#bc i felt like the story needed to be perfect before i ever do anything

[acidsaladd]

me realizing that my ocs and story ideas Dont have to have a huge devastating elaborate plotline is whats going to heal me

[waywardsalt]

bc its been bouncing around in my head i think another little tiny grievance i had with totk is that i got to the end and just felt a sense of ‘well what the hell was that all for then’

[lains-reality]

I sincerely apologise for writing this. i feel really conflicted right now. I have been getting suicidal thoughts lately because of my circumstances. Sometime I feel like I don’t even want to exist. I came to non-duality from loa. I spent 3 years trying to “manifest” a peaceful life. Trying to escape from my circumstances and wake up to a completely different life.

I make myself promises to like “manifest my desired life my the end this month” or “to stop making the same mistake” but I end up breaking them. I felt like I over consumed alot and now I don’t know where to begin or what to detach from. I tell myself that I’ll throw my phone aside and start applying but then I get caught up in my problems again and it’s just a cycle on repeat.

I have to say I’m quite ashamed of myself. Not being able to accomplish anything in my life and disappointing those around me despite knowing the law of assumption and now non-duality.

This is probably the most stupidest thing I have ever asked but could you simply non-duality in a a few sentences? I feel like I have come to the point where I can’t even trust myself to stop over consuming and wishing for change. Thank you.

you might benefit from this and this.

i really would like you to read this!

the body-mind, the "I" you think you are, i'll call them sam!

give up trying to manifest. give up trying to change the world with sam's thoughts and feelings, its torture.

here's the main point:

simple mindfulness is what gurus have asked of us. not convincing, denial or forcing. its observing. 

observe the habit of 'you'. you take the "I" to be the body-mind, sam. sam is a habit, and is sustained through attachment and aversions. drop them.

all you need to fix is your wrong identification. let go of sam and all their stories.

if you find yourself forcing, suppressing, or trying to get rid of sam (something that you don't do), then remember this: god is already perfect. the answer is to surrender.

there's no image or role to maintain. you can just be.

here's a more in depth reminder.

there's so many words for Self: Absolute Perfection, Bliss, Infinite Being, Supreme Reality. i want you to remember I AM. I AM is complete and whole, alone. its just beingness. just as it is. before the world and sam, you are conscious. before wanting, you are conscious.

nondualism's goal is letting go of all the concepts that stop you from seeing Self.

the body-mind is a thought. its an idea. you are already detached from sam. but you don't see it bcs you are identified with them right now. you are attached to your character, and we want to release all those attachments.

"the identity is a shadow. it is not us. analyze your mind briefly, and you will find that is nothing but a byproduct of societal conditioning, peer opinions, books, movies, whatever content you've most willingly consumed." - luvcompass

the mind is just a bunch of thoughts, feelings and memories. are you a thought? are you a story? are you a memory? are you a feeling?

sam is. but you are not sam.

sam doesn't want sam and all the stories anymore (likely because you think you are stuck as sam). but sam never was. sam is an idea, a story. they are a thought in the mind. because you are identified as sam, you see sam. without your awareness on sam, sam wouldn't be.

Unless they understand who they really are, that Vanessa (sam) is a habit and nothing more - that nothing has existence outside of awareness, including her, that awareness assigns reality and is the only reality - they're always going to struggle to control something and get frustrated they don't see what they think they're aware of. What you're aware of is what you're being. You can't be aware of being something new while also being Vanessa. [source]

The ego is an activity, its not innate, its FORMED.

"Ego (sam) is not an entity. It is an activity. It is an optional activity of identifying itself with a fragment that Consciousness is free to make or not, from moment to moment." [source]

and by habit of taking the "I" to be sam, it continues.

focus on respond vs react. start catching yourself out when you say 'i am ...', start asking questions to yourself abt who 'i' is. start watching your thoughts. learn how to feel your emotions when they come up, don't run away from them or they will continue to come up until you deal with it. this is a process of allowing.

"I make myself promises to like “manifest my desired life my the end this month” or “to stop making the same mistake” but I end up breaking them."

i want you to accept now. you are sam, so you see sam. stop chasing a future that will never come. there's only ever the present moment.

To be identified to your mind is to be trapped in time: the compulsion to live almost exclusively through memory and anticipation. This creates an endless preoccupation with past and future and an unwillingness to honor and acknowledge the present moment and allow it to be. The compulsion arises because the past gives you an identity and the future holds the promise of salvation, of fulfillment in whatever form. Both are illusions. — Eckhart Tolle

what would happen if you stopped using the past as a reference? what would happen if you stopped projecting past stories into the future? what would happen if you stopped thinking of a tomorrow?

"i felt like I over consumed alot and now I don’t know where to begin or what to detach from."

start with "who am i?". anything you can outgrow? not you. anything you can observe ? not you. in the absense of it, you don't disappear? not you. it changes and you don't disappear? not you.

how do you know you are sam except by your belief that you are sam?

"I have to say I’m quite ashamed of myself. Not being able to accomplish anything in my life and disappointing those around me despite knowing the law of assumption and now non-duality."

read this. also, there are no others. you are seeing yourSelf play out.

let go of the shame, regret and guilt. read the linked post, and watch the source from the first quote, it'll help. i also want you to watch this.

give yourself compassion. give yourself space to grow. sam is a random person just like anybody else, so why chastise them for stuff that just happens?

sam cannot do anything in the first place. (what is sam gonna do to change the infinte? why would the infinite need changing anyway?)

you are putting pressure on sam to change the world, but really Self orchestrates all. sam is just another creation of Self. this entire world is Self's expression. give up intellectualising what sam did, maybe it has nothing to do with you and it just happened?

sam is not a problem or mistake!

sam is already part of infinity and exists whether sam likes it or not. you are unconditionally accepted already as perfection or else you wouldn't be here.

“All you need is already within you, only you must approach your self with reverence and love. Self-condemnation and self-distrust are grievous errors.” - nisargadatta maharaj

i'm sorry i wrote too much, but i hope this helps! please be safe!

[boltonbritreads]

I am at the point of truly begging anons to stop sending hate to writers and ruining the ability for people to share their writing and others to get to read and engage with it. It literally just ruins everything for everyone and taints a space that’s supposed to be anything from comfort, escapism, a creative outlet, to hanging out with friends.

truly- what is the goal? what do you get out of pushing writers off the platform and making a fandom have even less engagement? I wish there was a “stop, are you really sure you want to send that message” screen before you could send anons sometimes so bc of that…..

🖤🖤 Eddie Munson Fic Rec List! 🖤🖤

as a reader who gets so much comfort and vital escapism from fanfic I want to just shout out some incredible stories I’ve been following/read lately:

*totally non exhaustive and just what I could remember at work!!* I’m hoping to add more & eventually made a proper list

@munson-blurbs’s “Trapped Under Ice” - truly lovely single dad eddie story that has so much heart and fluff and getting to see Eddie and Ms Sweetheart build their relationship and grow together has been so satisfying and lovely to read

@corroded-hellfire “As You Wish” I can’t even put into words 😩 I’m so down bad for this eddie and this fic and every single time reader gets to gets to spend time with Luke and Ryan and eddie gets even more smitten I melt

@upsidedownwithsteve’s “Simmer”!! I am truly losing my mind over simmer and as a fellow crybaby who just needs that extra comfort sometime, I yearn for Simmer!Eddie. Truly this fic means so much to me and I relate so so much to reader it makes me cry

@pinkrelish “The Yes Policy” - I mean, do I even have to say anything? It’s everything you could ever want and more in an eddie fic and the descriptions and imagery in every chapter my god ♥️🐭

@abibliophobiaa “Daylight” - holy shit I can’t express the itch this fic scratches it’s just the best and an absolute fluffy comfort fest. Lovesick Eddie, Unplanned Pregnancy reader, strangers to friends to lovers, cuddling in bed?? what more can you ask for?? I really love how *spoilers* eddie has accepted his feelings for reader and is just waiting for if/when she decides to go further with him, ball in her court

@sunflowergirl522 - “M’Lady, M’Lord” oh my this was so good and fun to read!! I’m such a sucker for goofy eddie and seeing reader meet him where he is and be playful back is just *chefs kiss*

@ghost-proofbaby - ok so basically anything Ghost has ever written is incredible but my highlights are “24 hours” because of course it is like ?? such a cool concept and the execution was perfection. I haven’t felt like I’m on the edge of my seat week-to-week for a fic in a while and seeing everyone react to each chapter and collectively lose our minds was so fun and something I love about fanfic!! After you’ve read “24 hours,” head on over to “So Scarlet (It was Maroon)” for some angst and pain and then chase it with “Coffee Shop Blues” for cute slice of life at a coffee shop with barista!eddie 🥰

@neonghostlights - “To the Moon & Back” alien eddie!!! I’m loving this series so far and how much fun and tension can be built into the dynamic of alien eddie and reader who have some language/cultural barriers but also like…..eddie gets it 👀👅

@harrywavycurly - there’s truly so much to choose from!! their master list has so much and there’s all kinds of text fics to dip into and a whole universe of Eddie’s! I personally love and am following “Trouble Next Door,” “It Was Just One Night,” and “Eddie’s Wish.” I desperately want TND eddie and reader to just get to smooch and cuddle but uh….I think getting over being cheated on and getting a divorce takes longer than I’d like 🫤

@carolmunson “Orange Coloured Sky” the older!eddie of dreeeeeeams my god 😍 from start to current this story has been so fun to follow and I’m loving the characterisation of this older eddie who is confident and hot but also….such a dork like immediately texting Steve “she said I’m the best she’s ever had 😎” I can’t

@luveline - ok anything and everything Jade has ever written, literally an entire treasure trove of a master list and the obviously heavy hitters are “June Baby!” and the “Eddie and Roan” series for all of the baby fever of reading about eddie and a cute baby but I also wanted to shout out the fic “A Quest for Bed” because it was so gosh darn sweet and fluffy and I love seeing eddie take care of reader once in a while

@trashmouth-richie - again another obvious incredible gorgeous fic “Honey I’m Home,” it’s so so beautiful and heart wrenching and funny and I’m in awe of the compassion and tenderness show towards the characters in this story. I adore HIH with everything but also “Do You Like How the Water Tastes” has been such a fun new story to dig into! I feel like I truly can’t predict what each chapter will be like and I keep being surprised by how Eddie interacts with reader and it makes each new chapter so exciting to read bc I think it’ll go one way and then I’m totally surprised!!

[wetcatspellcaster]

In a very weird, but sweet way I feel like the Ascendent still lives on some how in Astarion. Not in a way that would make him a threat to fully come back out but I feel like his experience of the last decade and his love for Rosalie (even if it wasn’t healthy) shines through and he’s finally able to have the feelings again that have been impossible to have. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I like to think that he finally felt peace before being Wished out.

hey anon!

that's not weird, I entirely agree. the whole point of 'little love' being reclaimed in Chapter 26 - and the fact that I didn't have Wish undo Ascendency or turn him human, etc. - was that I wanted to have an ending to Pieces that combined both game endings. Bc I am god's specialest princess, and if I'm not going to give myself the exact story I want to consume, who is?

I don't think the Ascendent felt peace before being Wished out - he felt a lot of fear, in fact. But... that's kinda intentional. The Ascendent feared being entirely erased, which is why he never put his own soul into his own body - like Rose says: his problem was simple to resolve, if it wasn't for the level of fear involved. That's because the Ascendent is Astarion's survival instincts and trauma responses walking around and talking. Of course he wouldn't want to fix the problem, bc then he wouldn't need to exist anymore. Astarion wouldn't need those instincts. The trauma is resolved, thus the Ascendent *was* erased.

But on the flip side... for me, the actual truth of this kind of situation is, that letting go of your fight or flight after a period of recovery doesn't mean that part of you goes away. You carry it forward into everything you do. And that means you are correct, anon: the Ascendent 'died', but Astarion does in fact have part of him there with him.

Idk man, not to make everything I write about depression or anxiety or anything, but I remember when I got out of rock bottom, this new daunting arena of possibility opened up of: what will I be next? "Now I'm recovered, I have to make new goals for myself, and I have to decide what those are going to be." And I chose to give that dilemma and that decision paralysis to something that's literally scared to be anything other than what it is. I described the Ascendent multiple times as stagnant, frozen, etc... bc change is fucking scary, I made a monster that is literally incapable of it.

I view Astarion's personal quest as a choice between either getting locked into a cycle of trauma, or doing the scary thing to break free, even if what comes next isn't perfect and you have no guarantee it ever will be. The fact that in Pieces, Astarion didn't break free the first time that choice was offered, makes it harder for him to try a second time. The barriers feel even higher and even more impossible. Does that resonate with anyone who backslid after a period of depression, or didn't make it out the first time? Or is that just me?

anyway that's a bit of a ramble, but yea, he's both! If he was just spawn!Astarion characterisation by chapter 20 onwards, um... they'd have fucked so much quicker, i stg :')

[kosmicdream]

answered some OTP questions from some post i found for Knife/Spoon, altho specifically Knife/Scissor.. more of a little writing exercise i guess

How did they meet?

Knife hunted him down for his space crimes. It was kind of an unusual target because Knife usually doesn’t go back to DMTIA, but Simon kicked up enough fuss to draw attention across the solar system, as well as claiming to be a McGold. Obviously, once they met Knife made arrangements to get Simon hired by thumb instead of imprisoned. 

How long have these two characters known each other?

Honestly its changed a couple times bc i’m bad at math, but im pretty sure its around 80 years. 

What were their first impressions of each other? How does that compare to their impressions of each other now?

Simon was excited to meet Knife and wanted to make a big impression because of his fame but was initially really disappointed with Knife and kind of threw a tantrum. Because he was already throwing one because Nail ruined his plans by fighting Knife first. Not having things go exactly his way with the encounter made him spiral and impulsively do things. He complained the entire flight back to the stars and Knife had to keep him restrained because he kept trying to fight or like crash the ship into an asteroid. Knife thought Simon was the kind of weird funny freak that would work well at Thumb and be a good asset to the team, plus he was so pathetic he kind of felt bad for him and squishing the worm friend he had. 

Their impressions now are kind of ?????.. How would i even summarize it.. Umm.. In a strange way I think Knife idolizes the aspect of Simon’s personality that seems unaffected by guilt, without really understanding that Simon is affected by guilt and is constantly propelled by his own panic. He just avoids accountability and has a facade he upholds. I would say Simon is still very good at adapting to unusual situations on the fly, despite how extreme they are, but his upbringing caused him to be accustomed to overstimulation. The reason why Knife idolizes this false perception of how Simon copes with his guilt is because I think he wants to be able to be a bit more like Simon and reach some kind of moral clarity, even if its not an appropriate or even “good” one. In some ways, i think he wants Simon to fix what’s wrong with him somehow. I would say this isn’t the attitude Knife had in the entire course of their relationship, at first he wanted to maintain a really different dynamic between them and ruled it with an iron grip - before things got too complicated. But at this stage in the story, Knife’s very emotionally lost and is using Simon as an anchor and thus putting him in a bit of a pedestal. He is actually physically sick though and does need help there, which Simon probably is the only person who can provide that care. 

Simon’s opinion of Knife is that he’s generally very frustrated with him because of how stubborn he is, which has always been difficult to obey the RULES because Knife’s rules have been contradictory. At this point he’s kind of on edge, because um. Knife came back to life suddenly, is also sick and also apparently is more malleable in his plans than ever before.. Which up until this point, has never really been his thing. It makes him a bit suspicious but he is curious what else has changed. He also is straight up terrified about it but he has to deal because this is possibly his last chance with making things right between them. 

How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

Knife isn’t gonna say anything fdkhfg Simon would just complain and insult Knife if asked. But that’s all fake you know he would go on rants about how perfect Knife is and the reason he’s still alive. 

Do they get along? Why or why not?

Do they????? The boys have a lot of relationship problems RN that have stacked up for decades but i’m still inclined to say yes. They at least are able to work as a team on the fly if the situation is tense enough (like anal prolapse.) 

Do they have any shared interests/hobbies? Do they ever do these hobbies together?

Murdering.. I guess.. JK they do dance as a couple which both enjoy. They also enjoy racing videogames but Simon almost always wins. 

How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

I mean they used to live together, so they saw eachother every day. Even when they were living separately while Fork was growing up, They’d visit frequently or see eachother at work. It was usually Knife going to Simon’s place in the middle of the night though. 

How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

I feel like this is a complicated one to answer but I’d say that Knife allows and even gets pleasure from Simon hurting him, which he doesn’t really enjoy pleasure without that context. Alternatively, Simon doesn’t enjoy tenderness unless its from Knife. Even if he has a positive relationship with Cash, if she gets too into feelings it gives him the ick. So that’s usually only saved for serious moments, which usually have the mood deflated by a joke or something to balance out things from being too genuine. But with Knife he can be really tender and genuine without hating the experience. 

What is one quality they have in common?

Desperation?

What is one major difference between them?

Simon loves Knife but Knife does not love Knife, which causes a lot of problems. Knife Loves Simon but Simon doesn’t really know himself, so he thinks whatever Knife loves is whatever he is doing so he wants to keep doing that right so Knife loves him. 

Does one act as a narrative foil to the other? How so?

Oh probably. But if you ask me I’m not exactly sure what it is yet since there are so many foils and narratives in ffak lol

Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

Knife climbs into Simon’s skin and Simon goes “squee!.” Also Simon does boring mundane life stuff with Knife to help him have that “normal life fantasy” that he craves so much. 

Do they have any disdain/contempt for each other? How do they show it?

Oh sure they do. Knife feels betrayal for the cheating, but Simon feels betrayal for Fork replacing him and you know Knife faking his own death. Knife shows it by avoiding all his loved ones for years i guess. Simon doubles down on bad behavior to upset Knife worse but that only makes everyone more miserable.

Do they share the same goals in life?

They used to have the same killing everyone goal yeah, but not anymore. At least for Simon, he’s got new ones.

Do they trust each other? Why or why not?

IDK .. they both navigate “trust” in a really toxic codependent twisted way, but at least in their minds they “completely” trust eachother - but that also kind of includes the aspects of the other they trust is very unpredictable and unclear. Instead of open communication, they’ve kind of accepted it as an aspect of the other person rather than trying to change it or properly address it. I’d say at this point, Simon does not trust Knife as much as he used to, by a severe amount. Knife at the moment is putting too much trust in Simon, without realizing that he might be mislead or lied to about things, because he feels he’s the one who has wronged more in the relationship at this point. (even with Simon’s cheating.) 

Is one of them keeping secrets from the other? Why? How would they react if the secret was revealed?

Well, I’m not gonna say how they’d react! But both of them are keeping secrets from eachother, although Knife is very willing to lay it all out on the table finally. He isn’t really giving Simon enough breathing room to process it all. 

Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

They were keeping their relationship a secret from Fork. Which Simon hated doing, but was serious about keeping it for Knife. 

Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

Both view it pretty permanent. I think that’s something that’s been maintained even before they dated and the roles were more mentor/student. Simon fixated into the “devoted follower” role faster than he realized. 

Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

They were very satisfied, now its a mess and has been that way for decades. Both wanted to make it back to what it was but Simon sees that as impossible, so he wants to make it into something better - at least hoping that growth will be the best answer to their problems than trying to recreate their old dynamic. The hardest part will be actually letting go from that, which is easier said than done and Simon already can tell he’s going to struggle keeping that goal in mind. 

What is their best memory together?

Hard to say, cause its not really specific. More like “walking around somewhere with him” is probably what they both think of the most. 

What is their worst memory together?

The big “kicking you out” breakup. Or Knife discovering Simon’s sexual relationship with Cash LOL. That was an ugly fight. Simon’s worst is uh, I guess Knife dying and fixating on their last encounter, which he thought was their last one. 

When were they the most vulnerable with each other?

Hard to say, they’ve certainly been vulnerable plenty of times. 

Do they have any mutual friends? Mutual enemies?

Knife doesnt have any friends LMAOOOOOO yeah they probably got 1 billion mutual enemies. Nail/Mop is probably one which comes to mind the quickest.

How do these two interact with each other in public versus in private?

Well in public they’re kind of vaguely distant with obvious tension, in private its very mushy gushy romance. 

If a stranger saw them together, how would they describe their relationship?

I dunno, they’d probably assume Knife hated all the affectionate attention Simon gives him. He’s just a tsundere. 

How would these characters react to being stuck in a small room with each other?

They’d be surprisingly okay for a while. Although i think Knife would start to have a traumatic panic attack and hurt Simon idk.

How far would they go for each other? Would they risk their own lives for each other?

TOO far. Of course they’d risk their own lives!!!!! this is anime!

[noroi1000]

Hello this is the same person who asked for part 2 of the story “heart patch”. I couldn’t finish my request since I ran out of space so I’m continuing here.

They started speaking and slowly raised their voice almost to the point they started screaming. They told on how disappointed and ashamed they are to have them as students and that they didn’t deserve to be sorcerers. Everyone was scared at them and did not dare to say anything, except for the girl who harassed y/n. She quickly got up and yelled back at them and say stuff like “Why are you both defending her, she’s nothing but a useless human being, she’s so annoying and weak, she’s not even pretty and yet you both fell in love with her!? That’s wrong, both of you are special grade sorcerers, you guys deserve better than a person who is lower then grade 5. You guys should be dating me, I’m far way better than her, and I’m not a useless, annoying and weak person like her. And also I’m way more prettier than her, I’ve tried so hard to make you both fall in love with me and yet you both would always reject me and now your dating her. That’s cannot be allowed. Just break up with her and be with me damn it!!!” She kept screaming until she got punched in the face. Both of them didn’t say anything but gave her death glares and she realized it and shut up. They immediately went to y/n, calmed her down and decided to leave. But before they left, they said “if anyone gets near her and tries to hurt her, we won’t hesitate to fight you back”. They left and went back home feeling satisfied. The grudge they had towards them we’re finally gone out of their system. They got home, got cleaned and made a promise to y/n that they’ll make sure that those people will never harass her ever again. She thanked them and felt really happy of what they said to her old classmates, she felt much better after spending the night cuddling, watching movies and play video games and went to sleep feeling happy to have them as her boyfriends and feel asleep smiling. Sorry if it’s long I wanted some drama into the story and I really wanted to see those old classmates get revenge after what they did.

Heart patch 2

Paring: Gojo & Geto x reader

Words: 3,4k

Warnings: teacher/student relationship (ex-teachers, bcs they are 28 and yn is 20), bully, slight yandere, violence

You were in a hurry as you walked down the aisle.

You've been running around the city since morning. Mainly looking for products to buy that you can use to welcome your boys home.

It's been a while since you've been with them. And therefore, for the fact that they are with you, you want to give them everything you can. Surprises and gifts. You don't earn as much as they do because you gave up being a sorcerer for your sanity. And you don't regret it. You don't want to do what you can't do, and you're not going to do it, for your sake and for theirs.

Satoru and Suguru wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to do.

For how they support you and show you affection, you want something more for them.

That's why you've been running around the city since morning looking for products to make their favorite dishes for them.

And everything had to be perfect.

They are coming home tonight from a few days overseas mission. You must greet them with dignity. To just give them everything that will keep the same smile on their faces as always.

You already had all the products that you only had on your list.

And even though Suguru doesn't like sweets that much (not like Satoru) you wanted to make a little dessert for them. Or rather, a dessert plate. In the morning you baked a cake to make a small cake. And today you went to the store to get decorations and accessories. The last thing you needed for this was cream mochi.

You don't have time to go to Sendai and buy those that Satoru praises so much. That's why you wanted to go to Tokyo's handmade mochi stall that Satoru buys.

You couldn't fight your way through crowds of people on the sidewalks and streets all the time. That's why you wanted to take the subway there. It would be faster.

But the queue at the store was a little longer, and now you're practically running to the subway station to catch your train. The sooner you get home, the sooner you can get ready.

You've got to clean up a bit, you've got to cook what you need.

You have a lot of things to do.

You looked at your watch to check the time.

And you hit someone's shoulder.

You almost lost your balance but managed to stay on your feet.

You gripped your shopping bag tighter, checking to make sure nothing had fallen out.

You automatically turned to the man and started apologizing.

"(y/n) (l/n)?"

You looked at the person's face.

You go to school with her Jujutsu...

"Long time no see." She said.

"Yes... I'm sorry but I'm really in a hurry." You said frantically looking at your watch. You have 10 minutes to get to the subway.

"Oh, okay." She said with a small smile. But as you were about to leave, she suddenly stopped you. "(y/n)! I was thinking, why don't you come to the class reunion? It's in three days at the restaurant around the corner."

Why is she telling you this?

"None of us have contact with you, so some have already given up the idea of ​​inviting you... But I managed to meet you, so I invite you now!" She gave you a nice smile.

After all, she was one of the nicest in your class.

"Sorry, I already have plans..." you said. You didn't want to go there because you remember times when others weren't nice to you.

You can always go out with Satoru and Suguru. And no one can prove it to you.

"I see... Maybe you'll change your mind? The invitation will always be up to date. However, if you want to come, just come to this address at 6pm." She handed you an embellished invitation card with everything written on it.

Saying goodbye to her, you quickly walked the other way, hoping to catch the train on time.

Because the subway was a few minutes late, you made it in time, and managed to buy mochi flavors that suit them.

Satoru will eat anything. And Suguru will eat anything that isn't overly sweet. That's why you thought you hit the right flavors.

You prepared two big cupcakes for them. For each individually. One had purple cream and the other blue. Just so you don't get confused.

The blue one had sprinkles, tiny marshmallows on custard, filled to the brim with chocolate inside.

The purple one was more fruity because you didn't want to make a different cake for two cupcakes. Both were chocolate, however, Suguru's one had plum jam inside. On the cream some sprinkles and fragments of dried strawberries.

You thought they'd like it.

But every time you did anything, all you thought about was the invitation you got.

Are you going to that class reunion or not?

After all these years, you're supposed to look people in the eye who never liked you?

Why did you leave that life to start over? Better. No more sorrows.

If you go there, it will be really uncomfortable, won't it?

You stood there stirring the soup while you also waited for them to come back. They should be here soon.

You have to hide your discomfort in your thoughts for them. So that they don't have to worry about you.

Due to the fact that you are not focused on your surroundings, but on your thoughts and stirring the food in the pot, you did not hear the door to your apartment open.

Strong hands appeared around your waist, and before you could react, you were lifted up.

"Got you!" Satoru screamed, cuddling up to your back as he held you up.

You laughed at his childishness (even though he was older than you).

Geto's face appeared in front of you and he greeted you kindly and kissed your lips softly, because when Gojo picked you up, you were higher than ever.

When the white-haired man released you, putting you on the floor, he suddenly disappeared as he ran to the living room.

You grabbed a spoon and stirred the food in the pot so it wouldn't burn.

Suguru hugged you from behind, resting his head on your right shoulder. Keeping your hands wrapped around your belly.

"It smells delicious." He said with a small smile. He watched you slowly you stir with a spoon steaming food

"This is the second course, especially for you." You replied to him, turning down the heat on the burner under the pot.

"You are so good and perfect..." he said.

You didn't feel that way now. Because without them, you'd still be nothing as a sorcerer...

You found your place with your former teachers at school.

And your meeting with your classmate today made those moments come back to you like a boomerang.

Pulling out the necessary plates and bowls to eat, you started preparing a table for three.

Just then you saw Satoru enter the house again, several boxes in his hands, a small paper bag in his teeth.

They always had gifts for you.

But after you ate, your mood took a turn for the worse. Previously, you might have had a bit of a distraction while reading the exact recipes to cook it all perfectly. And now all you could do was look at their happy faces and the food.

You hate hiding something from them so much...

You feel so guilty then. But you don't want them to care.

"You're quiet, are you okay?"

You looked at the white-haired man sitting on your left.

"Yeah." You nodded putting on a fake happy smile. "You better tell me how it was on your trip."

After your hair was well dried after your shared shower, you started making the bed for you while your boyfriends finished brushing their teeth.

"Have you noticed the way she's acting?" Gojo asked as he stood in front of the mirror looking at his chin, wondering if he had shaved properly this morning.

"Nah. I noticed. Something happened. Besides, she never asked how the missions were because she knows it's shit." The dark haired man replied, combing his dark strands and making a low sleeping ponytail.

"She's worried about something." The white-haired man looked down at the floor, his eyes wandering to the bathroom exit.

Then they both left the room to go to bed.

But also to know from you the truth about what happened.

They both entered your bedroom and asked you seriously what happened.

Of course, as they expected, you avoided answering their question at all costs.

"Do you think the color of the pillows is ok? I changed the sheets but forgot to ask if that's okay with you." You took the pillow in your hands and showed it to them.

Suddenly a soft thing was ripped from your fingers.

"Pillows are okay. But you're not." Geto said, watching carefully.

"Sugu?"

"What happened, (y/n)?" Gojo added seriously.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired. Let's go to sleep now, okay? Tomorrow we can go out together. If you want."

"Stop avoiding this topic." The dark haired growled.

Your chest tightened at the tone of their voice. They know full well that you're not okay. And they want to get the truth out of you. Only for your own good. So that they can comfort you.

"... I met one person today who I went to class with in Jujutsu High..." You said with a lump in your throat. And tears started to slowly build up in your eyes. "I've been invited to a class reunion. And I don't want to go. I don't want to be the laughing stock again. I don't want to be hated by the rest of the people again... I don't want them to remember me... I don't want to meet them only to cry when I get home later..."

For the next hour they lay in one position with you, squeezing you soothingly in their body hug and so. Hugging you and comforting you like never before.

Every time in school they saw someone bully you somehow. How sorry you are for others.

They were sorry that they had to have students like them.

It was just a shame that they had known them all for several years.

They promised you that they would go with you.

They wanted to make you feel good there, because neither will they make you feel like a princess there.

They will walk with you, they will be with you all the time. You will be together everywhere. To make you feel your great value.

No one has the right to hurt you after so many years. Because they will also do everything to make you there with a smile on your face. Everything for you.

They got out of bed in the morning and took you shopping.

You could pick anything you liked and they would buy it for you. Shoes, dresses, jewelry. Even though you may have felt bad about them buying it all for this one occasion, they told you that you could always wear it for them on a date. And they also love to pamper you.

At home, the final choice of outfit for you has been made. So that both of them wouldn't be jealous, they decided that the most sexy dress for them would stay on your body only as a sight for them.

And the dress they chose for you to wear to your class reunion was just as beautiful.

They did it on purpose. To overshadow with your beauty those who have always hated your closeness with them.

You held their hands as you entered the room as you walked between them.

And your entrance made many look your way.

They had the right to come here. As your former teachers.

And they looked so handsome in their black button-down shirts, along with black pants and shiny leather boots.

Many people looked at you with admiration.

A few with envy of your outfit and the fact that you are with the handsomest teachers they couldn't get at school.

One person in particular who hated you for it. And she wanted to destroy what you have because of them. Your self-esteem as well as your happiness. Only because you managed to make them fall in love with you. And she failed to do so after years of trying.

You stood more aloof sipping drinks with your boyfriends. Sometimes others from your former class asked you about various things, eager to talk.

There were moments when the questions did not please Geto and Gojo, and they cast scowl at their former students.

The person who had always been so nice even to you was now staring at you with daggers in her eyes. Just because you had her two dream men with you. Handsome, rich, so what if they were a little older. They were her ideals, even if sometimes there was something she didn't like about them. She's been trying to get them for years. That's why now when she sees that you, someone weaker than her, has such men next to her, she can't be nice to you anymore.

You were the reason why she could never win their hearts.

After you left, she tried everything to make them notice her. Nothing worked out for her. Because? Because they were clearly showing that they were busy and in love with someone else.

They have always loved you... And it wasn't fair...

When glasses of wine and small desserts were served, your boys disappeared.

But for an hour it felt like someone was lurking to come to you. They left for a while just to get something you like and also your favorite kind of wine. Well, even Gojo who doesn't drink alcohol will be tempted by some sweet wine.

As soon as they disappeared behind a small wall, a girl with a glass of wine appeared next to you.

"(y/n), Hey, I'm glad you came," she said with a fake smile. "I came over to tell you something. Because, you know, this dress is beautiful. But..."

Suddenly, she lifted her glass of wine lightly and threw it at you.

"But you don't deserve a dress like that. You're too useless."

You wiped the red wine from your face and looked down at your dress. All destroyed. Red wine stains are not easy to remove.

"You–"

She cut you off before you could say anything. She hit you on the cheek.

She followed you and suddenly shoved you, causing you to fall into a small red puddle next to the shattered glass.

"You could never be a sorcerer, and you never will be. You're just a disgrace calling yourself someone with cursed energy.

As you tried to get up, she kicked your arm, causing you to fall a second time, surely hurting your knee on a piece of glass on the floor.

"I don't know how you did it, but how did you manage to get Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei to be your boyfriends? You are pathetic. You are nobody!"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you heard those terrible words. And the giggles of people around. It's literally like you're sitting in the spotlight and the whole world is watching your tears.

Someone appeared in front of you, stopping the girl for a moment from further action, but someone then quickly disappeared after a few equally harsh words were received.

Another glass of wine was slowly poured over your head. Making alcohol run down your hair, down your face, down to your dress.

"A hopeless bitch who thinks she can be somebody. You never deserved them –."

"Stop."

She heard a call and then they saw two tall men with murderous auras.

Gojo took two glasses of wine from his best friend and walked over to her.

"Shall we drink some wine?" He asked without any expression on his face.

She looked at him with sparks of happiness in her eyes.

But just as she was about to reach for the glass from him, she saw him tilt the glass, spilling the red drink over her. Wetting her hair and dress. Making her make-up slowly run down.

"Gojo-sensei..." She murmured in surprise.

"What? That's what drinking wine is like for bitches like you."

Suguru walked over to you and gently lifted you off the slippery floor.

You pulled your hands away from him and pushed him away, still crying.

He hugged you without hesitation, reassuring you a little.

And with a silent saying "I love you" he left you against the wall and with rage boiling up in him he approached the girl.

"Geto-sensei." she muttered, hoping he wouldn't be like Gojo.

She was wrong.

At the same time, the back of his hand hit her cheek, causing her to fall to the ground.

A sign that you can't mess with someone who could even kill her with one hand in a second.

She looked at you as you stood against the wall with your back to what was going on.

Your skin was wet. Just like the hair. Your shoulders were shaking, which could have been a sign that you were sobbing.

Another glass of wine was sent to her head. The glass was thrown to the ground.

"You don't know what a shame it is for us that we had to have students like you... You don't know what a disappointment you are to us. Anyone who thinks they're better than her. I've never regretted teaching someone so much before!" Gojo said slowly changing his tone of voice from serious to screaming.

"Probably none of you ever deserved to be sorcerers." Geto added, adding even more darkness to the situation.

The girl snorted in rage and got up, not wanting to sit there and listen to it.

"Why are you both defending her, she's just a useless bitch, she's so annoying and weak, she's not even pretty, and yet you both fell in love with her?! That's too bad, you're both special grade sorcerers, you deserve better than someone who may be lower than 5th grade. You should date me I'm way better than her and I'm not a useless, annoying and weak person like her. And besides, I'm so much prettier than her, I tried so hard to make you both fall in love with me, and yet you both always rejected me, and now you're dating her. This cannot be allowed. Just break up with her and be with me!!!" She yelled at them.

And she stopped when a hand appeared in front of her face and slapped her hard across the face. The sound of the impact echoed in their ears, and without a word they came over to you, massaging your shoulders and gently hugging you. They started walking out with you, guiding you protectively outside.

"If anyone gets close to her and tries to hurt her, we won't hesitate to fight back." Geto said, giving them a death glare that everyone feared.. When Gojo opened the door for you, he did the same. Making their former students' hearts almost stop.

You were lying on the bed hugging a pillow to your chest.

Straight after a soothing hot bath, they took you to bed wearing one of Suguru's very loose shirts.

You sat up when they sat on either side of the bed and placed one hand on each of your knees. They both drew invisible lines on your skin.

"(y/n)-chan, never worry about what other people think of you when they are jealous. You are beautiful and wonderful. Ideal. And we will always be with you." Satoru said, giving you his smile.

"We promise that only you will be the most important for us and we will only love you. And we will never let that happen to you again." Suguru said.

You nodded slightly, pressing your nose into the pillow in your arms.

"Thank you for doing this for me..." you murmured, feeling as if small tears were still on your face.

"For you always everything." They said almost simultaneously.

There were snacks and various other things on the bed.

They specifically moved the TV from the living room to the bedroom and hooked up the console, giving you a game pad, letting you choose what you want to play. Same with movies.

Only they can make you go to bed with a smile every day. Snuggled up in them.

[newathens]

ohhh my god, okay you know that post you made about tsats that was basically talking about how the book completely disregards anyone that helped nico before now, that was so fucking annoying to read. i was taking notes while reading and i wrote "i just don't love how it's kinda framed like nico needed a romantic relationship to feel accepted, i feel like everything that nico is saying will did to make him feel accepted is something that all the other people he knows also did" and "'i like that you want to take care of me, i haven't had someone like that in my life since bianca' - i guess hazel, percy, and jason mean nothing then"

also another big problem i had with the book overall is that it was constantly /telling/ me things and never /showing/ them. like constantly nico would /say/ that will made him happy and made him feel like he belonged but all that we /saw/ was will making nico feel bad for being a child of hades and hating on the underworld.

the themes and stuff where also being constantly just directly told to the reader in a way that brought everything to a grinding halt, like that bull guy accusing nico and will of being homophobic, that demon being like "not a guy!!", and "consent, it makes people feel safe." and like obviously these are good messages and stuff but like the bull guy could have sent nico and will on his stupid little quest without all of that and nico was literally already using they/them pronouns for the demon, i know that it depends on the person and some people would like such direct dialog on the issues, but personally, i would have 100% preferred for queer people to just exist in the story without it having to be a big deal every time.

also nyx was interesting for like 2 seconds in the middle of the book imo (the first time nico was in tartarus) and then at the end she became the most broing antagonist ever. i miss when the main antagonist had depth and nuance and a reason to be doing anything, the "nyx doesn't want this one random demi-god that she has no reason to care about to grow as a person bc she's the primordial goddess of the night" felt like a maaaaajor stretch, maybe i missed something but i did not understand why she cared At All.

(if you care about spoilers for the very end don't read this part yet)

the ending sucked sooooo bad. first of all, it had been foreshadowed throughout the book that nico would have to give something important up obviously from the prophecy, and i was actually really interested to see what it would end up being bc in other books, espesially pjo, i feel like rick did a good job with the prophecy where at the end the audience was surprised to learn what they actually meant but they still made perfect sense, but i couldn't figure out what he would have to give up while i was reading. and then it ended up being the fucking demons???? even that was stupid i thought bc in what world are these random creatures we just met as important as bob? BUT!!!! they didn't even give them up!! they took they back up to the mortal world??!!! they literally did not leave anything behind. one might argue that it was supposed to be a metaphorical letting go of your inner demons but like a major part of the book had been accepting that everyone has some darkness within them and like learning to live with it right??????? so like??? what did they leave behind.

anyway final point, sorry about the essay. at the end hades says that he is the one that sent nico on the quest and then says it's bc like percy opened his eyes and changed things or whatever and like??? how is sending nico, a child, on a quest to fucking /tartarus/ doing what percy would have wanted?????? sending children on quest and getting them to do the gods work is literally what the entire conflict of pjo was about and something that percy has been angry about since literally like the first book, i literally had to stop reading and take some deep breathes when i read that part i was so mad

[romanarose]

Do you have any thoughts about the TF boys with a reader with an ED? Only if you’re comfortable, but I noticed in Sunshine Stsrlight Sweetheart Brightside You mesntioned Sam having bulimia so I thought maybe you’d be okay taking about it

Hi!!!!! Yes I would love to give you some thoughts about this. I have suffered from bulimia since I was 17, and I got pretty rough, and like most people with ED I had history of disordered eating before, and with recovery. I hope this is what you're looking for!

Warnings: ed, bulimia, eating restriction, addiction, all that

Triple Frontier Boys with a Reader with an Eating Disorder

Warnings: Eating disorders, more bulimia and general ED focused bc I don't have the experience with anorexia to properly talk about it. I'll try not to get to detailed or triggering.

Santiago "Pope" Garcia

Santi has the least experience with this, I think. I think he'd be confused and probably worry he did something to make you feel like you needed to look different. Had inviting you to the gym with him done it? He had only said that because you mentioned wanting to work on your strength... the girl at the bar, she was flirting, but Santi had turned her down... What did he do? You see the worry on his face and tell him it's not him, it's something you've dealt with for a long time. This, of course, does not make him feel better, it only hurts him that you suffered so long. He'd take over a lot of the cooking, trying to make the most delicious and nutritious meals possible, and of course, anything you wanted to eat that day.

One day, when you quietly confess you don't feel like you deserve to eat that day, you want to cry at how hurt Santi looks. But Santi is practical. You live in Florida, so he suggests you enjoy the weather! He takes you on a nice walk around a few blocks, no phones so you can't count calories from the step tracking, and you can't tell how long you've been gone. Just you and Santi, taking a nice walk. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but it becomes a treasured part of your evening, so much so that you begin to do it every day before diner. If you still feel like you shouldn't eat, Santi coaxes you too take a few bites of some black beans or broccoli, just to get some nutrition, and gives your vitamins before bed. Even if you can barely get anything down, he tells you how proud he is of you, every single day.

Benny Miller

This may not be a popular head canon, but I HC Benny as being a wrestler in high school, and developing bulimia from it. This is likely show up when get to Ben's story in my LaL series (I really put this boy through it) but I think he denies ever having a problem. A bunch of the guys made themselves throw up before getting weighed before matches, what's the big deal? Well, that's terrible, but the big deal is that Benny wasn't just doing it before weigh-in's, he was doing it every day. Even so, when you finally spoke to him about your eating habits, he still didn't get it. He had reasons, his was justified, he rationed. You? You were perfect. You were beautiful in every way. He thought of how painful it was, how gross he felt, how his mind always reeled after, and he couldn't stand the thought of you going through the same thing.

"Why?" was the first thing he said.

It was hard to put into words. Control? Body image? Self-punishment? Maybe all of the above. I think Benny might struggle with this, not blaming you or anything like that, but it just hurt so bad to picture you that way, harming yourself like that. Benny might start off too much and too little. While he has discomfort around discussing it, due to his own unresolved issues, he's not going to just ignore it, although you feel like he is. Things like knocking on the door when you're taking a while in the bathroom. You can tell he's clearly stressed, but he won't talk about it. Eventually you figure out why, maybe he opens up or maybe you have to ask Will what's going on. Either way, he tells you what he went through. After you realize how difficult this was on him, and you two can have open communication, things get better, and you start to get better. It's much easier to talk to someone who relates, and Benny would rather stay up all night talking to you than let you suffer alone.

Will Miller

You don't tell Will. Will confronts you. In my head, Benny had an eating disorder, and of course Will knew, so he recognized the signs. Even if you don't HC Benny with bulimia, I think we all know Will is observant as shit. He'll notice the acne flaring up around your mouth, he'll see your red and bloody knuckles.

Eventually you break down and confess, after he presents the evidence to you. Will is practical, like santi, but more rigidl. He's the kind of guy who feels everything is A+B=C. With Benny, it worked. He convinced Ben to drop wrestling, got him lift weights and into basketball and football, eventually, he got better. They never even addressed it. But everyone is different. Will seems to think if he tells you you're beautiful, helps you eat right, works out with you and worships your body enough during sex, you'll just get better, but that's not it. When he realizes you're still doing it, he's frustrated. Not with you, but with himself. He keeps trying, and trying, and trying different things until you sit him down and spell it out. There isn't a magic cure. it's a battle, a long journey, and you don't need him to fix you, you need him to just be there. And so, he is. Whenever you need him, he's there. Oh, and the calling you beautiful constantly and the body worship? That doesn't stop.

Frankie Morales

Sweet, sweet, Frankie... I think his addiction messed with his eating. While on coke, he might not eat for long periods of time, then binge tf out of junk while detoxing/attempting recovery. This has lead to a lot of weight fluxuation, and bad eating habits (I don't mean this as in food is bad, I mean the inconsistent eating) I think when he finally got better, and he gained weight, he struggled with his own feelings of inadequacy. When he met you, and you loved him so much, every inch of him, he felt a part of him heal. Instead of skipping meals and late-night Taco Bell runs, he thrived on the consistency you gave him, cooking breakfast for you, eating lunch you packed, coming home to cook dinner with you.

So naturally, he worried you were sick when he noticed you eating less and less. You insisted you felt fine "better than ever!" he asked if you were nervous about something and lost your appetite, he even asked if you were pregnant one day. When you explained your history with eating to him, you confessed that you'd been really struggling lately, and apologize for worrying him. His sweet girl, he thinks, always so apologetic, always worried about being a burden. I think Frankie would be way to much at first. You'd never have a moments peace and at first its sweet, but sometimes it's too much. You have to insist on not being babied. Well, not completely anyway. You need to be able to take a piss alone. But if he wants to bring you breakfast in bed, well, you weren't complaining. Frankie makes sure you know how special you are to him, how you are his everything, how you saved him, and in turn, he'll be there for whatever you need.

I hope you liked this anon!! Always happy to talk about my babies

Tagging a few people who might also enjoy @kittyofalltrades @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and idk if you’ve watched triple frontier @juneknight but from our conversations, I thought you might like this!

[kart0]

August 15th - My 22nd Birthday

Can't say it was a perfect day, or even a good day. It went pretty shitty, as it usually does. Nothing too bad, but small things added up and then I just couldn't hold myself together anymore. I've been dealing with pain in my arms for quite some time now, went to the doctor twice, and now started physical therapy. Haven't been able to draw and had to postpone some commissions which took a toll on me. Can't draw to relax, nor play games, nor cook, nor do literally anything.

My dad got mad at me for a mistake he did.

Tried to bake some cupcakes to give to my friends at uni but everything went wrong, I worked so hard on it, left my wrists burning in pain only to just fail.

My classmates sung happy birthday to me, which would've been nice if we were in a private room, instead of being in class with every single colleague of mine and even the professor. Whom which I highly dislike. It was very embarrassing and I felt weird.

I wanted to walk alone home to wind down but one of my friends insisted on walking together because it was my birthday and I shouldn't be alone, but I really needed some alone time to get myself together.

Couldn't find my favorite comfort ramen ( neoguri ) for weeks and it's been driving me crazy.

I didn't have lunch bc I was stressed with the cupcakes, only to end up deciding not to take them with me, so I was hangry and sad.

Some people I considered dear friends didn't even send me a happy birthday message, and even planned a birthday party to a different friend whose birthday is in a few days.

I was so upset, we went out for dinner and just seeing my dad made me start crying again. I didn't get to enjoy any of the food because I was crying and couldn't taste anything and that made me even more upset. And it was very painful to hold chopsticks so I ended up only having 3 slices of sashimi for dinner.

I couldn't stop crying at all and ended up sobbing for two hours straight, even though I was trying my hardest to stop. I couldn't control myself.

We went to the movies and watched Coraline, and I managed to distract myself and just pay attention to my favourite movie ever.

We got home, cut my cake and talked a bit about silly things and funny stories and that's when I finally felt content.

I think I don't really like celebrating my birthday. I don't like being the center of attention, and I create these high expectations that people will do these crazy things and love me and it'll be fun and amazing and perfect. Which obviously just makes room for disappointment.

I like the day before my birthday, and the day after my birthday, but never my birthday. I always, always get sad.

I do think it's no one's fault, tho. Just unlucky, and a coincidence. But it does make me wonder if I will ever have a good, happy birthday celebration.

Idk, I hope so. I mean, at least one, c'mon.

Anyways, I cried a bit more writing this, but I feel way better. My eyes are super puffy and sore and burning, and I'm just tired. At least I don't have classes tomorrow... I still need to wakeup early for my physiotherapy tho. Anyways. This was definitely a year... Very bad things happened, but also very good things. It balances out.

I'm happier than before and honestly, I think it's been a very long time since I've felt anywhere close to this. I'm glad I'm still here.

Hoping I will have an even greater year next.

[najmiska]

pain, fear, and break :3c (for the ask game!)

Hi hi, thanks for the questions!! I will put the answers under here, bc that's a lot of writing hah

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

Physically? She didn't have any major injury or anything. She often feels pain from stress, in her lower back, neck and jaw. And cramps ofc (totally not writing this while dying myself). Nothing out of the ordinary tho. She doesn't have a high pain tolerance in that department. They don't always notice the pain at first, but when they do, they won't be able to focus on anything else.

Mentally? I would say it's the trauma of living with her mother (I absolutely will write more about it, but first I think I need to learn how to flag all the trigger warnings :'> ) and losing her best friend/first love. Idk if you can talk about pain tolerance here (??), but they are kind of numb to it rn. Yes, she still has emotions and can show being hurt, especially when stress becomes a factor, but generally they will push down all that.

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

That would be losing the life she built herself here on Jorvik. It's not perfect, she still needs to change a thing or two. But it's all so much better than what she had known before it almost feels like a dream. They often stress about their mother trying to contact them or, even worse, wanting them back in Poland. Could she just say no and not cause more family drama? Or maybe, they could lose a house, their horse, all the people they've met. Anything changing for the worse would be devastating to her. She is motivated to do anything to maintain the status quo, even if that meant hurting herself (or, you know, people she hate) in the proces. Surprisingly, I think that is one of not so many things she is open about. Maybe she doesn't talk about it much with anyone aside from Hazel, but she doesn't actively hide it.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

If someone made her open up, that would leave har a mess. Also losing important figures in her life. She cares about little things building her life and she would fight to have everything as it is, but that wouldn't cause her to break down completely. It's a whole different story when it comes to people (or, well, horses). If someone she cares about was to get killed, things wouldn't be pretty. They wouldn't be able to contain their emotions, all that anger and sadness making them an unstable, dangerous entity. Every time something deeply upsetting happened she was just... crying, laughing and screaming, trying to find something to take her anger out on. The last time something like that happened was when Elisabeth died, so all of the Soul Riders and their horses saw her like that. She needed a couple of weeks to be able to function semi-normally and refuses to acknowledge that it even happened.

[dojunie]

THE WAY I GASPED WHEN U SAID THAT JENO DOESN'T KNOW THAT THERE WERE NO SERIOUS FEELINGS INVOLVED IN THE LAKE THINGY AND THAT HE'S KINDA ??? AT THE FACT THAT JAEMIN ACTED ON HIS FEELINGS REGARDLESS OF WHAT MARK FELT WHEN HE COULDN'T that's just drama / a relationship catalyst waiting to be used (winky face) MY MIND IS RUNNING WITH ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES like it seems that jaemin is definitely aware of mc's and jeno's feelings for each other and he seems like the type to give his friends a little nudge when needed HAHAHHAHA but also that seems a bit too cliche so idk 🤔 and yes i agree with you on the fact that jeno seems like the type to just sit on his jealousy and not do anything about it- but also i feel like he's the type who might start acting weird without him realizing it and also i kinda just imagine a point where he's just having a mental breaking down out of frustration and beating himself up for it though i'm not sure if he would have an "outburst" that leads him to confront mc per se like hmm I DEFINITELY IMAGINE HIS PROTECTIVENESS INCREASING QUITE A BIT given how he always seems to keep an eye on her and mc getting ??? bc they already had "closure" (and this is a little advanced but ghad i can already see the disaster for when jeno and mc finally kinda fix things and mark finds out there's something going on between them JFJSKND or does he find out before they kinda resolve things 🤔) REGARDLESS I JUST SMELL DRAMA HOW EXCITING AHHH

but can i just tell you how i find it so cute that jeno just remembers every single little thing about her and just sees right through her all the time like me irl when 🥲

ALSO A SIDE STORY ABOUT THE JAEMIN REBOUND SITUATION??? i'm hardcore jeno biased BUT W/ HOW GOOD JAEMIN LOOKED IN THE DREAM SHOW 2 CONCERT??? (WITH HIS ARMS???) don't mind if i do 😋

AND i'm so sorry if i send you messages at the weirdest times JFISOFK i'm filipino and live in the philippines so i usually read ur stuff late at night HAHHAHAH

-covid anon 🤒 (i can use this emoji as my anon name if ever but honestly i've grown attached to covid anon HAHHAHAHA)

COVID ANON!!! I LOVE YOU !!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!

obligatory read more bc i always get way too into answering your asks oml

writing the lake hookup reveal thing took me tf out... actually, i even have a saved copy of what i almost went with in regards to jeno finding that out, a draft of that conversation i didn't end up going with?? maybe you will find it of interest. it is this:

so???? maybe that gives a little insight to where jeno's head is at atm 👀 you're very on point with this jeno being the type to just stew in his own thoughts and start acting a little funny without knowing he's acting a little funny. that's going to show up considerably in CH4 lol, you're ahead of the curve 💪 and jaemin definitely knows... more than everyone thinks he knows, regarding who has feelings for who. but he's also not the person who's going to interfere, because he is of the staunch mindset that both jeno and mc Are Adults, and for them to figure out whats happening with their feelings it's kind of important that they're the ones who figure it out, not him, not mark, not anybody else. he's the relationship angel right now <3

and!! markie bby is finally going to make his grand appearance. will mc's description of him hold up? or will he be the perfect picture of innocence, his intentions marred by the trials and tribulations of being a protective older sibling?? you will find out on the next episode of misdial...!

thank you for giving me so much to think and ponder about covid anon <33333333

[neochan-ficrecs]

[spoilers under the cut!]

i love rockstar aus and you, my dear jing, have absolutely blown every single one i've ever read out of the water.

there isn't enough praise in the world to relay how i feel about this fic. how it made me sit for two days straight at work, wondering when i'll be able to read the rest. what the next scene was. when was i going to be able to eat the rest of it upp. bc you served. hard.

i think the best thing from this story was that it made me actually mad. hot and cold hyuck - not giving a single thing to the reader. everything had to be his choice. he doesn't want to take her viriginity, until he wants to. he doesn't want to have an ongoing thing with her, until it's his idea.

but what equally pisses me off is how pliant the reader becomes. how easily she gives in to whatever he wants. even when she's crying for days on end that he fucks other people. that he hurts her. that he hurts his friends.

and i know that hyucks personality is supposed to be an asshole with a semi-soft spot for the reader, but every time he calls her princess, every time theres a soft touch, it just felt so condescending. that he obviously has these rules set in place for himself, which he won't break. not even for the reader - someone who he can see being in his life for longer than two hours after a show. he's an asshole even in those soft moments because he's not giving his true self. like jeno said at the end, this is a carefully crafted extension of himself, and he's not gonna break it for anyone.

and that's why i love the fact that you're splitting it into two parts. maybe you'll give him more genuine soft moments, where he opens up parts of himself, but i think even keeping him in this asshole/condescending closed-off persona, will work. it's so true to the story. because haechan was like this long before he ever met the reader. so whats so special about her? what makes her want him to be genuine and open up.?

and referring back to the jeno scene at the end, i think it was brilliant. who knows more about haechan than a bandmate? someone who shares an apartment, a stage, and a lifestyle with him? and reader should listen. although i'm speculating that it's not the case and maybe reader was held up and couldn't go to the bar, or maybe she forgot or overslept or had to do something other than attend. because truly. there isn't a single part of the fic thus far that shows she is a free thinking individual. for example, she understood that if she left with haechan, she would hurt mark and jisung, yet she didn't feel bad until after she was in the car with haechan. she'll do anything for him, and nothing thus far shows the opposite. so no, i don't think jeno scared her into not coming. maybe he planted seeds of doubt, but the fact that she didn't bring it back up to haechan the moment she was told, proves that she won't tell him. so maybe she disappears, but i truly don't think that's what happened. and i can't wait to see if my theory holds up in part two...

but. i have to say jing, the way you craft haechan is absolutely perfect. the beginning scene where he's sitting on the side of the stage after the show, shows his boyish nature (loved that scene so much omg) and then we get his asshole side, his jealous side, his softish side, etc.

smut was hot, writing was phenomenal, characterization was a 10000/10. please give jisung SOMETHING. that boy deserved so much better. omg and when hyuck came out on stage, i literally said out loud "the girls are fighting" and my boyfriend looked at me like i was crazy. LMAO. and mark... i need to know if he has a girlfriend bc that question was never answered. and maybe theres a scene in part two where reader and his gf come in contact... idk.

anyway i've rambled on and theorized. i love this fic. i love your brain. keep up the great writing. i literally aspire to make a fic this well rounded. <333

signing off, sam

haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 2

wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists)

he's been staring at you all night.

the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop. 

and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes. 

a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.

as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar. 

the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.

haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot. 

he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time. 

people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –

"leaving so soon?" 

the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt. 

at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess." 

"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer." 

"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?" 

"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show." 

he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges. 

"what?" 

"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you. 

"the songs were good," you mumble. 

"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?" 

"huh?" 

"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds. 

if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out. 

"stage presence?" 

"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air. 

your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you. 

"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?" 

you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?" 

"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there." 

"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?" 

"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm. 

hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”

but you know it's the wrong thing to say. 

he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible. 

but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage. 

"what's your name, princess?" 

"y/n."

"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else." 

his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.  

at the look on your face, he softens slightly. 

"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to." 

"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.

"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut. 

"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek. 

"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?" 

—

"did anyone follow you up here?" 

haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word. 

"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so." 

he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out. 

"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?" 

feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop. 

he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.

slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips. 

"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.

you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit. 

his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?" 

you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-" 

"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch. 

"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you. 

he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes. 

"y/n…i can't be your first time." 

"but i want –" 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show." 

you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his. 

"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly. 

"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle. 

"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.

"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?" 

and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down. 

—

the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick. 

jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.

"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party. 

there's a moment, where you think to follow. 

but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.

"trying to get with my friends now, princess?" 

when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else. 

hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.

"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me." 

"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance. 

"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?" 

"what?" 

"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it. 

"are you seriously asking me that?" 

"princess –"

he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen. 

mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe! 

there's a pause. 

"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse. 

"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive. 

"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes. 

it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily. 

"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you." 

his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet. 

jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again. 

—

"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute." 

it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time. 

he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems. 

and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger. 

you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did. 

"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." 

anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —

the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air. 

a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well. 

that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.

as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it. 

was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…

… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago. 

to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face. 

—

"him? really?" 

you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom. 

you're frozen on the steps. 

haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you. 

"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess." 

he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.

"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."  

the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back. 

he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?" 

what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?" 

his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."

"how do you know he would've hurt me?" 

his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly. 

"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you." 

"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?" 

you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest. 

haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence. 

"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."

"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry." 

"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."

he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –" 

"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.

"i know," he breathes. "i know." 

his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.

"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to." 

"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.

"you want other people to fuck me?" 

"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time." 

"what?" 

when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –" 

"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness. 

"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in. 

"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely. 

the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt. 

"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you. 

his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?" 

you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still." 

you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat. 

he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"

your head feels like it's spinning. 

at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-" 

"stop," you blurt out. 

he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans. 

"i'm sorry," he says, softly.

"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want." 

he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?" 

"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight." 

"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in. 

haechan kisses soft. 

his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss. 

he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling. 

"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?" 

a pause. "i know," he murmurs. 

"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words. 

he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again. 

"sit, princess." 

this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time. 

"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth. 

you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips. 

"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?" 

you nod. 

"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper. 

"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready." 

"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?" 

you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door. 

he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor. 

it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.

it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust. 

but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.

—

but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you. 

he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you. 

"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt. 

you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek. 

"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it." 

"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you. 

haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him. 

"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip. 

he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric. 

"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him. 

your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it. 

when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose. 

"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric. 

but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body. 

"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.   

"yes, baby?" 

the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back. 

you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin. 

"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.

"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.

"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive." 

"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy. 

"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –" 

"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"

he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table. 

haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally. 

"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open. 

you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt? 

"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?" 

"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true. 

haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt. 

you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body. 

"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off. 

your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him. 

the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale. 

"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.

"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.

"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one." 

the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit. 

"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead. 

you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close. 

stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance. 

when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe. 

"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?" 

you nod, gasping. "haechan…"

"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you. 

"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-" 

"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss. 

he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach. 

fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds. 

he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him. 

"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.

"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —" 

"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for." 

you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.

you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him. 

"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?" 

you don't have it within you to tease back. 

"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again. 

"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me." 

"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 

he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples. 

"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin. 

you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside. 

you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.

when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water. 

he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek. 

he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores. 

"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?" 

each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them. 

you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue. 

"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean." 

"but-" 

"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?" 

you shake your head. 

your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"  

he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."

"but i don't want this to end." 

he holds you tighter against his chest at your words. 

"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again." 

"why?" 

"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"

sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes. 

you knew. 

but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with. 

—

you spend the weekend alone. 

you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice? 

you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.

"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.  

"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once." 

you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…

"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage. 

"yes?" you prompt. 

"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?" 

you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again. 

"what would you do? beat them up?" 

"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood. 

"but the money –" 

"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?" 

"okay." 

even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other. 

you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.

or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth. 

haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint. 

"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him. 

"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that." 

"who?" 

"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like? 

and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…" 

"it's fine," you say, faintly. 

jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?" 

you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on. 

"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?" 

"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.

he blinks. "you know me?" 

jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.

this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in. 

he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.

"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?" 

"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are." 

"you usually stand on the left?" 

he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips. 

"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show." 

"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft. 

your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?" 

"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."  

his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?" 

"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank. 

oh. "like a date?" 

mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers. 

eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?" 

did you? 

was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?

jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him. 

"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?" 

"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly. 

the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them. 

" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?" 

"i-it's w-warm in here." 

"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage. 

with you. 

mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.

"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?" 

you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?" 

"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?" 

you blink at him. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me." 

"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?" 

his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"

"what?" you balk. "no!" 

"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"

"that's just too bad, markie." 

it’s practically deja vu.

haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain. 

exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult." 

"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something." 

"can't it wait?" 

"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage. 

"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you. 

but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp. 

he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in. 

you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway. 

he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt. 

"haechan -" 

"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table. 

 "what?" 

"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you." 

"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?" 

haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business." 

"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?" 

"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?" 

"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time." 

haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs. 

"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me." 

you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference. 

"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake. 

haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush. 

"you don't mean that," he says, quietly. 

and just like that, all the fight drains out of you. 

"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?" 

he doesn't respond.

"would you?" 

"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that." 

"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly. 

"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too. 

"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.  

you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again. 

but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you. 

"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."

"y/n-"

"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection. 

"i'm trying to talk to you." 

"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes. 

"you need to go," you say again, quietly.  

"will you be there?" 

you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently. 

"will you be there? at the show?" 

"i will," you say, hesitantly. 

"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm. 

but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall. 

—

"is everything okay?" 

"why are they taking so long?" 

"are they late?" 

unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise. 

and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.

haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.

and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.

"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty. 

"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board. 

"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?" 

haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today." 

distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost. 

"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting." 

mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile. 

when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met. 

and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again. 

—

"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips. 

he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating. 

you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away. 

"haechan –" you pant. "we should-" 

but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily. 

"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.

"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me." 

"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush. 

"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in. 

"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"

"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra. 

"mark, —" 

"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –" 

"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down. 

"what?" 

"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends." 

"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –" 

again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez." 

"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly. 

"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"

you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper. 

"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist. 

"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."  

it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin. 

you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope. 

his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours. 

"so…this is our last time together?" 

of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses. 

the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you. 

"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?" 

"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on." 

"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches. 

"kiss me?" 

this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him. 

his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth. 

"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark. 

his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his. 

your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it. 

you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle. 

"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs. 

he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand. 

"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.

this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.

or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane. 

"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –" 

he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds. 

"more…" 

"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one. 

he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale. 

"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking. 

he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips. 

"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more. 

mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly. 

"baby…" 

"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand. 

pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan. 

"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly. 

"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?" 

your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit. 

responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts. 

"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release. 

"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.

you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home. 

—

you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back. 

a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips. 

when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel. 

when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one. 

and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power. 

"are you coming to the next show?"  

"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?" 

"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards." 

you bite your lip. "i know." 

he nods. "so you know this is over?" 

"i know." 

"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did. 

but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?" 

it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door? 

"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night. 

—

your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched. 

his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. 

and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration. 

the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or… 

"oh my god!" 

you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well. 

the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway. 

he had meant every word: it was truly over. 

–

"did anyone see you?" 

"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric. 

"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan. 

but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?

if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue? 

"fuck fuck fuck-"

and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?

"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-" 

"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –" 

he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans. 

"did you really?" 

he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch. 

"haechan…"  

"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?" 

"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."  

his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.

this is how he was going to fuck her? 

"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part. 

a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought. 

his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says. 

you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans. 

his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside. 

"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"

"i don't think so," you mumble. 

that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions. 

of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care. 

the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door. 

"haechan? are you in there?" 

mark's voice. 

"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch. 

"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment." 

haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.

"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees." 

"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again. 

and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."

"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again." 

a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open. 

"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please." 

he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."

"yes," you promise, meekly. 

"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords. 

one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache. 

"haechan, are you asleep?" 

there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum. 

"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?" 

"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk." 

haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin. 

"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.  

"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more. 

"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck," 

a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock. 

"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd. 

"i-isn't the door l-locked?" 

"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?" 

"haech–" 

"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?" 

"don't –", you choke. 

"should i tell them not to come in?" 

"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly. 

"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?" 

you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything. 

he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum. 

"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down. 

"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin. 

you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight. 

"haechan, –" 

"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink." 

he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets. 

"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want." 

you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.  

"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?" 

you nod, slowly. 

"use your words," he commands, quietly. 

"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers. 

you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties. 

haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him. 

"do you want me to tell mark to leave?" 

"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."

he raises his eyebrows. "why?" 

"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing. 

haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.

you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.

your back hits solid wood, and you gasp. 

"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door. 

haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold. 

"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.

mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin. 

the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching. 

the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin. 

you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his. 

a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly. 

in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves. 

"'m yours," you mumble out. 

"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?" 

dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours." 

he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.

"more." your voice is quiet. 

"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you." 

you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours." 

slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze. 

he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin. 

he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin. 

when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin. 

—

"haechan?" 

he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves. 

"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?" 

he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips. 

"didn't feel like it." 

you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?" 

he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."  

"why?" 

"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.

hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want." 

you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up. 

"where's jaemin?" 

of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"

his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours. 

"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

your breath stutters. 

"what did you talk about? with the band?" 

after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup. 

haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on." 

"what?" 

"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all." 

a beat. 

you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?" 

but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong." 

you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?" 

he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?" 

he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."

"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw. 

"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard. 

"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face. 

"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question. 

"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it." 

"sister?" 

"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower." 

"oh." 

"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?" 

"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.

"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?" 

"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention. 

haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours. 

"do you want to?" 

you bite your lip. 

maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer. 

but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred. 

"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter. 

maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated. 

"you don't?" 

or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer. 

"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.

there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies. 

and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.

"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?" 

"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine." 

"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home." 

"y/n, –" 

"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them. 

there's a long silence. 

and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you. 

"we're playing at a bar this friday." 

you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs." 

"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.

"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."  

"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there. 

"they will," he confirms quietly. 

"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan." 

his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?" 

"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…" 

"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now." 

you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.

"what did you say?" 

"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."

"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed. 

he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground. 

— 

"what are you trying to do?" 

you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use. 

"what do you mean?" 

jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?" 

the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness. 

jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name." 

"but why doesn't-" you choke. it  feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?" 

jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.

"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"

"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?

"y/n?" 

a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name. 

"where are you? is everything okay?"

jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?" 

he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired." 

and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.

—

haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew. 

his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness. 

and right now, you weren't there at all. 

his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze. 

he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken. 

it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.

taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)

[javierpena-inatacvest]

i miss our menace couple 😫😫😫 and while we waited for new chapter i wanted to ask you 4, 10, 12 from the games! 🥰

Hi non!! I know, I’m so sorry, the timeframe between Halloween and Thanksgiving is always crazy at school between testing and Parent Teacher Conferences so ya girl has been gassed and writing has been on the back burner for a hot sec 😭 I have no plans today so I am hoping to crank out a lot of chapter 17 today!!!

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Oh god… this is SO hard…. Dialogue is my FAVORITE thing to write so I’m choosing more than one 😩

I love from chapter 2 when Javi is going to drive Osita back to her apartment after she’s hurt and is joking that he’s gonna kidnap her

“Just gotta get the keys from my pops and then I’ll be right back.”

“What if I try to make a break for it?”

“It won’t take me long to catch you.”

“Touché.”

In chapter 7 when Osita wakes up Javi by taking care of him but won’t let him go down on her until he gets ready for work bc she knows this man is hungry as hell

“You are not making this any easier on me!” You jokingly shoved him. “You and I both know that if you don’t eat, the rumbling in your stomach is loud enough to set off seismic wave detectors for an earthquake, and while I am flattered by your offer, I don’t think my pussy has enough nutritional value to get you through lunch time without eating.”

Anything with Steve is some of my favorite dialogue to write so I love in chapter 10 when he catches Javi and Osita at his birthday 😂

Whatever ya say man. Hey listen, all the girls are cashed out in the car so we’re gonna hit the road. I just wanted to say it was so good to see you, Peña. The two of you need to come by sometime now that we’re close. I know I’ve given you a lot of shit over the years, but I mean it when I say I’m really fucking happy for you. Happy birthday, ya grumpy old bastard.” Steve pulled in Javi for a hug, giving him one last pat on the back before pulling away. “And Jav?”

“Yeah, Murph?”

“Your fly’s undone.”

Idk non, I could write Dialoge for days it is my favorite part of writing 🤪

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

Okay so Javi is my favorite Pedro character bc I believe in my heart of hearts that this man is actually such a big softie, and loves and cares so deeply for the people around him. After Season 3 especially, I feel like you can tell how much he wishes he could have had a more “normal” life, and had to give up some of the things, like a family, that he’s always wanted but he feels like he’ll never get, let alone deserve. Osita is kind of in the same boat after her relationship with Paul and isn’t really quite sure what to do after her life has felt like it’s fallen apart too. I also love the “I didn’t know how much I needed you until I had you” trope and was perfect for these two because they both love and care about each other so deeply and weren’t sure if they’d ever find the kind of love they have for each other 🥺💕

12: What do you like least about this fic?

That at some point, it has to end 😩 No idk, I think that the fact that I tend to write long ass chapters has been hard for me, like I love the way they turn out, but I also am a huge people pleaser so I put a lot of pressure on my self to try and write and put stuff on here as often as I can and sometimes it’s kind of daunting. Like I feel awful that chapter 17 has taken so long but I know that’s a me thing 🥴

Thanks for the asks non!!!

[riordanness]

before i add anything,, i just want to clarify that i do love the show. i love it, i love so much about it, but i’m also not above saying that it isn’t perfect by any standards.

my first issue is the way they’re pacing and planning the episodes?? like,, where’s the urgency? where’s the suspense?? i feel like every scene is just people chilling and explaining stuff and it’s getting almost annoying at this point. like i get that a lot of the audience will be old book fans but i still think that it’s a really bad choice bc so much of percy jackson is the constant increasing urgency. the STAKES. where are they?? like did you lose them in the mail or something rick??

secondly, the whole ‘we already know what we’re going into before we even get there’ constantly. i get that annabeth is smart, and i’m glad they’re really showing that in the show, but they’re supposed to be twelve. she hasn’t left camp since she was seven. she shouldn’t know everything. she shouldn’t know things straight away every time. it ties in with the urgency again. where’s the sense of impending doom and danger?? that’s what percy is about??

also percy not being… for lack of another word, kinda dumb?? i loved the addition of sally (and grover) teaching him myths, but he’s still percy. he isn’t supposed to be majorly clued in, he isn’t supposed to be guessing things, he’s just little baby percy with his one track mind like cmon.

sally and poseidon lore?? did we really need that?? i mean, it’s kinda cool, but that’s not… sally?? she isn’t still in love with poseidon. they don’t talk. they aren’t in any kind of relationship or friendship or anything. i don’t really love this element of the show ngl

hades… the underworld… what the hell (literally). the scene with charon that got completely cut?? the bathtub story?? why would you cut that?? the whole underworld felt pretty flat and boring and had no real suspense imo. also the cerberus scene felt very dull and not really exciting like it should’ve been. also having annabeth gone for most of it?? why??

the crusty scene……. i am so upset about this ngl. why did percy know. why wasn’t annabeth and grover trapped. why did it suck so much.

the whole lotus hotel scene as well, like yikes. them knowing right away made me mad as hell. i wanted to see annabeth engrossed in an architecture game. i wanted percy and grover playing old tiny video games together. i wanted percy being like “ayo wtf” after someone says ‘groovy’. i did not want rip off percy-movie set and hermes and that random ass satyr.

i wanted the gladiolia scene too. “say hello to the pink poodle��. i wanted more camp time. i wanted luke and percy’s first sword fight lesson.

i honestly do feel a little disappointed by this show. it doesn’t feel exactly right, and as much as i do love it, some changes have made me extremely sad and some of the writing decisions have been poor in my opinion. i get that rick saw this as an opportunity to rewrite a second draft as such for this book, but that’s not what we were promised, and at this point it’s feeling almost too changed to be a rewrite.

i will say, though, that i absolutely adore the casting. every cast me ever has been spot on, immaculate book vibes, the cast is carrying the show on their backs istg. walker?? the persassy vibes are there. leah?? annabeth’s facial expressions are spot on. aryan?? his comedic timing is perfection. i love the whole cast and i really do love the show too, i just wish it was closer to a so called ‘book adaptation that you’ve been waiting for’.

anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk

Something that is confusing me is how many people are defending the changes Rick made and defending Rick himself in regards to the show.

He lied to us.

He got the entire fandom to hype up the show, got the show made on the basis of getting a book accurate adaption. This was supposed to be something accurate to the books, including the book characters, the book scenes, the book stakes- we were supposed to get to see our favorite moments in the books on screen.

And then he went and rewrote the book.

This adaption isn't the book we read. The characters aren't the characters we read. Grover's personality was wholesale replaced. This is something entirely new-

And whether you like it for itself is a different matter entirely, but the point is that... this isn't The Lightning Thief that we read years ago.

He lied to us.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Only One He Sees [Sal Fisher X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none? I mean, I guess emotional cheating and angst.]

[AN: this is a hot mess!! But I just wanted to write something quick and angsty bc I adore Joji's song "Glimpse of Us". It's like,,,, 1:30 am,,,, be nice to me yall,,,,,, I haven't written anything of quality in eons. ALSO I don't ship Ash and Sal, I just needed a shoddy plot device im sorry. 2681 words <3]

Sal doesn’t do anything half-baked. He ensures that his all is in everything he does, everything he says, everything he means. And when he loved Ash, he loved her hard and with everything he was. Did you know their love story was slow? She’d always viewed him as a dear friend, and he’d always been hesitant in getting close to her. But through high school, they had grown closer. Ash’s love with him was almost perfect. No one had ever seen two people fit together as perfectly as they did. 

You couldn’t go five seconds without seeing their dreamy smiles and gazes peeking through the tiny sliver of windows on the doors as they passed by the other’s room, how they yearned for each other when seated far away, and gods, who could forget how they disappeared for hours caught in their own little world? Sal had never loved anyone as much as he loved Ash, and he would have spent his entire life with her if the gods had willed it so. But, good things never last, and Sal is unfortunately more aware of that than anyone else. 

He respected her wishes more than anyone else, even more than his own, and it led to their downfall. They were best friends before, during and after their relationship. A breakup brought up by differences in future lifestyles wouldn’t change that. But oh, gone were the halcyon days when they could be carefree kids in love. Sal considered a part of him gone with that relationship, his walls a bit higher than before when it came to matters of the heart. 

But you? You were a stubborn thing. You sat yourself down next to him in one of your classes your senior year of university, intrigued by the things he was doodling in his notebook. And he was charming, polite, his blue eyes smiled as you imagined his lips were. He had told you what a pleasure it was that he was meeting you for the first time, and you returned the compliment. 

A semester had never passed faster than that silly filler class with Sal. Every day you’d come in, 11 in the morning, plop down next to him and pass him some drink you picked up from the on campus cafe - one of many. You and Sal made it a mission from the beginning to try something new at the beginning of the semester. You watched over the weeks as something came back to him. You could have sworn you heard his heart beat again, he’d been so silent when you first laid your eyes on him. When the final class rolled around, you’d been saddened to realize that - 

“So this is where we part ways?” You said as you began to pack up your things. You had a small, polite smile gracing your lips, fingers just barely fumbling with the zipper as if to give him a moment or two to respond. But really, you enjoyed his presence.

Sal slowly closed his notebook before shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be?” He offered. “H-Here,” he chuckled upon seeing your puzzled expression. He fished out a sharpie and made a small grabby motion for your hand. He held you warmly, gently, like you were made of glass as he painted the digits of his numbers onto your hand. “I’m surprised I didn’t give this to you earlier,” he admitted with a sheepish grin verbally popping through his almost shy voice. 

Your heart fluttered so fast, so loud, you were sure to take flight. “It’s nothing,” you said as you shook your head. “I’ll call you sometime soon!” You said it so fast, Sal hardly had time to register it. You felt like you were floating as you popped out of your seat, cutely waved to him and damn near sprinted out of the classroom to get back to your car. You heard his laughter. It was nice to hear him like that. 

It was safe to say that a relationship between the two of you blossomed after that. You kept him waiting a tad longer than he originally expected, but you were worried you would come off as clingy, desperate. It felt like hell waiting to send that silly little ‘hi! This is Reader, from-’. You must have written it dozens of times before clicking send and hoping for the best. But everything with Sal was so easy. Never had he made you feel like a stranger in the house the two of you were building. 

Some late nights, the two of you would park your car in the middle of an empty lot and stare up at what little stars you could actually see peeking through the night’s abyss. Looking for gems in a sea of ink had to be one of your favorite things to do with him, because when the heat of the sun was gone, he’d wrap you in his strong arms, and hum softly in your ear. Sometimes, Sal would whisper stories of how the stars above received their names. You felt loved by him without him having even said it. 

On one of these outings, you felt him pause. His painted nails had been just barely massaging your scalp when he pulled his fingers downwards, as if he was trying to run them through your hair. Upon realizing his action, he stopped, a slightly confused, and disturbed expression on his face behind his prosthetic. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, your body moving upwards a bit to tilt back to look at him. 

Sal shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, his gaze soft but still perturbed. “Autopilot,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby,” he cooed in an apologetic tone before turning your attention back to the faint stars above, his low voice explaining them in a whisper only a lover was afforded to hear.

You studied him as best as you could, and for the first time you realized he wasn’t looking at you. Perhaps he never was to begin with. 

It happens, right? Sometimes people just do that. But this? This felt off, a deep seated pain that had erupted somewhere deep inside of him, spilling to the surface to a point he couldn’t hide it anymore. To say it planted a seed of doubt would be an understatement. It sprouted an entire garden. Everything Sal did, he said, you thought of what could have caused him to look at you as if you were someone else. Time and time again you were able to reap the fruits of your labor. He was constantly searching, touching you, hoping you were someone else. 

If you didn’t catch him that first time, you might not have ever caught it to begin with. It’s everywhere, glaringly obvious, practically lit up in bright red lights and bolded for you. The way you have to reposition his hand when you’re snuggling, his defaults are never in tune with yours, his humor just out of sync with yours, and how he lays in your arms feels so empty. You know he’s waiting, hoping and praying for someone else. So, why is he passing time in your arms? 

You never let your suspicion show. You treat Sal with the utmost love and respect as you can, watching as the summer ebbs to winter, and as the day fades to night. You tell yourself time and time again that it’s your problem. You almost make yourself believe it. 

Do you know the pain that comes with doubting someone you love so deeply? You ran yourself dizzy, sick, wondering who it could have been. You didn’t want to distrust him, you didn’t want to question him, but the thought of someone else having that effect on him cracked your heart into pieces. Of course, you did your best to hide this from Sal, but he’s a smart man. Of course he’d figure it out eventually. 

“You feel different.” It was stated as an observation, but you know he meant to prod more. His arm, draped around your blanket ending in his hand lovingly clasped around your outer shoulder to bring you in closer to his side lovingly rubbed at you. His thumb traced little moons and stars, circles, even hearts. 

“I do?” 

He hummed a ‘yes’ and nodded slightly. “What’s eating you?”

You took in a deep breath and attempted to push the feelings away. “Do you love me?” The blue haired man pauses his actions entirely, body rigid and expression taken aback. “What?” You can’t see his expression, but you know he’s shocked. “Of course I love you,” he continued. Sal’s voice is cracked, his confidence clearly taken a hit that you would doubt him. 

“Then why does it always feel like you’re searching for someone else?” You asked, no accusation in your tone, but rather genuine curiosity. 

The man at your side shifted again before a deep sigh echoed from his chest. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.” He studied your face as he spoke. “My ex, Ash, was my first love. I don’t love her anymore, I promise.” He reached for your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “You are my everything. Always have been, always will be. But, I guess some part of me-”

“Misses her?” You finished. 

Sal scoffed slightly. “No, I don’t miss her,” he shot back. 

You could feel the defensive energy radiating off of him. “Okay,” you said softly, letting him calm down. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tic, before taking in yet another deep breath. His shoulders rolled before dropping, practically drooping. “You’ve been so good to me,” he murmured, “I could never think of anyone else but you, Reader.” He’s lying through his teeth, but you believe him. You smiled, taking his hands warmy into his. 

“I’m sorry for being stupid or anything-,” you rambled, deeply unsettled about the feelings of dread pooling in the back of your throat. How could you ever compete with someone like that? 

Sal let your hands go before reaching back to his prosthetic, clicking it off. “I love you.” That was the first time he said it. 

It felt so empty. 

He leaned forward to kiss you. 

You kissed him back. 

The next few years that passed in your relationship with him were rather peaceful. You had almost forgotten about the pain, but every now and then his actions would remind you, and your heart would ache all over again. But, Sal is good at making you feel loved. You. You and you alone. And for a while, you were certain that he’d fallen out of love with Ash. 

Why did you tell him that you were okay with going to that little friends meet up? Why did you tell him that you would go with? Why did you tell him that you wanted to meet the people who he went to high school with? You already know Larry, isn’t that enough? When you first agreed, none of these thoughts were on your mind. You wanted to support Sal and genuinely see the people who made his high school years that much better. You wanted to meet who made him happy! 

And oh how sweet they all were. Larry’s more than used to you, but meeting Todd, Neil, Maple and Chug? You already feel like you’re one of the gang with how friendly they are. Larry’s made it his mission that you fit in - in fact, he seems more enthralled in the whole process than Sal does! 

“Is she coming?” You heard Neil ask, a small smile on his lips as his arm rested comfortably around Todd’s waist. 

“Running late,” Sal replied as he looked up from his phone. “She just texted me.” 

You feel something inside of you pluck roughly. The strings of your heart are being played, aren’t they? “She should be here in a minute or so.” 

“How’d she text that from her bike?” Snickered Larry in a lovingly teasing tone. 

Sal shrugged. “Just glad she’s coming today,” he added before coming to your side and mirroring Neil’s actions. He gently nuzzled you with his prosthetic, as if he was pecking a kiss to your temple before making a small motion to leave. “Did you want anything to drink? To eat? I know this place like the back of my hand,” he offered with another chuckle. 

“Maybe some more water?” You replied in a half questioning tone. You watched as he left your side before being whisked up by the other people in the room. 

You didn’t hear Ash come in. You didn’t see Sal forget you were even present. Being so caught up with his friends, you didn’t even realize your boyfriend hadn’t come to check on you in hours. 

You crossed through the place with Maple, a cup in your hand on the way to get some cake Chug had brought when you saw them sitting in a bay window. Sal looked positively invigorated with life. He was glowing on the inside and out just being by her again. His body language was so much more animated. His voice was lively. He was laughing at Ash’s jokes, even if they weren’t funny. And gods, how he leaned in just to hear her secrets. He contorted his form better just to be that much closer to her. It was like his heart was clawing out of his chest to be with hers. 

He was still in love with her. Anyone could see it. 

Feeling your gaze, Sal’s attention briefly moved to you. He saw your smile, something soft, something gentle, something validated after years of wondering. He waved at you from where he sat with Ash, just faintly disheartened you did not wave back. He watched as your lips turned slowly to a frown. He could hear your heart break. And even though he was looking directly at you, he still only had eyes for her. 

At that moment, you hated him, truly, and as deeply as one person could hate another. You watched as Ash commanded his attention back, and like a sweet little puppy, he followed. You knew he was smiling under his prosthetic. His touches to her were pure and sweet in a way he’d never afforded you. You thought back to all the lazy mornings and hazy evenings you’ve spent with him curled up in bed. Those touches that felt so foreign, as if you were a placeholder all made sense. It was a deep innate feeling you felt ever since you were gazing up at the stars with him. Finally, finally it was validated. 

Your body feels like it’s floating as the rest of the night passes by. You don’t see Sal until it’s time to go, and your words are failing everything you want to say to him. You’re angry, that’s at the forefront of the things you feel. You feel betrayed. You want to call him everything under the sun. His hand on your thigh doesn’t feel right. The way his lips press to the side of your head when he briefly moves his prosthetic to kiss you doesn’t feel right. You have every intent of getting out of the car and throwing your things into a suitcase and leaving the home he’s made you feel a stranger in. You have every intent of cutting your losses and moving to something healthier. You don’t deserve this. You’re practically seething in your seat when you hear him say it. Those four words that make you weak all over again. 

“I love you, Reader.” 

Your heart seizes. You think over your options. Entire lifetimes must have passed through your mind’s eye as you consider it, and you know that if you got into another relationship, all you would be able to see is him. 

He’s the only thing that matters to you, even if you're not the one that matters to him.

You bite back a sigh, a pained smile on your lips to follow as you face him. 

“I love you too.”