#but have u considered that it’s just true and they really are best friends ?? like when crowley calls az his best friend sure that might be

[simcardiac-arrested]

i don’t think we’re ever getting out of the “we’re just friends” “oh yeah those characters are such good friends (sarcasm)” “they’re not friends they’re gay” etc etc hole. we’re never getting out of that hole

[meliciousmel13]

➛ K I L L A

paring: killer!bsf!billie x reader

warnings: smut, mentions of blood (duh), kiddnaping, cheating, mesionary, doggy, billie calls r names (slut, like a few times), mean billie, mentions of alchool, kind of angst(?), strap-on sex, fingering, r has a bf, smut written by a minor. i think that's it, please comment if you find any more! ty

wc: 4,413

SYNOPSIS: billie kills, billie heals.

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

an: so sorry this took so long, i had exams and was also busy irl with things, after finishing i feel so fucking tired and literally everything discusts me idk what tf is wrong with me.

he was sweet at first. you swore it. he was the type to give you flowers everyday. and used to send you good morning and goodnight texts everyday. until he didn’t. you don’t know when you detected that change in him. you don’t know if he just decided to be cruel one day.

he doesn’t even hit you. is what he says. it’s true. he doesn’t. but what he does do, is manipulate and completely destroy your ego with just words.

like when he pointed out that it looked like you were gaining wight. he didn’t even have to tell you. you were like his trained dog. his trophy wife—girlfriend. like you had no use beyond your looks.

he’d always let his “friends” touch you, always try to impress them with you. point out that you were his pretty, submissive, pet girlfriend. most of them were ugly too.

was what billie says. she said that you should leave the asshole or maybe break into his house kill him in his sleep. she suggested doing it, but you always laughed it off. saying he treats you completely fine.

she always came over at your house when she knew he was there. intruding on your weekly dates and sitting on your couch like it was hers. he’d always glare at her. and you understood she could be a little infuriating sometimes and a little possessive but if henry wanted you, then he’d have to deal with your best friend too.

you met billie in 3rd grade. when you were small and new to the huge school. she approached you, and asked you to play with her in recces. you had so much in common. she loved to run, and you loved to run…

you were good together. you balanced each other out.

but she scares you sometimes—considering she has a gun, she’d always pretend to be dead. but you were immune to her little pranks now. she did them too often. you were too used to them.

you went to the bar just to get a drink or two. to get a break from your annoying boyfriend and equally annoying best friend, you loved her. really, you did. but she tires you out.

until you saw an incredibly hot boy walk toward you.

“hey,” he said, with a pretty smile, he was beautiful, you knew boys weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but he was.

“hi,” you said back, slightly looking up at him, tall too.

“think i can buy you a drink?”

you bit your lip, didn’t even think about henry, didn’t even think about your boyfriend.

you nodded, “i’m quinn, and you are..?” he asked, waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.” you answered.

he was sweet and polite—talked with you a little to see if you were interested, not the intrusive, even-if-you-say-no-i-still-wanna-annoy-you type. told you he could drive you home, even asked for your number

you listened. found yourself in his jacked up car. didn’t even question why it smelled so awful in there (billie’s pranks made you not even question it). or why he had a shady duffle bag in his back seat.

“you want some water?” he asked you, driving away from the bar, and to the main road.

“yeah,” you nodded, taking a few sips and recapped it, placing it in the cup holder in the dashboard, “thank you.” you mumbled.

“you’re welcome.”

you don’t know exactly when you blacked out. it happened all at once almost. his hands on your body tying you to a wooden chair. when you woke up you were in a big warehouse. drowsy, quinn. on your phone, scrolling.

“what?” you say, looking up, and looking around. trying to find out why you were tied to a chair. when your gaze fell on him.

“your awake.” he smiled, “i think i used too much powder.” what the fuck?“you slept for too long.”

how. how the hell. did you get kidnapped. it was infuriating. all you wanted was to relax and have a drink. but you get into even more annoying bullshit.

he stayed on your phone for at least 30 minutes, or at least that’s how much it felt like. quinn groaned, massaging his temples and looking up at you.

“you got a charger?” he said, and you shake your head. which made him sigh even louder.

it took a while but he found a charger in his duffle bag. found a plug and sat down on the dirty floors continuing to scroll through your phone. also a creep. why was everyone you were remotely attracted to either 34 years old or a complete weirdo?

you heard the warehouse door creek, and see a dark figure creep inside. wearing all black clothes and—they were walking towards you.

they were in front of you now, looking up, you say a black mask and sunglasses with the hood of the hoodie covering almost everything. you wondered how he(?) could see.

you let out a small “mhph” and the figure tilted it’s head, going behind you and waiting for quinn to notice. he didn’t. so he hit the corner of the wooden chair, emitting a loud “THUMP” through out the large warehouse.

quinn finally looked behind him. “hey— uh, are you..?” he stood up, probably thinking the figure was also a killer? kidnapper? whatever. maybe he was his sidekick or something. you didn’t know. all you knew was that the person behind you had a knife. and it was currently on your neck.

“hey! whoaa, calm down dude. you don’t need to do that. we’re friends right?” for a kidnapper, he was pathetic. really fucking pathetic.

you couldn’t see behind you, but considering quinn’s smile, it was good. “yeah! yeah.. your nodding so we’re friends. we’re friends.” he repeated. seeing the man? woman? person? you didn’t know, walk towards him, with the knife hanging off his right hand.

you never would’ve seen it coming. all you saw was blood splattering across the walls and dripping onto the floors. you wanted to scream. but you closed your eyes instead. the scene of the knife slitting quinn’s throat. how he tried dropped to the floor and coughed blood.

the scene kept repeating in your brain and you saw it when you closed your eyes. you finally open your eyes. and saw the figure walking towards you, dropping the bloody knife to the floor and bending to your eye level.

it was sort of intimate. how his bloody gloved hands removed your gag. you breathed through your mouth for a while. swallowing and licking your dry lips. “thank you.” you mumble-whisper, he was untying you now and you didn’t know whether to be scared of him, or thankful that he just killed your kidnapper.

he untied you, took your hand and walked towards the seemingly dead body of quinn. there was a body of blood around him, he bent down and took the car keys from quinn’s dead body.

you felt safe. it was scary because you felt safe. a killer was holding your hand and leading you to a car and you felt safe.

he opened the door to quinn’s car. and you realized that he hasn’t spoken a word ever since he walked into the doors of that warehouse.

you didn’t know what to say. all you wanted to do was go home. or go to billie. anywhere that’s not here.

his driving was that to billie’s. you didn’t notice, maybe you did, your was brain too messy to think logically. of why you were in a killer’s car, and why you felt safe.

you arrived at the nearest building. a gas station. just staring at the gas station. did he expect you to get off? you couldn’t. your knees were too weak. so you just stared at him. and he stared at you. just holding the wheel and looking out his side of the window, waiting for you to leave. like he’d done his part or something.

“what?” you said dryly, “i’ll go— just gimme a little.” you sigh, and lay back on the seat. you could hear him sigh too. he bucked his hips and slid half way down the seat. just like billie did.

you both breathed for a while. until you gained the courage to leave. he drove off the second you got out. you walked to the gas station. there were 2 other cars behind you and you had blood on your cheeks.

the bell ringed at your entrance. and the part-timer didn’t spare a glance at you. you felt small. you kind of wanted to be small, you wanted to be like, six or something.

“um—” you wanted to go home. all you could think of was home, home, home and billie.

“what.” she said, still not looking up from her phone. you wanted her to see you. thinking your appearance would explain your situation without you having to move your mouth.

she sighed, and looked up. closing her phone and looking. her eyes skimmed past your skirt and hoodie and stared at your face.

she helped. gave you her phone so you could call someone to pick you up and you called billie. you knew if you called your henry he’d take two hours to get here. she helped clean up your bloody face and you finally talked.

“i ran away.” you explained, and kathryn listened intently, “i— i um—” you stutter, and she rubbed your arms reassuringly, you were struggling to find a good excuse, you couldn’t. so you told her the half-truth.

billie came to pick you up in record time, it took her 25 minutes. which was fast because the ride to here would take at least 33 minutes. probably sped up.

billie was concerned when she came, she hugged you tightly when you got out the station, mumbling “thank fuck your safe.” and “i don’t know what i’d do without you.” it was the first time you’ve seen her so scared. she wasn’t the type to panic, if she did she would hide it.

you were still shook. your back was stiff and your usual laid back position in her car turned all polite with your hands on your lap and your head towards the window. whenever billie asked something you’d reply dryly, you felt bad but what did she expect?

at first she wanted to take you home. to your own house that you own. but you couldn’t stay alone after that. it was too traumatizing. so she drove you to her house.

when you entered your nose was filled with billie. her musky cologne and her.

she took you to her room, and it was a mess. you didn’t care though, collapsed onto her queen sized bed. and tried to not pay attention to the smell, it reminded you of his car. the water, the bag. everything reminded you of him.

“do you wanna change?” she asked, and you nodded. looking around her room like it was the first time you’ve seen it.

she was holding the clothes now, expecting you to get up and wear them. you didn’t. just stared up at her.

“come on,” she mumbled, taking your arm and helping you get up. you didn’t know what happened, maybe your brain finally processed the entire situation. maybe you expecting felt safe enough to just cry. you did, you felt tears welling up in your eyes when billie tried taking your shirt off, you cried in her arms and she held you.

you let out small whimpers and hiccups of her name and while trying to calm you down she put your head on her shoulder, turning your head you saw a pile of black clothes in the corner, probably thrown in a hurry. ignoring it, you dig your head in her neck and breathe her in. her scent calmed you down.

its been 3 minutes now and billie has been rubbing you back and kissing your shoulders the whole time.

all you wanted to do was curl up in her lap and not think. you just wanted to not think for once. maybe she could run her hands through your hair while doing it. you didn’t have to ask. she took you to lay your head on her lap. and your heart ached with something you’ve never felt before, something indescribable and immensely painful. you curled up, half in her lap, half in your own, in desperate need of comfort from someone other than him yourself. for a moment, her gentle touch helped you forget.

it was peaceful. it was so damn peaceful and you wanted to cry because you’ve never felt so safe before. your knees hurt. and the way your legs were positioned on her lap actually hurt. but you couldn’t get away. you couldn’t think—you couldn’t do anything. it was like you were frozen.

but you liked it. you liked not thinking and not doing anything—it felt good. like for once you didn’t have to do anything. billie ran her hands through your hair and slowly undressed you with her eyes. she rubbed your hips and kissed your arms. it felt good and you wanted more.

“can i take this off?” she asked.

“yes.” you replied, turning around slightly to see her pulling your hoodie above your arms and off. she laid it down next to her and she gazed upon you like you were the moon and stars and her savior. you felt needed. in that moment you felt like someone wanted you, beyond just as friends or girlfriends or boyfriends.

billie finally touched you. she touched your belly first. rubbing your sides and looked at you. you felt kind of shy? her eyes made you shy. you wanted to look away. but you couldn’t. gasping, once her roaming hands touched your breasts.

“fuck.” she mumbled, and you didn’t even think of what you were doing. just focused on how good it felt, to have her on top of you—touching you. it was the sort of thing you dream of and never expect it to actually happen. but it did. it was happening right now.

“billie.” you whine-gasp as her hand slips under your skirt and lifting it up. it was a pornographic scean really. literally the things you’d see in porn. this was different though—heavenly.

the skirt was laying above your hips, revealing your pink underwear, and billie looked stuck in a haze. she sighed. it wasn’t an annoyed sigh or anything, she was in awe. you could see it all over her face—you could see what she was thinking.

one hand was playing with your nipples, tweaking and pinching. the other was just rubbing up and down your thigh. she spread your legs and your head was near the edge of the bed.

billie stopped the movements on your nipples and fully focused on your underwear, pulling them to the side and biting her lip, “you’re fuckin’ dripping f’me.” she breathed out, running her thumb up your pussy and collecting your arousal, “all this for me? hm?” you were flushed, if the room wasn’t already hot she was making it hot.

“billie.” you whined, and she tilted her head, “touch—”

“touch you?” she interrupted, “you want me to touch you? huh? my slut wants me to touch her,” she chuckled bending down your your legs at the side of her hips, she kissed and nipped at your neck, “c’mon, tell me how i should touch you.” she pulled away and grinned as you bit your lip, looking away and gripping her messy sheets.

“if you can’t say anything then how do i know where to touch you? so fuckin’ whiny.” she groaned, gripped your underwear with her whole fist and dragged her middle finger through your folds, slipping it half and inch in and pulled away before you could beg for more.

“billie.” you whined, bucking your hips and looking up at her with the most pitiful expression, pouty lips and eyebrows furrowed.

“billie,” she mimicked your whine, “can’t wait ny’ longer please js’ fuck me already.” she laughed, imitating you. she was so mean. by now you were ruining her bed sheets, your thighs were stained and her dark jeans were a mess, because of you.

she was sitting with her knees bent under your thighs, your legs were laid by her hips and your pussy had a perfect angle to grind on her stomach, you didn’t, she gave you a perfect opportunity to get the pleasure you wanted but you didn’t. you had this burning desire to be good for her. you just wanted to be good for her.

her hand was still gripping you underwear and you were wondering what she was thinking about, “billie?” you called out her name, looking up at her innocently like you weren’t spread out beneath her.

“yeah?

“need you.” you breathed out, and that seemed to wake her up. she got up from the bed and walked towards her dresser, “where are you going?” she didn’t answer. only digging through her dresser, she pulled out a box and took something from it, you just sighed and laid your head back on the bed.

“c’mere.” she said, taking your hips to her hands and dragging you to lay back on her pillows, taking one and putting it under your back, you smiled, for no reason at all, “what?” she asked.

“what, what?

“why are you smiling?” she kissed your neck, it was sweet, how she cared about you.

“nothing.” you shook your head, and looked down to find something poking your entrance, “billie.” you looked back up.

“what?” she smirked.

“it won’t fit.” you gripped the sheets.

“i’ll make it fit.” she said, and dragged the silicone across your pussy, entering her middle finger to get you ready for her. you moaned, it was embarrassing almost. she didn’t even do anything yet, “my pretty girl.” she breathed out, adding another finger and pumping into you slowly—she started to kiss your neck, and mumble filth into your ear.

“ffuck— billie!” you moaned—loudly, right in her ear. you didn’t mean to. really, you didn’t. but she added another digit in you, your brain was already a mess.

she pulled away from your neck, groaning. looking frustrated. but not at you, “you did that on purpose didn’t you” she asked and you looked up at her, before you could reply she dragged your thighs closer to her and pumped her fingers faster.

“billie— can’t—”

“can’t what? hm? slut.”

“m’ gonna cum—” you whined, feeling her fingers brush your g-spot. your swore you heard her mumble something but it was too quiet for you to hear. all you could think of was billie billie billie. it felt so good. your mind was fuzzy and you were seeing stars.

rolling your eyes back you could feel her gaze on you. you didn’t even think, just gripped her wrist and whined, “want me to stop?” she smirked.

“no! no, don’t stop. please please— billie.”

“you can’t cum until i say so angel.” she said, cruel. you whimpered as she took her fingers out of you, taking the silicone cock and angling it to your pussy, you bit your lip, feeling her rub circles on clit and rubbing her cock up and down on your pussy.

“hurry up.” you said.

“bossy.” she mumbled, didn’t even say anything back, just laid your head back on the bed and felt the tip go into you, instead of gripping the sheets you grip her biceps, “oh.” you gasp, and billie slowed down, so you could get used to the feeling to of the strap.

“ready?” she asked, and you nodded, she filled you up and you could feel the ridges of the strap against your walls, it was almost too big, you were scared at first but she took your hand and looked down at you with an almost sweet expression, you knew what she was thinking about though.

“who said it wouldn’t fit?” she said, and you looked up at her with your mouth agape, feeling her rub up and down your thighs while waiting for you to adjust. at least she was waiting. she was better than him.

you imagined your boyfriend walking into her room, seeing billie fucking you with her strap, you imagined his angry face, how you’d whimper moan into her ear, while staring at him. you wanted him to see.

billie was moving her hips and you gripped her biceps, it hurt, almost. you felt bad for her neighbors. but that was the least of your worries.

“wish you could see yourself.” billie mumbled, and pulled out, before you could even protest she turned you around, taking your hips and lifting them up.

oh, you felt filthy. she was angling the strap to your entrance and you laid your head on the pillow, turning so you could see her. you hated that you couldn’t see her.

“billie—” before you could even whine you felt her thrust into you harshly, “oh— fuck.” you moan.

“yeah? what do you wanna say angel? can’t say—” she gripped your hips and slammed into you roughly, “can’t say a thing, hm baby?” mean. she was so mean.

“wanna’ see you.” you whine, digging your head into the pillow, billie started to kiss up your back, you didn’t even have to see her you could feel the smirk on her face. every time she drives into you, your juices squelch, drenching both of you in a mix of sweat and slick.

“wanna’ see you.” she mocked, looking down, seeing a white substance cover the end of her strap, “fuck—” billie hissed, your moans and whimpers were driving her insane. your walls cling to her, squeezing her tighter with every thrust. her pace became erratic, desperate, hips snapping harder and faster.

“so fuckin’ tight,” she sighed, letting go of your hips and gripped the pillow under your stomach, “nd’ perfect.” she plowing into you and you were so close. you could feel it, brewing in your lower stomach, you didn’t want to tell billie, scared if you did she’d take it all away and make you beg to come.

“billie— can’t hold it.” you whine, feeling her hand grip your hips so tight you knew it would bruise the next morning.

“just a little more sweetheart.” she said, and you wanted to listen, you wanted to be a good girl, for her. but you couldn’t. clenching around her and gripping the pillow in a vice grip, s hard you were scared it was going to rip. you didn’t want to ruin her pillow so you let go. holding the sheets softly.

billie saw your hesitation and sighed, “you can hold the pillow angel, i won’t be—” she licked her lips, “won’t be mad.” she reassured, and you put your hands back on the pillow.

“can i come?” you were so cute. whimpering and moaning under her. she almost said yes. wanted to say yes, but she wanted to show you how much better she was making you come, than your asshole boyfriend with a micro dick and massive ego.

“no.” she replied, and you whined.

“why not.” you had to hold back a moan, just to speak.

“cause’.”

you waited, bit your lip and closed your eyes and hoped she would finally allow you to come.

“billie.” your hands clutch onto the pillow desperately trying to hold it in. it hasn’t even been a minute yet.

“you can hold it a little more, can’t you angel?” you could’ve came right there. could’ve. it was a choice, she gave you a choice. you could come, or you could wait, just a little longer.

you held it in, feeling the strap hit deeper and deeper each thrust, it hit your g-spot every time. she already knew your body like that back of her hand and he didn’t even know what a clit was.

“how would henry think about this?” billie said, hinting to what your boyfriend would think if he saw you, “seeing you like this— hm?” you hated how she made you think of him while she was literally pounding into you.

“billie.” you warn—try to, at least. but the moan right after made it really hard to be intimidating, plus the fact that you couldn’t be intimidating to save your life. having billie trail after you where ever you go was enough scary-dog privilege. she did the intimidating, you were always smiling.

“yeah? have somethin’ to say?’ she mocked. you wanted to be mad at her, you wanted to turn around and teach her a lesson—you wanted. you never did a thing.

by this point the knot in your lower belly was hard to ignore, every time you moaned, or whined and whimpered you felt it throbbing. you squeezed around the silicone tightly feeling billie struggle to keep up the same fast pace. and you finally felt like you were winning, she was getting tired.

“can i come?” you whimpered, again, praying for her to say yes.

“you can come now angel.” billie bit her lip, holding your hips and you finally let go.

“i’m cumming!” you whimpered in between moans, screams filling her room as it finally hit you, your ears ringing and vision faltering as she helped you ride it out.

you whined when she pulled the strap out of you, leaving you empty and needy. “fuck, would you look at that.” there was a pleased smirk on her face as she looked at the soaked, creamy white strap.

“how’d that feel?” she asked, like she didn’t just give you the longest and best orgasm of your life, he’s never made you come before so you don’t even have anything to compare her to.

“s’ good.” you mumble drowsily, collapsing on your stomach to the pillow she placed there when she let go of her hold on your hips.

“so fucked out.” she smiled, and your head was turned to her bedside table, seeing some blood? red paint? something—stained on it, you ignore it, it was probably because of how old the thing was.

you heard her mumble something like, “fuck, i need to clean that” when seeing where your head was directioned, she was talking about the strap, right?

[seungkw1]

one last chance — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: college au, smut [18+ MDNI] ♡ wc: 4.3k ♡ warnings: drinking, size kink, masturbation (m.), oral (m. & f. receiving), head pushing, face sitting (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (don’t do this), reader is down bad, sk is also down bad, quite a bit of whimpering from both parties oop ♡ a/n: back from my hiatus!! hope u guys enjoy this one <3

You’ve accepted that you’re never going to see your college crush again after graduation - but an unexpected invitation to a pool party might just change everything.

Boo Seungkwan is many things: charming, witty, intelligent, athletic, and incredibly good-looking. There’s not one particular thing that stands out when you think about how in love you are with him - he is simply the most attractive person you’ve ever met.

You first met him freshman year of college, at a house party just before the school year started, when you drunkenly kissed him. To be fair, you kissed a few people that night, but you don't remember the others - only the cute guy on the volleyball team made a lasting impression. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you distinctly remember him being a very good kisser. 

You had a few classes together over the years. You quickly developed a habit of sitting at the very front of the classroom - if you sat anywhere you could see him, you would simply get lost in a daydream. And you really didn't want to fail your classes over some silly fantasies. 

But at a certain point, you accepted that the fantasies were, in fact, quite serious. You wouldn't consider Boo Seungkwan to be a friend, per se - but your social circles overlapped just enough to keep him on the perimeter of acquaintanceship. Though seemingly one-sided, you came to know him well, as if he was a longtime companion rather than a friend of a friend at best. You tried telling yourself that he just had that effect on people, being so gregarious and outgoing that everyone loved him by default. Which was true to a degree. But something about him - rather, everything about him simply captivated you

And that was enough for you to fall in love. 

You always felt a little insane about it. How could you be so in love with someone without having talked to them more than a handful of times in your life? You dated around here and there, a couple relationships serious, most not. But Boo Seungkwan was always in the back of your mind. Try as you might, you simply could not get over him.

Four years came and went. The ups and downs of college life are nearly behind you now. Everyone is about to get a big adult job, perhaps move cities, enter the real world. Aside from your closest friends, you probably will never see most of these people ever again outside of social media. They’ll walk the stage, and then walk out of your life for good. 

And so, disheartened, you accept that your chances with Boo Seungkwan will once and for all become zero. But purely by luck, the next day on your coffee run you bump into a friend of a friend who invites you to a pool party on the weekend. It’s a graduation party out in the suburbs, at a huge house owned by the parents of a well-known, popular student who happens to be in the same fraternity as Seungkwan. Normally, you would've declined - you've always found pool parties a bit awkward, especially when you likely wouldn't know many people there. But there was a pretty damn good chance that Seungkwan would be there - and you would be remiss if you didn't take one last chance to at least talk to him. So with cautious optimism, you agreed to go. 

You spend the next couple days before the party massively overthinking what you're going to wear. After much deliberation you land on a bright blue swimsuit with an oversized sheer coverup on top. Good enough, anyway. 

You intentionally arrive to the party fashionably late - no need to get there too early and get roped into small talk with people you hardly know. Fortunately, you spot your roommate from sophomore year - you're not close, but you still consider them a good friend. They wave you over and you join the group; the conversation is fine, but eventually a few of them get deep into a discussion on some indie film you've never seen. You zone out, eyes wandering around the party scene. Not many people are in the pool - still too early, apparently; one frat guy you vaguely recognize is busy at the grill making slightly-burnt hot dogs, but the rest haven't seemed to arrive yet. As if summoned by your thoughts, a group of guys enters the backyard, hooting and hollering with several giant cases of beer in tow. The party attendees cheer at the sight of alcohol. 

Then, a few moments after the arriving party has entered, you see him. 

Like a goddamn scene from a movie, Seungkwan walks through the gate - his warm brown hair flowing gently in the breeze, his skin shining in the golden hour sun. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and simple navy swim shorts, but somehow still looks ethereal. 

Someone in the group you've been chatting with waves him over. 

“Heyyyyy, now the party’s here!” the guy shouts at him. Seungkwan waves back to him, his eyes scanning the group, when he makes eye contact with you. After a few seconds you realize you've been holding your breath. You exhale. 

Relax, you tell yourself. He probably doesn't even remember you. 

Seungkwan joins your group. The frat bro who waved him over hands him a beer. He opens it and chugs a bit, the can looking particularly small in his large hands. You try to be normal and not just stare at him hopelessly, but it's easier said than done. 

A few minutes pass. Some of his fellow volleyball players were amidst the group, so they started talking about the sport. You’ve only been to a few volleyball games in your life (all of them being college games that you attended with the idea of watching Seungkwan in shorts in mind), so you do your best to follow along with the conversation, but it's not going too well for you. So you mostly just remain silent. 

After a while, you start thinking of excuses to get you out of this conversation. Not that you don't want to be around him anymore - but you're feeling too awkward for your liking at this point. You decide that you can probably just slip away without anyone noticing, so you turn to leave. 

“Hey y/n! Want a beer?”

You freeze in your tracks. Turning back around, you see Seungkwan in front of you, extending a Bud Light to you. 

“Oh, sure,” you say, smiling to conceal your nerves. “Thanks!”

“Of course,” he says with a soft grin. “So,” he continues, “I heard you were-”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. 

Three of his fellow frat bros emerged out of thin air, cheering and shouting, grabbing Seungkwan and hauling him away. With a big SPLASH they throw him into the pool. 

As he surfaces he begins yelling at his friends. 

“What the hell!!!”

They all laugh at him - he pretends to be mad, but he can't help but laugh along with them. 

“Help me out, dipshit,” he says to the nearest friend. The guy reaches down to help him out of the pool, but Seungkwan pulls him into the water instead. The rest of them let out a loud OOOOOOOOH before jumping into the pool after them. 

You scoff at their stupidity, but you can't help but laugh too. 

“Wanna go inside, y/n?” your old roommate asks you. “I heard there's an air hockey table in there.”

“I’m terrible at air hockey,” you inform them, but you agree. As you step through the door to the house, you take one look back. Seungkwan and his buddies are now playing chicken in the pool. You swear you see him looking at you from atop his buddy’s shoulders, but moments later he gets whacked with a pool noodle and falls into the water. You roll your eyes as you go in the house. Idiots. 

But you secretly still hope you can talk to him again later. 

—

Your wish comes true - sort of. 

The sun is long set, and pretty much everybody is in the hot tub. You were chilling with a few others, but more and more people started joining in. It’s getting a bit crowded, but Seungkwan happens to be two people over from you. You’ve ended up between two different conversations, participating in neither, but listening along as he talks about the new music he’s been listening to lately. 

Suddenly, a massive uproar arises from indoors. 

“SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!...”

In an instant nearly everybody leaps out of the hot tub, whooping and cheering as they follow the drunken chanting into the house. 

Everybody but Seungkwan. 

He fixes his eyes on you - his eyelids slightly heavy from numerous beers, his red-tinted cheeks illuminated in the dim glow of the backyard string lights, his lips seemingly extra plush, soft, kissable… 

He has never looked more stunning than he does right now. 

A lazy smile spreads across his face. “No shots for you, then?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I'm okay.”

“Me too.”

A few moments of silence pass. He gazes at you as if he has something he wants to say, but he hesitates. Despite the lack of conversation, it feels… comfortable. Like you could sit in silence all night with him and not get bored - his presence is more than enough. 

“Can I ask you a dumb question?” he finally asks, the look on his face slightly sheepish. 

“Sure,” you respond, working overtime to maintain your calm exterior despite your heart rate rising. “Though - I'm sure it's not dumb,” you add affirmatively.  

He reclines, lifting his elbows and placing his arms casually along the edge of the hot tub. He looks up at the moonlit night sky, as if reminiscing. 

“Do you remember when we kissed that one time?”

You feel as if you've suddenly been electrocuted. You don't know what you expected him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that. 

He continues. “It was at the very beginning of college - before classes had even started. At a house party. We were both drunk, you probably don't even remember-”

“No I remember,” you blurt out. He turns his head to you again, a look of genuine surprise upon his face. 

“You do?” he responds, momentarily forgetting to contain his elation. 

“Of course,” you reply with a nod. 

“You must have a really good memory, then,” he says nonchalantly - but you can tell he hopes there's something more to it. 

“Not really,” you admit. His eyes remain locked on yours. He turns slightly, facing you. 

“I've thought about it often over the years. Thought about you.” 

Your stomach drops. 

He drifts a bit closer through the softly bubbling water, his eyes locked on you. “Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I’d ever had the courage to ask you out.”

You stare back at him, too stunned to respond. His lips curl into a smile. 

“What's that look for?” he asks. His big brown eyes are practically sparkling.

“I…” you start, but your mind goes blank. You're still trying to process his words. 

“I had no idea you felt that way,” you eventually manage to say. “Honestly, I didn't even know if you remembered who I was.”

“You're kinda hard to forget.”

“Oh,” is what manages to come out of your mouth. You feel dizzy.

“What do you mean, courage?” you ask him. 

“Hm? Oh, I mean you’re just so… out of my league.”

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. It’s Seungkwan’s turn to look confused. 

“It's true!” he proclaims. 

You gawk back at him. He laughs. 

“You look flabbergasted.”

“I am flabbergasted,” you concur. “You're the one who's way out of my league!”

He shakes his head. “You're crazy. But that's why I like you.” He drifts toward you even further, fully sitting beside you now. His shoulder brushes against yours. A rush of adrenaline pulses through your body. 

“That,” he continues, “and the fact that you're one of the smartest people I know. And kind. And funny. And…”

Gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up toward his. 

“So beautiful.”

Without a further thought, you kiss him. 

He kisses you back, with such passion that can only be achieved by a prolonged period of yearning. He cradles your face in his hand, the other reaching for your waist under the water. You grasp his shirt in your fist, melting into the kiss you've been dreaming of for years. You slide your other hand underneath the drenched fabric of his tee, wrapping around to the small of his back, drawing him in even closer. He wraps both arms around you, pulling you onto his lap, squeezing your body tightly against his as his lips hungrily lock into yours. Your mind is completely devoid of any thoughts unrelated to Seungkwan - you only think of him, of his words to you, of the sensations of his figure touching yours, of the hardening form beneath his trousers pressing against your core. 

After what feels like a blissful eternity, your lips delicately part, your mouths lingering next to one another. You’re fully sat upon him now, straddling his thighs as he holds you tight in his arms. You slide your arms over his shoulders, shifting yourself upwards - ostensibly to position yourself more comfortably, but also conveniently grinding against the bulge in his swim trunks. He groans at the sensation.  

“Fuckkkkk.”

He looks up at you, longingly. You're both still somewhat inebriated, but sobered up enough from the adrenaline rush of physical touch. 

“What if we…,” you start, pausing to plant several kisses onto his soft cheeks. 

“...got out of here?”

His eyes light up with excitement. 

“We could head to my place-”

“Nuh-uh,” he interjects. “That'll take too long,” he  mumbles as he presses his mouth against your neck. You let out an involuntary noise. 

“I've waited long enough. I want you now.”

His voice grumbling in your ear makes your pussy ache. 

“I happen to be staying the night in the guest bedroom,” he tells you as he runs his fingers gently up and down your back. “Upstairs - third door on the left at the end of the halfway.”

You draw your face back, pressing your forehead against his. 

“Well that's convenient.”

He grins. “You go first. I’ll join you in a couple minutes.”

You quickly dry off, don your coverup, and enter the buzzing house. You worry that someone is going to see you heading upstairs and ask you what you're doing - but nobody even seems to realize you're there. They're all too drunk to notice or give a shit. 

Acting as if you belong there, you head up the large staircase. Upstairs you find a ridiculously long hallway - you approach the third door on the left, giving a soft knock in case anyone else has decided to use the room for similar purposes. Hearing nothing from the other side, you enter. The guest room is fairly large, equipped with the usual furnishings, with Seungkwan’s bag and things tidily placed in their appropriate spots. A king size bed with expensive-looking sheets and a plethora of pillows awaits. 

Before you can even start to overthink everything, the room is flooded with light from the door opening abruptly. Startled, you turn around to see the light extinguished as quickly as it appeared as Seungkwan shuts the door behind him and turns the lock. He arrived shirtless - which makes sense considering that his t-shirt would've been sopping wet due to him wearing it in the pool, but his unexpected half-nakedness certainly makes your insides jolt. Even in the dimness of the room, even with damp strands of hastily towel-dried hair laying disheveled across his forehead, he is strikingly hot. 

“That was fas-”

“Couldn't wait,” he says as he grabs your face, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. You grasp onto the bulge in his shorts, squeezing lightly. He moans into your mouth as he kisses you still. You grab ahold of your coverup, starting to remove it, but his hands snap up to your wrists, stopping you. 

“Hold on,” he mutters, his lips barely separated from yours. 

His fingers delicately trace the swimsuit’s thin straps though the sheer outer fabric. He lifts his hand and cups your face in his palm, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb. 

“I wanna watch.”

He pulls the desk chair out and sits down, his supple thighs spreading apart to accommodate what appears to be a thick fucking cock, still growing in size. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I’m only wearing a swimsuit, it's not gonna take long.”

“Take your time, baby.”

And so you make a show out of it. 

You caress your breasts through the sheer top, squeezing them gently. You run your fingertips over your nipples, causing them to harden and visibly poke through the swimsuit. Seungkwan moans at the sight of them, reaching his hand down to his cock and stroking it slowly through his shorts. 

You peel your outer garment off your body in slow motion, discarding it to the floor. You run your hands back down your body, hugging every curve; one hand returns to your breast, pinching your nipple, while the other keeps sliding down, finding your clit and massaging it lightly over the fabric. 

“God that's fucking hot.”

He reaches his hand into his shorts, letting out a pathetic whine as he touches himself. You feel your cunt throb beneath your fingers. 

“Take those off,” you plead.  

He gives a few more slow pumps before sliding his trousers off, tossing them aside. Your eyes widen as his length springs free, brushing against his stomach. He’s even bigger than you expected, not only long but fat. Genuinely, you're not sure how he could even possibly fit inside you - but that makes you crave it even more. 

Slowly you slide your swim top to the side, your erect nipple growing even harder in the cool air of the room. You run your hand over your bare tit, reaching across to expose the other. Seungkwan’s hand falls into a steady rhythm as he strokes his cock. He leans his head back, sinking into the chair, his eyes glazed over as they pore over your body. You continue, sliding the reminder of your swimsuit off and discarding it on the floor. He groans as his grip tightens, his pace increasing. 

You step forward. 

“Can I…”

You drop to your knees, sliding your hands onto his thighs, positioning your face in front of his cock. 

“Oh god, please,” he begs, nodding his head fervorously. 

You grab onto his cock, running your tongue from his balls to his tip. He moans, the sounds turning whinier as you begin to swirl your tongue around the head. By the time you take his entire length into your throat, he is full on whimpering. 

He places his hand upon your head, pushing down lightly. You slide your mouth up and down his cock, swallowing him so deep it makes you gag - but that only makes you wetter. He pushes your head down harder, pressure increasing more and more as his body writhes beneath you. 

“Oh my god baby,” he moans. “Fuckkkk y/n, ‘m gonna cum.”

His thighs begin to shake as he thrusts into your mouth, holding your head in place as he releases. Your eyes flood with tears as you choke on his size, hot spurts of cum deliciously hitting the back of your throat. His moans taper off as he comes down, his hand gently stroking your hair. You pull your mouth off his cock, looking up at him as you swallow all of his cum. 

“Jesus christ, you're so hot,” he praises as he catches his breath. After several silent moments of deep breathing, he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. His hands grasp your hips, pushing you toward the bed as he kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste himself on you. You reach the side of the bed, the back of your legs bumping against the mattress; he swings you around, swapping places with you as he sits down. He plants a series of kisses on your stomach before gazing up at you, still high off his orgasm as revealed by his warm, glowing pink cheeks. 

“Will you sit on my face?”

You hesitate. You run your hands through his hair as you ask, “Are you sur-”

“Yes. Please.”

He lays down, resting upon the bed's many pillows. 

“You don't even know how many times I’ve dreamed of this.”

He pulls you onto the bed, on top of him. You crawl up toward his face, your pussy lingering in front of his lips. He grabs your hips again, pulling you onto his mouth. You cry out as he buries his face in your cunt, his lips and tongue traversing your soaked folds. 

“Fuck you're so wet,” he mumbles, refusing to remove his mouth from you any further. He begins to fuck you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit in a way that drives you fucking crazy. You grind your hips, the friction against your sensitive spot sending waves of pleasure through your body. You ride his face, hips bucking lightly as he eats you out like there’s no tomorrow. 

He drags his tongue up your slit, locking his lips around your clit, making you let out ungodly noises as he sucks on the throbbing bud. His arms wrap around your thighs, squeezing tightly as he holds you firmly against his face. He alternates between flattening his tongue against your clit, swirling his tongue around it, sucking on it - the combination of sensations driving you over the edge. 

You grip onto the headboard, white-knuckled, as your legs begin to shake. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, looking down at the man whose face is buried in your cunt. He gazes at you, his eyes drunk with lust, taking in the sight of you moaning and losing your mind to his touch. “Seungkwan…”

Your orgasm takes over, riding out your climax upon his tongue. You clutch onto your breast, whimpering shamelessly, seeing stars as you cum all over his face. Time seems to stop as pleasure explodes through your whole being. 

His tongue slows as you come down, licking you softly as you brush your fingers through his tousled locks. With heavy breaths you climb off of his face, clinging to him as you lay next to him. Seungkwan quickly rolls over on top of you, his huge cock fully erect again - clearly extremely turned on by making you cum. 

You open your legs, aligning your soaked cunt with its head. 

“Fuck me,” you plead breathily. 

He slowly pushes his cock into you. As wet and ready as you are, nothing could have prepared you for his size. The stretch is instant, your walls forming around his thickness. You've never felt more full in your life. 

You let out a groan as he bottoms out, filling up your whole cunt. He begins fucking you, rhythmically pounding into you as his breath heaves with each thrust. You shift your hips, allowing him to go even deeper. He kisses you, pressing his lips against yours desperately, your moans unceasing but muffled against his mouth. Soon, he's fucking you hard - and it feels heavenly. 

“Harder,” you beg. 

His eyes devour you, his reddened cheeks glistening with sweat as he gives you every inch of his cock. His eyes close, his face scrunching up as his breathing grows heavy. 

“Gonna make me cum again, oh fuck…” he barely manages to get out before his moaning rises in pitch. He gets only a few more thrusts in before he pulls out; he grabs his cock and gives it several powerful strokes before he cums a second time, white ropes painting your dripping pussy and your stomach. 

With a deep exhale, he plops onto the bed right beside you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. His fingers graze over your body as he reaches for your breasts, squeezing them softly as he recovers, his chest rising and falling against you with heavy but slowing breaths. 

“That was…” he says as he strokes his hands softly against your cheek, turning your head to face him. 

“Wow.”

You let out a giggle, your head still spinning from getting dicked the fuck down. 

“Soooo…” he starts, shifting his body to lay comfortably on his side. “I promise I wasn't stalking you or anything, but I did hear that you got a job in the same city as me.”

You stare back at him, confused. 

“But I thought you were moving back to your hometown?” 

He smiles. “I was planning to, but at the last minute I decided to take this offer. I wanted to be closer to most of my friends. But - I happened to hear you'd be moving there too. And I’d be lying if I said that wasn't at least a little bit of a factor in my decision.”

Your eyes light up as you process his words. 

“Honestly, I only came to this party because I thought I’d never see you again,” you admit. 

He gives you a cheeky grin. “So you came here intending on hooking up with me.”

“No!!” you balk at him, but a smile spreads across your face too. “Well… maybe a little. I figured I had only one more chance to shoot my shot. And I knew I'd regret it if I didn't at least try.” 

He beams at you softly. “Well, I sure am glad you did.”

“Me too,” you beam back. 

“Though,” you add, “Now that you've rearranged my guts I think you should at least take me out to dinner.”

Seungkwan bursts out laughing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells you, but he leans in for another kiss. 

“But I’d absolutely love to.”

—

taglist: @juyeonshour @bath1lda @miniseokminnies @myhimbomingi

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

can't say no to you . . (not that i want to)

katsuki takes you home after a night out

a/n: OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

[whatifitis]

♡ Pack It Up - CL 16 ♡

SMAU FUCK U TUMBLR AND THE PICTURES PER POST

this is paht 2, paht 1 is here <3

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deuxmoi

456,291 Likes

deuxmoi Tom Blyth spotted getting close to his co-star, Emily Bader, after a night on the town. 

📷 @/backgrid_usa

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User56 so.. Do yall feel stupid now?

↳ User23 a little…

↳ User12 Okay but how could we not think Tom and Y/n were getting back together? The evidence was stacked

↳ User90 there was no evidence 😭 yall are just stupid and read into things too much

User68 my husband is cheating on me 😱

User77 I hope yall apologize for the way you treated y/n during all this

↳ User33 FR! Like this could’ve seriously taken a toll on y/n and charles relationship. I mean there hasn’t been a peep from either of them since all this shit started. 

↳ User87 do you guys think they actually broke up? /gen

↳ User31 honestly the chances are quite high considering the circumstances

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charles_leclerc 

Liked by y/n_l/n, phoebebridgers, and 912,693 others

charles_leclerc Mon coeur, there are simply no words to say how much I love you and how in love I am with you. Your humor, kindness, and honesty are something I adore so much. I will forever be grateful to have even met you, let alone get to spend my life with you. There is no life without you. Thank you for loving me through everything. I’m in love with the world through the eyes of this girl. 

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y/n_l/n my favorite person in the whole world. thank YOU for loving me through everything. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you forever

francisca.cgomes hurt her ever and you’re chopped liver 

↳ charles_leclerc i only intend on loving her til my last breath

↳ pierregasly Enough with the poetry speaking, it’s creepy and makes me look bad

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f1gossippofficial

459,291 Likes

f1gossippofficial uh oh, seems as if Mr. Snow was just playing y/n 🤔 the cold hearted snake was spotted making out with his co-star AND there’s talk of him sending messages to his friends about wanting y/n back so that he could “trick that stupid bitch into thinking she’s loveable”. He also was heard speaking ill about our beloved y/n and stating that she was “talentless” and that he should’ve never wasted his time on someone so “boring”

View all comments 

User29 what a fucking twat honestly

User53 and here i thought he was one of the good ones 🤧

↳ User77 hate to break it to you, babe. but there’s no good ones

↳ User53 true true

User44 yall really didnt listen to ‘complex’ and it shows

User84 the picture is sending me 💀

User20 TOM BLYTH I WILL FUCK YOUR MOM AND FUCK U UP I HOPE YOU STUB YOUR TOES AND THAT BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE ALWAYS MICROWAVE WARM 😡😡🤬🤬🤬🖕🖕🖕🦶🦶🦶🦶🫵🫵🫵🫵

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charles_leclerc posted a story

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y/n_l/n

Liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly, 1,343,454 others

y/n_l/n thank you so much to f1 for inviting me to perform for the race this weekend! it was so much fun and i LOVED being able to perform my new song ‘call it what you want’ for the first time! (it will be out friday!). I also wanna thank the crowd for joining me in singing happy birthday to the love of my LIFE. this weekend was amazing and i will cherish these moments forever <3

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charles_leclerc Not only do I have the hottest gf ever, but I have the sweetest one. I don’t deserve you, truly. You’re my angel

↳ y/n_l/n what can i say 🤷 im just smart as hell (and so very in love with you)

pierregasly STOP RAISING THE BAR PLEASE IM JUST A MAN ↳ francisca.cgomes 😘 i love my balding bf

[jybyls]

Haunted feelings || T.C

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Synopsis: Fear turned out to bring out hidden feelings. (Thanks @darkpoetdreamer for the idea)

Warnings: Fluff, strangers to friends (?) to friends to lovers, haunted house, bad writing, not proofread, I think that's all.

Words: 2.3k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

Sam, Chad, Tara, and you were sitting in the living room, bored to death. You had no ideas of what you could possibly do, so you were all just minding your business on your side. Well, I'm not really minding your own business. You kept glancing up at Tara every now and then.

You wanted to talk to her but you didn't know what about, it's not like you guys weren't friends, actually you guys were basically best friends but lately it's been oddly hard to act normal around her and you couldn't figure out why. Yes, you did not use your brain on that one.

"Guys !! I have plans !" Mindy exclaimed as she ran into the living room, almost slipping down. Y'all looked at her excited frame, wondering what she had in mind, "What, Mindy ? Wanna do a horror movie marathon ?" Chad mocked his twin sister, which only led to her giving him a dirty look. You slightly giggled at the scene in front, looking at Mindy to hear her answer.

"Don't say this. I might consider it." She said and that ended up with all of you screaming 'no' because you're sick and tired of watching the same horror movies Mindy propose, "No, please, let's not consider that as an option of a plan. What was your main idea ?" Tara spoke up, but your brain didn't listen.

It just went, 'blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, background stuff..' Safe to say you're a simp. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam. Her older sister sense has been tingling toward you for a moment now.

She definitely knows something is up with her sister and you. She kept her suspicion to herself, tho.

"Will you all shut up and listen to me ? My plan is to visit a haunted house. Y'all are down, or are you too afraid to follow me ?" Mindy exclaimed with a teasing tone, taunting you to follow her in her amazing idea.

"If we don't agree to come with you, you won't go. You're too afraid to go by yourself, that's why you're asking us." Sam, more than calmly, explained her point, which was true, but the shorter twin would never admit it. "That's not the point ! Are you coming or what ?" She shouted, distracting you from Sam's words. You all laughed at her.

"You know what ? Fuck it." Tara said, "Where's that haunted house of yours, anyway ?" The younger Carpenter mocked her friend, not really believing that place existed. "It's down town." Mindy grimaced and Tara reciprocated it, "Very mature of you, girls." You sarcastically said before standing up to get your jacket. They watched you with a dumbfounded look on their face.

"Well ? We're going or not ?" You asked. The twin immediately smiled and screamed, "YES ! Let's go, bitches." And with that everyone is outside, walking to that haunted house. Chad and Mindy were in the front, arguing, Sam was right behind them, not even listening to their faded words, while Tara and you were awkwardly walking next to each other.

You quickly became friends when she moved to New York. You were going to the same college and had the same classes most of the time. You didn't know Tara's story, you didn't know what she experienced, well, at the beginning of your school year you didn't even know who was this Carpenter girl and why was everyone whispering stuff about her and her apparently psychotic sister.

You didn't really care, tho, you thought it wasn't your problem until one morning in your English class your teacher assigned the class for a group project and you got teamed up with Tara. Everyone's eyes were on both of you, but again, you didn't care. You didn't know her, how could you judge her ?

By the end of this class, you came to the conclusion that you liked her. She wasn't mean, like students said. She was actually sweet. She did come up strong at first, but how could you blame her when the whole world wouldn't listen to her until she had nothing left to say ? Well, you couldn't.

You couldn't blame her for anything. And you felt like that when you just met her, so it's safe to say that now that you're down baf for her, it made it impossible to blame her.

Even with her trauma and her sister's advices for some reasons she trusted you. She quickly opened up to you and talked about what happened to her in Wosboro. She talked about Ambet, her sister, her parents, everything. You know everything about her, and you took care of that information. Obviously, you trusted her equally.

You told her everything she needed and wanted to know about you. And ever since you never left each other's side. Eventually, Sam learned to appreciate you, and so did the twins. Oddly enough, everyone agreed with Tara when she suggested that she should be part of the group.

It's been three mot hs now that you're part of the group, and they can all easily say that they like you a lot. You're trusted, and your company is always more than welcome.

You've currently all arrived at the so-called haunted house, holding you phones up with the flash lights on because of the darkness inside. Tara and you stayed close to each other, Sam was behind the two of you while Chad and Mindy were walking to the front, but they quickly backed up with a jump once they heard a noise.

"Did you hear that ?!" Minday whispered-yelled to all of you with a hint of dramatist, "Yes, I fucking did ! What was that ?" Her brother answered with the same tone. "It's the floor." The short brunette rolled her eyes at their dramatist, "It's cracking." You continued, slightly laughing at their reactions.

They huffed, "Yeah. No, yeah, we knew. We were trying to scare you guys." The boy answered with fake confidence, trying to stand taller. "Sure." Sam tried to hold back her mocking smile. You and Tara weren't has strong tho, not only were you mockingly smiling but also directly laughing at them, shamelessly making fun of their sudden fear.

The twins rolled their eyes, huffing again but eventually gave up. They knew they couldn't win with Tara as an enemy. The brunette might be small, but God knows she can and will bite back. With no mercy whatsoever.

You all walked, trying to call in any spirit, but obviously, nothing happened. The scariest thing you saw was a drawing of penis probably made by some teenage boys who found this place before you. The twins kept getting scared by random noises, and they also kept claiming not to be, which was quite ridiculous but strangely funny. It gives Sam something else she can mock them about, and that's enough to make this woman content.

Midnight suddenly hit your watch. You wanted to go home. However, you didn't want to ruin everyone's fun, so you stayed quiet. You lazily follow your friends around. Your mind was far away, thinking about a thousand different things but mostly one thing. Actually, one person. Your best friend, Tara Carpenter. This girl has been haunting all your thoughts.

At first you believed it was nothing, 'It's just because she's my new best friend. That's why I'm always thinking about her.' You told yourself, trying to get some sort of reassurance even tho you knew you were lying to yourself.

Because you knew damn well you're not supposed to think about what your best friend's lips taste like, neither are you supposed to think about her hands on your body and yours on hers. But since you didn't want to ruin your friendship with her, you closed your mouth.

Whenever you felt like telling her she looked pretty, you didn't. Or you'd just say something like, 'cool outfit' or 'cute haircut', when in reality you wish you could tell her how stunning she looks, how you can barely brung yourself to believe that she's real because of her beauty. You wanted to ramble about how much you loved her freckles, how you wanted to kiss every single one of them.

But you couldn't. That was the best you could do. Small, furtive compliments. You were to fucking scared to say too much and risking making her uncomfortable. Or worst disgusted by you. That'd be the end of your world. And your world resolve around her so it's easy to say that if she rejects you in any way you'd be a heartbroken mess.

Little did you know that the girl you were crazy about was head over heals for you. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, she barely even admitted to herself to began with but damn was she down bad for you.

She didn't want to say anything by fear of ruining your friendship. You were so dear to her she would never forgive herself for losing you. So instead of trying any kind of move on you she decided to stay quiet and cherish every second she gets to spend with you.

"Can we head back home or do you still want to walk around like idiots ?" Sam spoke up, clearly tired of this little adventure. You immediately nodded, "Yes, let's go home. I'm getting tired of this." Tara followed you, "Yeah, we're going home." Mindy whined however she agreed.

"Alright, alright. Let's go home. This place's a dump anyway." Chad led the way out of the building, Mindy on the other was terribly disappointed. She wanted to see a ghost or any spirit so badly but nothing happened. Sad for her, but good for all of you because it meant you could head home with a quiet Mindy.

The walk back home was full of teasing against the upset girl who kept huffing and rolling her eyes. You and Tara didn't participate much to the teasing since you shared earplugs with your shared playlist blasting in your ears. To make sure the earplugs wouldn't fall you stayed close to each other, your fingers brushing against one another. Your heartbeat went faster as you hardly blushed, thanks to the darkness it wasn't visible to anyone.

You hesitated for a moment before taking all your courage and interviewing your pinky with hers. You were about to pull away but she was faster to react, squeezing your pinky with hers. You looked down at your hand, a shy smile appeared on your face. You bit your inside cheek, trying to suppress your smile as you looked in front of you.

Beside you Tara was shamelessly smiling, evidently happy about what just happened. Neither of you spoke a word, the simple yet loving gesture meant more than anything.

The older Carpenter had a suspicious look on her face when she saw you and her sister hurrying upstairs the second everyone got home. She trusted you enough not to worry about anything, but her older sister instinct was hitting like crazy. She knew something was going to happen in this room. And she wasn't wrong.

You closed the door behind you as Tara connected her phone to her speaker, soft music was playing in her room. You sat on the chair of her desk while she sat on her bed. For a short time neither of you spoke, enjoying the calm music until Tara broke the slight awkwardness of this moment. "I think we need to talk." Her tone was eripus which cause you to panicked, "What-? What about ?" You faintly stuttered, your eyes widened a little bit. "About what happened earlier." She knew she was making you panick and this brat was savouring it.

You were overthinking like crazy, 'Did she just held my pinky by politeness ?', 'Did I make her uncomfortable ?', 'Oh my god. Did I just loose my best friend ?' Were one of the few questions that went through your brain when she mentioned what happened some minutes ago.

You shakingly breathed out, "What about it ?" You anxiously fidgeted with your rings, waiting for her answer but your mouth had other plans. "Did you not like it ? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I really didn't mean to. It's the last I ever want to do. I love you too much for that."

Fuck.

Maybe you should learn to think before speaking in anxious situations. You both froze at your final words. You tried to speak again but nothing came out of your mouth. Oh, you definitely screwed it.

"You love me ? Like love me, love me ?" Tara asked but again you couldn't find any words to answer so you just nodded. She was dumbfounded. She didn't know how to react. She dreamt of this moment but never expected it to actually occur.

A long silence came between you, even the music couldn't make the situation less awkward. You were so incredibly ashame. You felt like you were burning. You finally found some words, "I should go. I'm sorry." You stood up however it wasn't in Tara's plan to let you go anytime soon. "No, no. Sit back down." Her tone was enough to make you melt. You listened without thinking twice, sitting back down on your chair.

The brunette shook her head and tapped the empty place next to her on her bed, quietly telling to sit next to her. You understood her command and moved to sit next to her.

As soon as you were next to her, her hand found yours. "You didn't make it uncomfortable. Yes, I liked it. And I love you too." She gently whispered, her soft smiled grew on her face, "Like love me, love me ?" You murmured, you barely had the strength to find your voice. The whole thing was unbelievable.

Tara chuckled then nodded, "Like, love you, love you." She nudged your shoulder which caused you to follow her chuckle. "How long have you liked me for ?" You quietly asked, "For too long. So what do you say we stop waiting, hm ?" She smirked as she looked at you. You instantly nodded, "Yeah, that sounds great." You smiled, squeezing her hand.

Waiting this long was worth it, you're finally with the one you love.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Rushed end because I'm tired. This was supposed to be a Halloween fic- my bad lol. Have a good day/night. I hope you forgive me for how bad this is. Love y'all <3

[rubyvhs]

you could be bad ch1 | dean winchester

SUMMARY. a wrong number has you winded for an entire month NOTES. okay guys, here’s my little baby, so excited for this. covers my ‘mistaken identity’ square for @jacklesversebingo TAGS. 1.5k words, angst, death. Series masterlist

june 

unkown: hey, i’m waiting outside.

you: great let me just get dressed

and ask what the fuck you’re doing outside my apartment

unknown: jo?

you: nop.

unknown: shit i got the wrong number.

sorry, total accident.

i am definitely not outside your apartment.

you: i would sure hope so.

and i also hope you find your jo friend’s number since you seem to be really great at keeping track of them!!

unknown: haha, very funny.

i guess this is an old burner phone or something, i don’t know how i messed that up.

you: okay well

keep me posted on your date anyway.

unknown: how’d you know it was a date? 

and why would you wanna talk to me again? this is breaking every rule for cybersecurity ever created.

you: i like living on the edge

also you kinda just give off those vibes 

unknown: i give off ‘date’ vibes?

you: yep. go get ‘em, tiger!

unknown: sammy, whrs my car

i swr to god if you don’t get me baby m gonna kill u

you: hi again

i am, in fact, not sammy. nor jo. 

you: did you die?

unknown: i should’ve guessed

sorry again, texting while driving isn’t a good idea

you: yeah it isn’t. you almost gave me a heart attack.

unknown: you don’t even know me.

you: i still don’t want you dead

unknown: how would you know? what if i was a really bad person?

you: … are you?

unknown: idk. i guess it depends on what you consider bad.

you: murder. i consider murder bad. 

unknown: then nah, haven’t reached that level.

you: then you’re an okay person, everything else can be looked past. 

so as i was saying, don’t fucking die.

also, how was your date?

unknown: so great that i was texting my brother on the way home hours early

you: sammy’s your brother?

unknown: sam but yes.

you: what happened?

unknown: there was an emergency with her mum so i drove her back to the bar. her mother wasn’t too happy to find out i’m the guy she was out with.

you: oh, that sucks. does that mean you’re not that good of a person? 

no offense lol

unknown: none taken, kinda true. i don’t think i’m tradition ‘take home to the family’ guy.

you: you’re a guy??

unknown: are you not a woman?

you: yeah, i am. wow, we’re learning so much about each other. next tell me what color shoes you’re wearing.

unknown: you’re funny

you: i can do stand up comedy if i try, obviously i don’t try though.

unknown: ah, of course, why would you.

wait, sammy responded.

you: go get ’baby’! 

cat? mother? sister? best friend? (i hope it isn’t a girlfriend) 

unknown: car.

and i’m on my way there.

dean, by the way.

you: dean?

unknown: my name. 

what’s yours?

you: i think a quick look at truecaller can do the trick. night, dean!

dean: gt door

you: now it’s just ridiculous.

it’s been three days since you last spoke to me and the first thing you ask is for me to get the door. i never took you for the rude type.

dean: sorry, just woke up.

you: ehh, don’t have to be. i’m actually super awake anyway.

why are you asleep? it’s nine.

dean: stayed up late last night.

going back to sleep.

you: night, dean!

dean: night.

dean: [1 attachment]

[ image description : a tanned hand holding onto a half eaten pack of cayenne beef jerky, with his shoes in the background. It looks like he’s in his car. on the top right corner of the picture there’s some handwritten text, very hard to read but roughly says ‘dnt frgt, bitch’. ]

you: be honest.

do you just not check your contact ever? 

go eenie meenie miney mo and press send? i won’t be mad, i just want the truth.

dean: shit shit shit.

i have no idea how this keeps happening.

you: it’s okay, i don’t mind.

dean: you don’t?

you: i’m actually very very bored right now so yes, i don’t mind. work is kicking my ass so thanks for the distraction.

dean: work?

you: yep! i sadly have rent. pa at my old uni.

dean: that’s fun

how old are you?

you: how old are YOU?

dean: yeah you might need to answer first.

you: no way

dean: fine, whatever. 36.

you: hi grandpa.

i’m twenty six.

dean: you’re only ten years younger.

you: and yet i’m wiser.

dean: now that’s just not true.

you: and how would you know? i’m very wise, ask any of my friends.

dean: and how many friends do you have?

you: so many.

like a whole 2.

dean: wow. impressive.

you: okay mr. stranger. how many friends do you have then?

and i’m not talking like people you like to have around i’m talking FRIENDS.

dean: two.

but i’m older, circle of friends thins with age, you’re still young.

you: honestly not that much younger, but yeah, i don’t know. mostly still have my sister though so that’s what’s matters. 

dean: yeah, i get that. 

you: you’re close with your brother?

dean: yes, we work together.

you: really? that’s so cool! my sister’s like four years younger than me so as much as i would kill to work with her, we’re not at the same level.

dean: sam’s four years younger than me too. but there isn’t much of a difference between us. at a certain age it’s all just the same.

you: i totally get what you’re saying.

okay, dean i need to go because said sister is screaming at me, but!! if i ever see you texting me cause of a wrong number situation again i will get so angry, okay?

dean: yes ma’am.

you: whatever, stupid.

dean: hey, saw your number in bobby’s phone today. you’re a hunter?

you: a what?

dean: you don’t have to pretend, i’m a hunter too. i know why you didn’t tell me but i would’ve though you heard of me.

you: okay… why? are you popular? notorious? i’ve never heard of you before you texted me, dean.

and how do you even know bobby?

dean: how do you know him?

you: a friend of a friend. and bobby’s a mechanic, what the hell is he doing with a hunter.

dean: sorry, i think it got it wrong. he used to hunt with my dad and i do it professionally now. but i would’ve thought you heard about my dad, i meant. him and bobby used to be close.

you: who’s your dad?

dean: john winchester.

you: never heard of him. i’ve heard of dean winchester though. 

dean: really?

you: yes. i mean there’s like a thousand deans so i didn’t wanna assume but bobby used to talk about you and sam. he’s always doing something for the two of you. 

dean: we hunt lots of wild animals, we usually need his help.

you: right. because bobby’s the most flexible person on the planet.

dean: research wise. we need him research wise. 

you: okay. what were you doing there? and why’d you just assume i hunt too? i already told you i’m a pa.

dean: i don’t know, i just assumed. me and sammy went to pick up some stuff for another hunt we’re going on next week.

you: in a few days?

dean: yeah, on monday.

you: be careful please.

and have fun, i guess. mostly be careful.

dean: we will. tell bobby i say hi when you see him next time.

you: will do. and i’ll also ask for baby pictures. 

dean: ha ha

you: isn’t it the craziest coincidence that you texted me? what’s that about? what are the odds we end up having a mutual friend?

dean: I know a lot of people, it’s not that crazy to me.

night.

you: night, dean.

you: [1 attachment]

[ image description : a stray cat sitting on your lap, her head snuggled into your shirt, your hand stroking her fur, the new pink nail set obvious on your manicured hand. under the cat is your mini skirt with see through tights. ]

dean: new leggings?

you: you asshole

isn’t she so cute?

dean: someone’s cute alright

you: not funny

you lost pic privileges.

also you’re working? and texting? 

when will you ever learn, dean.

dean: how about never? 

besides, you worry too much, i’m more than okay. 

you: tell sam hi for me and to keep an eye out for you because you’re going to get yourself eaten

dean: eaten?

you: wild animals are no joke.

dean: oh yeah, that’s what i heard too.

thank god i have you to tell sammy to take care of me.

you: take care please.

dean: don’t doubt it.

dean: i think you’re asleep.

that would probably make a lot of sense cause it’s three in the morning

but i guess i needed to talk to you

you: me?

dean: hey why are you awake?

you: cause i have insomnia 

why are you awake?

dean: just got home

do you actually?

you: no, just drank too much redbull trying to finish correcting these stupid papers. tell me what you wanted to talk about.

dean: yeah but i thought you’d be asleep

you: would it be better if i shut my phone off and wait for you to finish before i read it?

dean: no it’s fine

but you’re sweet for offering, angel

you: thank you

or whatever

dean: yeah, so you wanna hear it or not?

you: yes please

dean: remember jo?

you: your girlfriend?

dean: we tried going on one date but her mum didn’t approve and honestly i think she only liked me because of the whole off limits thing. she’s a great girl but our dads had problems so maybe it translated to how she viewed me. i’m not sure, i just know she’s gone now.

you: so you guys were together? ever since you texted me thinking i’m her?

dean: yeah. not together together, but i went out with her. i tried giving her what she wants but her mother is so hell bent on making her hate me and i don’t wanna bridge a gap between them. she’s her mother.

you: right because mums are the most important people in the world.

dean: i loved my mum.

i still think about her everyday.

you: oh dean, i’m so sorry. 

dean: it’s fine. anyway, how was your day?

you: was okay. i’ll go to sleep. good night, dean. 

dean: oh, night.

dean: ha, sam says he saw you at bobby’s

for the love of my impala tell me that it isn’t true. my baby brother could not have seen you before i did.

you: yeah, i met him. he’s really nice. told me about your contractor job. seemed really interesting. also told me about how you talked about me, mentioned that my name came up when you were asking for help with your car. apparently i’m a mechanic now.

dean: fuck, angel.

i’m sorry.

you: no problem at all.

dean: look i can explain everything. i promise.

you: no thanks

join my taglist. @daylighted @starrylanex @losers-clvb

[iratempestatis]

Heyy! How are u? I hope you’re doing well i saw you wanted some requests for xiao and i thought of an idea so we know xiao’s true form is a bird right? How about xiao’s s/o one day discovers it by an accident? Like maybe the s/o is an adventurer and was exploring around liyue in the night and happened to hear the whistling sound we hear in the game in liyue (the one where xiao calls for his dead friends) and the s/o goes to see what the noise is the rest is up to you

Entwined.

Xiao x gn!reader, 5.5k words. Some angst and then all fluff, it may not have been exactly what you wanted but I do hope you like it! I love bird Xiao <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks! Rest assured I will write them even if it takes some time :3

Being an adventurer is hard work.

Find a suitable commission (which never happens), figure out any additional details (clients never provide enough info, especially the rich ones), plan your schedule, budget and equipment accordingly (it often falls short thanks to their unreasonable demands), finally carry out the commission (it often turns out to be far more frustrating and time consuming than you anticipated), get angry when the client stubbornly refuses to cough up the original sum of mora (this thankfully doesn’t happen as much), nurse your wounds (ouch) and worry nonstop about any sudden emergencies (what if you get injured? What’s going to happen when you get old?) You sometimes wish you listened to your family and became a scholar instead.

Anyway, you’re currently locked in a bitter battle with a rank one (1) asshole, so maybe you just have an unreasonably short fuse right now.

Some days past an old, rich Fontainian posted a commission at the Liyue branch of the Adventurers guild. And you were lucky enough to snag it. It was a stroke of sheer fortune, quite literally, too- if you could meet the client’s demands, you’d end up with a completely inane amount of mora. You planned on doing this mission solo- after all, any expenses incurred would be more than covered by the heaps of mora you’d be swimming in soon enough.

But some conniving liar told Katheryne you’d agreed to pair up with him- and she believed him before you could confirm it, so now you’re officially partners… which means you’re forced to share the spoils.

You’re so tempted to drop the commission altogether, but-

“But that’s what he wants,” you hiss, hiking up the trail along the beautiful mountains of Jueyun Karst. Normally this would be a soothing trip- Jueyun Karst is so glorious you sometimes wonder if the gods picked a random mortal’s preferences to model it after (yours), but today you saw only the bad, like the still smoking fires left behind by some careless brigands, and a dead mouse. You consider bringing it back to Changsheng as a twisted joke- no, she’d paralyse you. Best to focus on the task at hand. You go over the details.

The commission was vague (rich, old man), although a bit sad (old man). If you really did find what he wants though (unlikely, vague request, but if partially fulfilled, you get half the mora) you wouldn’t have to work at all for perhaps the next six months (rich man).

Apparently, a long, long time ago, the rich old man saw a beautiful apparition in the form of a woman. Lost in the foggy mountains on a rainy day, he saw her seated on a tree nestled deep somewhere in Jueyun Karst. She apparently rescued his life, by appearing on a different tree each time he got too close, leading him out the valley. When he asked for her name, she responded with a mere scoff, then vanished for good.

You’re pretty sure that’s either bull or some ghost. Sounded disturbingly like an Inazuman tale you heard once. Either way, she doesn’t exactly sound like a normal person.

And he wants you to find her.

How are you even supposed to do that? The old man is decrepit, according to Katheryne, who (bless her bionic heart) tried her damnedest to convince him it was something out of the ordinary, and that he should give up. You agree with her- you’re pretty sure it was either a ghost (no finding it), an adeptus (no finding them) or an actual mortal woman (Xiao’s influencing you too much. You could’ve just said woman. Also, if it really was just a woman, which she wasn’t, she’s probably dead by now.)

But you didn’t really have the heart to tell the old man that. Or maybe you got a little greedy. But hey, he can afford it! And you just might end up end up giving his broken heart some closure, right?

You figure you’ll ask around, look for the grave. So far you’ve had no leads, besides some blue haired kid (with the ugliest haircut, you think, then feel bad for thinking that of a kid) lying to your face in an attempt to prank you. It’s so strange, because you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her-? Him? With someone important, in silks and brocade. You just can’t remember who… but you digress.

You’ve checked everywhere you could think of in the past two, almost three weeks. Nothing. You’ve even been to Mingyun Village- again, nothing. Right up until a child in Qingce told you she saw a similar pretty woman, on a tree in Jueyun Karst. Really.

You’ve spent days in Jueyun Karst, craning your neck and nearly stumbling down mountain slopes, eyes throbbing from the light, spine burning. But nothing. You considered taking the easy way out and telling him it was Cloud Retainer, but you’re an adventurer with morals and besides, anyone who’s met her knows she never stops talking. But on the subject of your quarry, why did that bitch find a nondescript tree to sit in every time? Was it so hard to just go sit on the big, glowy one?

“Old hag,” you mutter. Your calves feel about as solid as almond tofu right now, and your brain just as smooth. You have no idea how you’re going to do this, but. The mora.

You glance at the note Katheryne gave you. It told you just a few things- a dark haired woman in a tree, with hair that fluttered like downy feathers in the wind (poetic old man. Also rich, you remind yourself), pale, in a tree, nothing more.

You sigh.

At least Jueyun Karst is pretty at night.

And comfortable enough to camp in, you figure. Granted, there’s some treasure hoarders and monsters, but it is the abode of the adepti after all.

You shrug, and trudge upward along the winding paths. Darkness is gathering, but your eyes adjust.

Eventually, the lingering shadows cease to lengthen and melt into the darkness enveloping the mountain as a whole. You’re disconcerted as you start to make camp in a copse, but reassured by the small blaze you’ve lit to warm yourself at some distance.

Upon making camp, you settle down on the grass with a snack. The wind rustles through your little copse and you see the moon emerge, denuding its robe of clouds. Silvery fingertips trail across the land, painting, muting Jueyun Karst beneath its touch.

It’s peaceful, yet haunting.

What’s more haunting though, is the soft, yet somehow piercing, keening cry that wafts through the air.

It’s slow at first, just a trilling hum that gets clearer and higher with every moment before lilting and fading away.

You blink. You’ve never heard such a sound before. Is it a musical instrument? A bird of some sort?

You hear it again. It doesn’t start slowly this time- it’s high, all at once, then a low humming before rising in a wail once more. It sounds like music. It sounds like weeping. And for some inexplicable reason, you feel your chest tighten and feel hollow, all at once.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself as you scrabble to put out the fire. You remind yourself of the same once more as you pack all your things (after you just made camp, too), fingers trembling, dropping things. Perhaps this is it, the maiden you were looking for.

You sling the bag across your bag with a force that makes you stumble, then start making your way up the hill.

Maybe this really is it, you think. In the distance you see tiny glows, nestled away across the vale. Probably treasure hoarders. For some reason, your heart aches.

It feels like you’ve been sitting stagnant for too long. Everything around you has grown. When you pull your hand up to wipe away a tear, you see it shrouded in spiderwebs. They reach past your ribs, to your elbow, to the rest of you. Force their way gently into your mouth, into your ears. They’re in your nostrils. You cannot breathe.

Arriving near the source of the sound, you sit onto the grass for a moment, to rest. The webs are swaying, scratching uncomfortably across all of you. Tightening and loosening and tangling, keeping you in place. You cannot move.

You’ll cut yourself.

Get a grip. Oh, Morax.

There’s a lull in the cries and your head feels lighter all of a sudden. You blink, then start to get up- utterly nonplussed, what are you doing here-

A sobbing, recoiling cry abruptly sounds from before you, the maker contained away in the hurst right before you, overlooking the valley. The moon skips ahead, weaves between the clouds.

Steeling yourself, heart racing, you enter the thicket peek, behind the tree and look up towards the sound.

It’s a… something. A mess of tattered wings and bloodied feathers and too many eyes. In the night they all look black and silver, but realisation hits you with the force of a thousand spears- this is Xiao.

It’s Xiao.

Keening, weeping, alone. Seated on a tree, cradled in its branches. Shielded by its crown. He’s crying.

He’s crying.

He sheds no tears in his avian form- large gold eyes turned to the moon, muscular neck lain limply across a branch. You see his throat move and his eyes shut- eyes that are still gold, even in the dark- as he lets out another cry.

You can see his back and tail- the rest is covered by multiple sprawling wings. They’re dark. Looking at them feels as though looking at a human bruise on an oil painting. Disconcerting. The smoke coming off them makes them smudge into the dark, become one with it.

He’s beautiful.

But he’s crying and you’ve never known you could feel such anguish at someone else’s grief. Pain, sure, but this is something eyes. Tears well in your eyes to compensate for his current form. One runs down your cheek and it snaps you to your senses- what are you doing, just standing around?

You step towards him, arms outstretched, his name on the tip of your tongue. Your mind’s a mess. Vaguely, you can tell there is something amiss. Voices slither inside your head, voices that don’t belong, filling it up with murmurs in a tongue you don’t understand. Full of vitriol, they ignite emotions within you you didn’t even know existed. Grief so intense you feel as though your heart really is bleeding into your chest. Fury so immense you can’t help but slam a palm into the trunk of the tree next to you and gasp. They twine and twist into shapes and colours you cannot see. For just a moment, you’re blinded, agony blooming across your body. You shudder, gasp.

Something is wrong.

Your vision turns hazy- you glance up to see the bird descend before you, wings magnificently spread, beak- no, mouth now- open, crying out in alarm. You collapse into his outstretched arms and it feels like too much and nothing all at once. Warm water- warm tears- fall onto your temple as your knees buckle. You feel vertigo when he instead has lowered you gently to the ground. Just as you faint, you see him- mouth open, gritted teeth, face damp with tears. You say his name- at least you try-

When you come to, you’re in Bubu Pharmacy.

You feel so unencumbered all at once- the flames across your skin extinguished, the voices silent, the webs gently spooled away. Thank Baizhu. And you can see again, see normally, blind once more to the auras and colours mortals mustn’t see- or perhaps you hallucinated it all.

The old man from the funeral parlour- Zhongli, you recall- is seated on a chair next to you. His posture is a little slack. Sitting up with some difficulty, you see that his eyes are shut. The harbour is silent.

You glance out the window only to see the cheerless night sky mirror the inky ocean below.

Oh no.

You cannot delay. What are you doing here? How long were you asleep? You’re wearing loose, white clothes- who changed you? No matter. You need to find Xiao, because he was crying and your lungs feel like they’re folding in on themselves, and by Morax, he’s probably all alone once more, and you’ve added to his pain by being foolish and interrupting him as he vents in a moment of catharsis-

You stumble out of bed and look around to gather your things, then decide to just come collect them later. You’ve no time to waste. You hear Zhongli inhale deeply as he suddenly awakens- why was this guy in here with you anyways- and quickly bolt, locking the door behind you as you do so.

Sorry, Mr. Zhongli.

You regret not taking his talks about Karmic debt as seriously as you should have. You’re not worried for yourself- you feel much better already (you lift your vision up to your heart. You’re beyond grateful- it’s the only gift the gods have ever given you, their only gift that matters) but Xiao must feel abominable guilt right now. You must reach him, tell him you’re fine, tell him it’s not your fault.

You’re halfway across the main bridge on the northern side of Liyue harbour when you realise it’ll take way too long to find Xiao like this. You could call out his name, of course, but you don’t want to accidentally make him teleport and exert himself in the middle of a breakdown.

You run your hand through your hair, almost pulling it out as you do and glare out at the sea. From the corner of your eye you see the Millelith guards standing by the gate shoot one another unnerved glances, then turn towards you. What’s their problem?

Now irritable, you make your way towards them to politely ask what the matter is- but they clutch one another in terror and immediately start shrieking. You yelp and duck, looking around frantically for the danger. The guards continue babbling and pointing, then screech again as you panic and frantically crawl towards them. Maybe you’re a bit more disoriented than you thought you were, because the only people you see on the bridge are you and the guards pointing at you- oh.

You stop crawling and look at them, pushing back the hair from your face as you stumble to your feet. The buffer guard has the smaller one planted firmly before himself like a shield. You sigh and they squeak. Then the bigger one cries out-

“Adeptus Xiao!”

This bitch. You probably are delirious because by now you’ve lost any semblance of self control and feel nothing but fury. Xiao’s going through something right now! You’re not a ghost! Isn’t this supposed to be an era of mortals?

“COWARDS!” You howl, launching yourself at the duo and throw aside the shorter guard with strength you didn’t know you possessed. Before you can grab the bigger one and clamp his lips shut with your bare fingernails, however, you feel slender, firm arms wrap around your waist and tug you gently back against a warm torso.

Xiao’s long, elaborate sleeve drapes over your front as he holds you. You feel his breath against your neck. You’re immediately consumed by worry so potent you can barely recall what you were even angry about. He leans into you a little and you press your palm against his cheek.

He seems exhausted.

✦—————————————✦

You ended up taking Xiao home that night- or was it morning? You wish you knew. All you do know is that he slumped against you and you half walked, half dragged him home, providing no explanation to the Millelith guards (they didn’t demand one either.)

Xiao drowsed off as soon as you got home and once you’ve sufficiently fussed over him, cocooned him in layers upon of blankets (it’s cold out) and put copious amounts of snacks and water on the bedside table, you make your way over to the couch and crash out.

Just in case.

Sleep takes you easily, pushing past your desperate, incoherent rambles, bringing your body some much needed rest. You awaken when you feel the sun jab rudely at your eyes with its bright, unswerving fingers.

It’s nearly afternoon.

You push yourself up slowly till you’re seated, checking for tiredness or any injuries. None. You’re positive this time- you’re in your right senses.

Your face flushes when you recall what happened yesterday. Or was it today? No matter. Praying to never see those guards again, you slide off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom.

Xiao’s upright, alert and giving his ungloved hands a glare so severe you nearly flinch. When he turns towards you, though, his eyes soften to a degree that might make one doubt him even capable of anger. You can’t help but mirror his softness.

You also can’t help feeling a bit downcast, however, and you suspect it shows. Racking your brains for something- anything- to say, you part your lips, but only end up exhaling. You’re having trouble meeting his eyes. You suspect he feels the same.

You stand at the threshold for several moments before finally making your way in, and Xiao’s off the bed in an instant. You feel hands grip your heart and twist when he moves wordlessly across the room, away from you, gesturing towards the bed.

You hate it.

Xiao lives in terror of losing his loved ones- paranoia makes him check in on them from afar, gift amulets, slay any evil that might hurt them. Scores of times he’s caught you before you fell, warned you of danger, reminded you to take care of yourself before you even noticed something amiss.

You know him keeping his distance is him ensuring your safety. Him showing you he cares. It serves only to heighten your anguish.

This has been among your worst fears since the moment you began to care for him- that he’d consider himself a danger to someone he loves.

“Xiao,” you whisper, and your voice wavers more than you wanted to, is softer than you intended. He meets your eyes at that, finally, finally and your chest constricts at his wary gaze. You’re tempted to make light of it- tell him you’re fine, banter a little- but you know that’ll only leave him with a heavier heart, wondering when he’d hurt someone next. You need to address this now, for his sake.

“Hey.” You smile. Good, your voice didn’t waver this time. “Are you…” You trail off. How do you even begin to talk about this?

This isn’t awkward, this is a minefield, except it’ll blow up in his face if you mess up somehow. Your heart quickens.

You try to calm yourself. What does Baizhu say? Don’t borrow anxiety from the future? The future is in motion right now, Baizhu! Useless man.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink rapidly, nonplussed. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a tone so repentant you almost respond with a hurried ‘it’s okay’ despite him having done nothing wrong. Despite it all, a tiny laugh bubbles up in your chest.

Baizhu, that silly old man (he’s your age). You suppose he is right sometimes. (Always.)

You’ve both lived too long, have survived too much to worry about something as small as this. Sure, in a vacuum, it is scary- but truth be told you feel fine- in fact you think you have an even better understanding now of the agony that has become his everyday, that he has endured for eons. This is something you can fix.

You smile and make your way towards Xiao, draw him into your embrace. He makes a quiet sound of protest that’s promptly muffled by you pushing his head affectionately into your shoulder. He exhales, then kisses it and remains in your arms but makes no move to wrap you in his.

That’s fine. You exhale . Xiao feels your breath waft over his ear, your warm, chapped lips as they brush over his face, landing tiny kisses. Your heart continues beating.

You’re there, right with him. Safe. Alive. Alright.

You sway gently, just holding him until eventually he places his palms on your waist and draws you a bit closer, ever so gently. As though you were the soft, powdery wings of a tiny butterfly in the dry summer months.

Before he can apologise- you do. You’re composed at first when you murmur an apology and explain how you came across him- but quickly become teary eyed when you recall how he looked up in that tree, mourning, all alone. His heart hurts. He hates seeing you cry, hates that he caused it- but he finds it difficult to dwell on anything else but the fact that you saw his monstrous, contaminated form and thought him beautiful. That you instantly wanted to hold him close. He feels dizzy.

“And,” you continue, sniffling, “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to- to comfort you.” You’re not going to mention the voices and the pain. Maybe in a few decades. Maybe on your deathbed when it won’t matter anyway. You hear Baizhu’s ‘tsk tsk’ in your head and some vague speech about trust and communication, but you don’t care enough about that right now.

“And then I fainted.” You shrug. “Then I’m guessing you brought me to Baizhu? But I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault at all. I should’ve known to be more careful-“

“Please don’t lie to me.” His voice is soft, strained. He wishes you’d tell him the truth. Was it that much worse? “Tell me what else happened. Did it hurt? Do you feel better now? I’m so-“

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault!” You protest. “What if some Inazuman wrestler guy threw me at you and you broke your arm, that wouldn’t be my fault- shh don’t interrupt me.” You put your other palm over the first and he exhales, warm breath wafting over your knuckles. You feel calmer already. The wonders of Xiao’s hugs never cease to impress.

“And… yeah, it hurt a bit. There were voices in my head.” He looks stricken. You consider making a garbage joke to cheer him up, but remember you were trying to be a mature adult and sigh. “My body hurt, too. Is that what it’s like for you? All the time?”

He hesitates, but nods with a sigh. “I’ve had centuries to get used to it, however.” You wait for him to draw you even closer, but he’s just looking, taking in your features. He looks as though he’s reassuring himself but not with much relief in sight.

You draw closer on your own instead, with a snort. “It all happened so fast, though. And it… it sucked honestly, even if it was just a couple of minutes. I’m sorry it’s like that for you every day.”

“It lessens with good company.” He finally looks relieved- apparently enough to even jest a little. “Which is likely why it worsens with you.”

You gasp in mock outrage. Maybe Baizhu was right about this whole communication thing. This is going well so far- or maybe not, because the next thing to come gently out Xiao’s mouth is a request to not approach him if he’s having a breakdown henceforth.

“Sorry, no can do. Nuh-uh.”

You swear you see question marks form over his head. “This is not a ‘nuh-uh’ situation, (Name). You could die or develop chronic health issues.” He frowns. “I don’t think-“

“I grasp the gravity of this situation,” you retort, a bit frustrated too. “I’ll stay away if I see or sense the Karmic debt- I will make some other adeptus come to you, though-“

“You cannot make the adep-“

“I will.“

He sighs.

“And,” you continue, “I’ll keep an eye. From afar, but I’ll keep an eye on you and wait for it to be over, before I can come to you again. And if you’re ever sad in a more ordinary sort of way, I will not leave your side, no matter what.” You press your forehead to his with a quiet sigh. “Because I love you. And it hurts when you’re in pain.”

There’s a pause, with neither of you moving. You hear a group of teenagers laugh outside and run past the house. You wonder if that blue haired brat from earlier is with them.

Xiao exhales, then finally (FINALLY!) wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, impossibly so. You rest your cheek against his as he gives you a rueful smile. You’ve won! Ah no, what was it Baizhu said? There’s no individual victor in relationships? Damn, you’re a good student.

But seeing Xiao so close once more… you’re certain you’ve won regardless.

✦—————————————✦

The next couple of hours are spent relaxing, unwinding and examining one another for injuries (this is why you’re perfect together. Mutual respect? Mutual affection? Yes, but also mutual anxiety). A worried Baizhu also comes to pay a visit. He’s angry about you vanishing without notice but cools off quickly as you and Xiao assuage his worries. Changsheng is not so easily mollified and turns even more furious upon being called an ‘angry little noodle’ by you.

Come noon, you and Xiao make your way to Wanmin- neither of you are in much of a mood to cook.

Besides, your consolations have worked wonders and Xiao looks considerably calmer than he did in the morning. Not exactly cheerful, but a happy display is a rarity even on the best of days, so you acquiesce. He’s still careful and is being extra-gentle with you, but you’re glad he’s not blaming himself for not noticing you sooner anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, though, his eyes are on you constantly. Truth be told, he’s only really agreed to dine out in order to observe your movements, reactions to light and the crowd to check for any lingering effects of his Karma. You’ve decimated his morbid expectations though (much to his immense relief)- cheerier than ever, you buy bread and meat for any stray animals you come across, happily greet the friends you bump into and tilt your face upwards to bemusedly watch the clouds form increasingly obscene shapes (what are you up to, Retainer?)

He's a little stunned at how quickly everything happened- he expected his culpability to haunt him for much longer and feels guilty for getting over it so fast. It’s not that he doesn’t care- you matter to him more than anything in Liyue and were anything to actually happen to you because of him, he would truly would have lost the strength he used to cling to his brittle life.

It's just… a bit absurd. You haven’t raised a fuss at all about yourself, besides complaining a little initially. You comforted him instead, and were confused when he tried to reciprocate because “it happened, but it’s over. It’s not your fault and I really am okay now.” You seem to have meant it when you told him it was a terrible but distant memory. In your defence, the ordeal did take only a couple of minutes before he teleported you abruptly to Bubu Pharmacy (he still owes Baizhu an apology for dropping a whole human being into his arms and bolting).

So he allows himself to relax (the voices in his head tell him to split himself on his spear. He hurt you once, he’ll do it again. He imagines you screaming at them to piss off and ends up smiling softly instead).

He shakes his head when you ask what he’s amused about, bright eyed and curious and he gives you the fondest of expressions when you glance away and up at Katheryne. Xiangling teasingly gags at him from behind you, then yelps and runs into the kitchens to dodge Shenhe’s glares.

Xiao wishes you picked a table in the back- the Adventurer’s Guild is plainly visible from where you’re seated and something up there clearly has you distracted. No matter. At least now he can take you in without interruptions.

You look invested- eyes narrowing with amusement first, then further to slits with annoyance. Startled, he turns to see exactly what evoked such disdain from you, and his eyes meet that of a dark haired man, presently engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman dressed in Fontaine’s fashions. Maybe. Those shoes aren’t fashionable anywhere, he’s pretty sure. Menogias would’ve wept.

The man that’s earned your ire happens to appear quite exquisite by mortal standards- handsome and tall and- Xiao shoots you a hurried glance. Yes, that’s anger, thank the skies-

“You see that guy over there?” You bring the glass to your lips for a sip before lowering it with more force than is necessary. “He’s the jerk I told you about. The one who’s stealing half my commission.”

Xiao blinks. “But he hasn’t found anyone according to the description, has he?”

You frown. “Obviously not. If she really did- hm?”

He turns in his chair to see Katheryne and the men approach- one barrel chested and tall, the other slight and elderly, shuffling along with the pace and gait of a caterpillar. When they get a bit closer, however, the old man stiffens, then breaks into a rapid hobble, before pausing right before Xiao and bursting into tears.

What the- this is fine. He’s not too close. Xiao is still and wide eyed like a startled deer. You bite back the urge to kiss his face all over, then fight the momentary urge to punt the old man as he reaches out to touch Xiao’s face, still bawling. Xiao jerks and stands. The man turns to you as you grab his arm and try to gently sooth him, smacking you away.

“Oh,” he blubbers. “So many nights you’ve haunted my dreams. How I’ve waited all these years. I knew- I knew-“ he coughs, vehemently shakes his fist to keep the rest of you away. “Don’t come closer! I know her- that’s the love of my life!”

Mortals.

The lovely maiden in a tree being Xiao did not surprise you in the slightest. It was a bit startling but you feel incredibly foolish for not connecting the dots earlier.

Pretty maiden up in a tree.

“Really, who else could it be?” You bite into the muffin you bought on the way home.

“Xi- Cloud Retainer.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?”

Xiao tilts his head. He’s adorable. You resist the urge to haul him back down the road for another meal- what a miserable date, that was.

After finally catching Xiao the old man first wept into his chest (he reminded you of an unused hair tie with how scrunched up and tiny he was. The old man, to be clear, not Xiao. Xiao is tiny but firm), then clasped his clawed hands within his own soft, wrinkly ones (you’re glad Xiao didn’t forget his gloves and you can tell he’s even gladder) and begged Xiao to go with him to Fontaine.

Xiao’s answer being an alarmed, emphatic ‘no’ only succeeded in making the man cling tighter and cry harder.

You did start feeling terrible for the poor guy by that point, so you gave him a handkerchief and some water, sat him down and once he was finally calm and lucid, you explained to him that this was not the maiden he saw all those years ago, but in fact, your beloved.

Your kindness evaporated fast though when he smacked you in the face with your own hankie and swore to never pay you your commission. You left to eat elsewhere at that point. That sounded like a problem for your (rather distressed) ‘partner.’

Presently, though, you’re waiting for Xiao to tell you more about Cloud Retainer. You’ve surmised two things from his slip ups; she lives in the harbour nowadays, and her name starts with “Sh.”

You’re honestly convinced it’s Shenhe, and even more so when Xiao tells you she’s more imposing than pretty. When you tell him your guess, though, he gives an uncharacteristic laugh, so bright and warm. You want to store it in a bottle to sip at on the cold days.

When you tell him so upon reaching home, he just laughs again (!) and kisses your entwined hands. He prays you won't let go.

[shinysobi]

sleepless in busan

he's been running his whole life, and hadn't realized how tired he was.

well, this was supposed to be a collaboration that unfortunately fell through, but the image of diner owner jihoon was so stuck in my mind it refused to leave, so here we have chapter one of this monstrosity (don't even ask) I've yapped in everyone's dm's about this at this point.

genre: angst, fluff, mentions of drinking and smoking

a/n: to all the people whose inboxes I have invaded: kae @ylangelegy, tiya @gyubakeries, jay @ppyopulii and many, many more, I do hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Special thanks to jay who beta read this in record time, i love u my fellow woozidan

w.c: 9.1k

chapter 1 |

Verse one—haemul-tang.

Now, of course, there are methods to running a restaurant. Jihoon is perfectly aware of this, and yet, he has made it a personal mission to flout each and every rule of that (bar the safety precautions, because well, he isn’t an asshole, never mind what Jeonghan says. Jeonghan has to say an awful lot, apparently, because, and this is true, he’s been telling Jihoon about the apparent health and safety violations of his diner. Jihoon knows this is a false and untrue accusation, because the health department has been to visit once in the six months that Jihoon has been running his diner, and it has all been up to code. Likely, Jeonghan was trying to get underneath his skin by feeding him lies, and Jihoon cannot put it past Jeonghan simply lying to get ahead in the game. And unfortunately for him, Jihoon really cannot get angry with the man, because he simply has his best interests at heart, but he will use his God-given, natural right, to get pissed off and complain. A tiny little thing like friendship is not going to stand in the way of him complaining about Jeonghan, no matter what other people might say about him. He’s a grown adult now. And grown adults can complain about their best friends. And Jeonghan is the kind of person who would lie to get under Jihoon’s skin. Seeing him squirm is like a shot of dopamine for him.

“It doesn’t matter how good the food is, or if you’re being considered for an Orange Ribbon, Jihoon,” the offensive man in question is sitting at the bar at the moment, staring at Jihoon, infuriatingly attractive, “the state of this place is disgusting. This is probably the fourth time I’ve come to see you this week, and already it's filthy. Do yourself a favour and shut this down before you get inspected for a health code violation.”

Jihoon says nothing. Saying nothing in response is the easiest way to rile Jeonghan up, because after half a moment’s silence, he pipes up again, “you clearly hate running this place. Take my advice, and go back to your old job. You know, the one that you used to have, since you left everything and began a diner, of all things.”

Jihoon scoffs, rolls his eyes, and says, “what do you want me to go back to? Being a pianist? Being a performer? Or being a producer for the company? Because as far as I can recall, I am still doing that, just not in person. I still make songs. I’ve just stopped going into the spotlight.”

“Exactly. Do you know how much we spent trying to find you? You just dropped off of the face of the earth, without a single explanation as to where you were going or what you were going to do afterwards. People thought you had died, you know.”

“My parents knew where I was.” It is strange, how easily he slips back into being a petulant teenager in front of Jeonghan, who, when Jihoon had first met him, was a rather petulant teenager himself, but manages to not sulk too much, lest Jeonghan make fun of him, “and I was doing fine. I just didn’t want to deal with everything.”

“Your parents can keep a secret; I’ll give them that.” Jeonghan grouses, “I thought they were professional spies at some point, because nothing  I said could make them open their mouths about why their only son dropped off the face of the earth after his contract—a very alluring contract that I fought with the company executives to secure for him—expired, and why he had not been picking up the calls of his friends.”

Jihoon has the self-awareness to look bashful. He was an asshole to all of them, he knows. Jeonghan was the one who was the most affected, but all the others—Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao—he’s been a jerk to all of them, dropping off of the radar because he just couldn’t deal with the fame and what came with it. “I’m sorry about that.”

“What were you even doing for all those years?”

“I was doing things. Other things, not producing or playing the piano in front of a crowd.” Jihoon shrugs, “ran away to Paris. I Learned how to cook. Came back to Busan, opened this diner.”

“Man,” Jeonghan runs a hand over his face, “you used to love performing. And then you leave without a word, for years, and then I find you running a diner in the middle of Busan. What really is going on here, Jihoon?”

Jihoon sighs, “not today. Nothing I can tell you today, I’m afraid.”

Jeonghan nods, “fair enough, but you have got to come back to the industry.”

“I’m still writing songs!” he protests, “is that not enough? I said I’d still be producing, and I am making songs for the company. Is writing consecutive hits not good enough for you?”

“It sounds like it’s not good enough for you, man,” Jeonghan says, finishing his food and placing a ten-thousand-won bill on the bar, “keep the change. And for god’s sake, fire Soonyoung. Or at least, make him stop coming here. He’s going to ruin his public image if he starts serving people in your diner. Look at him, he’s putting food in front of people wearing a tiger-print apron.”

“He works without pay,” Jihoon replies, “there’s really nothing I can do about a person who comes in and volunteers their time. Also, the only way he said he was going to serve people was if he was allowed to wear the tiger print apron.”

Jeonghan lets out a long-suffering sigh, “at least make him go home at a normal time. It’s good that he’s spending his break away from people, but serving drinks and food in a diner owned by Lee Jihoon is not really the answer.”

And with that, Jeonghan is gone, and Jihoon is left alone, with three other people in the restaurant, two of them being served by an overenthusiastic Soonyoung wearing a striped apron. He really had meant to let everyone know about his whereabouts, really. Even after all those years of being at the company, being a pianist, then writing and producing songs, even after all of that took a toll on him, he had meant to let the people closest to him know.

But he hadn’t, and his relationships had suffered as a result.

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung drifts into his field of vision, an orange-striped monstrosity, “shouldn’t you be closing up shop? Last call should have been half an hour ago.”

“Hm,” he nods, “I’ll close up shop. You can go ahead, if you want to.”

“You don’t look good,” Soonyoung says, worry laced in his voice, “should I call someone? Jeonghan-hyung? Your mom?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jihoon can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming along, but he ignores it in favour of being nice to Soonyoung, because Soonyoung will definitely go and tell Jeonghan if Jihoon is not well, and he doesn’t think he can handle the emotional turmoil of dealing with Jeonghan on two consecutive days, “just go, I’ll clean and close up.”

“You already cleaned,” the other man points out, “you were cleaning before Jeonghan-hyung came by, and I finished the rest of it for you. You just need to wash the dishes from the last two customers and take out the trash, and you’ll be done.”

Jihoon stares at him, a newfound appreciation for Soonyoung colouring his vision. Yeah, screw what Jeonghan has to say about him working here, he’s going to let him work. If he likes it, let him do it. as long as it doesn’t interfere with his work and rest.

When he takes out the trash, Soonyoung having gone home earlier, sits in front of the diner, still wearing his work clothes, and takes out a cigarette. He really shouldn’t be smoking, but here he is, trying to get rid of a habit he had thought he’d left behind. So many people in his life—his parents, the record label execs, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao, Soonyoung, now, and he’s managed to let down at least eighty percent of them, soundly. What was he thinking, opening up a homestyle diner in the middle of Busan? He knows why Soonyoung comes out here to work with him, even if his own house is in Namyangju. He’s aware of why Jeonghan has been running around to get him to come back to Seoul. But unfortunately for Jihoon, he enjoys the smell of the sea a bit too much. Likes Busan because he can wake up and go for a walk and have breakfast with his parents, come back to open the restaurant, and live a life that is enviable, perhaps. Hard, but enviable.

He presses the code to lock the doors, then pulls the shutters down. Time to clock out.

—

“No, Seungkwan, I refuse to go to your home for the holidays,” I tell the man sitting in front of me at the café, “I barely know your parents! Why would they want to host me for the holidays!”

“They love you already, noona,” the man wheedles, fully aware of the power of a handsome face, “please, they haven’t ever met a writer in real life.”

“I’m not a zoo animal to be paraded, Kwan. Besides, I have my own, very loving family, to get back to for the holidays.”

“But you won the Daesan literary award!” Seungkwan groans, “please, noona, it would mean so much to my parents if you came to visit them.”

Unfortunately, I’ve never really been able to say no to him, which is a weakness of mine that he exploits on the daily. Besides, who really contributed to the award? Was it me, who wrote the story, or was it Seungkwan, who found my manuscript languishing in a pile of rejected scripts and fought for it until it was published? I thanked him in my speech after I won, but it doesn’t seem enough.

“Fine,” I say, “I’ll go on the day after New Year. I can get a ferry or something.” Ugh. Never mind the fact that Seungkwan has something else brewing (he always has) in that mind of his, travelling the day after New Year, when all the roads are bound to be filled to the brim with people arguing, yelling, and trying to make their way to their own families, is not exactly my idea of heaven.

But, on the other hand, Seungkwan was my best (haters would say my only) friend, and I would actually enjoy his company, so I make a face, but make a purchase for a ticket to Jeju either way. I can always bully him into giving me a ride to his house after I land. I will have to make my excuses to slip away from my home, but I think my parents would be happier if I spent at least part of the holiday at a friend’s place rather than at theirs. It would stop the questions of ‘when are you getting married’, that’s for one.

I make a face at the amount of money I was being charged for single two-way ticket to Jeju, and I show the screen to Seungkwan, who pulls a frown of his own, “I’m taking that out of your pay check, Boo Seungkwan.”

“You don’t even pay me,” he counters, “and don’t pull that face. We all know why you’re even saying yes to this. You just don’t want to deal with your parents asking you when you’re going to get married.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve known you for three years, so it’s kind of obvious to me,” he preens, “are they still on your case about that?”

“They mean well,” I take a sip of the too-sweet boba tea, “but after a point, they get overbearing. Even they are aware of it, which makes me think that they’re just doing it on purpose.”

“And they still don’t know that you’re a writer?” Seungkwan has this look on his face, the one that I’ve dubbed ‘Incredulous Seungkwan Face’ where he has heard a piece of information so outrageous it cannot possibly be true, but here it is, in his face, as he tries to process it, “come on, at least tell them that you won an award! At least then they’ll stop asking you about when you are going to get a proper position at your job, and I don’t have to lie every time they ask me about it.”

“They ask you about it?�� I groan, “I thought I told them not to bother you about anything, but they ask you about it.”

“They worry about you, that’s why,” Seungkwan sips on his coffee, “of all the writers I’ve met, you are the one who’s the most secretive, despite being one of the most famous.”

“You’ve been talking to more writers?” I gasp for dramatic effect, “cannot believe you are betraying me.”

Seungkwan gives me an unimpressed look, “As opposed to who is betraying you?”

I twiddle my thumbs. “You know, who else.”

“Never mind that,” Seungkwan sighs, “at least tell me that you’re coming to Jeju for New Year’s. I’ve already told my parents about you, so you know, no pressure.’

“Yeah, no pressure, you dumb shit,” I grumble, “I’m going to be terrified the whole time.”

Seungkwan laughs, before standing up to leave, and finally, I am all alone in the shop, with only my brain for company. Daesan Literary Prize. Until the previous month, I had no idea it was even a real thing, and when Seungkwan had called me up to deliver the news of my winning, I thought it was a prank call delivered to the publishing house. But it wasn’t, and now I am—well, what am I? a writer? An accomplished one? Someone who makes a fair bit of living from her craft?

Doubtful.

“Why are you based in Busan?” Seungkwan had asked me, when we met for the first time, an open question, that I had failed to answer, just stammered my way through a bunch of excuses that didn’t make sense to either of us, but at least he had accepted it, had not pressed further, had not asked the question, why do you avoid Seoul?

The boba shop is on the edge of the wharf, and I make my way to the sea, salty air whipping onto my face, realising, after a long time, ah, I miss my mom. It’s in times like these that I miss the days of my youth, when all I had were dreams clogging my senses, when I thought about nothing but becoming famous, being known for my writing. And when I’ve finally managed to achieve even a little bit of that goal, I hid away in the middle of a city where no one knew my name, or at least, even if they did, had the sense to look the other way. Seungkwan doesn’t press, doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t go beyond his limits. Even if he could, he never once asked me about the reason behind leaving.

My phone rings, “Hello?”

The familiar voice of my sister floats in through the speaker, “are you okay?”

Are you okay? There is an answer to this, but I’m not sure if I should be telling anyone about it, really, are you okay? Who am I to say I’m not, beg for love and attention and all the other things that come with the experience of being loved and cared for, to be an important person in anyone’s life?

“I’m fine,” I reply, kicking away a stray pebble, “just walking on the beach. It’s a Sunday.”

“You love that damn beach too much,” my sister grumbles, “even ran away from the city you were born and raised in, just to see the beach. Have you had your fill of it now? Aren’t you sick of seeing the same thing over and over again?”

“The sea changes every day, you know,” I laugh, “I come here every day to find a different person waiting for me, the same way that you have your family, I have the beach for myself.”

“I wish you would at least think about it, you know,” my sister sighs on the other end, “I just feel as though you’ve been running for years.”

“One has to stop at some point, right?” I laugh, “I’m fine, eonnie. I like it here, actually. The sea is—it’s comforting.”

“Do you want me to tell you about New Years?” she asks, still cautious, “or do you want to skip it this year?”

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Mom and dad will miss me if I didn’t show up at least once,” I laugh, “hey, at least we get mandatory leave those four days.”

“I thought you would have other plans.”

“Seungkwan invited me to go to Jeju for the New Years, so I’ll probably do that the day after New Years,” I say, “I don’t know, might cancel that. Would like to stay with my parents for the holiday, you know?”

“Mom and dad would be overjoyed if you went to a friend’s house for New Years,” she replies, “ah fuck, the kids are acting up again. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Bye.” She hangs up, and I stand there, in the middle of the beach, the sea a comfortable distance away from me, and wait a while.

I hate Seoul. Hate the bustle of it, hate how people move quicker than they need to, but who knows? Maybe they do need to move that quick, maybe they all have places to be, things to do, more important than the life of a twenty-something who does not know exactly where her dreams began and where her reality ended.

Most importantly, I hate how I miss it.

In the dying light of the sun, I kick away pebbles, hoping to find a different outcome for all this want inside of me, and come up with nothing.

—

Jihoon is scared. He’d been staring at the work computer in his room for an hour the past night, and all he ended up realising was wow, I’m fucked. He’s staring at the amount of drafts he has in his computer, titled neatly, with the day and time of composition (as if that really mattered, but Jihoon was a stickler) and really, he can’t sustain himself with recycled beats and old compositions he’d made in the earlier days of his contract with the company. He’s been unable to really make anything anymore, has essentially kept staring at the screen, unable to even make a single tune. It’s a far cry from the Woozi of his previous years, who had a new song to be presented for scrutiny at the company meetings every single week. Jeonghan might take offence, but he is not the one who has to craft songs, only has to present them, and he can wait a few more days.

Jihoon knows he’s good at making songs, he’s been called a genius far too many times for the term to not go to his head. Three years ago, just before his contract ended, he was awarded Producer of the Year and Songwriter of the Year, a distinction reserved for three people before him. He'd written around thirty songs that year, more than anyone else, and had his hands in the production process for at least twenty more. Writing songs came easy to him then, as easy as breathing. He could sit with a draft in the morning and be done by lunchtime.

And then breathing became difficult, so all he could do was clutch his chest and run.

Jihoon shakes his head, standing at the doorway to his apartment building, he has to get groceries for the restaurant today; the produce will be coming in a bit later than usual. Which means delays in the prep, which means delays in getting orders out. It’s funny, how he’s become accustomed to thinking like a restaurant owner, even though he had no idea about this stuff when he first started out, washing dishes in the back of a Parisian bistro, telling the whole world to fuck off just because he could. All of that was the bravado of a twenty-year old, someone who had enormous power thrust into their hands before they even realised the gravitas of it, and most of the time, people watch on in a sick sense of pleasure, hoping to see the other person drown.

And well, he was a good swimmer, but swimmers drowned too.

By the time he ends up finishing his prep for the day, there is only about ten minutes left for the lunch regulars to begin walking in, and he makes a face, realising, not for the first time, that running a restaurant, even if it’s a homey little diner on the edge of the Busan wharf, is a lot of work.

Soonyoung walks in halfway through the afternoon, rubbing his eyes as if he’s just woken up. He picks out his designated apron from the rack, and Jihoon averts his eyes because he cannot bring himself to be the one to tell him that the tiger-print is an atrocious one. In many ways, he’s grateful to Soonyoung, who works at the diner without asking for payment, just grateful to be able to hide away from the reporters in Seoul that seem to constantly be on his ass for something or the other. Soonyoung had entered the company when Jihoon was making the switch form idol trainee to producer, sick and tired of the failure and the scrutiny. Jihoon had initially felt sad for him, given how he was walking into a company that was on its dying breaths, desperate to try anything to get by. Production had seemed like a safer alternative at that time, and he was eager to do anything for a paycheck. Turns out, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as he called himself, was the goose that laid golden eggs. Or was it Jihoon who was the goose? Either way, Hoshi’s popularity meant more work for Jihoon, more money for the company to be poured into the other struggling groups. When one succeeds, everyone gets a piece of the pie. Years later, and he was begging for his contract to end.

The shift is a slow one, meaning he has more time to think about his impending doom, where he is hunted down the sands of the beach by a group of company executives, headed by Jeonghan, who, inexplicably, has a contract termination notice for his diner in his hands. Jihoon knows it’s an unrealistic dream, but it does not keep it from shuddering in fear whenever his mind conjures up that image.

“One seafood stew,” Soonyoung sets down a ticket in front of him, jerking out of his thoughts, “should I say last call?”

Jihoon checks his wristwatch, already past midnight. He wants to keep the diner open a while more, but he still has to go home and decide on what to send Jeonghan for the upcoming deadline, something that he has been avoiding to the point that Jeonghan had to make the damn trip to tell him to fix his mistakes. He has to do something, or the tentative bit of goodwill that he has, will all go down the drain. At least he can talk to the others over the phone every once in a while, he won’t be able to do that either anymore.

“Last call,” he shouts over the counter, and the customers begin to stand up and leave, “Soonyoung, clean as much as you can, then leave the rest to me.”

“Ah, well, you see,” Soonyoung says, half-apologetic, because Jihoon knows how much he loves performing, “I’m going back to Namyangju tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Your vacation finished early?” he asks, keeping it light, “you stayed back longer this time.”

“Ah, you know, vacation is never really a vacation with these people,” Soonyoung laughs, “but, I’ll still be in touch, if you want me to.”

“Of course I want to remain in touch,” Jihoon laughs, “drive safe on the road back home, huh?”

“Sure, sure,” Soonyoung walks out of the door, “keep the apron for me, would you?”

“Fuck no.”

Soonyoung leaves, and Jihoon is alone, back in a void of his own making. He could just clean up before leaving, but Soonyoung is apparently a much more diligent worker than he had ever thought he would be, because he’s left a spotless kitchen and nothing for Jihoon to take care of, nothing that he can do in order to make himself feel useful. So, he sits at a corner table, looking out onto the beach. He’s been raised in this city for all his life, and yet he’s never really seen the city. He’s never even been on a Blue Line tour, for god’s sake.

With a sigh, he stands up, dusting off a table top. I’ve still got to go back home and work on a draft, useless as it might be. All these responsibilities are probably not good for him; his mother (and his doctor, but he fears his mother more) has warned multiple times against him overdoing it, but Jihoon is part of a group of people who just don’t know when to give up.

The bell rings, and even before he can stand up to look at the person walking into the store after hours, a voice rings out, “are you still open?”

Jihoon turns around, and he truly, really, fully intends to say “no, I’m afraid we are closed for the day,” but instead says, “why do you ask?” because the person in front of him, with the faint scent of cigarette smoke on her, looks straight out of a novel—hair windswept, eyes shining with unshed tears, the heroine of all his dreams brought to life.

If she was a song, she would be—

—

Social media is a disease. I keep repeating that to myself, walking along the wharf. I’m happy now, social media is a disease. I should have never really gone on Facebook after work ended, instead I should have done some overtime work to at least assure myself of remaining in the same company for another year. Unfortunately, I had the bright idea to go online, where by some cruel twist of fate, there they were, happy, married couples who wanted to show themselves off to the world because they can, and they don’t have anyone else to think of when they post happy pictures or whatever.

As I stared at the photos of the gorgeous destination wedding, because of course, who can stop themselves from doing horrible things, all I can think of is university, years ago, perhaps the last time I felt any real sort of happiness.

Don’t contact me ever again.

Hope you heal from whatever you are going through.

The subtext was clear, and try as I might, I could not get anyone to tell me outright, you’re a bitch. You’re a bitter, insecure bitch, and I hope you never find happiness again. Then again, that would not have come off very nice over text.

I lean against a shop, lighting up a cigarette, but the words don’t leave my mind. Hope you heal. How many times does one have to be on the opposing ends of people leaving them to realise that maybe, just maybe, they are the problem themselves? Your ex-partner was a piece of shit and you tolerated all his actions. That makes you even more of a terrible person in my opinion, even if you left him, because at the end of the day, you are a bitter person.

The worst part is I agree with it, all the accusations that are basically condemnations, I agree with them all. I smoke too much, I’m insecure, I don’t have the courage to even talk to anyone properly.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, because of course the tears are coming right now, hard and fast when there is no one around to even see it because if no one sees my tears, are they even real? I’m tired, hungry, and overstimulated from the workday, and all I want is a place where I can settle down and think nothing until I get something to eat. Except it’s after midnight, and every shop in a fifty-metre distance from me is wrapping up their workday, closing down shutters and leaving to go back home.

There’s only one shop open on the beach, and I walk towards it, harsh ocean winds ruffling my hair. The bell makes a noise when I step in, announcing my presence to the only other person inside the space, the owner of the store.

“Are you still open?” I ask, and he turns back to look at me, and in the warm yellow glow of the shop light, the man seems like he’s been waiting for me all along, with his kind face, and the soft way he tells me, why do you ask? Instead of just declining outright. Am I overthinking again? Probably.

I take a deep breath. “I just—I saw you were open, and I didn’t feel like having a meal from a convenience store again.”

He laughs at that, “no, no we really don’t, because convenience store meals are the scourge of every working person’s stomach lining, aren’t they?”

I say nothing in response, and he turns back to the kitchen, “We only have the seafood stew left, if that’s okay?”

“Seafood stew is fine, actually,” I take a seat at the bar, staring at the man who’s preparing my meal. A philosophy professor in university had once told me, that one of the ways to get to know anyone, is to look at them from behind once. People have their defences up when you look them in the eye, and they tend to hide themselves away from you. Every time you look them in the eye, they have their ways to deflect, no matter how truthful they are. Everyone has some sort of secret they want to keep, even from themselves. When you look at someone from behind, everything becomes visible—the way their shoulders drop when they walk away from you, the telltale signs that give away their hurt and their anger.

Looking at this man, with his starched white shirt, probably ironed carefully in the morning, preparing a meal for me, I can think of only one thing.

Ah, this man. He looks so lonely.

I’m not unfamiliar with loneliness, given the general trajectory of my life, but this man, he seems to have made the loneliness his own. It’s almost as if he does not want to move away from the dark cloud that hangs around him, as if he’s made himself comfortable in the blanket of his own self, to the point that I don’t think he even registers that he has people around him.

Or maybe, it isn’t your fucking problem, a voice tells me, one that sounds uncannily like my tormentors, because what else could top off this truly delightful moment? If it's not your problem, then don’t go around poking your nose in other people’s business. You’ve done enough; let it go.

The problem is, I’m not good at letting go, and haven't ever been good at it, even as a child. Screaming and crying over old books being given away or sold; keeping record of every moment in my life until it became too much for my diary. Letting go of people was easy; letting go of myself was difficult.

And yet, you’ve managed to run away from your old life, to a place you barely know. Haven’t you been practicing the art of letting go?

“Seafood stew,” the man says, placing a steaming stone bowl in front of me, “here you go.”

“Wait, aren’t you about to close?” I ask, a wave of guilt coming over me suddenly, “ah, shit, I’ll make sure to eat it fast.”

“Unless you want to end up in the ER tonight, take your time,” he replies, “Although, since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you know one thing: you’re also eating my dinner, in case you wanted to, maybe, tip me some more.”

I stare at him, half in disbelief, half in wonder, until he begins to laugh, “don’t worry, the house dinner is secure, so you don’t really have to give up half your food.”

“Half my food? How aren’t you sure I didn’t want to give the whole thing up?”

He laughs again, pointing to the bag sitting beside me, forgotten altogether in the process of sitting down, ordering, and whatever else that entailed, “you’re an office worker, on their way back from working, roughly six hours overtime, and you look like you haven’t had a single bite of food since the morning. Of course you were not going to give up the whole meal, I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Hence, half.”

“Hence, half of the meal,” he smiles, “and here I’m being generous.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a spoon and dig in anyway. It’s a seaside diner, I tell myself, there’s no way you’re going to find a Heston Blumenthal hiding in the sands. It’s humble fare, the kind you like.

The first bite, and I want to kick myself for being this wrong. It’s a homely dish, no doubt, but the workmanship behind the dish is exquisite. It's simple, clean, the aftertaste of it not too overpowering. It’s a reminder of Busan, the sea present within the three spices he had used—chilli powder, soy sauce, and soybean paste. It's subtle, briny, and delicious. I used to consider myself a gourmet, because at one point in time, I used to be rich enough to eat at good restaurants (and I enjoyed it), but after this dish has announced its presence on my tongue, I don’t think I can really say that I’ve had anything as good as this.

“You look like you’re enjoying it,” the man says, smiling, “is the stew that good, or are you just starved?”

“Both,” I muse, “it has been a long day.”

“That makes two of us,” he grins, “care to unburden yourself?”

I narrow my eyes. As good as this dish is, I doubt I want to tell my life story to this man, who I have known for all of half an hour. For all I know, he could be a serial killer, using this diner as a front to get intel on his next victim. Also, why the hell would anyone listen to the story of a person who has been abandoned by her entire social circle? How much loss can be contextualised? At what point do I have to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, I am the problem?

“Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer,” he laughs, and adds on, to my horrified expression, “I realised that maybe asking for your life story without knowing you properly, might be a bad idea.”

“A self-aware man, I see.”

“A rarity these days, no doubt.”

I sigh, choosing not to reply, and busy myself with eating, keenly aware of him observing my every move. It’s awkward, but not entirely unwelcome. Despite watching my fair share of true crime documentaries, I don’t stand up and storm out of the diner, instead I stare right at him, realizing, however belatedly, he has beautiful eyes.

“Unburdening can be hard, I’ve come to realise.” He says, after a pause.

“Why? Is running a diner that hard?” I laugh, “you have the sea right in front of you.”

“The sea is not always benevolent,” he replies, “sometimes, the diner is tiring.”

I hum, “I understand. Adulthood seems to be a series of exhausting events, one after the other, with pockets of small happinesses scattered in the middle.”

“Happiness seems to be hard to come by,” he nods, “I keep forgetting why it was that I opened up a shop here, of all places. It’s on days like these, that I need a violent reminder.”

“Do you want me to shake you by the collar?” He laughs at that, and I feel a sense of pride, because I made him laugh. When was the last time I did that? “Happiness might be difficult to come by on most days, but it's not impossible to find, as you can see.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, “I live my days on small, certain happinesses. Moments throughout the day, when I can think to myself, "ah, this existence is not too bad.”

“Moments like?”

I hold out my hand, “when I get my favourite chocolate milk from the store in the morning, I’m happy. When my mother calls me just because she missed me, I’m happy then too. Right now, I’m eating delicious stew. All this makes me happy, in small moments. One day, I think that these small moments of happiness will build up enough for me to live the rest of my life in relative comfort.”

“And this will be enough for you?”

“Well, it all depends on the kind of person you are,” I reply, shrugging, “and the kind of situation one is in; most people try to find as much happiness as they can, even in situations that would have broken their spirits otherwise. It’s just important to, you know, have hope.”

“You sound suspiciously like one of those late 2010’s Keep Calm and Go On posters,” he narrows his eyes, and I snort, “cannot believe I’m on the receiving end of hope-core propaganda.”

“Funny you should mention hope-core,” I wipe my nose with a tissue, “I learnt the meaning of the word from the intern at the office, just this morning, actually.”

“Ah, so you’re fully qualified to give me advice,” he grins, “Soonyoung was the one to explain that to me.”

“He sounds like he’s got his finger on the pulse of today’s youth,” I nod, “or at least, that is what my boss would have said, if he had heard those words. Seeing as he is not here, I will take this opportunity to act as a stand-in.”

He laughs, “Your boss seems great.”

“He’s—surprisingly nice, given how he has to put up with all my tantrums and issues.” I shrug, and he places a glass of tea in front of me, “as an employee, I think I am also obligated to tell you that I have the best boss in the world.”

“You don’t really have to say that,” he says, now wiping down the counter, “Soonyoung probably does not have a single good thing to say about me, but I still keep him employed here. Most bosses don’t really care what kind of people you are, as long as you get the work done.”

I sigh, yeah, there’s the actual problem. I’m behind on work, and everyone else has to pay the price because of me.

It must show on my face, my feelings, because as much as I would like to brag about my poker skills, it’s evident, my discomfort. This man does not prod, instead, offers me another tissue with a smile. He doesn’t push, and I don’t reveal anything. It’s bad manners, really, to be spilling all your secrets to someone you’ve barely met, and within the first half-hour too.

The seafood stew is finished by this point, and I stand up, pushing a ten-thousand won bill towards him, and he fixes me with a look. I shrug, holding it out, “For the haemul-tang,” I say, smiling, “and for listening to my woes.”

“If I took money from the girl who gave me bad millennial advice, I’d be ruining the sanctity of this kitchen,” he says, so seriously I cannot even bring myself to laugh, “come by another time when I have more to offer than the leftovers of the day, and then I’ll take your money. Not before that.”

I make a face, “nothing in life is free, is it? Because now, I have to come back to your diner once more, in order to get my money’s worth.”

“I’ll make sure to serve you my best dish, that day.” he says, and I laugh, because apparently this man doesn’t only make good seafood stew, he also makes other dishes that are, presumably, just as good, “what is it?”

He smiles, conspiratorial, “well, you’ll have to come by again to find out.”

“And if I simply abscond? What if I never come back again?” I stare at him, lit warmly under the lights, soft, yellow, almost ethereal. This was the kind of encounter people fantasised about, wrote about, thought about incessantly. This was what dreams were made of. He’s smiling at me now, because for all the bad things in the world, sometimes, you do get to meet a stranger and even strangely, you both connect on some level that neither of you really understand. If I could, I can stride forward to the bar, and ask him for his number, something I do not really think he will be averse to. I could just do it, establish a connection with someone. And it would not even take a lot of effort, just a conversation. A few lines of words, spoken easily, lightly, as though it did not matter. I could do this. There was no reason I had to remain lonely in this city, when I could have a singular friend to talk to, on nights like these.

Do you even deserve this?

I take a step back, and the back of my knee collides painfully with a chair. I wince, and before he can come to my aid, grab my jacket and bag. “I’ll come by again—” are the only words I manage to say, before opening the door and stumbling out onto the street. God, its fucking cold. If I could just reverse the flow of time, I would never go into that damn restaurant, never would have struck up a conversation with anyone, least of all that man. Someone whose name I don’t even know, someone who (hopefully) will no longer be here when I take a walk on the beach tomorrow.

Before coming to this city, I had not really thought of myself as someone who was cut out to make large decisions. In fact, I thought of myself as perfectly average, right in the middle of the pecking order, someone whose existence brought neither great joy, nor great suffering. The middle ground between two warring sides, and apparently fooling no one. Busan had not even been on the radar before, had not even been in any of the plans I liked to draw up when I was a child, ranging from “World -famous chef” to “President of the United States of America” (yes, I know, that one was a mistake. I wasn’t aware we needed to be old men to be considered for that role). Nowhere in those crudely written crayon drawings had I put the words “Small-time editor for a company in Busan”. I suspect if I put it in one of those sheets, my elementary school teacher would have called my parents, because there was no way that the girl with the best grades in the school would imagine becoming a lowly office worker in a mid-tier city.

Unfortunately, I woke up one morning, four years ago, and decided that Seoul was simply too oppressive for me, and I needed to leave. It was nothing as dramatic as running away in the middle of the night, which was a pivotal point in one of the stories shared by my batchmates on a class outing. Imagine being subjected to a half-drunk woman rambling about the time she was almost robbed at knifepoint, and framing it as a heartwarming story of youthful problems, as something everyone did, at least once in their lives. “How else did you cope with the stress of the exam?” Because apparently, getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country implies you had to have been in the throes of extreme irrationality as a teenager, or else it does not count. No, my act of leaving was as boring and adultlike as possible, practical and dry, to the point where people did not really understand why I left. That ruse lasted a while, of course, until the rumours began to grow so insistent that no one, not even my mother, that most oblivious of women, made the trip to Busan and insisted on staying with me for a whole week. She didn’t believe them, of course, and asked me only once, on the final day, I’m hearing things about you, you know. Are they correct? I don’t believe them, but I’m asking you again.

They’re not correct, mom, I had said, feeling only slightly sad at lying this blatantly, I do not know what you are talking about, and I know that is not correct.

And my mother had believed me, but a false rumour is only marginally worse than a half-true rumour. And even if they were not true, why did you run? Why did I run, when it meant that everyone could point their fingers at me and say you ran, therefore you are guilty. On what count, we do not know. But you are guilty. And you will remain guilty, for the rest of your life.

I light up another cigarette, walking rapidly away from the diner. The chill in the air has become worse, with the winds sharp enough for me to huddle into my coat as I make the short distance home, five minutes away, but I smoke two cigarettes before I even step foot into the building, and a third is halfway to my mouth as I punch the code in the lock.

You’re gonna die of that one day, man. At least put the cancer sticks away.

I flick the lighter even before I reach for the lights.

—

She smelled strongly of cigarettes, Jihoon noticed, out of everything she did, it was the cigarette smoke that stood out to him, heavy and surprisingly, slightly comforting. She was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, but—the spicy smell of Dunhill cigarettes, a cross between clove and mint ones, that, that was a scent he was familiar with, years of suffocating boardrooms and producing studios that seemed to be made for the express purpose of forcing him to bend to the will of the executive members. The faint tobacco smell was a reminder of the years he spent in that company, giving up on his youth to chase his dreams. They’d all stopped smoking after a while—him, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Minghao. Or at least, he thought they had. He can’t be sure anymore.

He'd been at his work table for hours in the morning, with little to no work done, but his hands reach for the headphones of their own accord, now, and he starts humming a tune under his breath. It’s a wistful tune, one that would have Jeonghan breathing down his neck, but for once in a while, Jihoon finds himself incapable of caring. Sure, he has to make an upbeat boy group song, and what he’s doing is an indie ballad. But also, he’s been steadily running out of his saved drafts, and Jeonghan would have become aware of it, one day or the other.

He's got only a rudimentary beat done, but it's more work than what he has had in months. It’s a soft progression, reminiscent of the indie songs of the late 80’s, and Jihoon wonders if he should compose a city-pop song for the new female soloist from the company. He could get away with it too, sending over unauthorised songs. Anything will work, as long as the company gets their check.

Jihoon, did you hear? You’ve been nominated for Producer of the Year.

Jihoon, make sure you’re present at the meeting tomorrow.

Jihoon, I’m sorry but you’re not a good fit for the debut team.

Jihoon, make sure you get that track finished by next week.

He leans back into the chair, heaving a sigh. It was destined to crash and burn from the start, wasn’t it? Late nights, strict deadlines, short breaks. Jihoon was on top of the world, but it took mighty little to get him to come crashing down. All of a sudden, he was in a strange city, with no one to talk to him, but more importantly, no one to answer to. How pathetic was my life, if I only managed to taste freedom at the age of twenty-six?

But today, she was there, standing in front of him, and Jihoon had felt, for the first time in a long while, a strange sense of déjà vu—or was the feeling merely camaraderie? That they knew each other, or some level, even if they had never met each other before. She reminded him of a time when he knew nothing but work, cigarette smoke enveloping her like a crowd of despair. And she’d seemed sad, too. Sad enough to not look at him when she spoke.

He'd never managed to get her name; she had come into the diner, into his life, and disappeared with nothing but the faint trace of her habits behind her. He’s never really wanted to know someone this desperately. He could ask someone for help, but his parents would probably ask him to sit back and do nothing at all.

She’d said one thing that had stuck out to him. One day, I think that these small moments of happiness will build up enough for me to live the rest of my life in relative comfort. Even in his moments of despair and depression, he had had support. His parents were there, rallying behind him, keeping their mouths shut about his whereabouts because they knew that Jihoon was not well. He’s one of the lucky ones, the people who had both money and a good family to fall back on, a fact that he says his prayers daily for. All he had to do was tell them I’m not doing well, dad, and they had opened their arms to shield him from the rest of the world while he recuperated. Small amounts of happiness, she’d said. What were his small doses of happiness? To be able to get dinner with his parents every two days? His father, a stoic man who didn’t take off the watch Jihoon had given him—his first present—for a whole month, and his mother, the woman who had been the one to put him in his first piano class, the person who kick started his career, essentially, to be able to be a good son to them, to be a filial person, is that happiness? He thought he was happy, at one point, when he was cranking out a song in two hours and being lauded for it, when he had the high life, going from country to country every year, aspirational discretionary income stored in a platinum account.

Are you doing well? You look—

I’m fine.

He’d repeated the words so many times that he had started believing them. I’m fine. I can do it. This doesn’t bother me; words that made no sense to him, yet happened to come out of his mouth on a daily basis, and what was funnier was that everyone seemed to believe his obvious lies.

He has things to do for the next day; keep track of purchases and go to the market to get things wholesale, banal duties that keep him sane, except Jihoon cannot focus on anything but her right now. You’re going insane, Jeonghan would say, except Jeonghan isn’t here to save his ass right now, is he? It’s just Jihoon at the moment, going slightly insane, apparently.

He’s going to find her tomorrow; more accurately, he has to. She owes him the price of her seafood stew.

—

I wake up before my alarm rings, apparently trained better than a soldier. The morning is crisp, calm, and bright, and as I make myself a coffee before stepping out of the house, I’m hit with a pleasant breeze through one of my many windows. Seungkwan has left me a message in my inbox, sent at three in the morning.

“Remember, you’re supposed to send in your first article by next week. We’ve worked really hard for this serialisation, so don’t miss the deadline, although I’m sure you won’t, because you understand my problems, anyway, remember the deadlines, please.”

I’d almost forgotten about this. The serialisation was a big deal for Seungkwan, since my mainstream success meant the same for him, as my editor. He was the one who worked for the pitch; sending in letters to the chief of the department, begging them to give me a chance. The fact that it was only approved after I’d received an award, doesn’t take anything away from his hard work.

The call to Seungkwan goes through immediately, and his sleep-deprived voice floats through the phone line, “What’s up?”

“What’s the deadline for the serialisation?”

“No mincing words, I see,” he mutters, “next week.”

I sigh. Next week. I’ll have to come up with an idea and a way to execute it, all within a week. “At least tell me if there’s a brief.”

“Brief?” he’s immediately wide awake, “don’t tell me—you haven’t even written anything yet?”

“Besides the point. Just tell me if there’s a brief.”

“That’s the whole point! If you have no idea what to write, man, I don’t know how to say this, but I might lose my job.”

Now it’s my turn to be speechless, because what the fuck does he mean, “What?”

Seungkwan sighs, “look, I really didn’t want to tell you this, but I did bet my job on your column. Sure, the award was a good push, but the Editor still didn’t want to give it to you. Our best writer used to write this column, and now—”

“Now he’s dead,” I reply, “yes, I’m aware, Seungkwan, that my opportunities depend on the timely passing of literary greats.”

“Good god, and now I’m late for work. Just remember you have until next week for the deadline. And write something  fun, new age, one that the readers will relate to. We’re already losing subscribers to the magazine as is.”

“Ugh,” I open my mouth to tell him some more, but unfortunately, he’s cut the call, desperate to get to his job on time, and I’m left, standing in the middle of the street, because fuck it’s no longer my writing that’s on the line, it’s Seungkwan’s job as well. 

taglist: @facethesunflower @hisnowbie2

[space-matt]

Could I request a Matt x reader.They have been dating for a while but the reader has never left that honey moon stage.One day Matt is not having a good day and the readers presence make him on edge.He ends up blowing up on her calling her overbearing and clingy.Things shift and she becomes more distant,for a while he feels ok but he starts to miss the relationship they way it was before.when he tries to talk to the reader she cries to him about the whole situation.He is really sorry and does his best to make it up to her.

I’ll make it up to you 

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: It's really true that you understand the value of things when you lose them.. Matt figured it out too late, but will he be able to make up for it?

request: yes 

author’s note: thank u so much for the request!! I hope you’ll enjoy it ♡ I added the song that helped me to write it. For everything I’m here!

----------------------

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

---------------------

revised

Still lying in bed you feel the heat coming from the window left half open in Matt’s room, with your eyes closed you stretch by turning to the other side meeting a boulder of a blanket, you reach out your hand in search of your favorite person but to your surprise, your hand leans on the mattress, so you open your eyes trying to focus and notice that half of the bed is empty.

You've been together for seven months and thirteen days now, and you have to say that they are the best months of your life; Having never had previous relationships, it can be said that Matt is your first true and actual relationship in your 20 years of life. 

Everything had started as a pure joke between you two to make fun of Chris and his girlfriend Maddy, but the more time passed, the more you began to feel real feelings towards the boy who unlike you had liked you for a long time, but for fear of being considered only and solely a friend, he wanted to avoid putting his heart in the foreground and listening to the rational part of his brain. 

But fate wanted that one evening while you were saying goodbye to go to your own house, the moment you were about to press a kiss against his cheek, Matt turned earlier than expected causing your lips to collide, making you immediately move away but when you stopped to look into his eyes you saw in both of them a spark to burst a breathless kiss.

It must be said, from that moment you have been together, indeed perhaps precisely because it is your first relationship that you try to always make everything go for the best unlike Matt who still had his first relationships during his adolescence that, however, according to him, ''they can't compete with you''. Of course, it scares you that sooner or later it may get bored or otherwise lose interest in you, but you still try to eliminate this thought and be the best girlfriend in the world. 

So you get out of bed by completely opening the window so that the room can change air, leaving the bed undone; Take your change in the drawer that Matt has free so that you can put some of your things when you stay at his house to sleep, and you head to the next bathroom without noticing who is in the open space connected by a small corridor to his room.

Meanwhile Matt was lying on the sofa, the TV turned on in the background, with the phone in his hand looking at the various social networks but his mind was elsewhere, indeed the day had started in the wrong direction.

All night you did nothing but stay attached to him not making him move, which didn't make him sleep a wink and that's why he was quite nervous.

His brothers were still in their respective rooms changing, as they would then be out all day under your precise instructions, as you wanted to spend a day entirely with Matt before leaving for spring break in two weeks. 

When Nick and Chris find themselves in the living room ready to go out, Matt pulls up his head ''Do we have any meetings today?'' He asks confused getting up and putting the phone in his pocket ''The two of us yes, you have the day off today.. enjoy it'' Chris replies with a grin on his face which vanishes when he hears a puff from him ''Wow I didn't expect all this enthusiasm '' exclaims ironic Nick going to the door of the house ''Please let me come with you, I need to disconnect, I need air'' Matt responds whispering so as not to be heard by you ''Sorry MattyB but no'' says Chris taking a can of Pepsi from the fridge and then he goes out too.

Another puff comes out of his lips knowing he has to stay with you all day, and resignedly throws himself back on the couch closing his eyes.

When he feels your steps approaching a sense of annoyance and nervousness pervades his body, he can't even understand the reason for all this but it's already been a couple of days that he just wants to have a moment for him, but with you in the middle it's almost completely impossible.

On the other hand, you do not notice anything different, perhaps because taken by too much love even the most obvious things go unnoticed by your eyes in the shape of a little heart. 

All happy you go to the kitchen take water pouring it into a glass, you notice Matt on the sofa, you leave the glass on the counter and go in his direction lowering yourself to his height ''Babe, let's go out for breakfast?'' you ask trying to caress his hair but at your touch, he moves by sitting down looking at you ''I can't, I have to go out'' he responds annoyed without even looking at you, leaving you a little surprised but doesn't give up trying with a ''Then when you come back we can go for a ride at Lake Hollywood Park, right?'' hopeful in one of his answers but the only thing he pronounces is a ''See you later'' without greeting you and leaving the house, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room. 

The hours go by and so does your enthusiasm, you start thinking about the worst situations in your mind, which do nothing but increase your paranoia;

Okay maybe you recognize that in the last period, you have always been with them but although it has been almost a year since you moved to Los Angeles, you have not been able to make many friends due to your armor that you tend to raise when it comes to new people. But with Nick, Chris, and Matt it's different, you've known them since you were little, and with them, there was never a need to create a wall to protect you, because they are your guardian angels.

You've always gotten along, except for a few quarrels which is normal, but you've never noticed before behaviors so distant from Matt, as if your presence wasn't welcome.

When you hear the door open you hope that your boyfriend's figure will come out of the stairs but you recognize the voices of Chris and Nick, you resign yourself completely on the couch with your pajamas and the tray of ice cream on your legs.

''Ookay... why are you at home? Didn't you have to go out?'' Nick asks looking at you confused ''By the way where is Matt?'' Keep looking around ''I have no idea'' you answer him in a subtle voice while you eat a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, you feel the tears stop at the corners of your eyes, so you don't see you turn your head on the other side putting the teaspoon in the tray ''He came out this morning and never came back, I tried to text him and call him a couple of times but I didn't receive an answer'' you keep whispering closing your eyes making the tears fall.

You feel the package of ice cream being removed from your legs and two arms that surround you, from the essence that envelops you, you recognize that is Chris and with your eyes still closed you abandon yourself in a liberating cry after holding it all day ''Shh, it's okay'' he whispers massaging your back ''You know that now and then he has its relapses and behaves like this'' he keeps trying to reassure you.

You pull up with your nose and detach yourself from his arms ''But with me, he had never behaved this way.. at all he always came to me'' you explain looking in his direction receiving almost an expression of pity on his face ''What do you say if we order something and watch a movie here all together? We will make you choose'' announces trying to cheer you up But on your part, he only receives a nod with your head.

Even though he had spent the whole day outside walking around the crowded streets of Santa Monica, his mind did nothing but think about the time to get home, the only thought of having you always stuck made him take his breath away, of course he cared you but this so much physical contact, at that time, was leading him to detach himself from everything, but especially from you.

That's why he had waited for a late time to come back, so as not to have to face you trying to postpone everything to the day of your departure. But you know how his thought works more than yourself, in this way after finishing watching your comfort movie together with the two boys, you decide not to go to sleep right away but to stay on the couch not being able to stay alone in bed without Matt by your side, with the knowledge of having done something wrong. 

The fact that there was no communication between the two of you was new, you have always been the anchor of each other, and not being it in a short time has completely upset you, especially not understanding how to act, and consequently how to find a solution. 

The silence that reigns in the house is broken by the noise of the keys that are inserted into the door patch, your heart begins to beat quickly but you remain motionless sitting with your gaze turned in his direction, while he tries to slowly climb the entrance stairs but when it reaches the last one, he stops seeing you pulling his eyes up ''you shouldn’t have waited up for me, there was no need'' he says changing towards the fridge taking a bottle of water but no longer being able to hold back your thoughts for you ''What have I done? It's all day that you avoid me indeed it's days that you behave strangely'' you blurt out getting up to get closer to him, and given your height difference you are forced to pull up your head to look him better in the eyes.

As you stand in front of Matt, you can feel the bitterness in his words cutting deep into your heart. "What did you do to me?" he asks, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "There's that you've become overbearing and clingy. I can't take it anymore. You're always sticky, I never have a free moment, and if I have it, you're always there" he exclaims with clenched teeth and a hard look.

His words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you take a step back, not believing what you're hearing. "We weren't like that before, and now I understand why no one has ever wanted you" he adds with wickedness, making you feel small and insignificant.

You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. You know what you've been through, and you've always hoped that Matt would understand. But instead, he holds it against you, making you feel like an outcast.

"You're an asshole" you finally manage to say, raising your voice as tears slide down your face. It's not like you to use such harsh words, but you're hurt and angry, and you can't help it.

At that moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you can see the surprise and shock on his face. He had never heard you say such a thing to him. Among all people, it was always you who used a calm tone, even in the most difficult situations.

Seeing you rush into his room, he follows you around, but when he sees that you start to take your bags, he realizes that he has exaggerated. "What do you do?" he asks, trying to take your arm. But with all the anger that you had in your body, in very little, you wriggle from his grip. "Let go of me" you say in a dry tone.

"I'm not going to stay in the room with you anymore. I'll go to Nick's, and I'll bring all my stuff" you finish, closing the zip and dragging the bag on the ground. As you come out of his room, you find yourself facing the two guys who, from the screams, immediately catapulted to see what had happened.

As you ask Nick for help, you feel exhausted and drained from the situation at home. Without even turning to see him, his hand takes the bag from yours and you head up to the room with the older brother. In the distance, you hear Chris saying, "Dude you have already done too much damage, let her be."

Days pass by, but the situation at home remains the same.

After receiving some harsh words, you decide to build a wall between you and Matt and try to avoid being alone with him.

You attempt to behave like a mature person, spending more time with the two brothers and going out on your own when they can't accompany you.

Matt, on the other hand, feels good when you're not around. However, as time passes, guilt starts to creep in, and he realizes that he doesn't want to push away the one person who means the world to him.

He understands this even more when you don't even look at him at the airport and leave without a single glance. "Why did I do wrong to her?" he says to himself as he watches you go through security checks. "Because you're a jerk, that's why" answers Nick, watching him with a serious expression.

Although he regrets his actions, Matt is determined to make things right between you two. Without telling anyone, he packs his backpack with only the bare minimum and heads off to the other side of the country.

Spring break is coming to an end, and leaving your family and friends in Boston again feels like a stab in the heart. This time, it hurts even more because you know that once you get back, you'll have to fend for yourself completely, starting with finding an apartment.

You and your family were having a pleasant evening playing board games when you heard the doorbell ring. "Were you expecting someone?" you asked, moving your pawns on the board. "No, we weren't. Why don't you go and answer it?" your mother replied, gazing at you with a gentle expression. You got up from your spot, a little confused.

As you reached the door, you saw Matt standing outside with a bouquet of your favorite tulips and a puppet with the words <I'm stupid> written on it. The sight of the flowers made you smile, but you didn't let your guard down completely.

''Please, I have to talk to you''

"You have five minutes" you told him as you closed the door behind you and sat on the porch, keeping a distance. He handed you the flowers and the puppet, and you accepted them, putting the flowers next to you and holding the puppet in your hands.

"I'm sorry" he began, fiddling with your fingers. "I know I'm not good with words, but I realize now that I was wrong to say what I said.

I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I just wanted to talk to you and explain my side of things."

He paused, looking down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. You felt your own eyes fill up with tears, too.

"I don't want to lose you" he said, touching your cheek. You closed your eyes and put your hand on his. "I was an asshole, but I understand that now that you're gone."

You spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a low blow. You've never made me feel so small and helpless before. But I have to admit, I've been clingier than usual lately. That's just my way of showing you love, and if you don't like it, we can end it here."

"No way" he said, taking a step closer. "I flew over 2,500 miles to see you and tell you I love you more than anything. We just need to communicate better and make sure we're both happy. I'm here because I want to be and make it up to you." concludes by looking into your eyes '' I love you too... but please let's not hurt ourself anymore'' you leaned your forehead against his and felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

When you pulled away, you grinned and grabbed the puppet. "Would you be him?" you asked, laughing together.

----------------------------------------------------

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07

[plscallmeeren]

D O M I N A N T D R U N K

Hermione Jean Granger x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: Hermione discovers a new side of herself when drunk (she and fem reader have been dating for a while now)

Warnings: Swearing; fingering, oral (f receiving), alcohol, drunk sex

Word Count: 1.7K+

Harry and Ron watched their best friend tip yet another fire whiskey down her throat. The sixth, to be exact. They nodded pitifully when she stumbled toward the cupboard to find another drink, exchanging worried glances.

"You realise she's a total lightweight," Ron whispered to Harry, brows furrowing as she tipped the golden liquid into her glass. "You reckon this is because of her potions exam?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know how to stop her." Hermione had spent the entire evening rambling on about how badly her potions final had been and that she would probably fail. (Harry and Ron highly doubted this, considering her worst marks were some of their best, but that wasn't a very favoured argument.)

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron called timidly, catching her attention after the second attempt. "You think that should be your last glass, maybe? Yeah? It's just a bit much for someone your size-"

"Shut up, Ronald," she interrupted, throwing her head back so that brown curls cascaded down her back. "It's not even midnight!"

"That's true," Harry joined in for the sake of solidarity, "but that doesn't have much to do with how sloshed you are-"

"Really, Harry. If you were drunk, too, you wouldn't care."

"Maybe we should go find (y/n), she could probably-"

"(Y/n)?" Hermione perked up. "Is she here?"

"No, but we could bring her-"

"She's so hot," Hermione drawled. Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. "The way we shag... you have no idea. She can be really rough or really sweet..."

"What's protocol is situations like these?"

"I'm just hoping this situation will never happen again. It's a miracle Seamus and Dean haven't walked in yet-"

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione was struggling with the buttons of her shirt, but judging by murmurs of 'far too warm in here' the objective was to remove it.

"Okay, that's it. Keep your shirt on for a second and we'll take you to your girlfriend," Harry said firmly, but before he or Ron could stand up, she had rushed out the door and was giggling all the way down the stairs, almost crashing into the armchair near the archway.

"Bloody hell," Ron repeated.

"Oh, shut up."

You were sitting peacefully in the common room on the big couch by the fire, studying for herbology, when Hermione burst past Fred and George - mercifully, the only other two there - to sit down on your lap, careful notes be damned.

"Hello, love. What..." She pressed her lips to yours and you could have tasted the alcohol from her lips alone. "Since when do you drink more than one glass?"

"Since I'm stupid," she moaned, collapsing into you as her friends (and the twins) watched from afar. "I'm stupid and I'll fail and..."

"I don't know what draught you've been fed, but that's not true. I'll give you evidence of it in the morning - even if it takes a visit to every professor. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, and you noticed she was doing kitten licks against the side of your neck. "I need you to fuck me."

You hesitated only a second, catching Harry's eye and nodding for them to leave. They scurried away gratefully. "I can't to that, love. You're drunk."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"So... you don't think I'm hot?" She undid another button or two teasingly until you nodded, laughing.

"Very."

"Then take me to your room."

"I have roommates."

"Then let's go to the prefects' bathroom."

You stared at her for a moment before giving in. Maybe if you gave her such a hard time asking exactly what she wanted, she would give up. You closed her shirt again with nimble fingers, making Hermione groan while Fred and George smirked from the opposite end of the room.

She dragged you by the hand, which led to you half-holding her upright when the lull of her steps overwhelmed her enthusiasm, until you finally reached the bathroom. Fortunately, Hermione could still remember the password in her drunken state. She locked the door behind you.

"What now?" you asked softly, resting your hands on her love handles. She crooned, humming as she considered.

It was strange seeing her this way - even when she was entirely distracted from reality, even when you were fucking her raw, she always had some form of composure. Not like now, where she mumbled every thought that came to her and slumped against your body for support.

"Fuck me. Please."

"I don't know. Too vague. Tell me exactly what to do."

She pondered this for a moment. "So... I'm in control?"

"Yes, I suppose. I'll do every little thing you ask. How does that sound?"

Hermione grinned. "Take off my shirt."

"Whatever you desire," you smiled, working the buttons in quick succession before pulling off the white clothing. She leaned into you, pressing the lace of her bra against your own t-shirt.

"Undress."

You pulled off the band tee and old sweats nonchalantly, followed by your boxers. Hermione ran her hands over your skin in wonder, as if it were the first time she could touch the planes of your body.

"My skirt. And stockings."

"What about them?"

"Get rid of them. And my bra. Take it all away."

"Yes, ma'am."

You unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her legs with the adjacent stockings and pulling them away from her feet one by one. The clasp behind her bra was easy, and you tried not to stare at her breasts like a child at a toy. Her nipples were perked, though, and some stretch lines reached from under each one, showing you that she had grown larger.

"You forgot my panties."

"You didn't ask."

In her impatience, she pulled them off herself, but from then on she didn't forget any details. "Kneel in front of me," she ordered, backing against a wall.

"Yes, ma'am," you smirked. Morally, you should have stopped there - earlier, even - but it was impossible. Not when you were now at eye level with her pussy, thighs sticky with juices.

"Put your tongue on my clit and move it in vertical ellipses." You obeyed, laughing against her at the absurd smarts in her language. She moaned loudly, bucking her hips into your face as her fingers scraped the walls for hold.

"Faster," she commanded, though she was getting dizzy from the stimulation. "Faster, faster, more."

You couldn't help yourself, digging your fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, just like she had told you to in the past. She was so soft - unbearably so - and your hands slipped down to her thighs, gripping them to keep her steady.

She mewled as her hips rolled over your face harshly. "Go on," she groaned when you pulled away a moment for air. You lay your tongue flat on her pussy before resuming, teasing her.

Hermione whined, spasming. It took you a moment to realise that she had already come, and that she couldn't stand during the sensation.

You fell back against the cold tile, letting her slide along your body until she sat almost on your chest. "Have you ever come that fast? I didn't know people could come that fast."

"Neither did I," Hermione admitted shyly. You were about to suggest sitting up, but to your amazement she was moving back and forth over your torso, legs spread. She was humping you.

"Hermione," you managed, watching in near fascination as she continued, head thrown back as moans and whines fell from her lips, a symphony of pornographic sounds. "Your cunt is still swollen from..."

"I know. Be quiet." You didn't find it in you to deny her, so you just watched. She was getting louder and louder. If you hadn't known better, you would have guessed she was in pain.

"Fuck, 'Mione," you groaned, back arching intuitively to get further inside her. "You're doing things to me."

But she didn't answer, lost in her own world. You were tempted to... "Can I touch myself?"

She nodded - or so you hoped - because the second you reached for yourself, both of you were making enough noise to drain out the slick squelching of her against your skin.

"Fingers," Hermione panted, placing a hand over your mouth, "put three inside of me."

"Three?" you asked, crazed. "You've got the tightest cunt-"

"Just do it," she said certainly, hand securing itself around your throat. "I command it."

Lightheaded from lack of air, you pulled your hand from yourself to her pussy, offering. She reluctantly rolled off you, splayed out on the white floor, waiting.

You took a deep breath, then plunged three fingers into her folds.

She screamed - or something like it - but before you could pull out she grabbed your wrist, pushing you inside again, as far as it would go.

"Again, again, again."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, forcing your digits into her even though her vagina rejected them and she wailed.

"Faster."

You could feel the sweat tumbling down your back from the effort, but you sped in and out of her cunt with brute force. You spared a glance at her and almost came; she was spread across the tile floor, thighs completely wet, body shaking, convulsing in attempts to get you further in.

"Come. Come with me," she squealed, so narrow around your fingers you couldn't enter. Your thumb took over; rushed circles clumsily drawn over her clit. Her hands groped you until they found your shoulders, fingernails digging into your back painfully. Her eyes rolled backc head lifting.

"Fuck!"

She came, and a moment later so did you. You collapsed next to her, chest rising and falling quickly.

"One more round," she panted. Had you misheard? You suddenly remembered she was still intoxicated.

"You're a dominant drunk," you mused. "Who would have thought."

"Now," she ordered.

"'Mione, I don't know if-"

"Do as I say," she insisted, sounding almost bratty but definitely enjoying the control.

"Yes, ma'am," you panted, sitting up.

"Do you know that spell for your wand? You know the one."

"Yeah, I do."

[lennjamin-o7]

Thought it was time to return the curse upon you for once... (also inspired vaguely by the DMs from earlier so hehe)

AU where Techno is a superhero.

Not just any superhero, really. One of the best. He manages to keep the city crime free almost singlehandedly and does so without breaking a sweat. Though he does work together with another hero named Phil and the two are thick as thieves.

It's hotly debated among fangroups of civilians why Techno joined the hero ranks. Since he doesn't exactly make it subtle that he's an introvert, fame is off the list. Techno is kind of brash and awkward too, he doesn't strike people as the sort of guy who does it for something as vague as 'helping people' - he also might get a bit too excited about new villains for that to ring true. There are rumors that his family was killed by a villain and this is Techno getting revenge, but this rumor is never verified. Maybe money? Money is a pretty good motivator.

The truth is that Techno is incredibly bored.

Techno peaked in high school and is so incredibly gifted kid coded. (/hj)

And hero work is a great adrenaline kick, a thrilling situation to throw himself into. Especially villains who come up with wild schemes. Maybe, just maybe, it's even bordering on depression. He has to keep busy with hero work or he literally can't bother to get out of bed or motivate himself for much of anything.

Things have been better since Phil came along. Phil is, in a twist on the usual dynamic, the less experienced one when it comes to hero work (despite being so much older lol, Phil was a civilian hiding his powers before). So he's teamed with Techno to learn the ropes, and the two hit it off, and the team-up becomes permanent. Phil is the first and only person Techno considers a friend. And after befriending Phil, Techno gradually gets a few hobbies (he's cultivating a potato plant in the hero association dorm, he's reading books Phil recommends to him, he's playing chess with Phil on slow afternoons).

But Phil would still like for Techno to have more of an identity outside of his hero work. Techno brushes him off. It's almost a running joke at this point.

(Technoblade is not his real name. It's his hero name. Techno has no civilian identity, never bothered to maintain one. This is concerning to Phil).

Whenever Phil thinks he's made some progress, a new villain will pop up or something will happen and ALL of Techno's attention will go to that again. And then after it's over he'll be bummed out because Techno usually beats the villain very easily and it doesn't pose a challenge for not. What Techno truly needs is an archnemesis.

Good thing that one day, a new supervillain pops up in town.

He's cruel, and he's smart, and he's ruthless. And he's very, very strong. Strong enough to almost beat Techno into the ground one-handed during their first confrontation, though Techno manages to win just barely. It's as if this new villain knows all his moves, his weaknesses. It's exhilarating.

The new villain calls himself The Crowfather.

(Fangroups don't really debate on why Phil joined hero work. But if they did some digging, they might find out that Phil once almost died, and the only thing that kept him from dying was a hero saving him. Technoblade.

They might find out that Phil became a hero not because he cares about the status, or saving people. He just wanted to get closer to Techno. To repay him, somehow, any way he can.

Even if it means murdering a bunch of innocent people.)

Hey, Techno is smiling a lot more now that he has The Crowfather to go up against. And isn't that all that matters :)

[this was so rambly, i'm not very good at this and u can tell lol]

I've think I've kept this hostage long enough Shara Friend. It has been kept for my eyes alone long enough. Now, I freely share it.

Fuck yeah bored Super Hero Technoblade! You popped off with this. I love Sneaky Philza standing by his side and, if it makes him happy, standing against him as well. Who cares about the ants he has to squish to see Technoblade HAPPY. An easy and small price to pay for the guy who saved him.

Gosh, I love this. The DRAMA that would ensue when everything is found out. How will that go? Will Technoblade be appalled? Disgusted? Angry?

Or maybe, just a tiny bit curious about how interesting it would be to be a Villain.

Love it. Love it so much. I want to CORRUPT this version of Technoblade so so SOOO much!!!!

[ttjisung]

back 2 u 𝜗𝜚

p. jisung x fem!reader smau - exes to lovers

in which jisung does his best to avoid you, his ex, until he realizes his mistake far too late cw: suggestive themes, bad angst, cheating, swearing

i'm not going back, back, back, back, back

masterlist

previous next

chapter viii. (wc: 1.6k)

Your nails dug crescent shaped figures into your palms as you waited for Jaemin impatiently. For some reason, you were incredibly nervous and it wasn’t because you barely talked to the man. 

The nerves formed more-so due to the fact that this was, in your eyes, your last chance to get your point across to Jisung. Obviously, even if he did understand and apologized, your relationship would be stunted yet fixing it was better than leaving it to rot considering you truly loved the man, so you had devised a plan. It was simple really - Jaemin would apologize (even if it wasn’t heartfelt) to get Jisung on his good side, and then he’d show screenshots that Yangyang and Dejun failed to realize proved your innocence until the night before your cafe meetup. 

According to Jisung’s words, you had snuck out the night before he broke up with you and got with other men, yet the crucial fact that you were with your best friends at the time was proven true by a dumb Instagram story that Yangyang had posted on his account, making fun of your movie taste. Being forgetful, he hadn’t remembered he posted it until Dejun was stalking his highlights like most people sneakily do and checked the dates, immediately messaging your group chat with the screenshots.

For the first time in a while, the constant weight you felt on your back was lifted slightly, and was replaced by a blossoming hope in your chest. You had even unblocked Jisung in case he messaged you after to talk.

Deep into your own thoughts, you hadn’t realized Jaemin had arrived until he called out your name, wearing a friendly smile which he always did. You waved your hand timidly, responding with a small hi before nodding at the seat in front of you. 

“I’m glad you asked to talk, Y/n. I hadn’t realized until you messaged me that this is the first time we’ve hung out one-on-one properly which is kind of wild, you know, since we’ve known each other for a while.” Jaemin ranted, scooting closer over the small table. “That’s true, but we haven’t ever really been close. I don’t think it’s too odd.” You tried to shut down his words with a kind tone, not agreeing. “Maybe we can be?” “Yeah… Maybe. So, Yang found some screenshots that are pretty much undeniable, and I was hoping you could maybe show them to Jisung?” Your hands shot down towards your pocket to get your phone, quickly unlocking it.

“I really would love to, but actually I have something to show you too.” Jaemin paralleled your actions, getting his phone as well and opening up a chain of messages. He cringed, re-reading them before sliding the device across the table. “I was checking their texts in our group chat with all the guys and Hyuck was sort of dissing you last night, and Jisung said some messed up shit.” His face could only be described as pitying as he saw you take in the words being shared.

I honestly wish we never dated. 

She was always so anxious about everything.

I missed her and all but it made me think and maybe it’s for the best.

I don’t want to be with someone like her.

You hadn’t even realized tears were falling down your cheeks until you felt a hand grip your chin, Jaemin’s hand to be specific. His other held a napkin which he used to dab your tears. The touch was intimate, yet you were too upset to take notice or say anything. You just let them fall, shutting your eyes and sliding his phone back to him. 

“I… I don’t get it. He was always so happy with me. He seemed happy with me.” “I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better, you really do. They’re all jerks - that’s why I stopped texting in there.” Jaemin’s words came out in a comforting whisper, finally releasing your face yet quickly replacing it with your hands that were shaking on the small table. “Would you like me to send the screenshots still?” “I guess… it’d be nice to clear my name, but obviously they won’t have the same effect anymore…” Your face was sunken, your lips wobbly as you responded. For the first time since your break up, you didn’t only feel sadness towards Jisung. You felt anger. Your whole pursuit for proof ended up useless, as he claimed to be unhappy regardless of your supposed cheating. It was truly as if his personality had switched completely, being rude and insulting instead of his usual lovesick self. 

“It’s up to you,” Jaemin stated, rubbing his thumb over yours affectionately, “I’ll do it, but I still think you could do better.” You nodded, although you felt yourself dissociating and not truly grasping his words. What you hadn’t realized through your teary, squinted eyes was the fact that he seemed concerningly happy at the news that you didn’t want to talk to Jisung anymore. In fact, his eyes quickly widened in pleasure and returned to normal when he heard resentment in your voice. 

You honestly made it too easy. Any other person would show clear suspicion as soon as they’d receive a text from a friend of their ex ‘siding’ with them. Yet you were too nice, not believing Jaemin was capable of lying. 

The first time you two had met was the definition of love at first sight, in his eyes. You didn’t even know Jisung back then - only Renjun, who unknowingly led Jaemin to you. You had visited your friend’s house, being invited to a small get together at his pool. It was only a handful of you, including Mark and Donghyuck as well as Kim Minjeong and Ning Yizhuo, who accompanied said friends. 

You had excused yourself to Renjun’s bathroom, going to change into your bathing suit, and as you walked out you accidentally crashed into Jaemin, causing him to spill the lemonade he was carrying outside all over you. In an embarrassed rush, he dragged you back into the bathroom and grabbed the nearest towel, wiping down the top of your two-piece bikini. The red on his face grew as he realized he was touching you too intimately, making him apologize and finally look up at you. 

Jaemin felt entranced, never having seen a face quite like yours. You shared the same blush as him, which he mistook as mutual attraction. Unknowingly to him, you simply blushed because you were shy and had never met him before. Sure, he was attractive and he seemed nice enough to help you clean up, yet your type was someone who resembled your personality much more, and his flamboyant actions proved to you he wasn’t the kind to. 

You quickly accepted his rambled apologies, telling him you’d just dip into the pool and it would come right off. He led you towards the backyard of the house, walking towards Mark and Donghyuck yet throughout the evening, he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering to you. At the end of the night, he searched for you to ask for your number, feeling encouraged by the couple of shots he took with Donghyuck while the girls swam, yet to his misfortune, you had already gone home.

Not wanting to embarrass himself and ask Renjun for your contact information, he simply hoped a day would come where he’d meet you again at an event, giving him the chance to finally ask you out. 

The day came months later, when Jaemin was invited to a party by Mark. Seeing your familiar figure sitting on a couch, his mood shot up and a smile grew on his face, yet it was quickly wiped off as he saw your hand interlocked with a hand belonging to none other than Park Jisung, his own friend. 

It felt like betrayal, although Jisung wasn’t aware of his crush, that you had been swept off your feet by someone so close to him. You looked so happy, blushing and giggling alongside him, and Jaemin swore somehow he would end up being the one to make you laugh. He hadn’t expected you both to take your relationship so seriously though, going on several years, and he started to get impatient. 

Convincing Donghyuck to help him, although not purposeful, was easy. It wasn’t that he disliked you, in fact he really enjoyed your company, seeing you as a very close friend, yet all Jaemin had to do was take a blurry photo of someone who resembled you kissing a man in a club the two were at. Jaemin was aware of the protective nature he had over the younger boy, so as soon as he showed it to Donghyuck, the man did all the work himself, calling Jisung and telling him about the situation. 

It all worked in Jaemin’s favor, especially when you messaged him to meet up. It was as if all the years of waiting finally paid off, now presenting him with the perfect opportunity to sweep you off your feet, all the meanwhile convincing Jisung he wasn’t missing out on dating you. Of course, he’d probably lose his friendship once he got to his last part of his plan which was properly asking you out, yet he was willing to take that risk, considering he met you before Jisung did, and it truly was only right that he’d get you instead. 

After half an hour of comforting you while you cried to him at the cafe, he offered to drop you off, grinning ear to ear once he saw you enter your apartment. Pulling out his phone, he quickly deleted the screenshots you had sent him proving your innocence, knowing Jisung would never be seeing those since the second you brought it up. 

Jaemin wouldn’t let his plan go to waste, and he wasn’t ready to allow anyone to ruin it for the both of you.

a/n: omg! I'm so shocked! jp i knew he was going to be the villain all along. (it's not like i'm the author or anything >U<) hehe

Na Jaemin, i sincerely apologize... i love you... you are perf... my man truly. but someone had to be the bad guy and unfortunately i chose you... it was originally gonna be haechan having a sad pathetic one-sided crush instead but he was chosen to be jaemin's little pawn bc it makes him look more evil muehehe

things are gonna get messier soon but we finally got the backstory >:3 jisung redemption arc coming in the next chapters? NOPE! cause i love angst sorryyy... but eventually we'll get there. i think. maybe.

[sxprot]

Can you please make Dandy x reader (romantic) headcanons? :0

I'm gonna embrace you again and again. Let your tears run free, let out your heart.

-----------------•☆

Author's Note: Sure...But I honestly don't know if it satisfies you. Is that what you wanted to ask...? Dear me, I get confused easily. You could request another if it isn't what you wanted, I will do it as compensation for my mistake.

Tw: bad grammar, ooc ig, ass writing

I hope u like it!! Have a great day too!

Dandy x Toon!reader (gn)

-----------

DANDY

It's no secret that he considers you as his favorite. Nearly everyone could see that from the way he treats you, from the time he gives you medkits, discounts,... You were aware of that, of course. But you never once comment on his behavior toward you, thinking of it as just a normal gesture between friends.

"Oh hello there, friends!" He perked up from the mere sight of you and your friends, returning to his shop.

He grew fond of you when you accepted to be his friend. When he's lonely, it's you who brightens his days up like a miracle. It's you that brings joy into his life.

You two would spend your days playing games, hopping around and being silly. Of course, you two are always close to each other, sticking with each other through thick and thin. It's always you that he would smile at, the charming smile that he would wear when you come in the elevator with your slightly beaten-up form

Despite the others asking why he would treat you differently, he would just smile, blithely saying that they're simply mistaken. Why would he do that? He sees everyone as friends, there are no silly things called favoritism, just them getting the wrong things inside their heads. Such blatant excuses that dare to slip out of his mouth...But actions always speak louder than words.

Although-! Dandy is a bit irritated when he gets ignored. He wants to be patient with you, for you to see that he does want the best for you during the ichor infection. He wants you to be safe, he sees you as a fragile and dainty little thing.

The way his face would twist when he saw you interacting with others, the close distance and the way you seemed so happy...Was he not enough? Supporting and helping you wasn't enough for little you?

And ah-! The flower would flinch when you asked him if he was alright, he simply just grinned and returned to his cheerful personality.

"Yes, I'm fine! How about you?"

But he wishes he could stop you from going. It pains him when he sees the one that he cherishes so much—getting hurt by Twisteds.

At last, Dandy is there in his shop, assisting everyone with items for their chance of survival. He has a glimpse of hope that someday this could end, despite how selfish he deems himself to be, he does want you to be happy along with the others.

Still, he watches everyone go, fending their own lives from the Twisted. He ponders about himself, the one that caused this mess.

Was he the true monster? And should he stay away from you? For the star of the show, he starts to question his choice, doubting if he really wants the best for you besides just putting everyone at risk, on the brim of death every day.

If sacrifice others are for his own happiness, does he really deserve your love? You certainly wouldn't like it when you're all alone with a monster.

(Alright, goodnight. I need rest before starting another request , i dont wanna bat my eyes on this anymore 😭😭💔)

[kkpaaw]

The parallels between Jay's Arc rn and Nya's earlier In the series is truly something to behold

It would be so interesting if the writers had Nya and the Ninja unintentionally do to Jay what was done to her

What I mean is: Nya's Arc(I'm grossly oversimplifying here btw) In the beginning of the series was about her paving her own path and trying to deal with having little choice In the direction her destiny went. she had to give up her role as the samurai, something she chose to be on her own, to become the water ninja, something that was chosen for her. Then she had to deal with all that was season 6 having her choices essentially snatched from her

She wanted to be the one to choose how her life went. She was tired of others telling her how her life was going to go and not consult her In the slightest

That really parallels Jay's Arc in DR. As I've said before he's had very little choice in his life post merge. Under the control of the administration, while yes he did have some freedom to play video games, we saw just how strict and by the book that place is so we can presume that even with that freedom he still had tight rules he had to obey

Then he left for what he presumed to be freedom under Ras' command. But we all know that isn't true freedom. Jay was lied to, and manipulated to follow Ras' commands. Very strict commands cuz we know who Ras is. And then when he was no longer useful he was promptly tossed out

He finally thought he found some purpose only for that purpose to be snatched away, leaving him with nothing.

Now he's all on his own finally free from anyone's control and I imagine he's not very eager to listen to anyone anytime soon.

Hence why he's now gone Rogue.

Jay and Nya's Arcs are so similar to me message wise that I cannot see it as pure coincidence and I hope that it's used in an effective way

I wanna see Nya unintentionally being a hypocrite. I wanna see her so desperate to get Jay back that she doesn't even try to acknowledge who he is as of NOW In the matter. All she sees is her yin, her love who's lost and alone and needs help and she feels that being with them is the best choice so she makes that decision for him

And of course being with them is better than him being on his own. Thats his family! I know this, you know this but JAY doesn't know this nor does he care right now. And that's the point of view we have to consider cuz through it all Jay's the victim here. He's the one who forgotten everything and is trying to discover his place In the world after being controlled twice now.

All he sees is some random lady that he kinda hates and her friends insisting over and over that he come with them and to go with them. That's where his home is, screw anything else. All he sees is the same shit being spouted to him that Ras prolly did and i imagine it would be infuriating

Tbh They kind of have already started going down that route with having Nya insist that Jay belongs with them. While that is true as I said she doesn't really stop to consider Jay's feelings on the matter even if u can't really blame her

In all likely the Jay she knew would absolutely approve of what she's doing, cuz he would do the same, but that Jay isn't here rn and she's not really considering that. None of the ninja are considering that

They plan on chasing Jay down to get him to come home with them, not really considering(or ignoring) the fact that Jay wants nothing to do with them

They r ignoring his feelings for the sake of trying to get back the Jay THEY know with little consideration with what the Jay of NOW wants

They don't consider the very real potential reality that Jay may never get his memories back, that he may never be the same again cuz they don't want to consider that potential reality

Cuz how would they handle Jay then? Would they accept him as who he is? Or will they continue to search for the Jay they lost, not really caring to know the Jay that is here?

I wanna see that conflict happen, I wanan see Nya being that hypocrite. (albeit unintentionally and trying to help of course) i wanna see her be that pushy and disregarding Jay's feelings cuz she thinks that she knows better. And I want the reality that she hasn't really cared about the Jay of the current to smack her In the face, to smack them all In the face and face that reality perhaps from a new ally of Jay's(me including my huge copium) who doesn't care about his past and just sees him for who he is now

I want Nya to realize how she had been treating Jay this whole time and realize that she messed up. That in her desperation to get her love back, that she had been ignoring Jay's feelings, ignoring his words and trying to decide his life for him, without considering HIM at all, the same thing that had been done to her all those years ago

I'm rambling just to ramble cuz why is this post so long omfg

[luna0713hunter]

hii young!luffy x young!reader fluff inspired by the kiss scene in my girl? honestly u don't don't have to know the film you can just search up the scene! also it doesn't even have to be fully accurate all I'm really asking for is their first kiss

Author's note : hello there!so abt this request;i havent watched my girl ,but I've searched abt it and gosh they're so adorable?!?!maybe I'll watch it this week!

My Girl

Monkey d. Luffy x reader

Warnings : lots of fluff,young!Luffy x young!reader, you're both 10 btw

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Your mother always used to tell you that you'll find your true love when you grew up.

But you found love a little bit too early.

It was a sunny summer day. Those days where the weather is both too hot to go outside but staying inside is not an option either. So with small hands interlocked,you and your long time best friend,Luffy,go to your usual hanging spot : Shanks' ship.

The crew were all outside, perhaps that was the reason why the two of you had entered without anyone telling you that you're too young for being on a pirate ship. But when you sit down on the wooden surface and spread your small picnic basket that Makino had packed,you give Luffy a blinding smile and offer him a small sandwich.

And true to his fashion ,Luffy swallows whole the entire piece in one go.

You huff and smack his hand away from your share,and glare at him, "dont eat so fast or you'll get an stomachache!"

"nuh uh!i can eat the whole basket and still be hungry!"

"well too bad!!Makino packed this lunch for both of us!so you have to share!"

Luffy pouts but complies, choosing to grab an apple instead and munch on it slower this time.

There's a moment of silence before Luffy opens his mouth and the world stops.

"hey,y/n?'

"yeah?"

"have you ever kissed anyone?"

You loudly choke on your food.

Luffy jumps up and gives you a bottle of water,and with concerned eyes,rubs your back.

"you alright?!"

You cough and try to wipe your eyes from the tears that had formed.

"w-why would you ask that?"

Luffy sits across you crossed leg and shrugs.

"i saw some couple kissing in the bar last night,and it got me thinking," he then looks at you and grins, "so?have you?"

You shake your head furiously as you feel your cheeks heating up with each passing second, "of course not! I'm only ten!"

"but Makino says love has no age."

Your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open, "L-love?" You swallow and your voice suddenly drops;like you're scared somebody will hear you, "who do you love,Luffy?"

And he answers without missing a bit that it gives you whiplash.

"you of course!who else!?"

His answer makes you shut your mouth so fast,that you cringe upon the sound of your teeth clattering. You cant speak;what can you say to his confession? But when you see him staring at you expectedly,you swallow and gather your courage to speak again.

"Luffy," you wet your lips before continuing, "i think loving someone romantically is different than... loving your parents or..Shanks and Makino."

Luffy tilts his head,and you smile upon seeing his adorable puppy like eyes.

"but y/n,i know i love you. Why would i mistake it?"

"how do you know it's different?"

Luffy folds his arms against his chest and takes a moment to consider your question.

"its like," he wonders aloud, "when i see you its different from when i see Shanks or Makino. My heart gets all..mushy mushy,"

"mushy mushy?!"

"Yeah!" He grins and nods rapidly, " it beats really hard,and i want to share my foods with you!!i never want to do that with Shanks or others!!"

And to Luffy, sharing food is a big deal.

You shyly glance away and start fidgeting with your fingers, "so... you've been thinking about kissing..." You swallow, "me?"

Luffy nods again and skootched toward your until your knees are pressing together.

"do you...want to try it?"

"kissing?"

"mhm."

You give him a shy smile and with a final nod,Luffy leans forward with his eyes squeezed shut,and presses his lips clumsily against yours.

The kiss is sweet and short;the taste of the apple that he had earlier lingering on your lips even when he pulls away.

You wish you could taste it once again.

"so," Luffy nervously bounces his knee, "how was it?"

You giggle and leave a small peck on his nose,making him scrunch it up.

"it was...sweet."

"sweet?"

"yeah. I liked it."

The words seemed to make Luffy beam,as his grin becomes impossibly wider.

"I'm glad!!!"

Before either of you can say another word, there's the sound of another pair of footsteps and soon, Shanks' playful voice calls out for the two of you.

"you kids better not be here again!!"

And when Luffy takes your hand and with giggles ,runaway from the ship,you cant help but to feel your heart beating loud,and being warm just like the summer sun.

-

"hey," a snap of finger in front of your face brings you back from your daydreaming, "whatcha thinking about?"

You smile at the boy in front of you;his taller form and muscular arms and shake your head.

"just remembering some good memories."

"oh?am i in any of them?"

You glance at him and when you see his warm chocolate brown eyes,you close your own and sigh contently.

"yeah. You're the main character in all of my dreams and memories."