#anyway this has been in my brain for ages

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue. 

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone. 

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade. 

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems. 

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits. 

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit. 

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.” 

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen. 

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak. 

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance. 

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed. 

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” 

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you? 

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one. 

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat. 

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway. 

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together. 

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you. 

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide. 

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond. 

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up. 

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. 

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once. 

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises. 

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts. 

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that. 

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else. 

two. 

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way. 

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite. 

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear. 

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people. 

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye. 

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms. 

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice. 

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three. 

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch. 

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him. 

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging. 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache. 

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension. 

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone. 

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another. 

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table. 

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins. 

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken. 

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions. 

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?” 

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there. 

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen. 

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch. 

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything. 

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression. 

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course, what are best friends for?” 

four. 

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all. 

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love. 

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea. 

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year. 

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year. 

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time. 

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice. 

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth. 

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said. 

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically. 

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again. 

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings. 

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones. 

five. 

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you. 

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him.  The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him. 

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios. 

‘What if he likes you back?’ 

‘You never know until you try.’ 

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’ 

What if. 

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit. 

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality. 

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen. 

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5. 

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. 

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends. 

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza. 

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is. 

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar. 

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night. 

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car. 

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you. 

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough. 

…

  The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings. 

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most. 

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all. 

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry. 

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful. 

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you. 

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside. 

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for. 

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back. 

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. 

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.  

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.” 

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions. 

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist. 

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter. 

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo. 

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him. 

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you. 

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest. 

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said. 

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled. 

“And I you.” 

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night. 

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them. 

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened. 

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ. 

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead. 

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters. 

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics. 

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.  

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you. 

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep. 

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok? 

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one. 

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him. 

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning. 

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing. 

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two? 

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

… 

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up. 

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year. 

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over. 

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him. 

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.  

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say. 

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore. 

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?” 

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression. 

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight. 

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance. 

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet. 

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed. 

[4:15 p.m. kst]  [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved]  [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards]  [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit. 

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat. 

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all. 

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment]  [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing]  [you: u better not snitch 😾]  [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS]  [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you. 

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it. 

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break. 

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off. 

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all. 

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home. 

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest. 

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym. 

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips. 

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle. 

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused. 

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?” 

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo. 

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses. 

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord. 

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. 

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say? 

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

“I’m Wonwoo.” 

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep. 

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number. 

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer. 

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation. 

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon. 

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for. 

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on. 

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time. 

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them. 

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested. 

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks. 

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out. 

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.” 

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday. 

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together.  It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend. 

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do. 

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts. 

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence. 

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.  

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on. 

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer. 

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that. 

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him. 

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party. 

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table. 

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted. 

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you. 

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end. 

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs. 

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses. 

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.  

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice. 

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest. 

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny. 

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare. 

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend? 

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression. 

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself. 

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you. 

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more. 

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?” 

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it. 

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses. 

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you? 

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything? 

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be. 

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you���d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him. 

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.” 

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy. 

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests. 

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought. 

four. 

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time. 

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place. 

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building? 

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye. 

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.  

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin. 

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind. 

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today. 

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer. 

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind.  Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away. 

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before. 

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake. 

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose? 

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him. 

[12:52 a.m.]  [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]  [not delivered] 

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list. 

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms. 

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions. 

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off? 

five. 

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options. 

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect. 

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation. 

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.” 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. 

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth. 

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have. 

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin. 

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for. 

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen. 

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could. 

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.” 

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth. 

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such. 

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face. 

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.” 

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.” 

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted. 

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture. 

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost. 

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.” 

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly. 

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place. 

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same. 

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak. 

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on? 

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away. 

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin. 

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door. 

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions. 

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home. 

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?”  Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him. 

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying. 

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness. 

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him. 

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down. 

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking. 

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.” 

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words. 

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense. 

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice. 

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about?  He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.” 

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause. 

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him. 

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place. 

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading. 

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”  A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek. 

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart. 

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

MORNING SEX WITH LUCIFER PLEASE

I know it's not morning sex but it is evening sex... And I've not posted in a while... This is raw, unedited and been in my WIP file for ages lol, I kept going to but my brain just doesn't wanna obey me lately and I really wanted to get something out there so please forgive any errors I literally hate releasing unedited stuff, anyway please enjoy (there were errors as I copy and pasted over from my docs using my phone, I think I fixed the issue but lmk of there's anything else majorly wrong pls)

Lucifer x Reader

Cw: from memory so please lmk if I miss anything, p in v sex, wing kink, slight exhibitionism, appearance of slight non con to begin with, praise kink, begging, vaginal fingering...

Appletini Appetite

“Well aren’t you just ripe for the picking” the smooth voice of the King of Hell himself washes over you smoothly as he sits beside you st the bar, appletini in hand as he eyes you up and down with an appreciative hum at your attire and how it fits your form.

“Oh, hello... Sire” you blush at his boldness and watch as his eyes trail along your collarbone, darkening appreciatively and shifting closer toward you.

“Oh no need for ceremony sweetness, call me Lucifer, ha ha.”

A warm hand brushes your thigh sending shivers up your spine and you take a large gulp of your own drink to compensate, coughing, eyes stinging as you half inhale the liquid.

“You’re adorable Kitten.” The dark purr in Lucifer’s voice has you squeezing your thighs together and you lower abdomen feeling like you swallowed molten lava.

“How about we spend a little bit of time somewhere quieter, more... Secluded?” Lucifer’s hand now resting in your thigh so body you tremble, you don’t know where to look and his burning eyes are just too much of a trap as your heart races anxiously.

“A-apologies, but I’m not i-interested... S-s-si.. I mean Lucifer, I’m just having a quiet evening out alone.” Your eyes are glued to his long dark fingers as they tighten with a pinch around the meat of your thigh and you repress a whimper by biting your lip, eyes darting up betraying you as they meet his and he chuckles at the utter need in your gaze... It had been a while after all.

Lucifer chuckles softly, his hand moving higher up your thigh, brushing against the fabric of your panties now.

You gasp, gaze darting back down. Lucifer’s fingers tease the elastic material, tracing slow circles around the outline of your pussy, liquid heat utterly ruining the garment as his fingers tickle slightly and cause tingles to dance over the damp flesh. His other hand cups your face, tilting your head back so he can look into your eyes directly.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. I can smell your desire radiating off of you like a blooming Flower. And trust me, I’ve experienced most forms of ‘quiet’ evenings out.”

He takes a chance, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a firm, demanding kiss. His tongue darts between your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily as his hand peels your panties aside, exposing your sopping folds to his touch and the chill in the room. You want to argue, to fight back... But fear of being seen in such a compromising state in public no less sends a thrill of fear and heat through your spine.

One deft finger dips inside you, curling and stroking, he groans, feeling your clutching humid walls trying to demand more from him, as the tighten and throb around his fingers.

He pulls back slightly, meeting your shocked gaze with a wicked grin

“Now, shall we retire to one of those private rooms back there, or would you rather we give everyone here a show?”

Your body screams for you to agree, to let him take you wherever he wants right now.

You gasp into the kiss as he presses his warm lips to yours, your body trembling under his touch.

His fingers sliding inside you send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you in the busy bar, causing your hips to buck involuntarily against his hand.

“L-Lucifer...” You moan softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mortified.

The idea of giving everyone a show seems outrageous, terrifying even. But the thought of going somewhere private with him, where he could explore every inch of you without restraint... it sends a thrill straight to your core. But then your insecurities flood your again and you’re filled with dread.

Trying to regain some semblance of your sanity and control, you try to break the kiss and his contact with your sex, a thrum of heat running through you.

“you’re rather forward... I’m not that sort of person!”

You whimper taking his wrist and pulling it out from under your skirt, closing your legs, a needy throb running through you.

Lucifer smirks, unbothered by your attempt to push him away. In fact, he seems to enjoy the challenge.

“Let’s go talk somewhere private.” He whispers huskily and before you can protest...

He wraps his other arm around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the stool and carrying you toward the back room. His hand finds its way back between your legs, slipping your panties completely aside before sliding two fingers into you once more. He begins to thrust slowly, relentlessly, while the other hand trails up your side, cupping your breast through your shirt. A few patron’s notice, whooping at the spectacle your face aflame as you get impossibly wetter, god why were you enjoying this?

Noticing your reactions he replies to your last statement.

“Oh, but I think you are exactly that type of person, my dear. Now stop being coy and let go. You know you want this as much as I do.”

With a growl, he opens the door to one of the private rooms and tosses you onto the bed, following close behind.

Before you can speak further, his mouth is on your neck, sucking and nipping at your pulse point while his fingers continue their relentless assault on your soaking pussy.

His free hand works at the buttons of your shirt, revealing most of your chest to his hungry gaze. He groans approvingly before taking a clothed nipple between his teeth, biting down hard enough to make you yelp and then moan in pleasure, your fingers winding in his hair.

“See? Told you you wanted it.” He says with a cocky smirk, you have to try to not break character as you almost beg him to take you, but that wasn’t the plan for tonight, tonight you’re supposed to be strangers.

You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations he evokes within you. Each bite sends jolts of pleasure through your body, each thrust of his fingers sends waves of warmth pooling deep in your belly.

“Mmmph-“ Your protests are muffled as he captures your lips in another searing kiss, your mind swimming with lust and confusion. Your body betrays you, arching into his touch, grinding against his fingers.

“No... I mean... yes...” You stutter, unable to form coherent sentences. Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of desire that threatens to consume you whole.

Your breasts ache for his touch, nipples hardening further under his ministrations. Despite your initial reluctance, you can’t deny the raw need coursing through your veins.

You whimper and moan, your body betraying your mind as Lucifer’s fingers plunge deeper within you, stretching your cunt deliciously. His mouth on your skin, sucking and biting, causes a rush of pleasure that leaves you writhing beneath him.

“Fuck...” You groan, unable to suppress the moans that slip past your lips. Your hands grip his hair tightly, guiding his movements as you grind against his hand.

Your shirt falls further open, exposing your chest further to his hungry gaze. The sensation of his teeth biting down on your nipple again sends jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your soaked pussy, making you writhe uncontrollably underneath him crying out, back arching at the sting.

“No... I mean... We’re just getting to know each other...” You stutter out, but your words come out as nothing more than desperate pleas for more. Remembering your part.

Lucifer chuckles darkly, pleased with your surrender. He continues to torment your sensitive nipples, alternating between bites and licks until you’re moaning unintelligibly.

“We’ll get to know each other better then, won’t we?”

He growls before ripping your shirt off completely, his claw slicing your bra down the middle with ease making you gulp, chills run up your spine as he finishes exposing your tits to his greedy eyes.

His hand leaves your aching pussy momentarily, making you whine, to cup one breast, thumb teasing your hardened nipple while his tongue lazily traces a path down your collarbone, stopping to flick across your other exposed nipple.

His other hand gathers yours pinning them firmly above your head, you moan as it makes your back arch, pressing your tits in his face.

His fingers slide back into you, this time adding a third digit as he starts to pump you faster, harder.

“Such a tight little cunt you have, kitten. So ready for me.” He growls nipping at the skin making you gasp, helplessly writing in his grip, goosebumps litter your skin from the attention and exposure.

“I want to fuck you so bad.”

His voice is rough...

“Do you want that, huh? To be filled by the devil himself?”

Your body quakes beneath him, a mess of need and desire. You moan out loudly as he teases your nipples, his tongue and teeth driving you insane.

“Yes... oh gods, yes...”

The word slips out before you can stop it, your rational mind lost to the pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“I mean... I don’t know... I-I shouldn’t...”

But even as you try to resist, your hips buck against his hand, begging for more. You can feel yourself getting closer, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers, your juices coating his hand.

“Please... stop... I can’t...”

Your voice breaks.

His tongue flicks your nipple again, biting down harder and a pinch to your clit, drawing a sharp cry from your lips your pussy throbbing you’re almost rutting his hand not, trying to make him dig in deeper, faster, anything!

You squirm underneath him, trying to escape his hold, his hand strong around your wrists, so it only serves to rub your sensitive nipple against his rough tongue and teeth more.

“Yes... Gods, yes... Fuck me... Please!” You break.

The words slip out before you can censor them, your body betraying your mind once more. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, eagerly, begging for more.

“Please... just... Please, oh fuck... Slow down please.”

You manage to choke out, but the pleading in your voice contradicts your actions, your hips rocking against his hand in time with his thrusts, it’s too much for you, your head thrashing side to side, denial of the rushing intensity coiling and burning inside you, your pussy quivering and weeping as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut.

“Good girl.”

“Ready for your punishment, kitten?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes gleaming with lust and satisfaction.

Lucifer’s smile grows wider as he watches you succumb to the pleasure he’s providing. His fingers continue their relentless pace, feeling you getting closer to orgasm, tilting his hand and fingers, pressing a spot inside you that makes you see stars, instantly blinding you with hot white heat, his thumb running your puffy clit.

“That’s it, kitten,” he growls, his own desire evident in his voice. “Give in to the pleasure. Let yourself cum for me.”

As if on command, your body peaks, convulsing as a powerful orgasm washing over you. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers, sending waves of intense pleasure through both of you. You cry out, your voice echoing in the small room, your body writhing under his touch, squirt gushing out in powerful spurts covering his hand and arms as you cry out, losing control.

As your orgasm subsides, Lucifer slowly withdraws his fingers from your still twitching pussy, a slick, audible sound filling the room. He looks at you with a satisfied smirk, before leaning down to lick the taste of you from his fingers.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, cock twitching in his trousers painfully, his eyes locked on yours. “But you know that was just the beginning, kitten?”

You numbly realise he’d released your wrists.

He starts peeling his clothes off methodically.

You wasting no time clumsily fumble out of your skirt and panties, kicking your shoes off in the process, stockings and garter remaining, the feel of the fabric digging into your thighs, yet his hungry eyes drinking in your exposed cunt almost makes you cum again.

You nod weakly, still recovering from the intense orgasm he’d given you. Your heart races, adrenaline and anticipation coursing through your veins.

As Lucifer undresses, you can’t help but admire the sight of him. His lean, strong frame, his cock standing tall and thick, absolutely dripping for you, the red in his eyes almost glowing. He exudes power and dominance, making you feel small and vulnerable in comparison, this is the Lucifer that made all those panties drop in the past.

You lay there, exposed and wanting, your body aching for him to fill you. As he moves closer, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart, stretching out further, trying to entice him faster.

Lucifer’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with untold need and satisfaction at state of you, and your plea, slick coating your inner thighs, even as far as your stockings.

He almost throws caution to the wind wanting nothing more than to dive on there lapping at you, cleaning you up, making you cum on his tongue again and again until you beg him to stop, his cock twitches needily and angrily at his thoughts.

But fuck does he want your pleasure

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes locked on yours, wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping it, unable to stop his horns from pushing upwards with a groan they feel like their own release.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat, dazzled by the fallen king.

Lucifer chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire as he takes in your eagerness. He steps closer, his erection pressing against your thigh as he reaches out to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “All flushed and trembling because of me.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s a stark contrast to the rough, demanding way he’d claimed your mouth earlier, and it catches you off guard, making you melt into the embrace.

As the kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hand moves down to cradle your breast, his thumb idly stroking your nipple, soothing that sore flesh.

You moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch, tongue returning his affections languidly, drunk from your high.

Finally, he breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he looks into your eyes, you know this is your husband checking in on you. “Are you ready for me now, kitten?”

You nod eagerly, your heart racing with anticipation. Lucifer smiles, his expression a mix of satisfaction and hunger.

Without another word, Lucifer grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs whilst standing, his tongue flicking out, unable to resist dragging it down on thigh, moaning as he laps up your juices greedily.

With a satisfied smile, licking his lips lewdly, Lucifer positions himself at your entrance, his cock pulsing with anticipation. He places a hand on your hip, pulling you towards him slightly, adjusting your angle and spreading you wide as he aligns himself with your wet opening.

Rubbing his cock up and down through your labia, teasing the sensitive flesh, smearing his precum into your cunt as you jolt from the sensations feeling overstimulated everytime he hits your clit, with a spasm and a whine.

With a grin at your debauched inarticulate state he lines up his cock and he begins to push inside you, you feel a sense of fullness that has you trying to cling to the sheets for deer life, eyes shut as you try to take him, even after all this time it’s such a squeeze.

His size is incredible, stretching you wide as he fills you completely, causing you to gasp and moan as it burns and your cunt flutters and pulses around him, slick and slippery as it is.

Lucifer’s eyes lock onto yours, watching your reaction intently as he continues to penetrate you deeply, his movements slow and measured, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Relax, kitten,” he whispers, his voice soothing and comforting. “Breathe through it. You can take all of me, I know you can.”

You can’t respond, head thrashing in denial, forgetting your not supposed to know him you have no script to follow anyway.

As he bottoms out inside you, you let out a final gasping whine, your body tensing as you accommodate him fully. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a few moments to savour the connection between you, his breath hot against your face.

“You feel amazing,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and wonder. “So tight and warm around my cock, and fuck your so damn drenched for me, I could fall in love with you just from this."

A moment of confusion before you remember your part again, his cock embedded in you, his forearms supporting your thighs, spread for the king, exposed, defenceless, chest heaving as you struggle for sanity.

You nod weakly, still struggling to regain your composure. The fullness of him inside you is overwhelming, the sensation of his cock stretching you wide is almost too much to handle. But despite the discomfort, there’s an underlying pleasure that’s starting to build, a pleasure that’s only possible with him.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths, and you remember this is supposed to be new... “I’m okay... I can do this...”

Lucifer smiles, his eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling back, his hands moving to grip your hips firmly.

“That’s my good kitten,” he praises, his voice low and husky. “Now let’s see how well you can take me.”

With that, he begins to move, his hips rolling forward as he pulls out slowly, the head of his cock teasing your entrance before he thrusts sharply back inside you, eliciting a cry of pleasure from your lips as he shapes your cunt to his cock with every thrust.

The rhythm is slow and steady at first, but as the pleasure builds, so does the speed and intensity of his thrusts.

“You okay, pet?” Lucifer check in concern as you seem to only be able to clutch at the sheets, body tense as you moan, eyes closed tightly.

He feels bigger than usual, you even miss you favourite part, his wings had come out to play and you missed it

You nod weakly, still trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of him.

He smiles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire. “Good girl,” he praises, “look at me please pet.”

With effort you open your eyes and your cunt clamps like a vice as you gasp in awe at him, his horns and wings in all their glory.

Each thrust sends extra waves of pleasure rippling through your body, making you moan and writhe beneath him, eyes fixed to his shivering wings as they flutter in time with your pussy.

As he picks up speed again, and it takes everything in you not to fling your head back again, your moans grow louder and more desperate, your hands clutching at the his forearms, nails digging in as you fight to maintain some semblance of control.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Lucifer growls, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to drive into you. “I can’t get enough of you, kitten, fucking addictive, that’s what you are.”

His words send a surge of pride and desire through you, making you arch your back and press your breasts against his chest. Your nipples are hard and sensitive, rubbing against him with each movement.

As he continues to work away at you, skin slapping skin, balls striking your arse, the coil winds, burning deep within you again, threatening to consume you whole. You whimper and plead, your body writhing under his relentless assault.

“P-please... Lucifer... I’m close...” you gasp, your voice strained and desperate.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks, “Go ahead, kitten. Let go. Show me how much you enjoy being fucked by your King.”

Lucifer’s smile grows wider as he watches you lose control, his own pleasure mounting with each passing second. He leans in, his lips pressed against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you, designed to push you over the edge.

“You’re mine, kitten,” he growls possessively. “My perfect little pet. You were made for this, for me, fuck you feel so good, clutching desperately around my cock, it’s like you never want it to leave, and believe me sweetheart, you’ll be feeling it for a very long time, so... Fucking... Tight... So... Fucking... Perfect... Pretty... Little... Cunt...”

His words send a shockwave of pleasure through your body, making you moan louder, your pussy clamping down on his cock as the orgasm crashes over you.

“Oh... Oh... Fuck! Lucifer!” Your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you, cunt spasming, gripping him so tight he can’t move, his hands stroking your shaking thighs as your body is wracked with waves you pleasure, your squirt hitting his pelvis again and again as you drench him, the sensation making him moan.

Lucifer’s own climax is close now, he can feel it building, your pussy releases enough of it’s grip as you slip and he has to cling to your thighs to keep you from slipping from his grip as he fucks into your limp body.

The pressure mounting with each thrust. He leans over you, cock sliding in deeper causing you to twitch and gasp for breath, he reaches behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it with forceful control, tilting your head back, forcing you to look at him as he comes.

“Look at me, kitten,” he commands, his voice low and guttural. “Watch me as I claim you.”

Your eyes fly open, meeting his gaze as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The intensity of his eyes, the dominance and possession in them, sends a shiver down your spine and increases your pleasure tenfold.

As you watch him, you can see the signs of his impending climax – the strain in his face, the sweat on his brow, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. And knowing that you’re the one bringing him to this peak of pleasure fills you with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, admiring his wings once more, every thrust a shockwave down your spine.

“Yes... yes... Lucifer... I’m here... I’m yours...” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your combined breaths and moans.

With one final, powerful thrust, Lucifer buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he reaches his peak. His eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze as he lets out a deep, primal growl of satisfaction, his entire body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

Hot jets of cum spurt from his cock, filling you completely as he claims you as his own. You can feel each pulse, each twitch of his cock as he empties himself inside you, his cock throbbing and twitching as he reaches his peak. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze matching the ferocity of his orgasm.

“Fuck!” He cries out, his voice echoing throughout the room. “You’re mine. Every single inch of you belongs to me.”

His grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his hips jerking sporadically as he pumps every last drop of his seed into your willing body.

You can feel his hot cum filling you up, overflowing and trickling down your thighs, the sensation making you moan and shudder beneath him. His grip on your hair loosens, and he leans down to capture your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you.

Finally, he pulls back, breaking the kiss and releasing your hair. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and panting beneath him, his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.

“You’re incredible, kitten,” Lucifer pants, his voice filled with genuine affection and admiration. “Absolutely incredible.”

Finally, spent and sated, he releases his grip on your hair, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. His cock softening inside you, but remains buried deep within you, a tangible reminder of his claim over you.

“You did so well, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner tonight, or any other night.”

Withdrawing slowly, you groan at the feel of him slipping out of you, he kneels between your legs, his eyes roaming over your naked form appreciatively. His hands trace lazy patterns over your skin, fingers dipping into your cum-filled cunt, admiring his seed inside you, making you squirm and whimper sensation.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl,” he purrs, his voice low and seductive.

Without warning, he dives between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive flesh, licking up every drop of his cum that’s leaking out of you. His fingers continue to play with your pussy, teasing your swollen clit as he cleans you up with his mouth.

You moan and writhe beneath him, your body still oversensitive from your previous orgasms. But Lucifer doesn’t relent, his skilled tongue working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy once again, arms locking around your thighs, holding you in place.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, he pulls back, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he gazes down at your flushed, panting form.

You arch you back invitingly, smirk on his face as he plays with your garter straps and decides to tease you, and play dumb.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” He asks innocently, fingers lightly tracing the edges of your garter belt, a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Did you want something else?”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, the bastard. He’s toying with you, teasing you mercilessly, loving every second of it.

“Or maybe... you're not done yet?" He muses, his fingers dancing dangerously close to your aching clit, making you squirm and gasp, your body instinctively seeking out his touch.

"Please... Lucifer..." you beg, your voice hoarse and needy. "Don't stop... I need... You."

He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire. "Well, since you asked so nicely..."

With that, he dives back in, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers plunge into your soaked pussy, curling and hitting that sweet spot inside you, using every trick he knows to bring you to a rapid peak so as not to pain you with too much overstimulation, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, over and over again as he brings you to the edge once more, licking sloppily at your cunt, diving his tongue in to taste more of your combined fluids.

You nod frantically, your body already tensing in anticipation. “Yes, oh fuck, yes yes yes yes yes yes.”

Lucifer grins, clearly pleased with your response. “As you wish, kitten.”

With renewed vigour, he attacks your clit, his tongue flicking and swirling over the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, his fingers continue their relentless assault on your g-spot, each stroke bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You can feel the familiar tension building deep within your core, your muscles coiling tightly as you brace yourself for the inevitable explosion. Your hands find their way into his horns, gripping tightly as you grind your pussy against his face, humping him shamelessly, lost in a sea of pleasure.

“Lucifer... I’m gonna... I’m gonna cum...” you warn, your voice breaking.

In response, he doubles down on his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue lashing against your clit with increased fervour, sucking on it with just the right amount of pressure. The combination of sensations is too much to bear, and with a final cry of his name and a thrust of his fingers, you tumble over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body convulses, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you, walks clamping and pulsing around his fingers as your pussy erupts but this time he swiftly withdraws his fingers.

His mouth sealing around your hole, tongue diving in as he devours your offering, a sacrifice to the devil, one he covets, gluttony wasn’t his sin before but as his cock throbs as he drinks you down, it might just be now.

As your orgasm subsides, Lucifer finally lifts his head from between your legs, a triumphant grin on his face as he gazes down at you, his chin and lips glistening with your juices. He crawls up the bed, carrying you with him from the edge and placing you down gently.

Settling himself beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist as he pulls you close, wrapping his wings back down, pulling you against his chest.

“You did so well, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and affection. “I’m proud of you.”

You snuggle back against him, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasms. His closeness is comforting, his presence a reassuring weight under you.

For a few moments, the two of you lie there in silence, basking in the afterglow of your shared experience. The room is filled with the scent of sex and the sound of your combined breathing, gradually slowing down as you both begin to relax.

Eventually, Lucifer breaks the silence, his voice soft and gentle in the quiet room. “How are you feeling, pet?”

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. Despite the intensity of your encounter, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment and satisfaction, your body thoroughly ravished.

You smile weakly, still trying to catch your breath. “I feel... amazing,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Exhausted, but amazing.”

Lucifer chuckles, his hand coming up to stroke your hair gently. “That’s my girl,” he says, his voice filled with pride and affection. “Get some rest, kitten. You’ve earned it.”

You nod, snuggling closer to him, your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion sets in. His arm tightens around you, holding you close, safe and secure in the arms of the Devil himself.

As your eyes slip closed, you can hear Lucifer’s soft, steady heartbeat in your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulls you into a deep, peaceful sleep. And as the world fades away around you, the last thought that crosses your mind is a simple one:

With that, he reaches over to pull the covers up over the two of you, cocooning you in a warm, safe bubble. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep, the steady beat of his heart a comforting lullaby in your ear.

As sleep claims you, you whisper.

“I love you, thank you Luci.”

As the whole idea of going to this bar and pretending to meet for the first time as though your weren’t married was your idea.

Lucifer smiles, his eyes softening as he listens to your sleepy confession. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening protectively around you.

“I love you too, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “Always have, always will.”

With that, he settles down beside you, closing his eyes and letting out a contented sigh. The room is silent except for the soft rustle of the sheets and the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

As the hours pass, Lucifer remains awake, watching over you as you sleep peacefully in his arms. His mind wanders back to the events of the evening, replaying each moment, each touch, each kiss. He can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment, knowing that he’s managed to bring you such immense pleasure.

After a while, he finally allows himself to drift off to sleep, his dreams filled with images of you, your laughter echoing in his ears, your smile lighting up his world. And as he falls into a deep, peaceful slumber, he knows without a doubt that he’s the luckiest man in the universe.

Because he has you. His kitten, his pet, his everything. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

He’s made his home yours, and in turn you made it his.

After all, home is where the heart is, and your heart belongs to Lucifer.

And his heart belongs to you.

(as usual sorry I nearly forgot to add the taglist)

Nyx's Nymphs!

@ustulia @redvexillum @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorthirsty @6esiree

[welcometogrouchland]

I've been binging Batman Beyond recently (Terry ily so much) and thought about how- bc of the JLU twist which I think isn't even canon to the comics BB verse but shhh bare with me- he'd technically be Damian's half brother??? Which is just so ridiculously soap opera to me. I need them to interact in a silly time travel adventure so bad you don't even understand (ID in alt)

[disappeareddraws]

(text post source)

just a regular convo on the battle subway

[camellia-thea]

okay. just rambling here, but, i think armand took more than just the end of the interview away from daniel.

we got that little moment about that night, saying 'you asked me to' to louis. 'you asked me to take this from you, you could not live with it,' leading into, 'i look after you when you cannot look after yourself, i make those choices for you.'

we know that during the chase and devil's minion era, daniel was an addict, who was, by his own admission, slowly killing himself. he was also addicted to blood.

it's really not too far to make the jump, if devil's minion occurred, that armand made the choice to step in, in his own mind, for daniel's best interests. i know this isn't a unique jump to make, but; again with armand's "i look after him when he cannot look after himself" continual reiteration, i think it's a fair assumption.

he can also replace and blur memories, which makes the discussion of alice and paris -- why the dessert from that night? -- and how immediate and sincere his answer of "she wanted to say yes, but she didn't trust you. you hadn't given her a reason to." this could be the night he took them away, replaced himself with alice, planted something similar for her to start the relationship, then step back and watch it fall. and i think the thing that stands out there is just how tender he is while saying it. there's an undercurrent of something else entirely underneath, it isn't a dig at daniel in the moment, despite the pushing earlier in the scene.

and then in s1, when louis say to daniel, "i'd give it to you now." and the cut to armand, still in disguise, and his micro-expression of horror, the way he stiffens and looks away... and the little moment of what i read as conflict when daniel says no. his jump to "may i be excused?" i can't tell in the moment, if he's horrified about the offer itself, the fact that it is louis offering to turn daniel rather than himself, or the fact that daniel denies it. because i don't think armand could actually let daniel die if this was the case.

the disguise itself-- why pretend to be rashid? i think part of it is to try and hide behind a human persona to keep those memories at bay; especially given the little moments of flashback that got triggered by little mannerisms. i can't decide whether they're intentional pushes or not, whether armand wanted/wants daniel to remember on his own, or wants to keep it under wraps. i think, even if he believes he doesn't want it to come forward, he truly does deep down.

and once he's revealed himself as armand, the way he gazes at daniel, his beautiful boy. the continued "our boy", from both he and louis, the "he's still in there, somewhere..."

and i think "our boy" is also really interesting, because why would daniel be armand's boy, based solely on the moments that louis initially remembered? armand didn't really have any emotional connection to daniel that night, sure, he saved him, but that doesn't really mean anything; he saved daniel for louis, not for daniel's sake.

and, jumping back "our boy,[...] he's still in there somewhere"... there's implication that louis might know about it? again, i don't think this is related to the original interview, or at least, limited to it? i don't have anything concrete here, just vibes, but again, why is armand's boy still in there somewhere?

and sure, some of these are reaches and i don't think i'm necessarily right, but god it would be deliciously awful if i was.

[cepetriwrites]

Meme for latest HOTD fic I’m reading:

Viserys looking up down from heaven hell watching his two oldest children who he forced to get married have toe curling hate sex next to his still warm corpse

Called Rhaenyra your only child in front of Aegon, now he’s giving your only child the good ole Toe Curling Cervix Crushing Hate Sex 3000 special by your emaciated corpse.

The rest of the siblings hearing some… oddly specific noises coming out of their fathers bedchamber where Aegon and Rhaenyra inside “mourning” their father

The Queen and the Prince Consort by @franzkafkagf on AO3

[twoa-plus]

dissecting stanford pines and finding organs that don’t exist but like in a metaphorical way

that’s it that’s the title i’m going with. this is a long one folks o7

most of this isn’t sourced or canon at all it’s just personal interpretation/headcanon/whatever else u wanna call it, but!! since more people are seeing my deranged gravity falls ramblings now i figure i should probably give some perspective as to why i like/defend ford as much as i do

(in my other gf posts i do try to stick to canon to back up whatever point i’m making - this is just about my personal opinion of ford as a character, and should be able to be thrown out in regards to my other posts)

so for some background/setup/whatever (it’s important i promise bear with me), different people have different instinctual responses to anxiety/stress. i come from a family (genetics are fun) where the default response is to start (metaphorically ofc) biting and hissing like a cornered animal. this doesn’t necessarily mean there’s any actual hatred or malice or anything towards the people that end up getting scratched - they might just be at the wrong place at the wrong time, they might’ve done something super minor and insignificant that added on to a preexisting pile of stress, etc etc

i cannot stress enough that i am not saying this is ok. you dont need me to tell you that hurting people who don’t deserve it is a bad thing, lol. what i am saying though is that sometimes people can kind of suck for reasons other than just genuinely wanting everyone around them to be miserable

this is the last “background” part i swear BUT another thing thats less genetic and more just me being weird is that i’m the type of person where like. any minor environmental change can really stress me out lol. like even just reorganizing my desk can be pretty emotionally taxing

SO. finally back on topic. stanford pines. i see a lot of the behavior/patterns i just described in him. like i’ve spent my entire life around people like this, and while i understand why a lot of people see him as just some asshole, i can’t help but see him as a guy who’s just kinda going through it lol

just talking about the more recent events as of the series, he’s just spent 30 years god knows where doing and seeing god knows what, he has an abusive ex who wants to murder him and his entire family (plus the whole dimension, really), and in the three decades he’s been gone the entire world - including his own house - has changed and left him behind. add onto that that he went missing in 1982, way before we had all of the emotional/mental health resources we have now, we all saw what the stans’ childhood was like, and that ford is terrible with people - including, imo, himself. if there’s anybody out there who would have Feelings and not understand what they are or where they’re coming from or what to do about them, it’s this guy

this entire setup is the perfect circumstance for fear and anxiety and stress and uncertainty to all get translated into anger. a really big example of this, to me, is how he talks about dipper in journal 3. i’ve talked about this before somewhere so i’ll try to summarize as fast as i can lol

reading his initial entry about dipper would make u think he like. hates this kid lol. but i really don’t think he ever did - he was really excited to meet the kids in the show and already seemed to care about them just by virtue of existing, and his opinion on dipper in journal 3 seems to do a complete 180 pretty quickly which ,,, doesn’t really fit ford as a character. like i love the man but that guy can hold a GRUDGE

here’s how it reads to me:

ford gets back to his home dimension after 30 years and everything is different

he’s subconsciously kind of struggling with the fact that he doesn’t really have a “home” anymore - the sense of familiarity and comfort that would normally come with the word is gone. (i specify that it’s subconscious because, like i said earlier, i do not get the vibe that he’s particularly aware of his own emotions)

he finds out that journal 3 - something he made with his own two hands and considers part of his life’s work - has also changed in the decades he’s been gone. this adds to the feeling of unfamiliarity with the world around him

it’s easier to blame that “final straw” and say that he’s just upset about his work being tampered with rather than address the actual root of the problem, so that’s exactly what he does. this still doesn’t mean that there’s any genuine hatred towards dipper. anger in the moment, yeah, but not hatred

again, this is entirely personal interpretation, and i completely understand if u don’t see it like this!! this is just a pattern of thoughts/behavior that i’m very familiar with, so it’s easy for me to apply it to situations like this even if it’s not really part of the canon

i also think there’s a big problem in this fandom with just ,, not seeing ford as a Person with Emotions? idk how to explain it but it feels like people expect him to always know exactly what to do in every situation just bc he’s old and academically smart. like whenever another character does something objectively bad it’s “well there were extenuating circumstances,” (which is usually true and i agree !!) but ford never really seems to get that treatment. if he does something bad it’s just because he sucks

a big example of this i think is the fight between him and stan (y’know the “you ruined my life”/“you ruined your own life”). you cannot look me dead in the eyes and, in full seriousness, with the context of everything ford was going through with bill at the time, say that he was fully mentally/emotionally stable during that conversation. “oh so you’re blaming stan-“ NO!!! stan was also going through it!!! that’s the entire point - they’re both people with their own lives and emotions and everything else that comes with that, they had very human reactions to their respective situations, and they both ended up hurt!! hopefully i’m explaining this right but i just don’t like it when people pin everything on ford, like there was a lot going on and at the end of the day he’s just a human

wasn’t really sure how to work this in so i’ll just put it here - i don’t think ford ever truly hated stan, either. familial bonds are complicated, and there can be a whole lot of anger towards someone without true hatred being present. i briefly mentioned the stans’ childhood sucking earlier, and i don’t just mean stanley - it’s easier to pinpoint him as a victim of abuse/neglect, but that doesn’t mean ford had it great either. their parents (specifically filbrick, but caryn didn’t exactly do a fantastic job with them either) expected nothing of stan and the world of ford, both of which would weigh heavily on any child. plus, ford being the favorite doesn’t mean all of his emotional needs were met - filbrick seeing him as an opportunity to make money doesn’t mean he was suddenly an emotionally present and caring father towards him. WCT wasn’t just an opportunity for ford to go be a famous scientist or whatever - it was a chance for his father to love him, something both of the stans desperately wanted. (WCT was also on the opposite side of the country from where they lived but i’m sure that’s completely unrelated !!!)

do i think stan deserved anything that happened to him after the science fair incident? no, absolutely not, he was a child. do i think it was right of ford to just stand there as his brother got thrown out? no, absolutely not - but he was a child too. as for them not speaking for a decade after that, like i mentioned earlier ford can hold a grudge like no other. (this doesn’t just apply to stan, either, ford dedicated half of his life to trying to kill his ex lmao.) i think ford’s ability to hold on to anger like that is actually a pretty major part of/flaw in his personality, but again, anger - even the strongest, most long-lived of it - is not synonymous with hatred. stan, who ford has always gone to for help when he truly needed it, it not what ford’s hatred looks like. bill, who ford actively wants to die, is

anyways!! i never know how to close these things lol. ig in summary i just see ford’s behavior (in the show at least) as more of a sign of internal struggle rather than like ,, genuinely hating the people around him and wanting their lives to suck. did/does he have an ego problem? absolutely. is he incapable of love and human connection? no. is he immune to manipulation/abuse/neglect/etc and everything that comes with that? also no

he’s an interdimensional criminal why can’t he go to the theraprism. i think he should

[blujayonthewing]

pitched battle inside my brain between the part of me that's desperately shaking myself by the shoulders going "YOU HAVE GOT TO ACTUALLY LIVE THE KIND OF LIFE YOU IMAGINE INSTEAD OF JUST SITTING AROUND IMAGINING IT UNTIL YOU DIE!!" and the part of me that's clutching my face going "is this allowed? is this allowed?? is this allowed???"

[youssefguedira]

wrote this instead of doing any of my actual tasks <3 tw for brief mention of animal death (by hunting)

Yusuf has been dreading this since the moment they left for Akkala. He had made as many excuses as he could to stay in Goron City for as long as he could, but every one had run out in the end, and he could no longer put off the inevitable. 

The first time he had walked this road, his father had accompanied him with a platoon of guards, still cautious, still reeling from the attack that had taken Yusuf's mother. The second time there had been fewer, but still many. 

In the years after that, the number of people sent with him had decreased even further until it was only two or three guards, enough to keep him safe. His father stopped accompanying him on these journeys after he turned fourteen and there had been no sign of their worth. 

Now, only Nicolò. 

He follows, keeping a respectful distance away from Yusuf, but closer than he had walked before they had gone to meet Nile, to ask for her help. He doesn't ever ask to stop, or to slow down, letting Yusuf set the pace. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword and does not speak. 

What is there to be said? Nicolò knows what lies at the end of this road, even if he does not know what it will mean for Yusuf. 

Yusuf can feel Nicolò's eyes on his back. It is bad enough that the whole kingdom knows he is a failure: he does not need Nicolò to watch him fail and say nothing. 

The sun is low, casting the landscape in burnt orange. It would be beautiful were it not so horribly familiar. There is a cabin nearby, and not far from it, the Spring. They will stay in the cabin tonight; they will leave for the Spring in the morning and spend three days there, then return to Goron City and after that, the castle. 

Yusuf thinks about returning, about his father's inevitable disappointment, and feels sick. 

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says, sounding uncertain. He is not yet used to calling Yusuf by his name. “We are not far, yes?” 

Yusuf had forgotten that Nicolò does not know every cursed inch of this road the way Yusuf does. “No, not far. In a moment you'll see the cabin.” 

Nicolò says nothing. Yusuf glances back just long enough to meet his eyes before looking away. 

What is Nicolò thinking? Yusuf can never tell. 

Yusuf catches sight of the cabin a moment later. Dread sits like a stone in his stomach. 

When they get closer, Nicolò takes hold of his elbow, gentle. It startles Yusuf all the same - he hadn't realised Nicolò was that close to him. 

“Let me go first,” Nicolò says. “To check. But stay close.” 

Yusuf nods, and lingers barely a handspan from Nicolò's back while he surveys first the outside, then the inside, of the cabin. Once he's satisfied, he gestures for Yusuf to enter. 

“You should rest,” he says, and he is being so gentle with Yusuf it almost hurts. Perhaps Andromache has told him what this will mean for him: she has accompanied him before. 

Yusuf shakes his head, because sleep means dreams, and dreams will be worse. “What are you going to do?” 

“I am going to find something for dinner,” Nicolò says. 

“Let me come with you,” Yusuf says. Anything is better than sitting in this cabin alone with his thoughts.

Nicolò looks at him for a long moment. Perhaps he takes pity on Yusuf, or perhaps he thinks that it will be easier to keep Yusuf safe if he stays with Nicolò. Either way, he nods. “All right.”

----------

Finding something for dinner means that Nicolò leads Yusuf a little way into the woods, far enough that the foliage and the dying sunlight makes it difficult to see, and bids him hide beneath a tree, in a space formed by the roots, while Nicolò crouches beside him with his bow, nocking an arrow in one smooth, seamless motion. From his vantage point, Yusuf can see a small clearing with a few fallen trees.

“Do not move,” Nicolò instructs him in a whisper, “and do not make a sound.”

Yusuf rests his head against the tree and watches the leaves move in the breeze. It is quiet enough that all he can hear is their rustling, the sounds of birds and animals calling to each other, the rushing of the stream nearby. After a moment, and with nothing else to watch, Yusuf begins to watch Nicolò. 

He has gone as still and as quiet as the trees around them, barely breathing, his shoulders rising and falling only slightly, like he has become a part of the forest. Faron Woods is much further south from here, but Yusuf supposes that this forest must be somewhat similar to where Nicolò grew up. He wonders who taught him to hunt; who taught him to be so comfortable in this place. Why he left it behind to travel to the castle and work for the king.

There are a lot of things Yusuf wonders about him. He cannot tell if Nicolò is aware of Yusuf’s watching; he must be. Still, Yusuf cannot help but watch.

It happens faster than Yusuf can track. Nicolò goes entirely still, and draws his bow swiftly, silently. Yusuf holds his breath and so does the forest.

Nicolò lets the arrow fly.

Yusuf doesn’t see whether it finds its mark, but Nicolò looks for a moment and then stands. “Wait here,” he says to Yusuf, and then heads for the clearing. When he returns he’s carrying something behind his back, the arrow in his other hand. Blood drips onto the grass. 

“You can wait inside while I prepare it, if you prefer,” Nicolò says haltingly. Yusuf shakes his head, and so he sits on a log outside while Nicolò skins the rabbit, arms wrapped around his knees and chin drawn up to his chest. Nicolò keeps his back to Yusuf, shielding most of it from view. 

Who taught him this? Yusuf wonders. It is a part of Nicolò he has never seen before.

When it is done, he takes it back inside to cook over the fire, and they eat it alongside the bread and cheese they brought from Goron City, across from each other at the cabin’s little table.

“When do you want to leave, tomorrow?” Nicolò asks softly. 

“I don’t,” Yusuf says before he can stop himself, and then adds, “I don’t know. Early, probably.” The thought bursts the little bubble he’s been in since they arrived. He doesn’t want to leave, could stay here for the three days they’ve been allocated and return to his father without even having tried and it would change nothing. 

“Just after sunrise, then,” Nicolò says. “It is not far, you said?”

Yusuf shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not far.”

----------

The water is freezing.

It has always been freezing. But Yusuf knows well enough that if he stands in it for long enough, it will start to warm. It reaches to around halfway up his thigh; when he was younger, it felt deeper. 

The stone in front of him offers nothing. No sign, no indication that anything is listening to him except for the water and Nicolò, who has been standing at the gate of the Spring for however long he has been in here. Has he been listening? Has he heard Yusuf pleading for something, anything, dreading the moment he returns to the castle and his father looks down at his left hand and sees nothing there? 

What does Nicolò think of him now? If he did not see a failure before, does he see one now? 

His legs may be going numb. They tremble beneath him, struggling to hold his weight. How long has he been standing here? 

“Tell me what I am doing wrong,” he begs the stone. His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. “I know I am not the one you wanted, but I am trying. I am trying. I have given everything. I do not know how much more I have left.”

The stone says nothing.

Nicolò says, “Yusuf.”

Yusuf hears him without listening, falls to his knees in the water and does not even feel the chill. 

“Please,” he pleads. “I cannot return – I cannot give anymore.”

There is a splash behind him, and then there is Nicolò, pulling him to his feet, pulling him from the water. Yusuf tries to hold fast - he cannot leave now or it will have been three days in the Spring with nothing to show for it. 

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says again. His grip is gentle but unrelenting, and he is warm. Yusuf, shivering as he is, can’t help but lean into it. “You are exhausted. You are going to freeze. Come with me.”

“I can’t,” Yusuf says, even as he lets Nicolò take his weight, lets him guide Yusuf out of the Spring. “I can’t.”

There is a small paved area where their camp is set up. Nicolò has kept the fire going, or restarted it, while Yusuf was in there, and he half-carries Yusuf over to it now. Yusuf’s legs buckle under him the moment Nicolò lets him go, and he sinks onto something soft laid over the paving stones. He blinks, and there is a bowl in his hands, warming even if he does not really taste it. 

“It was never supposed to be me,” Yusuf says without really meaning to. 

From across the fire, Nicolò watches him.

“It was supposed to be my mother,” Yusuf whispers. The only sound between them is the crackling of the fire. Yusuf is so, so tired. He has never said this to anybody else, not even Andromache, but he cannot keep the words from rushing out of him now.

“It came to her when she was nineteen,” he says, “and that’s how they knew it would happen in her lifetime. So she trained, and she mastered it, and we were ready. And then she was killed, and because I was the oldest, it came to me.”

He does not like thinking about this. He has not thought about this in years. They do not speak of it anymore.

Nicolò is still watching him.

“I was asleep when it happened,” Yusuf continues. “I dreamt it as it happened, but I didn’t know until later. The moment she died, I woke up screaming. They told me afterwards that I was– I was glowing, bright enough that nobody could look at me for long or get close enough to see what was happening to me. They just had to wait until I came out of it. It felt like I was burning.” If he closes his eyes, he is there again, twelve years old and terrified.

“That’s how we know it should be me,” he says after a moment. “Who can do it. Because I did, once, but never again, despite all of this.” He waves at the Spring, the water, the stone. 

Exhaustion tugs at him. His eyes will not stay open, but he cannot let himself fall asleep, not yet.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he tells Nicolò. “There’s still time.” It cannot be late yet; the sun has gone down, but it is not quite dark. “Don’t let me.”

“You have to rest,” Nicolò says. It is the first thing he has said to Yusuf since he pulled him from the Spring, and Yusuf cannot tell what he is thinking. 

“I can’t fall asleep,” Yusuf insists.

“At least let yourself warm up first,” Nicolò says. There is a pile of dry clothes in his hands - where did he get them?

Nicolò convinces him to change and to sit back down, to rest a little while longer. This time he  steers Yusuf to sit down on his bedroll instead, and Yusuf’s grip on his arm goes tight.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he says again. 

“You cannot go on like this,” Nicolò says. “Sleep, and I will wake you in a few hours’ time.”

Yes, a few hours. That, Yusuf can afford. “Promise me,” Yusuf says, but his eyes are already closing unbidden. 

Nicolò says nothing.

----------

When Yusuf wakes, it is still dark outside, and there is a cloak that is not his own draped over him. Nicolò is crouched over the fire only a short distance away. He catches Yusuf’s eye, but doesn’t say a word.

It all comes crashing back at once: the water, the stone, Nicolò. Yusuf sits up.

“You didn’t wake me,” he says.

Nicolò watches him for a long moment. “You needed the rest,” he says finally. 

Suddenly his consideration stings. “That wasn’t your decision to make. What time is it?”

Nicolò glances at the sky. “It will be sunrise soon.”

Yusuf’s heart sinks. Sunrise means return, means return to the castle and his father with nothing. He gets up, pushes Nicolò’s cloak aside. “You should have woken me.”

Unexpectedly, Nicolò pushes back. “You would have only made yourself ill. You were barely conscious. I would not have done it if–” “That was not your decision to make,” Yusuf snaps. “I am not a child, Nicolò. I am capable of handling myself. I have lost hours.”

Nicolò does not say anything. Yusuf almost wishes he would keep pushing, but he does not. He simply folds himself back into the same blank expression he always carries, and again, Yusuf cannot read him.

“If the sun will rise soon, there is not much use in staying here for much longer,” Nicolò says eventually, quiet. He doesn’t meet Yusuf’s eyes. Guilt twists his stomach. 

Did Nicolò know? Did Andromache warn him? Or was he just worried?

Yusuf nods. 

They pack up their camp in silence, side by side. By the time they set off on the road back towards Goron City, the sun has risen, and the early light turns the world around them to gold.

Yusuf walks, and Nicolò follows behind him, as always.

[a-finnish-janitor]

I have a really silly headcanon when it comes to shipping Saga/Casey/David.

Like, when Saga first brings Casey around, its to try and get him to feel better. In that one memory in her mind place, he says he was in a really bad way when they first became partners.

So she gets to know him, sees how prickly and moody he is, and decides to bring him around to dinner to try and cheer him up. I don't really have an idea of how much convincing it took to get David to agree to have him over.

But! Once David meets him? I don't know why but I just have this scene play out in my head of David seeing Casey, how nervous and sad he looks, and him going to Saga saying "we're keeping him". I kind of flip flop on whether he feels like that right away, or after seeing how he treats Logan.

(Which I feel like he wouldn't really know how to act around kids at first maybe? So maybe he acts too formal when interacting with her which makes her giggle.)

Saga had only wanted to try and cheer her new coworker up, but now both her husband and daughter insist on inviting him over a lot more than she ever anticipated. And then they become an actual thing as time goes on.

But the fact he comes over for Logan's birthdays and buys her presents really makes me feel like he is much more than just Saga's coworker. And Saga is obviously happy with David so when I saw all of the Saga/Casey shipping starting to pop up my brain after a while was like "David is totally a part of it and is totally ok with Casey".

And so! In conclusion

[skitskatdacat63]

I apologize for how incredibly specific and niche this is, but aahhhh whenever people call rbr Seb a "boy king", I can literally only think about this statuette:

1. Because I think it gives the same angelic but mischievous vibe as Seb

2. Because it is a statue of a literal boy king

3. The ringlets and big eyes.....

[lenreli]

Day 28 - Sex [AU]

[AO3] Finally! :D More werewolf Hob & fairy Dream!

-

Hob groans, body still aching a bit after nights of full-moon transformations, which has finally ended with the new moon appearing. Resting on the sofa, he frowns, and considers if Dream will appear at all, having gotten the other man’s number after their session, and, well― 

There’s a knock at the door, and Hob’s heart goes into his throat as he jumps up, quickly opening the door. “Hi,” he breathes, eyes widening as he sees Dream ― and his lack of wings, which, understandable, though the Dream’s black outfit is more surprising, considering the last time Dream was in only leather pants and harness. Also very chunky black boots, which he remembers taking off. Dream raises an eyebrow, and Hob’s face heats, “um. Come in,” he says, moving so Dream can step inside.

“How was your nights, if I may ask?” Dream asks, voice deep as Dream looks around his plain living room, mainly filled with knick-knacks and books, some essays he has to mark on the table. 

“Exhausting,” he says with a deep sigh, “and also very tense, so it’s good to unwind with,” he stops as Dream looks at him, an eyebrow raised and eventually nodding. “And you?” Hob would love for less awkwardness, but as sexually compatible they are, their conversations are a minefield of awkwardness and trying not to offend each other as they learn. “You can, uh,” he gestures uselessly. 

Dream tilts his head, lips pursing as Dream starts to unbutton his black dress shirt, revealing a simple black vest, “I had to refrain from cursing someone so their drinks always turn out to be unfulfilling,” Dream mutters and Hob laughs, “he was unbearable, but I figured he wasn’t worth the energy.” 

“Naturally,” he responds, distracted as the black vest comes off, and his breath stutters as he sees Dream’s wings. The wings have become a tattoo, filigree black lace a wonderful contrast to Dream’s pale skin as five pairs of wings are underneath Dream’s skin. The back muscles of Dream tense, and Hob realises he’s gravitated close to Dream’s back, watching as the wings move with Dream’s muscles. “Sorry,” he breathes, voice rough as a hand hovers close to the other’s back, “I.” 

“You can touch,” Dream offers, a blue eye peeking at him, “as long as you get undressed too. This won’t be like last time,” Dream says, and Hob nods, taking off his clothes quickly as the fairy watches. Dream hums, eyes stuck on his chest ― and there’s a stutter, lashes fluttering as Hob touches the edge of a wing. 

There’s another stutter of breath as his finger goes down to the centre of the cluster of wings, at the middle of Dream’s back, and he’s amazed to see a flutter of wings, some of them coming out of Dream’s back, then melting back into pale skin. “Holy shit.” 

Dream lets out a sound, thin and high as his fingers press into the pale back, wings twitching out of skin and melting back in, and Hob tries to wrestle his other hand from not touching more of the wings, instead going to Dream’s pants, tugging him close as his hand goes around the front as Dream moans, cock hard and straining as he undoes them. “Is this going to be the scene we were planning?” Dream breathes, head resting against his shoulder. 

“Warm up,” he mutters roughly, pushing the other man down onto the sofa, and Dream hums, looking amused as and flushed as Hob presses him down. There’s a moan as Hob presses him down, feeling twitching wings against his chest, one of Dream’s hands clutching at his shoulder as Dream grinds up into his chest, the fluttering against his chest almost maddening as he tries to rein in his need to be down, nipping lightly close to a wing as Dream procures lube from ― somewhere, as well as a condom. 

Hob prepares Dream in a blur, eyes still focused on the fluttering wings he can still see as Dream whines and writhes, pressing against his chest and his other hand, stretching Dream’s entrance as carefully as he can, blood rushing at the feel of Dream’s wings against his chest, melting back into the pale skin, “are you going to go any quicker?” Dream asks breathlessly. 

Groaning, Hob bites down on Dream’s neck he takes his fingers out, shaking as he puts on the condom, and they moan as he enters Dream, pressing Dream down onto the sofa to stop the way that Dream wants to impale himself right away, which he remembers through a haze of heat and desire that Dream did that last time. 

“More,” Dream whines, a hand going into his hair to tug, and Hob lets out a whimper as he starts up a rough, stuttering rhythm, moans rising as their desire peaks and rushes, Hob coming before Dream as he watches and feels the flutter of wings against his chest. 

Brain scrambled, he lightly kisses the fluttering wings wrapped around Dream’s shoulder and arm as he comes down ― and groans as Dream moves out from under him, “where is your bedroom?” Groaning, he gestures in the general direction, heart skipping as he watches Dream’s naked body walk that way. “Don’t take too long,” Dream offers, giving him a smirk over his shoulder as he enters Hob’s room. 

Taking a deep breath, Hob scrubs his face as he gets up from the sofa, already feeling himself half in love with the fairy already as he ties up the condom and throws it in the bin, resting against the fridge as he takes another deep breath, mind stuttering over their texts for their scene. After such a scorching orgasm, it takes him a bit to get into the right headspace, but he does eventually as he makes his way to his room.

[ohwatson]

maybe if i start yelling about my bbc sherlock x haunting of hill house au from the rooftops it’ll actually motivate me to write it & wouldn’t that be an absolutely wild day for us all

[minweber]

"I have trouble sleeping lately. There is a... recurring dream, you see. Night after night, over and over again.

I dream of a road, stretching across an infinite plain. I see figures, moving in the distance, hear the echoes of their voices. Maybe it is the Fade? They say it can look like anything.

I walk the road, for it is impossible not to. And there I meet the figure of blue light, glowing like the midday sky. The figure stands before an old tapestry, its fabric torn, its edges rotting. A silver needle dances along it, as the figure mends the ancient scenes with azure thread that it unspools from its own body.

'Who are you?' I ask every time, though by now I already know the answer.

The figure turns to me. It has no face, and yet I know its gaze when it looks at me. It has no voice, and yet I know its words when they are spoken.

'I am Victory,' it proudly declares. 'I am the triumphant hero at the break of dawn, the power to rise above and overcome. I am the chance taken, the labour completed, the darkness banished and the evil laid low.'

The tapestry stretches into the distance, once more made whole and strong by the glowing thread.

'Rejoice,' the figure says to me. 'For soon you shall know me.'

The figure is frail and unraveling. Much more azure thread is woven into the tapestry than left within it.

I move on.

I walk the road, and cross the sea, and meet the second figure. Its light is red, like blood and fire. It sits as a child might by the ocean, before a castle of sand. Its arms stretch wide to hug the plaything tightly.

'Who are you?' I never fail to ask.

'I am Love,' the figure speaks in two voices. 'I am the champion and the protector, the power to shield and preserve that which you hold dear. I am the family found and the home made. I am the passion and the companionship, the caressing touch and the clasping hand.'

'Rejoice,' it smiles at me. 'For soon you shall know me.'

The castle in its hands is crumbling. No matter how much the figure struggles to catch it all, no matter how tight it holds on - the wind and the waves take their toll.

I hurry away.

The road again. I climb, until I am high in the mountains, meeting the third figure. Its hew is emerald green, crackling with potency. It stands at the peak, in its outstretched left hand - a small globe that it admires.

'I am Hope,' it responds before I even ask. Its voices are many, like reflections in a cracked mirror. 'I am the herald of change and the promise of salvation, the power to rally the faltering and renew the weary. I am the leap of faith, the paths yet untrodden, the faith that there are truths beyond experience.'

'Rejoice,' it calls to me. 'For soon you shall know me.'

I hear how its body creaks and cracks under pressure. The globe is too heavy for anyone to carry, and the hand that holds it is close to shattering.

I turn and run.

The road leads me further, but I only want to get out. It is a blind rush until I stumble into an empty arch, within which - a mirror? A door? I care only that it could be an exit. I reach out to open it.

And I see that my hand is made of purple light.

I wake up then, each time. And lay awake, waiting for tomorrow."

[marypsue]

I finished reading Emily Nussbaum's Cue The Sun!: The Invention of Reality TV (fantastic, densely layered, beautifully written, highly recommended) and chased it with Craig DiLouie's How To Make A Horror Movie And Survive (fun, popcorny cursed-film meta-horror) and noticed an interesting parallel.

Nussbaum talks about reality TV contestants, after the concept becomes mainstream, no longer signing up to compete simply out of interest or curiosity and ended up stunned or traumatised by the genre's artificiality and artifice. As the contestants get savvier about what they're signing up for, she repeatedly talks about them as seeing themselves - or at least marketing themselves - as collaborators with the editors and producers in creating a great show.

DiLouie's fictional director, shortly after committing (spoiler!) to slaughtering his entire cast on camera to create 'the perfect horror movie', has a line about how he thinks of the actors: "More, he regarded them as fellow collaborators."

[thebirdandhersong]

the miserable angry person I become when I haven't eaten is, in a word, atrocious. it is 9pm I have not had my dinner murder is about to be on the menu if I don't fix this soon