds away from ruining you. The way you let her. The way your body leaned into hers like the camera wasn’t even there, like none of it was staged. It didn't feel like a performance at all.

Millions of views in just an hour. People analyzed everything. Every glance, every breath, every shadow cast between your bodies. The debates were endless, scorching through Twitter threads to late-night talk shows.

And then—before the chaos even had time to settle—your album dropped.

It wasn’t your debut. That one had been dreamy, wrapped in soft edges and rose-colored longing. This one? This was a gut punch. It was messy, vulnerable, exposed. A love letter soaked in gasoline, tossed into the fire for the whole world to watch it burn.

It tore through the charts like an unstoppable phenomenon, instantly much bigger than your first album. Critics and fans alike scrambled to dissect every lyric, every melody, searching for hidden meanings, unraveling the concept behind the album.

Theories flooded the internet—who was it about? What moments were immortalized in those verses? Each song felt like a puzzle piece, and the world was desperate to put it all together.

But the answer of everyone’s questions was at the center of it.

In only one song.

And y’all already know which one.

The one with the moans.

TikTok flooded with reaction videos—shocked expressions, wide eyes, hands covering mouths. Fans obsessed over every second, every aching note, every gasp laced between the lyrics.

But then came the audio breakdowns. The pitch analyses. People isolating your voice, then isolating the other one behind you.

The low hum. The breathless murmurs. The unmistakable rasp of someone else's voice tangled in the melody.

It sounded way too much like Ellie.

And that’s when the world stopped breathing.

The theories came fast, dissecting every possible explanation. Was it really her? Was the song even about her? The fans knew. They had always known. Because the way the song teetered between ecstasy and devastation, between surrender and destruction, was undeniable.

Some called it art. Others called it a scandal.

Was it real? Was it an act?

Did that even matter anymore?

Because that was the thing about you and Ellie.

No one could tell what was real anymore.

Not even you.

Ellie listened to your album the night it dropped.

You didn’t know when—if she did it alone in some dimly lit studio, headphones on, mind unreadable, or if she was sprawled across some worn-out couch with her band, Jesse and Dina cracking jokes, drinks in hand, the whole thing some chaotic, half-drunken listening party. Or maybe she wasn’t alone at all. Maybe someone else had been there, whispering in her ear, asking questions about you.

But you knew the exact moment she finished it.

Because your phone buzzed in the middle of your album release party.

You were in the VIP section, drink in hand, surrounded by producers, your team, friends—people cheering, dancing, celebrating you. The whole club pulsed with your voice, lyrics slipping through flashing lights, weaving between camera flashes, shaking the walls.

“Ellie - slide to answer”

Your stomach twisted. Your pulse stuttered.

Rachel, half-drunk beside you, caught the name on your screen and let out something between a gasp and a scream, gripping your wrist. “Oh, you are absolutely answering that.”

“Not here,” you muttered, but you were already slipping through the crowd, ignoring the calls of your label rep as you pushed past swaying bodies, the music drowning out your racing thoughts. You found an empty hallway near the back exit, the bass from the club still rumbling through the walls, and exhaled before swiping to answer.

Ellie’s voice—low, rough, teasing—slid through the speaker instantly, wrapping around you like smoke.

“So” she drawled, “Is this where I get a thank you?”

You frowned, pressing your back against the cool brick wall. “For what?”

A chuckle. “For inspiring at least half your album.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone.

She let the silence stretch, letting you stew in it, savoring the way you struggled to find a response.

“You did real good, popstar” she finally murmured. “The whole thing’s fucking stunning.”

Heat curled in your stomach as you murmured, "...Thank you"

But you knew Ellie. Knew her well enough to hear the smirk in her voice. Knew this conversation wasn’t over.

“But that song?” she continued, voice dipping lower. “The one everyone’s freaking out about?”

Ellie hummed, and fuck—fuck—it sounded just like the hum in the song.

“Dunno, babe. Kinda sounds like me.”

You blinked hard. “Kinda?”

A small, amused exhale. “Oh, yeah, not kinda. Definitely”.

“Those moans tho? Damn, didn’t even remember you sounding that good…” She let the words hang. “Can’t blame people for freaking out over it. You stole the show.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You knew exactly what part she meant.

You scoffed, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted. “Maybe they’re freaking out over your voice in the background. Pretty reckless of you, Williams. Letting the whole world hear you like that.”

Silence. A charged one.

Then Ellie muttered something under her breath, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You smirked. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No, no, you totally just said something.”

A long, suffering sigh. Then—begrudgingly—"I said… maybe you like that.”

She was baiting you. She wanted you to bite.

So you did.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I liked something you did with your voice"

Silence.

Then— “Holy fuck.” Ellie groaned. “You’re actually evil.”

You grinned. “Oh, come on. You walked right into that.”

“I did not—”

“You called me,” you pointed out. “At two in the morning. Just to talk about that song.”

“I called you to congratulate you on the album.”

“And to tell me how good I sound moaning in your ear.”

A sharp inhale. “...Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, your words, not mine.”

You laughed, and she groaned again, but this time, it was softer. Playful.

Ellie sighed, something softer sneaking into her voice. “Really, though. It’s incredible.”

“You should be proud,” she added, quieter now. “Even if you did kinda put my voice on a sex song without my permission.”

“Oh my God—”

“Night, popstar” she cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “Try not to dream about me too much.”

Then she hung up, leaving you standing there, heart hammering, face burning, wondering how the fuck she always managed to win.

Just as the world was still catching its breath—The Fireflies struck back.

They had always been big. But this? This was dominance. A calculated move wrapped in chaos, their album detonating like a bomb at the peak of the frenzy. It rode the shockwave of She, fed off the obsession the world had with the two of you, twisting it into something even bigger.

And at the center of it all—her.

Gritty. Hungry. Unapologetic. Ellie’s voice cut through the speakers like a blade. The songs were restless, starved. Each lyric dripped with defiance, sharp enough to wound. The melodies hit like bruises, the guitar riffs torn straight from something primal. It was sex and recklessness and longing, a live wire of emotion that crackled under every chord, every note.

But more than anything, it felt like a challenge.

Because this wasn’t just any album. This was Ellie answering yours, a response carved into sound waves, a conversation neither of you had ever spoken aloud. The lyrics—too pointed to be coincidence, too raw to be fiction—hung in the air like a dare, a fire set ablaze for the whole world to watch.

But one particular track stopped you cold.

You had known Ellie’s album was coming. Had seen the press releases, the teasing interviews, the cryptic tweets. You had prepared for it. Braced yourself for whatever storm she was about to unleash.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for that song.

You weren’t even listening in order. The whole club was playing The Fireflies' album at full volume, but somewhere between dodging cameras and downing another drink, you slipped into a booth in the corner, threw in your AirPods, and started skipping through the tracklist.

And there it was.

"For Your Love."

The moment the first chords hit, something in you froze.

It wasn’t as raw as the rest of the album, not as brutal or reckless. This one was different. The melody curled into your ribs, burrowed under your skin, something quiet and agonizing and tender.

And the lyrics—

Jesus Christ, the lyrics.

Ellie’s voice, rough around the edges, singing about a love that clawed its way under her skin. A love that was too much, too consuming, too dangerous, and yet—she would do anything for it. Burn every bridge, tear herself apart, just to hold it for a little longer.

Your throat went dry.

Because it didn’t sound like a challenge. Didn’t sound like reckless, cocky Ellie Williams with her knowing smirk and sharp-edged voice.

It sounded like something else. Something real.

Your fingers hovered over your phone, heart hammering. Then, before you could think twice, you pulled up Ellie’s contact and typed:

You: slick move, williams. real slick.

You: congrats on the album. it’s a fucking masterpiece. like fr. and tell Jesse and Dina I said hi

You stared at the text. Considered unsending it.

But before you could, your phone buzzed.

Ellie: you listened already? damn, i didn’t know you were my biggest fan

You rolled your eyes, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

You: only a couple

You: one in particular caught my attention tho

Ellie: yeah? which one?

You hesitated. Then—

You: we’ll talk about that one later

She read it immediately. The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Ellie: tease.

The Grammy nominations dropped at midnight.

Five for you. Seven for The Fireflies.

But the ones that truly made your heart stop beating;

Song of the Year, Record of the Year, and Best Duo/Group Performance.

For She.

The reaction was immediate.

Your phone was already vibrating off the nightstand before your brain even processed the words glowing on the screen. Notifications flooded in like a tidal wave—texts, tags, tweets, news alerts. Your name and Ellie’s were already trending worldwide, once again tangled together like a force of nature.

By morning, it wasn’t just social media that was on fire—it was the entire goddamn world. Every talk show, every entertainment segment, every late-night monologue had something to say about it. Everyone from Rolling Stone to the New York Times was running the same story: Ellie Williams and Y/N are taking over the industry.

And yet, despite all the discourse, despite the endless debates and breathless speculation—there was one question burning hotter than all the others.

Would you and Ellie perform together at the Grammys?

It was too much to even think about. Because if She had already sent the world spiraling. If a song, just a song, had caused this level of obsession, of hysteria, of tension so thick people could barely breathe through it—

What the fuck would happen if you and Ellie brought it to life on the biggest stage in the world?

No one was prepared.

Least of all, you.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag�� @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982 @shady-lemur @jubileexoxo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMFG GUYS. I POSTED THIS MOSTLY SO CHAPTER FIVE WOULDN'T BE THAT LONG AND TO GROW SOME EXPECTATION IM SO SO SO EXCITEDDDD. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

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rotagnus · 3 days ago

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general pick-a-pile messages--<3

for those who are lost; you shall find your way.

pile 1.

why do you alternate between the bad and the good? you are duality. the first message i have for you is short and sweet; there is a good middle between the two sides you're stuck on. you see things in a very narrow way, you think that things are entirely one or the other. this is not true. do not cage the world, do not cage yourself. lately you've been calling things out, seeing, watching. you're an observant person. travel may be significant, particularly during stormy weather; be safe. i feel like a lot of you are struggling with decisions in matters of the heart. your gut is telling you one thing, but to preserve your morals, or perhaps to protect someone, you feel like you must choose the other option. i think you should follow your heart--it does not lie. you cannot always be the shield that gets chipped and broken down while the other person cowers behind you. a lot of you have been cutting things away from your life, and now you face an emptiness that leaves you stunned. perhaps some of you have cleaned out your room, and found some things that made you reminisce on the past. do not get lost in it. you are better off now. you may have missed a person recently, wished you could hold them in your heart again, but this would cause turmoil. do not go back. never, ever, especially not now. keep your head up. you must pursue your passions, now, i am hearing. many of you are scared, maybe going off to a new place, where you do not know a lot of things. you aren't good with change, never have been, but now is your chance to grow, to blossom. you are a lotus; blossoming even in the dirtiest of waters. you will be okay. right now, try to worship your material world; not in the way you think, but you must take care of your body, your environment. these things will dictate the way everything else turns out to you.

signs: clownfish. parrots. 'regardless'. dying star. rebirth. foals. nakedness. annotations. snow. staircases. chin.

pile 2.

you and someone else in your life are going through it. you probably know who i'm talking about. you may be feeling drained, empty, lost. truth is, there is somewhere you can go to recover. think of a gas station after a long journey. it is a humble place, by no means a castle, but it still brings some relief to your tired self. right now, think of something that can shelter you; perhaps a hobby, perhaps it is even a cup of tea. what wonders that can bring; sit in front of a window, and have your favorite drink. think. the answers are within. you are a giving person, and now, you will be given to. you bring things into your life by giving them first; you and the universe are holding hands. think about what you want in your life, then put the effort into it. i cannot emphasize this enough--do the work, do the change. a lot of you are terrified of failure, terrified of trying and ending up on the ground. this will not end in tragedy, you must try, we are all like fledglings when we try something for the first time. a lot of you would have a good result if you developed a routine. mirror work, affirmations, yoga, even doing something specific every day at the same time would make you feel a bit better, would let you rest a little bit through this disorder. it is not forever, my love. this, too, shall pass. you will be able to rest, soon. think of a bear; it moves around a lot before it can hibernate. it must look for food in a frenzy. then, it can rest. now i know this may not be ecologically accurate, but i hope for the sake of me, you can understand what i mean. you will develop your looks soon, too. a lot of you have beautiful bare faces and shy away from that. now, i am not one to police what women do with their faces; but for those who are insecure, my specific message is that you are beautiful, much more ethereal than you think. do not worry about it, okay? a lot of you have been in your masculine energy lately. relax. you are safe. let yourself back into your feminine energy, okay? i promise you, you are protected by God/the universe. lean back. it'll get easier, my dearest. i promise.

signs: bats. snakes. typically dark creatures. rainbows. roses. 'for you i am soft'. bugs. babies. innocence. sunsets/sunrises. hearts.

pile 3.

you are so motherly, but not to yourself. it's funny, you view yourself as harsher than you are. maybe you have a tough exterior, and you worry that people see you as too mannish, too brutish, but my message for you is that people see your true self peeking through. do not fear, my sweetest. wow, the world fell out. yes, you are a contradicting person--terrified of vulnerability and softness, yet naive and chaste, viewing your life with an optimistic lens. your heart is pure, so pure, and while you do struggle with opening up, you're entirely willing to do so around the right people. a lot of you struggled with this in the past due to insecurity, or perhaps being in circumstances that created trouble. abusive situations, family troubles, fake friends...you have faced your fair share of pain, my darling. recently you've been thinking very much. i feel like this has been a very good development, as this journey has been able to move forwards with this; soon, your rewards shall come to you. you are brave, but you do not always have to fight. you can drop your hands and fall to the ground, but you will be caught. i was thinking about how funny it'd be if the lovers fell out, and guess what, they did! so yes, i feel like some opportunities are coming to you guys. some of you don't want to be in a relationship at all, and that is okay. i feel like love will come to you in the form that you crave it. and for others, if it is romantic, do not rush this. work on yourself and make sure that you are truly happy with yourself, truly able to open up and bloom. this person will be nurturing, kind, with a heart of gold; the opposite of you but in all the best ways. pisces/water signs may be significant. he is gentle, and he is very willing to care for you. you'll be safe.

signs: foxes. dirty blonde hair. swans. joan of arc. night. trees. missing. light pink. april. 333. action. oceans.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac reading #pick a picture #tarotblr #rotagnus #divine guidance #intuitive reading

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clockwayswrites · 2 days ago

Text

A Hill to Die On, Chapter 4 Part 2

masterpost (note that Caroline is not necessarily the best narrator about DID/OSSD, she's just trying explain her experience as she see is [in this story])

“He didn’t,” Caroline gasped, careful not to spill her wine as she leaned forward.

As soon as Dick realized that Caroline didn’t normally get to share and see the world through Tim’s eyes, he had been a fountain of stories about the family. “He did. There was a green tint to his skin for weeks. Sure, the distraction worked, I was able to slip away, but at what cost?”

“You ask that as if Bruce had any dignity left to lose,” Caroline pointed out with a raised brow. “I’m not sure there was even any to lose by the first time that I met him.”

“Oh, no, god no,” Dick said. He leaned forward to snag another piece of the dragon roll. “The cost wasn’t Bruce’s dignity, it was the fact that the fountains have never been dyed green for Saint Patty’s day again! We lost a great tradition that day.”

“A very noble one,” Caroline said somberly.

“Verily,” Dick agreed. He polled the piece of sushi in his mouth and leaned back to drape himself over the couch. He really could lounge. “How long have you known Bruce?”

“You mean you’re trying to figure out how long I’ve been around,” Caroline said.

Dick shrugged, looking only slightly cowed. “Yeah. Is that rude? I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t say that I’m not curious.”

“You’re a Bat, of course you’re curious,” Caroline allowed. She took a piece of sushi too, so that she had some time to think. “I haven’t always been around, just because I simply can’t have. Or I don’t think that I could have, because I think Tim was the first, but I don’t know when I haven’t been around. I have some unclear, fuzzy memories from before, but my first clear memory was when I was there to front for Tim’s first Gala. He was so scared about it. He didn’t want to upset his parents.”

“They weren’t your parents too?”

“No, never,” Caroline said with a vicious sort of certainty. She glanced up and caught Dick’s sympathetic look and gave a wry smile. “Do you know how badly it would have been if the Drakes knew that I existed? Or Alvin once he did? We would have been shipped off to some asylum disguised as a boarding school and they would have tried to fry me out of Tim’s brain. No, I was just there to perform admirably at galas. That was my first mission.”

Dick face was twisted up in a thoughtful little frown as he stared up at the ceiling. Caroline felt privileged that she got to see this side of Dick. She knew that he didn’t like to seem unhappy around many people.

“Didn’t Bruce pick the name Caroline Hill?”

“He did,” Caroline said.

“But…” Dick waved in her direction.

Caroline shifted and folded her legs up to her side as she thought how to explain. “I didn’t have a name. I was simply… the Woman. I think that I’m based a lot on Janet, even though she would have hated that, but also the other woman that we saw at galas. Calm, efficient, and in control. Tim knew I was there, but not… that I was? Or how much I was. I might have not even known. But when I was needed for his mission to be Caroline Hill… I don’t know. I suppose it’s a little like when Pinocchio became a real boy. Suddenly I had a name and a real mission, one for the life Tim loves. It was transformative.”

“And you’ve been… growing? Is that an okay word?”

Caroline shrugged. She didn’t mind the word at least.

“You’ve been growing ever since.”

“I suppose so,” Caroline agreed. She took a sip of her wine. She wondered how much Tim would hate her for explaining this, but someone needed to know. “After this injury, Tim hasn’t really been himself. I think maybe because he doesn’t know who he is without Robin. In all of that thinking… I don’t know how to explain it really, but I guess that there was some more room made for me and Alvin. Alvin might not much want it but God, Dick, I love being alive.”

Dick smiled. “Does that mean you’ll be around more.”

“I have been the last few weeks at least. But I promise that I’m not trying to take over from Tim,” Caroline said in a rush as it occurred to her that Dick might be worried about it. “I’m just enjoying some time out and about and some, ah, mutual interests and—”

“Caroline, calm down,” Dick interrupted. “I’m not worried about that. Whatever works for you and Tim is all that matters. And, well, Alvin. I just thought that if you’re going to be around more, we should make sure you have some things of your own.”

Caroline blinked, surprised. “Like clothing?”

“Definitely like clothing,” Dick agreed, “but also foods you like and even decor. Like, Tim has a spare bedroom, right? We could make it up as yours or at least a space that’s more your tastes.”

“Oh.” Caroline swallowed back the threat of tears. She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. “I—yes, I’d like that.”

“Shopping trip!” Dick said. His wine splashed on the floor as he threw his arms up in the air. “Oh, oh! What about inviting some of the other girls on the shopping trip?”

Caroline covered her smile with a delicate hand. “You’re not a girl.”

“Bitch, I can rock a skirt,” Dick said as he struck a pose.

“Fine, you wear a skirt for it and you can invite the other girls,” Caroline said before she could second guess it. “But you have to explain me to them before it and make sure that they… that they won’t mind me.’

“They won’t,” Dick promised, “and deal.”

#dp x dc #dead tired ship #brain dead ship #Caroline Hill #Danny/Tim #Danny/SysTIM #ha #sysTIM #i make myself laugh

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thatonebirdwrites · 2 days ago

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Andrea leaned against the counter and sighed. "I dislike the taste of sake. Sparkling doesn't do it for me. Give me a good old scotch or nothing."

Lena furrowed her eyebrows, but before she could speak, Sam jumped up out of her chair. Her drink sloshed over the rim of her glass and onto her shoes and the tiles of Lena's floor.

"Wait, wait." Sam stared down at her cup. "Sake is sparkling? Then what the hell have I been drinking?"

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "What indeed have you been drinking, Sam?"

"I don't know. I thought it was sake!"

Lena sighed and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Will you two please bring your drinks to the table, and let's see what exactly you're drinking?"

"Oh, are you the sake expert?" Andrea sneered.

"I am sufficient in reading Japanese if that's what you mean," Lena says, wryly.

Sam and Andrea blink at her, neither of them moving. "Since when did you learn Japanese?" Sam asks, after a long silence.

"Since we started doing business with Japanese companies." Lena tutted at them. "Go on now. Bring me your bottles."

Sam and Andrea trudged into the kitchen to return with two different bottles. One was taller and thinner than the other, with more pink on its label, while Sam's bottle was more squat and significantly cheaper in its packaging.

Lena frowned and picked up Sam's bottle. "Um, Sam? This isn't Sake."

"It's not? Then what the hell is it?"

Lena struggled against an urge to laugh. It took all her willpower to say her next words with a straight face. "Strawberry flavored vinegar."

"Well, damn. No wonder it tasted funny." Sam's face reddened. Andrea burst into a guffaw.

"Don't think I'm letting you off the hook, Andrea," Lena scolded. She picked up Andrea's bottle and studied it. "Wait." She sniffed it. "This isn't sake either. Sake is a rice-based drink."

Andrea's laugh cut off, and she turned to Lena with her arms crossed over her chest. "Okay, Miss Smart-aleck. What have I been drinking?"

"This is champagne." She worried at the edge of the label until she pulled off enough to show a second label under it. "Yup. Champagne. Which makes sense. Sake isn't sparkling."

"Then what the hell does Sake taste like?" Andrea demanded. "And why did you let us drink this stuff for weeks?"

Lena shrugged and walked to her cabinet. "I'm not about to critique my guests choice of drinks."

"Bullshit, you critique us all the time," Andrea shot back.

"Only when warranted."

"Like now, when we're being idiots," Sam said with a sigh. She picked up her vinegar bottle forlornly. "I can't believe I was drinking vinegar."

"At least mine was a real alcoholic drink," Andrea said with a smirk.

"I'll lock you out," Sam warned. "Don't test me."

"As if. You can't get enough of me," Andrea flipped her hair over her shoulder and gave Sam her best sultry look.

It deepened the burgundy shade of her tanned skin as she glowered back at Andrea.

Acting like children as usual.

Lena sifted through her alcohols cabinet until she found the bottle she'd kept mostly to share with Kara once she returned home from Argo. She tapped her fingernail against its glass and decided she'd simply buy out the sake aisle to make it up to her.

"This is my personal favorite. A Kijoshi, a dessert sake. I was saving it for Kara and I, but I suppose I can give you both a taste. It'll cost you both however."

"Oh how kind of you," Andrea said. "I'll be sure to carve your generosity in stone."

"If it saves me from vinegar, I'll do what's necessary," Sam vowed.

"You were drinking the vinegar fine a second ago," Andrea pointed out.

"Oh shut up, Andrea."

With a roll of her eyes, Lena placed her bottle next the two others, the label significantly different. She tapped her fingernail against the also very different kanji. "Do memorize the kanji. Wouldn't want for you to go back to drinking vinegar, now would we?"

just had a convo with my friend. she mentioned she doesnt like sake cause its sparkling.

“wait, sake is sparkling? what have i been drinking?” i said. because i also dont like sparkling stuff.

i look at the sake bottle ive been drinking from for fun events for the past year. its vinegar.

i’ve been drinking strawberry flavored vinegar.

#lena luthor #supercorp #rojarias if you wish #samantha arias #Andrea rojas #Sorry couldn't help myself #This is something Andrea and Sam would TOTALLY do #and Lena of course would correct them

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alchemistc · 3 days ago

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Just gonna say from the top I have not been paying much attention to 9-1-1 spoilers or spec so I'm coming at this from a place of Lou posted a rooftop pic around the same time there was bts of 9-1-1 filming on a rooftop. I know nothing else. I also haven't watched past 8x6 so 🤷‍♀️

something in the orange

Buck has never really been one for a lot of quiet introspection. He's done the therapy, worked at it, worked on himself - but at the end of the day his downtime typically means he's got a book in hand, a Substack to dive into, his phone open to distract his brain long enough for his body to relax. He doesn't do quiet time. He needs to have something to do with his hands, needs his eyes focused on something other than a horizon line.

He's at the tail-end of a q-word shift and Ravi's already inventoried half the station, there hasn't been anything to clean for at least an hour, and it's not like he can go bug Eddie to keep himself occupied.

(And that's a train of thought better left for the scones he's gonna bake tonight, even if Eddie's kitchen is laid out terribly for baking.)

The sunset is gorgeous.

It's not - quiet, exactly. You don't really get quiet, in LA, at any time of the day or night, but it's calm. Peaceful. Traffic runs smoothly, for a given value of smooth, down below. There's a soft breeze. The sun has warmed the rooftops of the city all day, and that extra hour baked them well, so even as it sets the gravel beneath his feet radiates just the right amount of heat.

Buck tilts his head back to watch a fluffy cloud drift across the sky, and takes stock.

He's a fucking mess, but that seems to be beside the point, right now.

Chris is pissed at Eddie but reluctantly speaking to him, and it seems like maybe there's something going on with Eddie's mom but it's not like Eddie comes to him until -

Nope.

Maddie's recovering, and the baby is fine. She'll scar, though, and Buck doesn't quite know how to reconcile that. She's been bruised, bloody, terrified, mad as hell, out of her mind and settling back into it but there's never been lasting physical evidence before and he's -

Making it all about himself, again.

Bobby and Athena are circling in on a place to live, finally, and he's happy for them, ecstatic, can't wait to watch Bobby man a grill again and have everyone - well, mostly everyone -

New line of thought, actually.

Chim seems to be holding it together extraordinarily well, considering, but Buck's not entirely sure he'd know otherwise: he's got Hen for that.

Must be nice, he thinks, and then immediately slams a foot down in an attempt to not be such a selfish, miserable bastard.

Two nights ago he'd watched Taylor Kelly do a special news report covering the wildfire recovery efforts, and she'd looked good - beautiful, healthy, with that fire behind her eyes when a story has some juice to it. And he'd watched, start to finish, and he'd selfishly wondered if she ever actually thought about him, other than an aside about the guy who'd kissed another woman and then railroaded her into living with him.

And he never knows what the hell is going on with Ravi but apparently he bought another block of condos.

So it's like -

It's just -

He's so fucking lonely.

It's not a new feeling, exactly. He's been on his own for a lot of his life. Always latching on to whoever holds eye contact long enough for him to start an info-dump. But all of his people are reaching all of these milestones, or dealing with their own shit, and even though he's made an attempt, the casual hookups just aren't doing much in the department of letting Buck unload all of his issues like he wants.

Which is why everyone ends up leaving, apparently. He takes too much, demands too much, makes things about himself, and it's not the first time he's had to square up with that but it still fucking hurts. He still doesn't know how to fix it.

Gold melts across the skyline as the sun dips low low low, and the door to the roof opens up, and Buck tips his head back again. Closes his eyes and tries to place the footfalls making their way across to him. Feels his chest tighten around the face that materializes behind his eyes and swallows it back, because that isn't happening.

He keeps his eyes closed and enjoys the last streak of heat as the sun dips below the horizon.

Gravel crunches just behind him.

"Hey," says a voice, soft and warm and always just a little surprisingly pitchy for the barrel of a chest it's coming out of.

When he blinks his eyes back open he's greeted with the underside of Tommy Kinard's chin. In the fading light the dip of his cleft is more pronounced, and his hair has streaks of pink in the barrel of the curl, light bouncing off the clouds and making a home on Tommy's crown, and Buck has to bite back the urge to shove out of his chair and tuck his whole body into the circle of his arms. They're not - this isn't -

Tommy's hand drops, warm and huge and comforting in a way Buck always leaned into like a cat, to the dip of Buck's shoulder.

He can't really find any words. He's had - so fucking many words, things he wants to say, things he wants someone to hear, but now they're all stuck in his throat or lost to the breeze kicking up around him.

God, Buck has missed him.

Tommy's eyes dart back and forth across his face, jaw tight as he takes in the sight, his posture all sorts of uncomfortable, and Buck just wants -

Just five minutes. Just. Enough time to watch the pinks fade to purple and blue. He tips his head back just enough that his skull meets the give of Tommy's stomach, and Tommy's hand squeezes.

They watch the sky streak with color and fade, and Buck thinks: if this is it, at least it's a softer landing than he'd had before.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #i'm leaving this one open ended #very loosely inspired by the zach brown song of the same name

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shaiyasstuff · 2 days ago

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wilted promises | sylus

synopsis : Once, he swore love was enough. He chose you despite his world of wealth and expectations, despite everything that should have kept you apart. But time has turned your marriage into a gilded cage, your love into something distant and fractured. The boy who once promised to protect you is now a man of cold silences and sharp words. As you stand among the ruins of what once was, you wonder—was it ever truly love, or just the fleeting illusion of it?

content : non-canon!, marriage!AU, Sylus is mean, ANGST with little comfort(?), reader goes insane, set in somewhat victorian era, painter!reader, childhood lovers.

writer’s note : I initially had no vision of how this would go but I winged it. (Also I do not own any pictures used, all creds go back to their creators)

parts : one | two

quote : "It’s amazing how someone can break your heart and you can still love them with all the little pieces." – Ella Harper

“The datura blooms in the dark—beautiful, intoxicating, and laced with quiet poison. Much like love once promised, and now turned to ruin.”

The day you became his wife, you thought you were stepping into a dream—a life built on whispered promises and stolen glances.

But dreams fade quickly, and yours shattered beneath the weight of cold indifference.

Sylus, once the boy who traced love across your skin with gentle hands, had become a man of ice, his tenderness buried beneath sharp words and colder silences.

It’s been years since then.

Now, your marriage was a gilded cage, and you stood within it, wondering if the love you once shared was a lie—or if it still lingered, buried beneath the ruins of what you had become.

“I promise to you now, with this datura flower that I will protect and love you for all eternity!”

Do you still remember when you made that promise to me?

—•

It was like any other night when he held a celebration at the estate. The grand foyer buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses.

You tried to blend in, but it wasn’t enough.

He found you.

His hand seized your wrist, dragging you into the shadowed hallway. The wall was cold against your back as he pressed you into it.

“I warned you,” he muttered, voice low and sharp.

“Don’t act like you know me. It’s bad enough that I married you.”

You became a ghost in your own life, unseen and unwanted.

“You do not belong here.”

But still, everytime you looked up at him, your eyes shimmered with a tender, melancholic longing—an unspoken plea for a love that might one day heal your wounded soul.

Did you not say you would protect me forever?

You closed your eyes, as if shielding yourself from his harsh words, while you stood helpless, your own tears slipping free—mourning the love you deserved but were denied.

After a while, he released you, frustration flickering in his eyes as your silence offered no satisfaction. With a huff, he stormed off, leaving you alone with the echo of his absence.

You lingered for a moment, then pushed yourself off the wall that had held you captive. Your steps were slow but steady as you walked away, blinking back the sting of unshed tears, determined not to let them fall.

Because you understood him, you always did.

—•

You found yourself curled by the windowsill, your knees drawn tightly to your chest as though they could shield you from the heaviness pressing against your heart.

Your gaze stretched beyond the glass, tracing the endless expanse of the meadow, its silver-tinged grasses swaying gently beneath the hush of night.

Lifting your head, your eyes, heavy with unshed tears, lingered on the sky above, where countless stars glittered like scattered diamonds across a velvet canvas.

Their distant beauty seemed almost cruel, each shimmering point a quiet mockery of your own helplessness—so close to your longing, yet forever out of reach.

The moon hung low, casting a soft, ethereal glow that bathed the world in a ghostly silver sheen.

Its pale light painted the landscape with shadows and whispers, and within that stillness, you felt a hollow ache settle deep in your chest—a longing for something you could neither name nor grasp, a yearning as endless and unreachable as the stars themselves.

Your fingers trembled as they traced the delicate fabric of the scarf draped around your body—a fragile barrier against the chill that crept beneath your skin, a cruel reminder of the warmth you craved but could never grasp.

It was his warmth you longed for, the comfort of an embrace that now seemed as distant as the stars.

You closed your eyes, your heart aching as you sent a silent plea to the moon, begging it to carry you away, to lift you from the shadows that bound you.

You longed for escape, for freedom from the coldness that had settled not just in the room, but in the space where his love had once lived.

But your hands tightened around the scarf when you felt the sharp sting of realization.

How foolish you had been to seek escape when all you truly wanted was to stay—if only it meant feeling his warmth again.

How could you dream of running when your deepest yearning was not for freedom, but for the love you still clung to, the love that once made you feel alive?

How could you have been so blind, so desperate, to believe that fleeing would ease the ache when it was his love you craved most of all?

Your gaze remained fixed on the tranquil meadow beyond the window, its quiet beauty a stark contrast to the chaos that lingered behind you.

You didn’t turn, not even when the heavy shuffle of footsteps broke the silence, nor when the sharp, bitter scent of alcohol invaded the air.

You stayed still, rooted in place, unwilling to disturb the fragile calm you’d wrapped around yourself.

He stopped just short of you, his shadow falling over you like a cloud.

You felt his eyes on you, lingering, uncertain.

He swayed slightly, an uneasy smile tugging at his lips—one that never quite reached his eyes.

He’d stumble into the room, words slurred with remorse, apologies falling from his lips like broken promises.

And every time, you wondered if they held any truth.

Did he really regret it?

Or were his apologies just another habit, as hollow as the love that used to bind you?

“There’s my pretty wife,” he murmured, his voice soft but unsteady as he stumbled forward.

His hands were warm, almost tender, as they wrapped around your upper arms, pulling you gently against his chest.

You stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice, burying his face into the curve of your neck.

The sharp scent of whiskey clung to his breath, stinging more than the words that followed.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered, the words broken, fragile.

“I never meant… never meant for things to end up like this.”

For a moment, your heart faltered, warmth blooming in your chest at the sound of his vulnerability.

But it was a cruel warmth, laced with pain—because your heart wasn’t just softening, it was breaking. Over and over again.

Your expression softened despite the ache, and you coaxed him gently toward the bed, guiding him with a touch that was both careful and resigned.

He sank into the mattress, his body curling toward you, seeking comfort he didn’t deserve.

As his breathing slowed, heavy with exhaustion, his voice broke through the quiet one last time, a whisper soaked in regret.

“Why can’t I stop hurting you…?”

The question lingered, thick and suffocating. You said nothing, only brushed your fingers through his hair, your silence an answer in itself.

And as his breaths deepened and sleep took him, you stared at the shadows on the ceiling, your heart echoing the words you could never speak aloud.

“I ask myself that every day, Sy.”

—•

You stood by the mirror, your fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, smoothing it as if that could erase the doubt gnawing at you.

The softest of hopes lingered in your eyes, a silent question you didn’t dare voice.

He stood behind you, his reflection sharp and cold in the glass. His gaze slid over you, lingering too long, too critically, before his lips curled into something cruel.

“I don’t want them to know I’m married to an ugly woman like you.”

The words sliced through the air, sharp and precise, cutting deeper than any blade. Your breath hitched, but you said nothing. You only lowered your gaze, focusing on the tremble in your hands, the sting in your chest.

Silence stretched between you both, heavy and suffocating.

He turned away first, already dismissing you, already walking out the door as though you were nothing more than a shadow.

You stayed where you were, staring into the mirror, wondering if the glass reflected the truth—or just the broken pieces of what you had once believed yourself to be.

—•

You woke with a start, your breath catching in your throat as the cold emptiness of the room pressed in around you.

“I don’t want them to know I’m married to an ugly woman like you.”

The memories of that night rushed in like an unwelcome tide, blurring the edges of sleep with bitter reality.

But the harsh morning light, spilling cold and indifferent across the floor, offered no comfort.

The bed beside you was empty, cold, and the realization struck you like a blow to the gut.

You were still here, still trapped in this hollow existence, your hopes dangling by the thinnest of threads.

Later, you sat in the quiet of the garden.

The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and wilting blossoms.

It should have been peaceful, but the silence weighed heavy, mirroring the ache in your chest.

A servant approached, his footsteps soft against the stone path.

He set down a tray with careful hands, his gaze lingering on your face, etched with sadness too deep to hide.

His smile was gentle, laced with understanding—he had seen enough to know the truth that lingered behind closed doors.

He spoke softly, his voice carrying a warmth you rarely felt anymore.

“Missus, I’ve brought your tea. Would you like me to pour it for you?”

You nodded, your lips curving into a faint smile, though it barely touched your eyes.

The servant poured the tea with steady hands, the delicate stream of amber liquid filling the porcelain cup. Steam rose in soft tendrils, curling into the morning air like a ghost of comfort, ephemeral and fleeting.

You watched in silence, your gaze distant, as though the simple ritual might offer you some measure of solace.

But the warmth of the tea would be fleeting, just like everything else you had once believed in.

The red datura bloomed in defiant splendor, their crimson petals unfurling like drops of blood against the pale green leaves.

Each flower stood as a silent testament to the pain you carried, a reflection of the suffering that rooted itself deep within your soul.

As you sat in the garden, the delicate porcelain cup warm between your fingers, you couldn’t help but remember his words—sharp and cutting, carved into your memory like stone.

“I don’t want them to know I’m married to an ugly woman like you.”

The bitterness of the tea was nothing compared to the bitterness of those words, still echoing in your mind.

Your fingers trembled as they reached out, tracing the soft outline of a datura’s petal.

The texture was smooth, delicate, a stark contrast to the raw ache in your heart.

For a fleeting moment, the flower’s beauty offered you a distraction, something to focus on besides the hollow weight of rejection.

The garden was your only refuge, the one place where silence was a comfort rather than a weapon.

Here, you could be alone with your thoughts, your pain, and the quiet longing that pulsed through you like a second heartbeat.

“I wish I was as beautiful as you,” you whispered, your voice fragile and uncertain, the words trembling on the edge of hope and despair.

It wasn’t just a wish—it was a desperate plea, a longing to be seen, to be wanted, to be loved in the way you once believed was possible.

The daturas swayed gently in the breeze, their movements soft and graceful, as though they had heard you and offered some unspoken comfort.

But their beauty only deepened the hollow ache within you, a cruel reminder of all that you were not.

The flowers were perfect, untouched by harsh words or cold gazes.

And as you looked upon them, you wondered if you would ever feel beautiful again—or if you had ever truly been so at all.

As you stared at the delicate petals of the flower, you wondered if you would ever truly find acceptance, not just from your husband, but from yourself.

The doubts and fears you carried weighed heavy on your heart, a constant reminder of your unhappiness.

Loneliness was your constant companion.

“What happened to eternity?”

You were not born beneath gilded ceilings or within the embrace of wealth.

Your hands knew the weight of labor, your feet the uneven paths of cobbled streets.

You did not have the luxury of a name that commanded respect, nor the safety of connections that shielded one from the world’s cruelties.

You had nothing but your own spirit, your own quiet resilience.

And yet, against all odds, he loved you.

Once.

In the early days, his love had been a promise whispered beneath moonlit skies, a vow pressed into your palm like something sacred.

He had looked at you as if the stars themselves had settled in your eyes, as if wealth and status were mere trifles before the force of what you shared.

You had thought he did not care for such things.

That love, your love, was enough.

When he took your hand and led you into his world, you believed it was because nothing else mattered—his family’s disdain, the weight of his image, the whispers of high society.

He had chosen you despite them all.

And in return, you had given him everything.

But time has a cruel way of unraveling the illusions we cherish.

Now, you stand upon uncertain ground, watching the distance between you grow wider with each passing day.

The love that once defied the world now wilts under the weight of expectations, of cold glances and unspoken regrets.

You search his eyes for the boy who once swore to love you, but all you find is a man sculpted by duty, hardened by obligation.

And for the first time, you wonder—was it ever truly love?

Or had you simply been a dream he once indulged, only to wake and realize it had no place in his world?

—•

“I’ll protect you from all harm,” the young boy had said, silver hair gleaming under the sun, red eyes sharp with confidence.

He had pushed a red datura behind your ear, his smirk as bold as his promise.

“I’ll marry you and take care of you for the rest of my life. You can’t escape me.”

You had only beamed up at him, your laughter light and carefree. “Okay!” you had giggled, eyes crinkling into crescents, unaware of the weight those words would one day carry.

It was true. You couldn’t escape. You didn’t want to.

You stood in the garden, fingers brushing over the dark blooms—black and red daturas that thrived beneath your gentle hands.

You misted them gently, marveling at their deceptive beauty, at how something so poisonous could flourish under your care.

A low, gruff voice broke the silence behind you. “May I join you?”

Ah, your beloved.

You gestured for him to sit while you continued tending to your flowers. Even as sunlight bathed the garden, a shadow seemed to linger—an unseen presence, like the grim reaper waiting to claim the death of what remained between you.

“Why do you love daturas so much?”

You could’ve told him about the care and patience it took, the time you’d poured into nurturing them.

But that wasn’t the whole truth.

“No reason,” you said softly.

Because he doesn’t even remember why.

—•

As the years passed, and you learned to exist in the quiet, in the absence of warmth and words.

The house now felt colder, larger, echoing with memories that no longer seemed to belong to you.

You moved through it like a shadow, your steps soft, your eyes distant. You learned to stop waiting—for his gaze, his words, his apologies.

You caught glimpses of him, glass in hand, shoulders heavy with regret he wouldn’t voice.

There were nights you heard him outside your door, a faint presence, as if he lingered there, torn between entering and walking away.

But he never knocked.

Never crossed the threshold.

And that hurt more than his anger ever had.

It was simply easier to pretend you didn’t notice.

Easier to let the silence stretch between you both like a vast, impassable sea.

You couldn’t bear to reach for him again, to extend your hand only to feel it slapped away by his indifference.

So, you built your own walls.

You found comfort in the loneliness, in the numbness that settled over you like a shroud.

If he wouldn’t come to you, if he wouldn’t speak, then you would learn to exist without him.

And yet, when you sat by the window, eyes on the dark horizon, there were moments when you thought you felt him standing there, just beyond the door.

Close, but not close enough.

That’s what was painful. Not the insults. Not the cruelty.

The distance that seemed to stretch on forever.

The distance that he did not dare cross.

—•

A giggle echoed through the empty, abandoned chapel.

A young girl stood radiant in the wedding gown her father had sacrificed his life’s savings for, its fabric a symbol of hope and dreams.

Beside her, young Sylus looked dashing in his tuxedo, his hands warm as they clasped hers.

Two souls, bound by innocent promises, painfully unaware of the cruel, unrelenting pull of the future.

Now, you sob quietly, your forehead pressed against the cool pane of glass.

Outside, the trees sway gently, whispering their silent consolation.

The moon drapes the world in silver, casting a serene glow that masks the storm within you.

In these moments of despair, you wonder how your life has unraveled into this—a marriage in name only, a gilded prison built from wealth and social standing.

A promise once made in love, now broken beneath the weight of reality.

You could have left—walked away from it all and started anew.

But you didn’t.

Some deep, stubborn part of you still clings to the hope that he could change, that beneath the hardened facade, the boy you once loved could be saved.

But the more reasonable part of your mind whispers the truth you try so hard to ignore.

People like him don’t change, no matter how badly you want them to.

No, because to you.

He’s still the boy you loved all those years ago.

You wanted to believe in love’s power to heal, to transform.

You wanted to believe that love could reach into the coldest heart and warm it again.

But the more you let yourself fall into nostalgia, the sharper the ache in your chest becomes.

“How could I have loved him?”

The thought tears through you, painful and bitter.

It’s as though you’re seeing the world for the first time since your youth—seeing it without the haze of love that had shielded you from the truth.

And with that clarity came pain, sharp and unyielding, as if the illusion you’d clung to had shattered all at once.

You surrendered.

Because he’s gone.

—•

You were in the garden again today, much like all your days.

You were knelt in front of the bed of daturas that you had so painstakingly nurtured to life.

They were your hope, your last thread tethering you to him.

You heard the familiar crunch of footsteps behind you again, only this time, they sounded angry.

You turned around to see your beloved.

But.

It all happened too fast.

Snap.

“..no..”

Crunch.

“…stop...”

Snap.

“…please...”

Crack.

Another stem bent, snapping underfoot, followed by the weightless thud of a petal hitting the ground, fading into the soft rustle of the air.

You silently fell to your knees, reaching for the broken remains.

Your hands trembled as they hovered over the crushed petals, fingertips brushing over them as if trying to piece the beauty back together.

But nothing could fix it now.

Your garden lay ruined—just as your love had long been.

You knelt among the wreckage, your fingers ghosting over the ruined flowers as if touch alone could mend what was lost.

The soil was still warm, the scent of crushed blooms lingering in the air—faintly sweet, but tinged with bitterness.

It felt like a funeral, not just for the daturas, but for every unspoken word, every quiet hope you’d buried deep within yourself.

He stood above you, silent and unmoving, his shadow falling over you like a storm cloud.

Yet he said nothing, offered no apology, no explanation.

Perhaps there was none to give.

And as you gathered the shattered petals into your trembling hands, your heart echoed with a single, hollow truth—some things, once broken, could never be made whole again.

You didn’t cry—you simply sat there, as if mourning something deeper than flowers. Something far older, far more fragile.

It wasn’t just the flowers he’d destroyed that morning.

—•

Days blurred into weeks, and the grand, empty halls of your home became suffocating.

You stopped reaching for him, stopped pleading for affection that was never returned.

Your tears had long dried, your heart hardened beneath the weight of rejection and cruelty.

You retreated into yourself, building walls of cold indifference that even his sharpest words couldn’t pierce.

It was safer this way.

You met it all with silence.

Your face an emotionless mask.

You wouldn’t offer him another fragment of your heart.

Not when he had crushed it beneath his heel so many times before.

You became a shadow, drifting through rooms that once held memories of laughter and hope.

You lingered in the garden, not for solace, but out of habit.

You sat by the fire, not for comfort, but because the silence was easier to bear than his presence.

And though it hurt—God, it hurt— you told yourself this was better.

Safer.

Because indifference was easier than hope, and distance was easier than love.

And yet, you knew he was there.

He was always there.

You felt his presence linger just beyond the doorway, heavy and hesitant.

But you didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him.

What was the point? Words had failed you long ago.

The glass trembled in your hand, though you weren’t sure if it was from the chill in the air or the ache in your heart.

You traced the rim of the glass with slow, deliberate motions, focusing on the sensation, on anything but the weight of his stare.

Once, you might’ve called to him.

Once, you would have reached out, hoping for warmth, for comfort, for the man you had loved in another life.

But that man was gone, buried beneath cold words and cruel actions. And the woman you had been?

You weren’t sure if there was anything of you left.

So you sat there, still and silent, letting the firelight dance across your face.

If he wanted to speak, he would.

If he wanted to leave, he would. It didn’t matter.

Because you were already alone anyway.

You heard him take a hesitant step forward.

“I never wanted it to be like this.”

You didn’t turn to face him, your gaze still fixed on the fire. “But it is.”

His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t have to be.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, soft but sharp.

“I was angry,” he said, his words rushed, desperate.

“I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You knew. You just didn’t care.”

His hands clenched at his sides. “I care now.”

“It’s too late, leave.”

The words settled between you, heavy and final.

“Fine,” he growled, bitterness lacing his words.

“Stay in your prison, then,” he said, his voice sharp as glass.

“It’s what you seem to want.”

And with that, he walked away, the finality of his words lingered like smoke in the air.

You didn’t move. You didn’t call after him.

But as the silence settled, a single tear traced the curve of your cheek, falling into your lap—silent, unseen, and unanswered.

His footsteps echoed down the hall, each one hammering against the walls of your heart.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak.

You remained by the fire, your gaze fixed on nothing, your hands cold and still.

The finality of his words echoed in your mind, bitter and heavy.

Stay in your prison, then.

You swallowed hard, the tear slipping down your cheek burning like acid against your skin.

But you didn’t wipe it away.

You let it fall, let it soak into the fabric of your dress, a quiet mark of pain you refused to acknowledge.

Because wasn’t this your prison?

These walls, this silence, this love turned to ash?

It’s what you seem to want.

He’s wrong.

You had wanted him—his warmth, his love, his promise of forever.

You had wanted the boy who once tucked a datura flower behind your ear and vowed to protect you.

But that boy was long gone, replaced by a man who wielded his cruelty like a weapon.

And yet, even as you sat there, your heart breaking in the quiet, you could still feel the remnants of that old love clinging to you like a child.

Love that refused to die, no matter how much pain it cost you.

You let the silence fill the room, heavy and suffocating, and wondered if this was how it would end—not with screams or accusations, but with quiet indifference, with love burned down to its embers.

Still, you waited.

Even after his footsteps had faded into the depths of the house, after the walls swallowed the last echo of his retreat, you waited for him to come back.

The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating, filling the space where his presence had once been.

But he never did.

The realization struck you like a blade to the chest, sharp and merciless.

He wasn’t coming back.

Not tonight.

Not tomorrow.

Not ever—not to that room, not to you, not to the memory of the promises you had once shared.

Your breath shuddered, a ragged, broken thing that tore through the stillness.

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as if pain could anchor you to something real, something that wasn’t crumbling beneath you.

And perhaps that was the cruelest wound of all.

Not his harsh words. Not the fights.

Not even the destruction of the things you had once held dear.

It was this—his absence.

His choice to walk away, to leave you there in the cold wreckage of your love.

His silence said more than any apology ever could.

He had left you.

Willingly.

And you hated him for it.

But more than that, you hated yourself for still wishing he would come back.

—•

Mindlessly, you began to paint with swift, deliberate strokes.

You drew upon the storm of anger and sorrow within you, channeling every raw emotion into the canvas.

Colors bled and swirled, each hue a reflection of your inner turmoil, a silent confession of all you could not speak.

When you finally leaned back, surprise flickered in your eyes.

There, staring back at you, was a portrait of your husband—his gaze dark, piercing, and unrelenting.

The image was shadowed yet captivating, an honest depiction of the conflicting emotions he stirred within you.

Your heart splintered beneath the weight of realization.

No matter how cruel he had become, you still loved him—the boy who had once held your hands and whispered comfort into the darkness.

It was a bittersweet truth, a love laced with quiet agony.

How could you still care for a man who brought you nothing but pain?

How could the warmth of old memories survive beneath the shadow of his cruelty?

As your emotions tangled with the strokes of your brush, you traced the outline of a delicate datura blossom along the portrait’s edge.

Its beauty was deceptive, hiding a venomous danger beneath its soft petals.

Just like him.

You were exhausted. The relentless push and pull had begun to erode you, wearing you down piece by piece.

Staring at your creation—those crimson eyes that seemed to pierce through you—as the weight of it all crashed over your body.

Your hand flew to your mouth, but it couldn’t muffle the sobs that tore free, raw and broken.

The loneliness of the room closed in, wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud.

That was the moment your descent into madness began.

—•

You didn’t look at him. You didn’t even pause.

Another painting—another part of your memories, another part of the past you shared, slipped into the fire, its edges curling as the flames devoured it with you alongside with it.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need them anymore,” you said, your voice low, steady.

“They were only ever reminders of what I could never have.”

You didn’t need them.

You didn’t need him.

“Everything can burn for all I care.”

—•

It had been days since you had last eaten a proper meal, and your body felt as though it was devouring itself from the inside out.

Hunger gnawed at you, a relentless ache that clawed through your stomach and seeped into your bones.

Each movement was sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion, and the simple act of standing felt like a battle against your own frailty.

The meals prepared by the staff, once rich and enticing, now repulsed you. The aroma that drifted through the halls, once comforting, now turned your stomach.

Everything tasted of ash and regret, and the thought of swallowing even a morsel felt impossible.

You weren’t sure if it was defiance or despair that drove your refusal, but either way, you welcomed the sharp pangs of hunger.

It was a punishment you could control, a pain of your own choosing.

Your gaze lingered on the portrait—your hollow eyes, the pallor of your painted skin.

The woman in the frame looked brittle, fragile, like she might break with a single breath. Perhaps she would.

The datura blossom in your painted hair mocked you, its delicate beauty a cruel contrast to your suffering.

Like the flower, you were toxic—wilting beneath the weight of your own pain.

And with each passing day, as your body weakened and your ribs pressed sharper against your skin, you wondered how long it would take before you faded completely.

You watched as it burned, the flames hungrily consuming the portrait until it was nothing but a pile of smoldering ash.

A hollow ache settled deep in your chest, heavy and suffocating. The image of yourself—those tired eyes, that weary smile—crumbled beneath the heat, dissolving into smoke and shadow.

Yet, even as the portrait vanished, the bitterness it had captured lingered, thick in the air, clinging to you like a second skin.

You stared at the ashes at your feet, feeling as though they mirrored your own ruin.

All the hurt, all the broken pieces of your heart, lay scattered there—burnt and lifeless.

And yet, beneath the weight of it all, one truth pulsed relentlessly within you.

You loved him. You still did.

Despite every cruel word, every wound he carved into your soul, your heart remained bound to him.

You had wanted nothing more than to love him, to be enough, to be seen and cherished by the boy who once promised to protect you.

And that was the final straw.

Not the sharp sting of his words, nor the weight of his silence.

But the slow, aching truth that love had unraveled between your fingers.

Thread by thread, until nothing remained but emptiness where warmth once lived.

—•

It’s been weeks.

You stood there, watching him from the threshold, the dim light casting shadows across his face.

The man slouched in the armchair was no longer the Sylus you had once known.

There was no trace of the boy who had promised to protect you, nor the man you’d vowed to love.

All that remained was a hollow shell drowning in liquor and self-loathing.

His laugh echoed in the stillness, sharp and cruel, but it did nothing to stir your heart. You felt nothing.

No anger.

No pity.

Only emptiness.

This was who he had become, and maybe who he had always been.

Your eyes lingered on the glass in his hand, the tremor in his fingers, the desperation in his gaze.

You wondered if it was the alcohol that made his voice so brittle, or if it was the weight of regret.

Either way, it wasn’t your burden to bear anymore.

When he raised his glass and whispered, “To strangers, then,” you didn’t flinch.

You didn’t speak.

There was nothing left to say.

Some things didn’t deserve words.

Only silence.

And so, you turned. Your footsteps echoed down the hall, fading into the shadows.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t need to.

The sound of glass shattering behind you was the only thing you needed—a final, broken farewell.

—•

Soon, you holed yourself in the studio, the scent of turpentine and oil paints thick in the air, wrapping you like a drunken haze.

You painted with a feverish intensity, your hands trembling, your eyes wide and unfocused.

The brush moved as though guided by something outside of your control—desperate, frantic, relentless.

And always, it was daturas.

Daturas blooming in the dark.

Daturas wilting beneath heavy skies.

Daturas twisting around faceless figures, their vines coiling like serpents.

You painted them over and over, their red and black, poisonous petals staining the canvas like blood.

You whispered to them as you worked, your words soft and broken. “You’re all I have left,” you’d murmur, your fingers tracing the curve of painted petals.

“You’re the only ones who stayed.”

You looked deranged, the way you watched them dry, your gaze lingering as though they were speaking back to you.

You no longer saw the man who had torn you apart—only the flowers. Only the symbols of beauty, of danger, of betrayal.

They were your audience, your confidants, the only ones who understood the hollow ache gnawing inside you.

Sleep and food became distant memories.

You survived on bitter sips of water and the scent of paint.

Your body grew weaker, your mind sharper—every shadow in the corner of the room another datura blooming on a canvas.

And sometimes, you swore they bloomed for you.

You swore they watched you, their pale faces turned toward you as though they, too, mourned the pieces of yourself you’d lost.

“Ah, what pretty datura.” You’d say as you admired your work.

The brush quivered in your grip, dragging across the canvas with trembling intensity. Your voice, low and sharp, sliced through the silence.

“I promise to protect you from all harm.”

Stroke. A smear of red, like blood blooming on white.

“To love and care for you.”

Drag. The bristles tore the paint, rough and unforgiving.

“I’ll marry you and make you the happiest girl in the world!”

Scrape. Hard, cruel, final.

You laughed—a jagged, broken sound that echoed off the walls, sharp with sarcasm and bitterness.

“Oh, how happy I am,” you whispered mockingly.

The datura bloomed beneath your brush, dark and venomous. A twisted parody of love, petals inked with betrayal.

Each stroke felt like a wound reopened, each flower a grave for every promise he’d shattered.

Soon, the datura multiplied. Like a plague of ghostly blooms spreading across the canvases, like a sickness you couldn’t escape.

Each stroke was feverish, each flower more twisted, more grotesque than the last—petals like blades, stems like nooses.

They weren’t just paintings; they were screams, confessions, curses etched in oil and pain.

The studio reeked of turpentine and madness, suffocating in its intensity.

The walls closed in, adorned with your torment, each canvas a tombstone for the love you’d buried with your own hands.

What was once a sanctuary had become a crypt, a shrine to the betrayal that gnawed at your bones.

And still, you painted.

As if capturing the poison would give you control over it.

As if every brushstroke could bleed the agony from your veins.

The words echoed in your mind like a chant, a twisted mantra that danced around your thoughts, taunting you with the remnants of something you had once believed in.

Your fingers gripped the brush tighter, the bristles scraping the canvas with a violence that mirrored the chaos inside you.

Your movements were robotic, each stroke deliberate yet erratic.

The red of the datura on the canvas burned like a fever in your veins, painting the room in a scarlet haze.

You couldn’t escape them.

They consumed you.

Its delicate petals now mocking you, reminding you of every promise broken.

Every hope crushed.

The words from him, once sweet and tender, were now nothing more than a cruel joke.

“Your eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen.”

They were beautiful, yes, but they had dried from endless tears, had grown cold from the endless betrayals.

The sparkle had dulled, replaced by an emptiness you couldn’t fill, not even with the most feverish painting session.

Your laugh was hollow, a bitter sound that barely rose above a whisper.

Your eyes flicked back to the canvas, staring into the crimson abyss you had created.

The flowers stared back at you, indifferent, cold—like him.

The promise of beauty and love had been nothing but a lie.

You dropped the brush, your hands trembling, covered in paint you did not bother to wash.

You were consumed by the endless sea of datura, but you knew one thing for certain: you were never going to escape.

“I’ll always protect you.”

“What a beautiful lie.”

Insanity came knocking, and you had welcomed it.

—•

Day and night, you remain in front of the easel, lost in a whirlwind of crimson and black, colors that bleed from your heart onto the canvas.

The vibrant hues reflect the chaos within you, the echoes of a silver-haired man who once vowed to protect you, only to become the shadow that haunts your steps.

Your mind becomes consumed with painting, each stroke of your brush a desperate attempt to give shape to the emotions you can no longer voice.

The portraits of blood-red daturas that bloom across your canvases are more than mere art—they are confessions, silent screams captured in color.

Every petal, every shadow is a testament to the love and agony entwined within you.

Your art becomes your only sanctuary, the brush your sole weapon against the pain.

Each painting is a battle fought in silence, an offering of your soul laid bare, layer by layer, stroke by stroke.

And though your hands ache and your eyes burn, you paint on—because it is the only way to feel again.

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and searching.

There was a time when his gaze had meant the world to you—a silent approval you craved, a warmth you clung to.

But that woman is gone, buried beneath years of indifference and pain.

Now, his stare feels like a shadow, something you can step out of whenever you choose.

“Came to see the show?” Sarcastic, bitter.

His eyes flickered, confused, surprised.

A part of you wants to feel satisfaction at that, but all you feel is emptiness.

He can no longer break you, because there is nothing left to break.

And yet, beneath your calm exterior, something aches.

The smallest, cruelest part of you wonders if he would fight for you, if he would peel back the layers of distance and try to reach you like he once had.

But the silence between you both only stretches, confirming what you already know.

He wouldn’t.

He never would.

Let him linger in the doorway, unsure and powerless.

You were done waiting.

—•

The studio felt like a tomb, every inch of the room suffocating with the weight of your despair.

The canvas is an unforgiving witness to the storm that has consumed you—a mixture of vivid reds and sickly hues, each stroke painted with the agony of a love that has withered to nothing.

The datura flowers bloom in grotesque profusion, their twisted forms reflecting the nightmare your life has become.

But it isn’t just the canvas that carries the weight of your pain.

You feel it in your body—your very soul burning with exhaustion.

Your hands tremble violently as you tried to reach up to your mouth.

You can taste the blood, warm and metallic, as it splatters across the canvas.

Each breath feels like it could be your last, the world around you blurring as darkness creeps in from the edges of your vision.

You felt warm hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you with desperate urgency.

You try to focus, to make sense of the blurry figure hovering above you, but your mind is fading.

Sylus..?

Your heart, heavy with confusion and sorrow, still called out to him, the name slipping past your lips as though it were a forgotten prayer.

His pale face swims into view, panic etching every line of his features, his wild, silver hair rippled softly as he shook your shoulders, those carmine eyes that you loved so much reflected panic, but you can’t find the energy to care about him anymore.

You had no more strength left.

The world around you grows distant as you fall into unconsciousness, the last thing you see—the twisted flowers you have painted and the shattered remnants of what once was.

And for a fleeting moment, you wish that you could forget it all.

It’s the last bit of warmth, a small comfort before everything slips away into the darkness.

“Ah, what pretty datura.”

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daeniradraconis · 2 days ago

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High on Love - Jack H.

Hey lovelies! 💖 I know I promised to work on Age is Just a Number and my Auston Matthews fic, but an idea for a story about Jack being high on pain meds after surgery popped into my head, and I couldn’t resist writing it first! But don’t worry, the others are definitely coming soon!

I hope you enjoy reading it! ✨

For more fun: masterlist

---

Jack stirs, his lashes fluttering against pale skin. He looks exhausted, the painkillers keeping him soft and pliant, his limbs heavy against the hospital bed. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face when his bleary eyes land on you.

“Babe,” he sighs, his voice thick and warm, like honey. He reaches for your hand but completely misses, his fingers clumsily grasping at the air before falling back to the sheets.

You take his hand gently, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here, love.”

Jack just stares at you, utterly smitten. His pupils are wide, his hair a mess, and there’s an almost childlike wonder in his expression. And yet, even like this, completely drugged out and ridiculous, he’s still stupidly handsome. It’s almost unfair.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “My pretty little girlfriend.”

You giggle, rubbing soft circles against the back of his hand. Yep, he’s definitely still high as a kite. “Thank you, baby.”

Jack’s brows knit together suddenly. “Wait. Are you real? Or am I… dead?”

Ellen sighs from the chair on the other side of the bed, watching all of this unfold with thinly veiled amusement. “She’s real, Jack.”

Jack’s head lolls toward her, his sleepy eyes blinking in surprise. “Mom?”

“Yes, Jack,” Ellen says patiently. She looks tired, but there’s something else in her expression, too. A tenderness, a quiet fondness, like she’s looking at her baby boy rather than her fully grown 23-year-old son.

Jack stares at her for a long moment before his eyes suddenly widen. He turns back to you, gripping your hand with what little strength he has.

“Babe. We got caught.”

Your stomach drops slightly. He can’t mean—

“What?”

Jack swallows hard, looking genuinely panicked. “She knows about us.”

You exchange a glance with Ellen, whose lips are already twitching with laughter.

“Jack,” you say carefully, “we’ve been together for three years. And, sweetheart, your mom caught us five months in. She’s known for a long time.”

Jack shakes his head furiously. “No, no, no. We were in spy mode. No one was supposed to know.”

Ellen snorts. “Jack. I caught you a long time ago.”

Jack frowns. “No, you didn’t.”

Ellen exhales sharply, rubbing her forehead like she feels a migraine coming on. “I walked in on you two.”

Jack tilts his head, eyes clouded with confusion. He looks far too cute to be taken seriously.

Ellen’s voice grows exasperated. “In your kitchen, Jack. You were barely dressed. And your father was with me. We saw you.”

Jack looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Mom. Be serious.”

“I AM SERIOUS.”

Jack just blinks at her, completely unconvinced. “Nah. Didn’t happen.”

Ellen groans, rubbing a hand down her face. “Oh, for the love of—” She turns to you, confused. “You remember, right?”

You bite your lip, your face heating at the memory. “I definitely remember. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Jack, you didn’t have pants on. And I didn’t have anything on top.”

Jack squints at you, gaze searching. Then, suddenly, his expression softens, a slow, lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“I just remember how hot you look naked.”

Ellen groans again. “Jack, concentrate.”

You sigh, smoothing your fingers through Jack’s messy hair. “Baby, I think the pain meds are making you a little loopy.”

Jack hums, leaning into your touch like a lost puppy. “Love when you call me baby.” His lips quirk up at the corners. “Say it again.”

Ellen shakes her head, an incredulous but affectionate smile tugging at her lips. “And here I was, worrying that all those times you hit your head on the ice had done some real damage,” Ellen sighs. “Turns out, all you needed were painkillers to go completely off the rails.” She pushes herself up from the chair with a smirk. “I’m getting a coffee. You two lovebirds enjoy this little moment.”

She barely makes it two steps before Jack’s entire face lights up.

“WAIT.”

You both jump.

Jack gasps dramatically. “WHERE IS LUKE?!”

You and Ellen share a confused look. “Jack, you’re not at home, darling. You’re in the hospital. Luke’s with the team, playing.”

Ellen pinches the bridge of her nose. “These drugs are brutal, Y/N. He’s completely lost it.”

Jack squeezes your hand, looking so heartbreakingly lost that you almost feel bad for laughing. “But I want Luke! He’s the best roommate.” His voice is full of pure, unfiltered adoration. “And he’s so smart. Like, genius-level math smart. He knows how to do derivatives, baby. I don’t even know how to spell that. And his hair? So curly. So perfect. It’s—” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s unfair.”

You and Ellen barely manage to hold back your laughter as Jack scowls, grumbling under his breath about “stupid, unfairly perfect genetics.”

“You’re really jealous, aren’t you, Jacky?” you tease.

Jack nods aggressively. “YES. And he’s taller than me. It’s messed up. I’m the older one. I should be the taller one.”

You smile softly. “But you love him, not right?”

Jack sighs. “So much.” His lip wobbles slightly. “He’s my best friend.”

Ellen tilts her head, amused. “Quinn’s not gonna like that, Jack.”

Jack gasps, eyes wide with panic. “Ohh, don’t tell Quinn that, Mom!” Then he turns to you. “Babe, Quinn is so cool.”

You bite back a laugh. “I know, sweetheart. I met him.”

Jack nods with absolute conviction. “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s not just smart—he’s brilliant. Emotional intelligence, problem-solving, all that deep, psychological stuff. And he can cook.” Jack’s eyes widen as if this is the most shocking revelation of all. “Like, really cook. Not just toast or eggs—actual meals. And don’t even get me started on his skating. He’s the smoothest, fastest, most effortless skater I’ve ever seen. It’s like he was born on the ice.”

Ellen arches her brow. “Best skater, huh?”

Jack looks deeply offended. “Mom. I’m serious. And you know he’s the best swimmer.”

You blink. “What?” You are seriously confused now.

Jack nods solemnly. “Like, if hockey wasn’t his thing? He’d go Olympic mode.”

Ellen sighs. “Jack, Quinn swims, like, twice a year.”

Jack gasps. “Lies! Mom, you don’t even know your own son. Shame!”

Ellen turns to you with an exaggerated sigh, giving you a knowing look. “You know, Y/N, with the way he keeps crashing all over the ice, it’s only a matter of time before he ends up permanently concussed. So… be prepared.”

Jack pouts. “Mom! I don’t even fall that much. That was so mean.”

Then, suddenly, he grips your hand tighter, eyes shining. “Babe, can we get a dog?”

Ellen groans. “Not this again.”

Jack gasps dramatically. “Mom, I don’t live with you anymore. I’m an adult. This is a decision between me and my partner.” He turns to you, nodding with conviction. “Two golden retrievers. And I’ll teach them to play hockey.”

Ellen pulls out her phone. “I cannot wait to tell Jim, Luke, and Quinn about all of this.”

Jack gasps. “Mom, no—”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen smirks.

Jack pouts, turning to you, desperate. “Babe, you won’t let them make fun of me, right?”

You just grin, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “I don’t know, Jacky. You did just deny our entire relationship.”

Jack’s face falls. “Oh my God. Are we still together?”

You burst into hysterical laughter.

Ellen sighs dramatically. “I’m so leaving,” she says, heading toward the door.

Jack lets out a contented sigh, sinking deeper into his pillow, his eyes locking with yours as he gazes at you with an overwhelming sense of love. "But this is amazing news," he says softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Because one day, I'm going to marry you."

Your heart melts. “Oh, baby…”

Ellen pauses at the door, looking back at the two of you. “You know what? You should have your wedding in Michigan. The lake house would be the perfect spot for it.”

Jack’s eyes light up, and he looks at you with excitement. “Yes! And Luke can be my best man. Quinn can be yours. So they won’t fight. He loves you like a little sister anyway. You’ll be beautiful in your dress. And I’ll cry at the altar the moment I see you.”

Ellen rolls her eyes dramatically, just like Jack usually does, but the smile on her lips betrays the amusement she’s trying to hide as she exits the room.

You groan, dropping your head onto Jack’s shoulder as your heart swells with happiness. "Just so you know, I’ll hold you to that promise once you’re finally clean from the drugs."

Jack just grins, his eyes fluttering closed, as he drifts back to sleep, completely at peace with the world.

#jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jh86 #jack hughes fic #jack hughes #nhl imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #lh44 #jack hughes blurb #nhl blurb

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mysteryshoptls · 2 days ago

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SSR Sebek Zigvolt - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

It's necessary to enjoy all you can on a birthday. I'll make sure to fully relish the classes, club activities, and the birthday party to come!

Summon: Being another year older means I must mature even more. I'll have to continue to devote myself to my studies, magical abilities, and other aspects of life.

Groovification: I have to get out of bed quickly and get ready to go. I'm the birthday boy today, after all.

Home: I can't let a single moment go to waste!

Swap Looks: I must fix my appearance.

Home Transition 1: My nightcap is not only good for preventing disastrous bedhead, but also keeping my hair from drying out. The only issue is that it falls off easily while I sleep.

Home Transition 2: I received an enormous amount of sweets from Jade-senpai. I have no idea what he is plotting, but I absolutely ate every last one. I can't let food go to waste, after all.

Home Transition 3: Even when I am in my room, the portrait of Malleus-sama continues to watch over me. That way, no matter where I am, I can continue to hold myself to the proper standards.

Home Transition - Login: On my birthday, I make sure to choose one goal to achieve during the upcoming year. Setting a clear coal is the first step in seeing it come to fruition!

Home Transition - Groovy: I understand in my head that I should chew my food well when I eat, but I cannot help eating fast when I hunger strikes. I should try to be more like Azul-senpai.

Home Tap 1: Nothing about living amongst others in a dormitory on campus necessitates getting to know one another. However... If the conversation were to extol on Malleus-sama's greatness... I suppose I could join in.

Home Tap 2: I received a book on equestrianism from Riddle-senpai. I'll make sure to thoroughly read through this and put what I gleaned into practice!

Home Tap 3: I would like it if I were able to overcome my distaste for black coffee this year. Maybe I should start by trying to drink some sugar-free milk coffee...

Home Tap 4: Idia-senpai was hovering outside the classroom, so I beckoned him in with a thunderous shout. How was that, I handled it well, didn't I?

Home Tap 5: These pyjamas were a gift from my parents to celebrate my acceptance to this school. They purchased it from a store in Briar Valley. I like them because they're comfortable and easy to wear.

Home Tap - Groovy: Silver was decorating the lounge, simply because it was my birthday. How thoughtful, especially coming from him!

Duo: [SEBEK]: Give me your best wishes, Azul-senpai! [AZUL]: Sebek-san, I do hope you have a wonderful year.

Birthday Login Message: Am I enjoying my birthday, you ask? Of course I am, today marks the first day of a new year for me! Both Riddle-senpai and Silver advised me to continue my diligent training. I needn't hear that from them, I plan to grow even more than they expect! Hm? You have a present for me? What's this... Oh, these are riding socks! Hm, not bad, for a human. I was just thinking of purchasing a new pair, myself. Perfect timing, too, I'll wear them to equestrian club practice after this. You have my thanks.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #azul ashengrotto #twst sebek #twst azul #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: jade #mention: malleus #mention: azul #mention: riddle #mention: idia #mention: silver

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cressidagrey · 12 hours ago

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The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes:

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

We are wrapping up loose plot threads so: Hungary 2024, WHICH I FIXED (kinda). My questionable understanding of racing strategy? Crocheting.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Radio Transcript – Hungarian GP 2024 Driver: Lando Norris (#4, McLaren) Lap: Mid-race, after McLaren undercuts Oscar Piastri

RACE ENGINEER (Will Joseph): “Lando, box this lap. Box, box.”

Lando: “…You’re kidding. You’re actually kidding.”

Will: “Lando, we need to cover the undercut. Box now.”

Lando: “Yeah, I bet we do.”

[Lando enters the pits, swaps to fresh tires, and rejoins ahead of Oscar Piastri.]

Will: “So, uh, we’re seriously doing this? We’re actually undercutting Oscar?”

Will: “Affirm. We need to consolidate track position.”

Lando: “Oh yeah? That’s what we’re calling it? Consolidating?”

Will: “Lando, we’ll discuss later. Focus on your out-lap.”

Lando: “No. I want you to tell me right now why we did that. Because Oscar was ahead. Oscar was faster. So tell me why we just screwed him over.

Will: “It was the best call for the team.”

Lando: “Oh, was it? Because last I checked, ‘the team’ includes Oscar, and you just threw him under the bus. And for what? Because from where I’m sitting, you just played us against each other for no reason.”

Will: “Lando, we need to manage the race. We’ll discuss later.”

Lando: “No, we’ll discuss now. Because Oscar went to bat for me when it mattered. He stood up when you lot wouldn’t. And this is how you pay him back? By screwing him on strategy?”

Will: “Lando—”

Lando: “I’m giving it back.”

Will: “Lando, we need you to maintain position.”

Lando: “Like hell I do. Tell Oscar I’m lifting into Turn 1.”

Will: “…Understood.”

Lando: Oscar— (lifts off the throttle, lets Oscar pass him back easily before Turn 1) —deserves better than whatever the hell that was.

Will: Lando, we didn’t ask you to do that.

Lando: Yeah? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made me the bad guy.

Will: This isn’t necessary—

Lando: No, what wasn’t necessary was playing stupid games with two drivers who actually trust each other. Fix your priorities.

***

Lando Norris – Post-Race Interview | 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix

Interviewer: Lando, P2 today after a tough fight with Lewis Hamilton. It was an intense battle right to the end—how are you feeling?

Lando: Yeah, I feel great! It was a proper race, a hard fight from start to finish, and I loved every second of it. I mean, Lewis is one of the best to ever do it, so going wheel-to-wheel with him like that, having to really work for that P2—it’s what racing is all about. I think we put on a good show today.

Interviewer: We heard some interesting radio messages during the race, especially around the swap with Oscar. Can you talk us through that situation?

Lando: Honestly, I just want to talk about how incredible Oscar was today. He’s been mega all weekend. He got pole, he had insane pace, and to take his first win—it’s so well deserved. I’ve been saying it forever: Oscar is that guy. He’s quick, he’s consistent, and I’m just really happy for him. It’s a huge moment.

Interviewer: Of course, but just to clarify on the swap—there was some tension on the radio. Did that impact your race at all?

Lando: Not really. My focus was on getting the best result for the team and making sure we maximized what we could. At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. I had my own battle with Lewis, and that’s where my head was. We went at it for a good chunk of the race, pushing each other to the limit, and I managed to come out on top. That’s what I care about—proper racing on track. That’s what people should be talking about.

Interviewer: Still, there were some discussions about team orders—

Lando: Listen, I’m not interested in making a big deal out of radio messages or politics. What matters is the racing. And today, we had an incredible race. Oscar got his first win, McLaren got a 1-2, I had a great fight with Lewis, and we showed what we’re capable of. That’s what people should be focusing on. That’s what matters.

Interviewer: Fair enough! A brilliant result today. Congratulations, Lando!

Lando: Cheers, mate!

Comments:

@/F1Fanatic99: Lando just straight-up refusing to engage in drama and instead hyping up Oscar and talking about racing? That’s my driver. 🧡 @/HamiltonGOAT44: Lando vs. Lewis was the battle we all deserved! Absolute class from both of them. @/NorrisNation: Lewis made him work for it, but Lando held his own. That was racing at its finest. @/PiastriP1: Lando literally said “I’m here to race, not talk” and I respect that so much. @/WDCOscar: We should be talking about how good Oscar was today, not team orders drama. Lando gets it. @/DriveToThrive: Lando dodging those drama-baiting questions like he's defending P2 against Lewis Hamilton. @/TeamOrdersSkeptic: I mean, it’s cool that Lando’s focusing on the positives, but McLaren kinda did him dirty, no? @/NotABot23: Maybe, but Lando said he didn’t want a free pass. He’d rather earn his position. @/OscarWins: At the end of the day, Oscar won fair and square. Even Lando said it. @/F1Conspiracies: He’s dodging the team orders talk because he doesn’t want to cause problems, but let’s be real—McLaren needs to sort their priorities. @/AntiTeamOrders: Lando acting like nothing happened when McLaren literally screwed him over lol. @/JustHereForDrama: He’s so media-trained. Wish he would just say what he actually thinks. ↳ @/McLarenStan: Or maybe he actually thinks Oscar deserved the win and doesn’t care about the radio stuff? @/HungaryGP2024: The real headline should be "Lando Norris beats Lewis Hamilton in an on-track battle," not whatever drama people are trying to stir up.

@/GridGossip: “He stood up when you lot wouldn’t.” 👀 Lando, bestie, you can’t just drop that and move on like it’s nothing. ↳ @/McLarenMafia: WHO didn’t have your back, Lando? Say names. ↳ @/F1Conspiracies: I wonder what that is about…and I have the bad feeling it’s the whole Lizzie situation… @/OversteerAndTea: So we’re all just supposed to ignore that Lando basically said McLaren didn’t back him up, huh? @/FormulaWhispers: What was going on behind the scenes that made Lando say that??? ↳ @/InsideThePaddock: Oscar has more backbone than people realize. Him going to bat for Lando is NOT nothing. @/F1InsiderTea: McLaren’s PR team is SWEATING right now. ↳ @/OrangeDrama: Like, are they just hoping we all move on??? Because I have QUESTIONS. @/PitWallMess: Oscar and Lando are such ride-or-dies for each other. It’s everyone else I’m side-eyeing. ↳ @/McLarenMasterplan: We need the full story. Spill, Lando. Spill. @/TeaAndTelemetry: Lando is never that blunt unless something seriously pissed him off. ↳ @/DataDorkF1: Oscar was the only one on his side and Lando made sure we knew it. That says A LOT.

@/DTSWriters: This better be a whole episode in the next Drive to Survive season because I NEED DETAILS.

@/OscarPiastriUpdates: This is the first time in history a driver has voluntarily unfucked a team’s strategy mid-race. Historic behavior.

@/TireDegEnthusiast: McLaren really thought they could manipulate their drivers like chess pieces and Lando just said ‘no ❤️’

@/F1TeaSpiller: This isn’t just about the race. That “Oscar stood up for me this week” line? Oh, Lando’s making a STATEMENT.

@/PurpleSectorStan: The way McLaren’s radio was DEAD SILENT after Lando gave Oscar the place back. They knew they fumbled.

****

The apartment was dimly lit when Lando stepped inside, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. He set his bag down by the door, stretching out his shoulders as he made his way toward the living room. Lizzie was curled up on the couch, her laptop open in front of her, but her fingers weren’t moving across the keyboard. Instead, she was watching him.

"Hey," he said, offering a weary smile as he settled down beside her. Her gaze trailed over him from head to toe, taking in every little detail. He'd never quite appreciated how perceptive she was before.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes and exhaling. For a few moments, silence filled the space between them. He could hear the hum of the laptop’s fan, the distant sound of cars from outside, the sound of their breathing.

Finally, Lizzie spoke. “You were brilliant this weekend.”

He cracked an eye open, looking over at her. She was watching him with something akin to awe, her expression almost reverent. He wasn’t quite sure what he did to warrant that look. “Was I?” he asked, trying for nonchalance but lacking even half of the energy to pull it off.

"McLaren 1-2," she told him softly, one hand reaching out to cup his jaw and he leant into her touch.

Yes. McLaren 1-2.

Not thanks to the team.

"I watched everything," Lizzie admitted quietly. "The radio. The interviews."

Lando inhaled sharply but sighed. "Figured you would," he told her.

She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, a simple touch that made his exhaustion recede just a fraction. "You were incredible," she repeated softly. "Even when you were getting screwed over on strategy and had every reason to be angry, you just..." She exhaled. "You handled it so well. You were incredible."

She hesitated for a moment. "Did...McLaren didn't have your back." It wasn't a question.

It shouldn't surprise him and it didn't. Liz was too smart for her own good. Of course, she would pick up on that. Just like the press had picked up on it, even when he hadn't outright said what it was, that had happened...people weren't dumb. They would put together the pieces into something resembling the truth.

Still.

Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. "Liz-"

She shook her head. "I thought...I don't know, that maybe they just wanted to take their time to handle things after Silverstone. But that's not what happened, is it?" she asked him softly.

Lando clenched his jaw, looking away. He didn't know how to explain it without making her feel worse.

Lizzie’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “Did they… did they try to stop you from saying anything?”

He swallowed, trying to figure out how to answer. “I-” he stopped, biting his lip. Honesty was the best option, wasn’t it? He took a deep breath.

“They tried. It was...it was a bit of a clusterfuck.”

Lizzie’s breath hitched slightly. “And Oscar?”

Lando huffed a small, almost amused breath. “He blackmailed them.”

Lizzie blinked. “What?”

"He told them that if they didn't release a statement condemning the abuse, he'd go back to tweeting like he did for Alpine," he recounted with a snort.

Lizzie stared at him before bursting into a fit of giggles. She covered her mouth, trying to keep herself from laughing. Her laugh was like music to his ears and some of the tension left him.

He grinned at her. “Yeah. And you know the funniest part?”

Lizzie shook her head, biting down on the edge of her hand to suppress a laugh. She looked adorable like that, her cheeks flushed from her little bout of giggles, and he was struck with the sudden urge to wrap her up in a tight hug. So he did.

She melted into his arms, burying her face against his shoulder, her giggles muffled. It took her a moment to regain her composure, and she gave a little sigh, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What's the funniest part?”

Lando grinned, shaking his head a little. “It worked.”

Lizzie stared at him, mouth parted.

“He actually threatened a multimillionaire team with Twitter,” Lando snickered. “He threatened to unleash an online world war and they caved like that.” He snapped his fingers, making her laugh again.

Lizzie ducked her head, her shoulders shaking with suppressed snickers. “Oh my God.”

Lando laughed helplessly, pulling her back toward him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She was warm, her body pressed flush against his. He took a deep breath, the scent of her filling his nostrils.

Lizzie grew quieter and looked at him. "Did...did they...was it because of me?"

Lando felt something twist in his chest. “What?”

She swallowed. “Did all of this—did they hesitate because of me? Because I’m the one people were targeting?”

Lando immediately reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “No. No, Liz, don’t do that. Don’t make this your fault.”

She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “It just… feels like I made everything harder for you.”

Lando’s grip tightened. “You didn’t. They did. The people who went after you, the ones who treated you like shit—they’re the problem. Not you. Never you.”

Lizzie let out a shaky breath. “I just… I didn’t want this to be a thing. I didn’t want you to have to put out a statement or make it worse—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Lando interrupted, his voice firmer now. “You shouldn’t have to explain yourself, or justify your existence, or convince people that you’re worthy of basic human decency. That’s not your job.”

Lizzie bit her lip, still looking uncertain.

Lando exhaled. “Liz, Oscar didn’t do that because of you. He did it because it was the right thing to do. Just like I spoke up because it was the right thing to do. And if McLaren didn’t have our backs, then that’s on them. Not on you.”

Lizzie nodded slowly, eyes shining. “I just hate that you had to fight for it.”

Lando lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

Lizzie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re stubborn.”

“You love it.”

She sighed. “I really, really do.”

He shifted a bit, pulling her onto his lap without thinking about it. She came without a second thought, settling on his thighs with ease. He wrapped his arms around her waist lightly, feeling the warmth of her seep into his skin.

She let out another shaky exhale, letting her head drop against his collarbone. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, wanting to soothe the worry out of her.

She felt so small in his arms. It made him want to cling to her, to shield her from the world and all of its bullshit. The urge to protect her was almost overwhelming.

"I made something while you were gone," she admitted, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Lando quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Lizzie hesitated for a second before reaching behind one of the couch cushions. When she turned back, she was holding something small in her hands—something that made Lando blink in surprise before bursting into laughter.

It was a tiny crochet version of Oscar Piastri.

Complete with a McLaren race suit and a little black and orange Pirelli cap.

Lando took the tiny Oscar from her hands, holding it up to inspect it. “No way.”

Lizzie grinned, a little sheepish. “I was stress-crocheting. And, well… given everything, I thought it was fitting.”

Lando laughed again, shaking his head as he turned the little figure in his hands. “He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this.”

Lizzie smirked. “You think?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lando said. “He’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but he’ll be secretly obsessed with it.”

Liz looked pleased with herself. She leaned in to get a better look at the little figure in his hand. "I think it might be my best one yet," she told him with a smile.

Lando grinned, gently placing the little crochet Oscar on the coffee table before pulling her close again. Lizzie went easily. She draped her arms around his shoulders, her legs resting on either side of his. She draped herself against him like she always does, her body melting into his.

It had been a long few weeks. But somehow, sitting there with Lizzie—holding something she made with care, thinking about the people who had stood by them—it didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

***

Lando should have realised that it was going to happen one of these days.

So he wasn't that surprised, when the door to the McLaren Sim room swung open, and Oscar stepped in with a purpose. He barely acknowledged the engineers outside, his usual easygoing demeanor absent. The door clicked shut behind him, and the air in the room felt heavier.

Lando spun around in his seat, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Oscar’s eyes pinned him to the spot, laser-focused on his every move. Lando couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, but there was something serious in the set of his jaw and the gleam in his gaze.

“Hey,” Lando said cautiously. “What’s up?”

Oscar folded his arms, leaning against the wall. "I heard the radio."

Lando shifted in his seat, feeling the back of his neck prickle. “Yeah. That.”

Oscar didn't say anything, just watched him with a hawk-like gaze. It was making Lando’s nerves itch.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even. "So you heard all of it then, huh?"

Oscar nodded, his eyes never leaving Lando’s face. "Yeah. Every word."

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy. Lando fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the fabric. He knew Oscar was waiting for him to say something, but the words felt stuck in his throat.

Lando ran a hand down his face. “Look, mate—”

“I didn’t do anything special.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by how bluntly Oscar said it. “What?”

Oscar pushed off the wall, shaking his head. “You made it sound like I did something extraordinary, like backing you and Lizzie was some massive thing. But it wasn’t, Lando. It was just the right thing to do.”

Lando didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the dashboard of the sim rig, feeling the weight of the last few weeks pressing on his shoulders. “Look,” he finally said, “whether you think it was special or not, you had my back. And I need you to know that I’d do the same for you. Always.”

Oscar scoffed, almost amused. “I know that.”

“No, I mean it,” Lando insisted, standing up. “What happened in Hungary? That’s not how I want to race you. If I gain a position on you, I want it to be because I overtook you—not because the team screwed you over.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small smirk. “Are you worried you won’t be able to overtake me without a little help?” he asked, a mocking tone in his voice.

Lando shot him a look. “You know that’s not what I mean, you muppet.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. "You know, It wasn’t exactly hard. Lizzie’s great. And you…” Oscar hesitated before adding, “You’re my teammate. That means something.”

Lando swallowed, something settling in his chest. “Yeah. It does.”

A moment passed, quiet but not tense. Then Lando leaned over, rummaging in his bag. “Anyway, I got you something.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “If this is some weird way to thank me, I swear—”

Lando pulled out a red-and-white packet and tossed it over.

Oscar caught it, glancing down. Tim Tams. His eyes immediately lit up. “No way.”

Lando grinned. “Figured your maiden win deserved a proper celebration.”

Oscar inspected the packet like it was the best gift he’d ever received. “Alright. You’re forgiven for embarrassing me on the radio.”

Lando smirked. “Knew that’d do the trick.”

Oscar was already tucking the Tim Tams under his arm when Lando pulled out something else.

“Oh, and—Lizzie made you this.”

He handed over a tiny crochet Oscar, decked out in a McLaren race suit with a perfectly detailed little Pirelli cap.

Oscar stared at it. “She made this?”

Lando nodded. “Yeah. She crochets when she’s stressed. Said she needed something to focus on.”

Oscar turned the tiny figure over in his hands, running a thumb over the stitches. It was absurdly detailed—clearly made with care.

“She really didn’t have to,” he muttered.

Lando shrugged. “You didn’t have to either. But here we are.”

Oscar glanced up, expression unreadable, before slipping the crochet figure into his pocket. “Well,” he said, smirking slightly, “at least I got Tim Tams out of it.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Never doing anything nice for you again.”

Oscar tore open the packet, popping a biscuit into his mouth. “Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

***

YouTube Transcript - Belgian Grand Prix Fan Stage

Interviewer: "Lando, Oscar, after Hungary, there was a lot of speculation about your dynamic, especially with the radio messages and post-race comments. Can you clarify—was there any tension?"

Lando: [shrugging] "We talked. We’re fine."

Oscar: [grinning] "Yeah, Lando even got me Tim Tams and a tiny crochet Oscar, so I think that settles it."

Interviewer: [laughing] "A tiny crochet Oscar?"

Lando: [smirking] "Yeah. Well, technically, Liz got it for him. She crochets when she’s stressed, and I guess Hungary was stressful."

Oscar: [holding up a hand] "For the record, it’s actually very impressive craftsmanship. It even has little details on the race suit."

Lando: [mock serious] "Yeah, she put more effort into it than McLaren did into our strategy."

Oscar: [choking on a laugh] "Jesus, Lando."

Interviewer: [laughing] "Okay, so no hard feelings?"

Lando: [firmly] "Oscar deserved that win."

Oscar: [grinning] "And now I have a tiny yarn version of myself to prove it."

Interviewer: "Alright, good to know things are all settled!"

Comments:

@/F1Fanatic99: Crochet Oscar is probably better at strategy calls than McLaren. Just saying.

@/GridGossip: Someone better crochet a tiny Lando next so they can be besties IRL and in yarn form.

@/WheelToWheel: If Oscar doesn’t start bringing Crochet Oscar to every race, we’re gonna have a problem.

@/McLarenUpdates: Crochet Oscar is just proof that Lizzie is the best thing to ever happen to the McLaren garage.

@/EpilepsyAwareness: Imagine explaining to someone in 2018 that F1 Fandom would one day be obsessed with a crocheted version of Oscar Piastri.

@/SilverstoneStan: Crochet Oscar is a cultural reset. Every driver needs a tiny yarn version of themselves.

@/SpeedDemon19: New F1 tradition: every race winner gets a crochet version of themselves. Make it happen, FIA.

@/McLarenSuperFan: The fact that Lizzie made that is so cute. She really said 'supporting my boyfriend and his bestie through yarn.

@/MaxsOrangeArmy: Oscar got a trophy AND a tiny crochet version of himself? Peak career moment.

@/PitStopChaos: Lando’s next merch drop better include tiny crochet drivers or I’m rioting.

@/ChaosInTurn1: Lizzie is out here supporting Oscar more than McLaren did. Queen behavior.

@/F1Wifey: McLaren strategists should fear the WAGs, they have more team loyalty than half the pit wall.

@/WheelToWheelGirl: The fact that Lizzie crocheted through the McLaren strategy disaster is sending me. How much yarn do you think she used during Hungary?

@/RacingLogic: Oscar acting like a proud dad over his little crochet Oscar is the most wholesome thing to come out of this entire mess.

@/ToxicMcLarenFan: I NEED TO SEE THE TINY CROCHET OSCAR, PLEASE, OSCAR, I AM BEGGING.

@/SilverstoneElite: McLaren PR scrambling to figure out how to monetize Crochet Oscar as we speak.

@/PaddockInsider: Not Lando shading McLaren’s strategy while handing out handcrafted emotional support Oscars.

@/PitLaneDrama: The way Oscar is so proud of his tiny crochet self… we need a picture IMMEDIATELY.

@/FIAConspiracyTheories: Okay but McLaren better start strategizing as well as Lizzie crochets.

@/FastAndFearless: Petition for Lizzie to start selling crochet F1 drivers because I NEED ONE. @/McLarenPanicDepartment: Lando: ‘She crochets when she’s stressed.’ How much yarn does she go through dating him???@/MaraForPresident: LIZZIE MADE OSCAR A TINY CROCHET OSCAR??? SHE’S THE REAL MVP.

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