#cause when he was even just neutral to me and I avoided him it wasn’t good enough he HAD to be ‘hating me’ for her to be happy

[tohightotry]

Life update/vent dump

Both my fiancé and I broke up with our girlfriend a couple weeks ago cause she was manipulative and abusive(mainly verbally/emotionally but she did beat my fiancé and break his tooth and kept fantasizing with a smile about him fucking up enough in her mind to justify future beatings) she’s blaming her bpd that she gave us zero warning about her having before we got together and didn’t let us know at any point in the last year til we ended things(we could have approached things differently to try and make the relationship healthy and known that we weren’t being paranoid about the abuse happening until it got so out of hand and completely un-ignorable and so in our faces that it was in his friends faces as well, they were begging him to end it and make me end it as well, I wish he had told me this to cause I really thought it was me being paranoid from previous bad relationships) after researching a ton it seems almost every person with it is like that(being manipulative and lying is part of the diagnosis) unless they get serious help and keep that help throughout their life they will always be that way, they may even think they’re 100% innocent and refuse to believe otherwise. she is starting therapy so let’s hope she sticks with it since she wants to try and be friends in several months but honestly I don’t want to be close to her anymore cause I went back to my unhealthy codependent abusing me is totally fine I deserve it ass the moment I met her and she started her manipulation. And my fiancé had it even worse since her bpd chose him as her “favorite person” which basically is just the person someone with bpd unhealthily obsesses over to the point they think that person should only talk to them and ignore literally everything else, including their job and family. Like I don’t even want to get into the shit she did to us, and how my pathetic ass just let it happen for so long. Anyways I also found out my fiancé was emotionally cheating on me for the last five years and exchanging nudes with his ex across the country so he and I are working thro that as well and he will also be starting therapy soon to work thro his issues and figure out why he did that as he doesn’t know why and wants to know for both of our sake and make sure he doesn’t do anything like that again. That being said I think he and I can work thro this, hopefully, we also plan on couples therapy sessions. If he does it again or disrespects this relationship in any other way I will leave him, I am back in my healing era bitches and I will stay in it this time.

Already doing so much better after the break up and finally getting her to give us some space which took over a week of her telling us she’d go no contact with both of us for several months like we all agreed despite her continuing to message my fiancé all day every single day begging him to stay with her. Of course she didn’t go a whole week without trying the “im already healed so much after a single therapy session and this isn’t another ploy for attention I promise I’m all better and I know I can make him take me back even tho I know you’re both opposed to that” bullshit which is what really cements the we can’t even be friends for me cause the manipulation and abuse will never stop. Her goal will always be to try and get him completely to herself, so that he has no one else not even a friend or coworker he’s allowed to talk to.

He also got me a tofu press and i highly recommend pressing your tofu overnight cause 30-60mins doesn’t do shit but overnight is like buying the super firm tofu but it’s like $2 less a block 👍

[writing-imagines]

Even Mean Girls Cry // Regina George

Summary: After hooking up with Regina for a year, you finally get to see her vulnerable side after The Plastics reject her at lunch.

Possible warnings: light swearing, bullying, and Regina being Regina

Pairing: Regina George x gender!neutral reader (readers gender literally isn’t mentioned)

A/n: first fic of 2024!! I love Reneé’s Regina so feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts about her

Regina George wasn’t a good person. It was evident ever since the first grade when she told everyone that Peter Howell peed himself after she spilled apple juice on him. So, you did your best to avoid her, and her ever changing minions, every day as you grew up. When you reached high school, Regina’s antics became more frequent and hurtful. By the end of your freshman year, she had at least one embarrassing piece of information on everyone in school, yourself included. 

Your streak of successfully avoiding Regina came to an end after winter break during your sophomore year. Ms. Norbury asked you to be Regina’s Intermediate Math tutor since you had the highest grades in your Algebra 2 class. You were hesitant to accept the opportunity considering Regina’s reputation, but you knew tutoring would look great on your college application. You accepted Ms. Norbury’s request and so started your relationship with Regina George. 

At first, she sat across from you in the empty cafeteria after school, chomping loudly on her gum and texting a thousand words a minute. Her behavior continued every day that week and by Friday, you’d had enough. 

“Regina, stop wasting my time and pay attention.” You finally snapped after she blew an obnoxiously large pink bubble with her gum. Regina’s eyes slowly rose from her phone screen to you. 

“What did you just say to me?” Her eyes resting on you instantly made you lose the confidence you just had. 

“Oh-I…I meant you should pay attention. I’m trying to teach you, so you don’t fail your next algebra test.” You smiled nervously as Regina’s gaze dug further into you. After a few more moments of intense staring, the blonde let out a scoff. 

“You know, you’re actually kind of cute.” Her blue eyes looked you over, this time in a more flirtatious way. You felt like a lamb dangling over a hungry mountain lion. 

“Thanks.” You nervously looked away and rubbed the back of your neck in an attempt to get any relief from Regina’s presence. 

“So, you agree? You think you’re cute.” 

“Umm…I mean, I don’t really know.” Regina’s smile softened and she looked at you as if you were a lost puppy. Without warning, the blonde stood up and made her way to your side of the table. She sat down in the seat beside you and scooted as close as she possibly could, causing your face to warm and your heart to beat faster. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Y/n?” Regina questioned with her pointer and middle finger dancing on your thigh. Your throat went dry at the mention of the one thing you were embarrassed of. In a school full of hormonal teenagers, you were truly the only one who hadn’t kissed anyone yet. You were kicking yourself for accidentally telling Karen the sensitive information during a bonfire last year. 

“You know the answer, Regina.” You said with a defeated exhale. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Regina, instead, you kept your eyes glued to the table. Suddenly, the two fingers that danced on your thigh were placed gently under your chin, forcing you to look at the blonde beside you. Her eyes were kinder, and her smile was still soft, making you feel less embarrassed. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed.” You didn’t say anything, instead, you softly smiled and took in Regina’s features. You had never noticed how pretty her eyes were or how full her lips were. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Y/n?” Regina’s eyebrows lifted with the question. Without even thinking, you blurted out the answer. 

“Yes.” You swore for a moment Regina began to blush as she pushed a few stray hairs away from her face. 

“Okay. Close your eyes.” 

You did as you were told. For a moment, you were worried it was all just a prank, but when you felt Regina’s lips press against yours, you knew it had to be real. You did your best to reciprocate the kiss, causing Regina to let out a small moan, which caused your stomach to flip about ten times. Suddenly, you felt Regina’s hands find your neck and her perfectly manicured nails rested on the nape of your neck, effectively pulling you in deeper. 

The sound of a door slamming shut caused both of you to pull away quickly. You couldn’t help but stare at Regina with a bewildered look, seriously questioning if the kiss happened. 

“Wow, you're a pretty good kisser, Nerd.” 

“T-Thanks. You’re good too.” You sputtered with the most nervous tone you had ever heard from yourself. The blonde laughed before running her fingers along the edge of her lips to wipe away any smeared lip gloss. 

“I know.”  The two of you sat in silence for what felt like hours before Regina spoke up. 

“So, I’ll see you on Monday then.” She quickly stood up and gathered her things as if nothing had happened. 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” You echoed, wiping Regina’s cherry flavored lip gloss off your lips. 

“Bye, Nerd.” 

“Bye, Regina.” 

Almost a full year later and your hookups with Regina were still going strong. In fact, ever since Cady Heron started causing drama between the girls, you had been spending all of eighth period in the back seat of Regina’s Jeep, making out like it was your last moments on earth. Not to mention, secretly hooking up with the queen bee of North Shore gave you a major confidence boost that even Regina noticed. Your relationship had even gone to the next level: texting each other about things that didn’t involve when and where to hookup. 

You were sitting in Trigonometry when your phone pinged. You quickly checked it, not wanting to risk Ms. Norbury confiscating it. It wasn’t much of a surprise to see that Regina had texted you. 

RG: Sweatpants are the only things that fit me right now 

Y/n: So? 

RG: So? Jesus Y/n. I can’t wear sweatpants to lunch! 

Y/n: Because of the stupid rules YOU made?

RG: They aren’t stupid 

Y/n: I’m sure it’ll be fine. The girls will understand 

“Y/n, care to share with that class what on your phone is so important that you’re missing out on practice test questions?” 

“No. Sorry, Ms. Norbury. It won’t happen again.” 

“Good. Now, as I was saying…” You watched Ms. Norbury turn to write something on the board and quickly sent another text to Regina. 

Y/n: Just got called out by Norbury for texting you. Hope you’re happy 

You went the rest of class without hearing from Regina. In fact, you went most of the day without hearing from her. It was a little weird, but you knew she had a lot going on and it wasn’t like you needed constant communication with each other. 

When lunch came around, it was the same old same old. You sat down with some of your other tutor friends and talked about your day. As Daisy Smith talked about her failed attempt to teach Karen about fractions, you saw Regina walk towards The Plastics. True to her word, she wore gray sweatpants that grabbed your, and several others, attention. You didn’t eye Regina for long, not wanting anyone to accuse you of being a creep or being in love with her. You looked down at your lunch only for the room to suddenly go quiet. 

“You can’t sit with us!” Gretchen’s voice echoed through the silent room. No one dared to even gasp as Regina fired back. 

“Sweatpants are all that fit me right now.” Even though you couldn’t see her face, you could tell Regina was talking through gritted teeth. 

“What do you think, Cady?” Gretchen asked, her voice once again echoing through the room. 

“Sorry, Regina. Rules are rules.” Seeing the sly look on Cady’s face made you want to march over to her and smash a tray of food in her face. You knew that would lead to a suspension, so you made a mental note to figure out some way to get back at Cady that wouldn’t result in a week off school.

“Fine.” 

Regina turned around to see every eye in that room on her. You could tell by the look on her face that for once, she hated the attention. Not a single person in that room moved to make room for Regina as she walked down the aisle. 

“Daisy, scoot down.” You quickly nudged the redhead to make room for Regina.

“Regina, you can sit with us.” You offered, eyes slightly full of hope that she would accept the offer and somehow make the situation better.

“I’m not sitting with you losers.” She spat out as she stormed past your table. 

“What a bitch.” Glenn Coco scoffed. Your blood boiled at Glenn’s comment, but you knew you had to play it cool to avoid any suspicion. 

“Guys, I forgot my math book in Ms. Norbury’s. I’m going to grab it really quick.” 

You quickly got up from the table, leaving your tray behind, and stormed off to find Regina. You searched her usual hangout spots, the maintenance room and the girl’s locker room in the gym. When you didn’t find her in either place, you made your way to the only other place she could be, the parking lot.

Sure enough, as you approached her Jeep, you saw Regina sitting in the passenger seat. Even from far away, you could tell she was crying. Cautiously, you approached the car and tapped on her window. The blonde’s head instantly shot up, revealing her red eyes and mascara stained cheeks. You had never seen Regina cry before, and the sight actually shocked you to your core. Without saying a word, you walked over to the driver’s side and climbed in. 

“What are you doing?” Regina questioned through sniffles as you put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. 

“I’m taking you home.” Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when you noticed a picture of Regina, Karen, and Gretchen resting on her dashboard as you drove out of the parking lot. 

“I don’t need you to take me home.” Regina tried to use her usual venomous tone, but it came out shaky and pitiful. 

“I don’t care if you need me to. I want to take you home. That was fucking ridiculous.” 

After a few minutes of silence, you looked over to see tears still rolling down Regina’s face. Based on how her bottom lip was quivering, you knew Regina really needed to cry. You carefully reached your right hand over to Regina and grabbed her hand. 

“It’s okay to cry. They tried to humiliate you in front of the whole school. You don’t have to hide it from me.” You squeezed Regina’s hand, which caused her to quickly pull her hand away. 

“I am not crying because of those bitches. I’m crying because all I can wear is sweatpants and my mascara is ruined.” That time Regina was able to spit out her usual venom. While her tone would intimidate most people, it let you know Regina was going to be okay. 

“Those are still valid reasons to cry.” You said matter-of-factly. You felt Regina’s eyes land on you again, causing you to glance over at her. 

“Why are you so nice to me all the time?” 

“Because I’m a nice person.” You shrugged, not wanting to give away your true feelings for Regina. 

“I think it’s because you like me.” 

“And what if I did?” You replied without missing a beat. Once again, you were kicking yourself for not thinking before you spoke. 

“I’d have to give you a makeover. I can’t date anyone who dresses like that.” 

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” 

“Nothing, if you’re going for a grocery store clerk.” You scoffed and acted offended by Regina’s words, which made the blonde crack a smile. 

“I do not dress like a grocery store clerk.” 

You both chuckled as you pulled up to the George's home. You instantly took note that Mrs. George’s car was missing from the driveway. 

“Do you want to come in? My mom isn’t home.” Regina looked at you with hopeful eyes. Not wanting to leave Regina alone after a traumatic event, you decided that it would be a good idea for you to stick around for a little while longer.

“Yeah, I’ll come in for a little bit.” 

You turned off the car and let Regina take the lead into her home. The second the front door closed behind you, Regina took your hand and led you up to her room. 

“Shoes off and get on the bed.” The blonde commanded.

“Regina, I don’t think we should-”

“Relax, Nerd. I just want you to hold me and tell me I’m pretty.” 

You quickly kicked your shoes off and lied down on the right side of the bed. Once you were comfortable, Regina joined you. Within seconds, her head found a comfortable spot on your chest, resting between your jaw and collarbone. Her hand found its way down to your stomach and balled the fabric of your shirt into her hand. After Regina was comfortable, you snaked your arm around her and held her close. You couldn’t help but look down at the blonde with a smile. When she wasn’t ruining people’s lives, Regina was actually kind of sweet. 

“Hey, Regina?”

“What, Nerd?” 

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You could feel Regina’s smirk against your neck, which only made you fall a little harder for her.

You laid there, holding the blonde like your life depended on it. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder about finally telling Regina how you felt about her. It seemed like a good idea, especially after a hard day, but the thought of losing her stopped you. So, you just let Regina George, the meanest girl in North Shore, sleep on your chest while you held her close. 

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) FINAL

paring: leehan x fem reader, ft. taesan genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k summary: finally confessing your feelings to leehan leads to a reaction you could have never prepared for. warnings: unwanted sexual advances (NOT from leehan), explicit [consensual] sex scenes, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ppl) read on ao3 if you please by clicking HERE.

“Jaehyun, you have a lot of friends, right?” asks Leehan when he and his roommate are relaxing in their shared living room, doing homework. “Do you know anyone who works in the tutoring office? Blonde streak of hair?”

It’s the only attributes he can remember about the guy he saw you entering your room with only a few days ago, noticing the blue tutoring office logo on the chest of his polo shirt and the distinctive stripe of color in the middle his head. 

“Oh yeah, I think you’re talking about Taesan,” says Jaehyun, who luckily isn’t paying attention enough to his roommate to notice how he perks up at just the name. “Why?”

Even Leehan himself isn’t exactly sure why he cares so much. 

It’s hypocritical at best and gross at worst to think that you have any less of a right to screw around than he does. 

But whether it's his innate territoriality coming into play or the fact that he’s upset it wasn’t him at your side instead, he can’t help but see you differently after what he saw.

“I saw him with some girl I was fucking. Sexual partners are like cars – You don’t want one everyone gets to use, you know?”

Jaehyun, who had up until this point been lying on the floor and playing idly with his Nintendo switch, sits up to look at Leehan. “You’re not talking about Y/N, are you?”

The first thought that comes to a surprised Leehan’s mind is what he said to have tipped Jaehyun off. Failing to think of any divertive lie, he decides there’s no harm in Jaehyun knowing, only wondering, “How’d you find out?”

“I saw her going into your room the night of my Halloween party,”  he explains reasonably, before his voice and facial expression turn suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She’s going through a lot right now. She just failed all of her midterms and she might get kicked out of school.”

“Wait, really?” asks Leehan, who is hit with a sudden pang of deja vu as if he’s heard this before but doesn’t remember from where. 

And then, it’s with a sudden and strong surge of embarrassment that he remembers the moment when he was feeling horny and decided to send you a dick pic, pressing the little blue arrow after only briefly glancing at the above messages.

“Oh shit. I think she told me that.”

Jaehyun laughs jeeringly, the resentful sound of which brings Leehan out of his own spiraling thoughts. “You’re an asshole, man,” he asserts, saying it in a way that’s so casual it’s as if it’s just a known fact. 

Not an insult or a compliment, but simply a thing that’s true. 

And somehow, the neutrality of it hurts worse. 

“No offense, but I totally hope she forgets she ever met you.”

Hit by the irony of such cruel words being preceded by no offense, Leehan becomes sarcastic to avoid having to express the true hurt of being told that. “None taken. That seriously wasn’t offensive at all, Jaehyun.”

Maybe Jaehyun is right. After working so hard to emphasize the line between being fuckbuddies and being in a relationship, yet still finding himself acting the exact way he feared you would, isn’t asshole the only way to truly express how shitty he’s being about this? 

It’s at that moment that Leehan considers that perhaps this relationship between the two of you has spiraled out of control. 

Because something that should be inherently easy and casual has now caused him far too much regret and remorse for his liking.

Sitting in an empty classroom with Taesan, you share a cup of bubble tea, the drinking of which causes you to bump hands several times as you reach out to grab it at the same time. 

Interacting with Taesan always brings up sweet and innocent feelings that are like that of childhood crushes, or chasing fireflies on your lawn after dark. 

Fall break has long been over and yet you continue to meet with him even outside of your mandatory weekly check-ins, forgetting the anxiety that once plagued you over this arrangement. 

The time you spend with Taesan is so fulfilling that you’ve managed to completely forget that Leehan hasn’t contacted you in almost a week. 

Well, maybe not completely. 

You still wonder from time to time what he’s thinking, if maybe he read the text message you sent prior to his dick pic and internalized the part where you emphasized how you wouldn’t have time for him anymore.

There is of course a tiny part of you that feels empty and abandoned at the idea of him ghosting you and never talking to you again.

But it’s in a stroke of optimism, feigned or otherwise, that you decide to pour your attention into someone who feels like a much better match for you, that someone being Taesan.

“I’m just about to finish with this assignment. After I’m done, do you wanna go to the caf?” you mumble out in inquiry to Taesan as you check over your quiz answers for the last time before submitting. 

You hear him make a noncommittal noise in response, which you first interpret as disinterest, but only seconds later recognize to be absent-mindedness as you feel his eyes warming the side of your face. 

You let out a chuckle, just about to say something teasing to him for being caught staring at you when a few warm fingers glide across your ear. Taken aback, you meet Taesan’s gaze as he tucks away a piece of your stray hair. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, holding your face in his hand. “You have this…faraway look in your eyes.”

Your eyes dart between his face and his hand that’s slow to come off of your ear, surprised by the sudden bit of physical contact.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer calmly if maybe a bit shakily, trying to appear normal though your head screams with a million passing thoughts at once. Taesan nods in acceptance of this answer before turning back to his laptop as if nothing happened. 

If you were at all a gambling person, you’d bet good money that the telltale, suave move of tucking your hair behind your ear was a way for him to see how you’d react to something less platanotic from him. 

And if you were to allow this moment to pass by without saying anything, you know that he would follow your lead and pretend like this never happened. He’d use your silence as evidence that his advances are unwelcome. 

Perhaps you’re feeling a little bold, but you don’t want him to go any longer thinking that his interest isn’t reciprocated.

“Wait,” you remark, reaching out to grab Taesan’s wrist. “Taesan, can I kiss you?”

The usually mysterious, confident boy loses his ability to speak when you ask him that, eyes going wide and only nodding to communicate his consent. Finding his sudden shyness charming, you smile as you lean in to press your lips against his. 

Taesan’s mouth is just as inviting as you thought it would be all the times you spent staring at it when you were sure he wasn’t looking. He may have acted shy just now, but the way that Taesan kisses you is like fire. He presses his mouth hard against yours, and when his body does the same you soon find yourself pressed into the rolling chair you’re sitting in.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. You were sure that Taesan, ever the responsible one, would be the person between the two of you to pull away before things got too heated. 

But now, all he does is lean in to your provocations, sticking his tongue into your mouth while you whimper against his. 

And as you try to allow your brain to white out so that you can truly relax into the gratification he is sure to give you, all you can think about is how his lips are not Leehan’s lips.

His hands are not Leehan’s hands. 

His kiss doesn’t evoke even a fraction of the electricity that Leehan does just by looking at you. 

You accept then that self-preservation must be a confounding myth to your psyche, because against all odds, you are still very much into Leehan. 

And while you could easily fuck Taesan anyway and let the enjoyment of his sex prove as a temporary salve to the gaping wound that is your feelings for Leehan, you feel too much like he doesn’t deserve to fuck someone with such selfish intentions. 

So, it’s with both regret and sobering understanding that you pull Taesan away from you, lines of spit breaking into drool as you separate.

The two of you become temporarily frozen in a moment of both confusion and shock. Taesan, looking at you with widened eyes and reddened lips, asks in a small yet urgent voice, “What? Is something wrong?”

You already feel like a piece of shit as you loosen your grip on Taesan’s hair, letting your hands fall to your lap and noticing that his still rest on your waist. “Taesan…” you begin, and already at just the sound of his name, you can see his expression wilting, like he knows by the unsure tone of your voice exactly what you’re going to say. And how couldn’t he, when you suck so badly at giving bad news?

“I think you’re an amazing person. And believe me when I say I really, really wanted this between us,” you emphasize, wishing you could get swallowed up by a hole as he continues to stare at you in dumbfounded awe. 

You know that these aren't words anyone wants to hear but you feel compelled to say them, feeling like Taesan deserves honesty from you.

“To be completely candid with you, the reason why I’m on academic probation is because of a guy. A recent guy who treated me like shit, but because I’m an idiot, I still want him.”

You wait on edge for the moment when Taesan’s disposition will return to that of the understanding, kind person you’ve come to know, the moment when you’ll both laugh at the awkwardness of this situation and allow yourselves to forget it ever happened.

Instead, though, all you see in Taesan’s eyes is a fiery passion that makes your head hurt as you realize he won’t let this rejection go down easily. 

“You know that doesn’t matter to me right? We don’t have to…be all romantic, and shit. I’m fine with something casual. Happier with that, even.”

It’s with a pang of insecurity that you fight back a self-pitying laugh at those words, wondering what it is about you that makes men only want casual, no-strings-attached relationships with you. 

“I’m sorry for making things awkward. And if you don’t want to tutor me anymore after this, I’d completely understand,” you concede in the nicest possible tone you can muster, still incredibly conscious of Taesan’s hands that have still not left your waist. “But I can’t do this, Taesan. You’re amazing but I just…I can’t, okay?”

When Taesan continues to stare at you as if he isn’t comprehending a word that’s coming out of your mouth, you reach down to move his hands off of your waist yourself, and when you do,  you’re shocked when you feel his fingers seizing around your wrists to hold them in place. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N. So what if you’re not over your ex? That shouldn’t stop you from getting your rocks off,” he says, voice rising considerably as he squeezes your wrists so harshly it begins to hurt. 

It’s at this moment that you realize you’ll never be able to look at Taesan the same again. 

No longer the sweet, kind and helpful boy you first met, he looks pathetic and at worst, scary as he continues to refuse your rejection.

“Taesan, I’m really gonna need you to let go of me,” you request, saying it without any niceties as you manage to convince yourself that maybe he’s just taking this extra hard for whatever reason and just needs to hear you being serious so that he can come to his senses. “Listen, how about we end early for today and talk about this another time–”

“I’m not letting you leave until you can look me in my eyes and give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this,” he asserts, still holding your wrists, laughing a little in a way that makes it hard for you to tell if he knows that he’s making you uncomfortable or thinks that this is all just some game of hard-to-get. “You can act coy all you want but I know you want me, I could tell as soon as I met you.”

“I’m gonna tell you to let go of me one more time, Taesan, and then I start screaming,” you threaten, no longer feeling amused or pitiful but instead angry, adrenaline running through your veins as you consider the possibility of having to physically attack him. 

You’re not sure how things escalated so quickly but now you’re quickly regretting ever befriending Han Taesan in the first place, ever thinking that he could be a permanent fixture in your life.

Catching you by surprise, Taesan stands up suddenly from his chair and drags you up with him. It’s in a flurry of movements that he somehow manages to pin you against a wall, smirking down at you from above. 

You let out a squeal but he covers your mouth, strong enough to use only one of his hands to keep your arms pinned above your head. He laughs as you struggle against him, perhaps not realizing – or worse, realizing it and getting off on how deeply he’s managed to scare you.

“What?” he asks through upturned lips, pressing his body into yours. “Don’t girls like it when guys don’t take no for an answer?”

It’s in the strangest and most serendipitous stroke of luck that you hear the sound of the classroom door swinging open.

And when you turn your head to meet the gaze of your savior, it’s Leehan who you see standing there, taking in the scene in front of him. 

It feels stupid and random that of course it’s Leehan who just happened to be the person to walk in here, but you don’t dwell too much on the details, focused on the relief that floods through you knowing there’s someone here to intervene on your behalf. 

Leehan hesitates momentarily as he wonders if he’s just had the misfortune to accidentally walk in on the kinky foreplay between you and this new guy you’ve been seeing. Attending a lecture in this same building, he happened to walk by the classroom and hear a distressed voice that sounded vaguely familiar. 

Through the fogged glass material of the door, he could just barely make out your silhouette, instinctually barging in to see what was going on. 

If Leehan didn’t know you so well, he might’ve immediately bolted at the sight of you engaging in intimacy with someone else. It would be too much and he knows it would force him to confront his conflicting feelings towards you.

But the moment he meets your gaze and sees the steely, ice cold fear that’s in your eyes, his next moves are made clear. Without questioning anything, he steps forward and punches an already staggering Taesan in the face.

The punch causes Taesan to fall backward, blood that you aren’t sure is coming from his lip or his nose splattering onto the floor. You and Leehan remain frozen, you in shock at both Taesan’s actions and Leehan’s sudden presence, and Leehan with the adrenaline of becoming unexpectedly violent. 

It’s in that moment of stillness on both of your parts that Taesan has time to recover, and before you can react, he’s leaping forward to tackle Leehan onto a nearby desk.

You let out a squeal of shock as the two men struggle, causing desks and their chairs to fly around the room haphazardly in the process.

And to your horror, Taesan quickly gets the upper hand over Leehan, sitting on top of the shorter boy in a straddling position before letting his hands fly in a series of devastating punches. 

You go to pull him off but he pushes you away, forcing you then to search frantically for your phone in the hopes of calling campus security before Leehan is pulverized any further.

“Hey, is something going o—” you hear an unfamiliar voice ask, and you look up to find that you’ve been discovered by a complete stranger, a boy who you assume is another student by his shaggy attire and backpack. He answers his own question by glancing into the room and catching sight of Taesan and Leehan who are both now bleeding as they remain wrestling on the floor.

You’re just about to enlist the stranger to help you in dragging Taesan off of Leehan when, suddenly, you don’t have to. 

Realizing that the stranger’s presence could mean that even more people could arrive to inspect what’s causing all of this noise any second, you watch as the fear of getting in trouble overtakes Taesan’s expression until he’s getting up. 

He gets up and sprints out of the classroom wildly, shoulder checking the stranger in the process as he flees out of the building.

“Should I run after him?” asks the student at the door who you’re sure is still processing what he’s just seen. But more than anything else, you’re worried about Leehan, who you just saw taking several punches to the face and is laying down on the ground making strangled, agonized noises.

“No. It’s better that you scared him away. I just need to get him to the infirmary,” you reply, trying to sound more calm and controlled than you feel but hearing how your adrenaline from the past few minute’s events causes your voice to come out shaky and broken. The stranger asks if you need any help but you wave him away, deciding it would be too much of a burden to have to explain what just happened to anyone else. 

So it’s by yourself that you go to hover over Leehan’s body and try to push back the horror of seeing his face bloodied and bruised so that you can help him onto his feet.

And because most of the damage seems to be centralized on his face — maybe his back and head, too, after being tackled onto the ground — he mostly manages to stand up on his own. Though, once on his feet, he has to lean on you to avoid staggering.

“Don’t…let him…go, Y/N,” he mumbles, making you feel even more concerned and on edge as his garbled tone makes it sound like he’s one step away from passing out. “He was…hurting you, wasn’t he?”

“It’s fine, Leehan. Let’s just get you to the infirmary,” you reply dismissively, needing him to be pliant more than anything in this moment so that you can get him to your thankfully close by campus infirmary without issue. 

Your transgression with Taesan with startling and for a brief moment, terrifying. But with him now gone, the majority of your distress lies with Leehan and making sure he’s okay.

And to your relief, as you take a few steps forward with Leehan’s arm leaned over your shoulder, he remains upright and mostly autonomous in his movements.

He continues to say nothing on your way out of the building outside from the occasional groan, and you’re sure that as the adrenaline wears off that the pain in his face must become more present. You luckily make it to the infirmary moments later, where the doctor on call takes one look at Leehan’s face and immediately rushes him into a care room. 

Everything that happens after that is a bit of a blur for you. A campus security officer comes to take a statement from you. You tell him everything, giving him Taesan’s full name and picture in the hopes that it can lead to some type of action, although a part of you feels discouraged and numb at that notion.

You wait anxiously in the lobby of the infirmary, waiting for an update from the doctor and feeling like you’re gonna throw up when the older woman comes out from the hallway with a neutral, unreadable expression on her face.

“Hi ma'am. Your friend is doing just fine. All of the cuts on his face are superficial, so they’ll heal on their own. He’ll have some bruises and swelling, which will also go away with time. He does have a bit of a concussion, so we’ll send you both home with some Tylenol. If you’d like to come and see him, you can follow me.”

Though you figured that most of his injuries were minor, you still feel relieved to hear that nothing is significantly wrong; it’s irrational, but you know you would have been eaten alive with guilt had anything serious happened. 

Getting up to follow the doctor, you walk into the care room to find Leehan sitting on the edge of an examination chair, a nurse still applying little white bandaids to a cut on his cheek. When he sees you come in he smiles, though only fleetingly as the gesture causes him to wince in pain.

You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt to sit down on a chair that’s directly next to his dangling legs. You watch as the nurse goes to prod at a separate wound on his lip with a q-tip dipped in brown liquid. You don’t realize how tense you are until you feel the warmth of a hand over yours, and when you look up, Leehan is staring at you in amusement. 

“You’re shaking,” he observes, and though he can’t smirk without it causing him pain, he still gazes at you in a way that is teasing and smug. And the fact that he’s concerned about you when he’s the one who’s getting medical attention makes you let out a cynical, humorless laugh.

“Don’t worry about me. Look what he did to you.”

“I’m still good-looking, though, aren’t I?” he replies playfully, and because you’re so upset, you feel yourself almost inclined to scold him for making such jokes in light of the circumstances. But Leehan, never one to read the room or adhere to the tones and moods of others, is laughing as he commands, “You have to tell me or I’ll have an internal crisis.”

You stare at him with your eyebrows furrowed, wanting to be annoyed by him but not being able to help your smile as he continues to await your confirmation of his enduring looks with a pout. 

Rolling your eyes, it’s with a bit of resistance in your voice that you reply, “Yes, you’re still handsome, Leehan.”

He pumps his fist up in the air triumphantly, and with that, the nurse leaves the room, telling you that she’ll return with the official paperwork needed so that he can be discharged.

Once she’s gone, it’s quiet between the two of you until Leehan breaks the silence with a question. “That guy…his name’s Taesan, right?”

You’re taken aback, both at the sudden change in his tone and disposition –  his voice now serious and inquiring – and the fact that he even knows who Taesan is. “How do you know?”

“I saw you with him outside of your dorm. Asked Jaehyun who he is,” he responds plainly. And as you take in this information, you’re not sure what to say in reply. Even just knowing that he was outside of your dorm that day when Taesan came to your room and didn’t say anything makes you think he must’ve had some kind of reaction to seeing the two of you together. 

And as you put the timing together, it makes sense why you hadn’t heard from him for a week until now.

But then again, it doesn’t make sense. Because the Leehan you know, the Leehan you’ve come to resent, surely wouldn’t — shouldn't — care to see you with another guy when he’s been so adamant about keeping things non-exclusive between the two of you.

“Are you together?” he asks when you remain silent, and in what feels like a complete switch in power dynamics, you find that Leehan is the one now clearly expressing some kind of worry or at the very least interest in what you get up to when you’re not with him. 

And because you feel both vindicated to be on the other side of this sort of questioning, and not at all entitled to tell him the truth, you answer by asking, “If I said yes, what would you say?”

Leehan looks at you, all amusement absent from his expression even as he says somewhat sarcastically, “That I thought being with me meant you had better taste in men.”

His response causes you to scoff, the idea of him thinking that he’s somehow at a higher caliber than all the other similarly emotionally-unavailable men on your campus something you find absurd. 

And yes, maybe it’s because you’re already feeling a little bitter towards him that you’re then replying scathingly, “If anything, wouldn’t my interest in you mean the opposite?”

“Funny,” he says sardonically in reply. The atmosphere between the two of you currently is tense. He resents you for being with someone else and you resent him for setting boundaries for your relationship that he never intended to follow.

And yet, despite the unresolved negative emotions that are clearly swimming between the two of you, it feels absurd and crazy to say that as you continue to make unbroken and silent eye contact, you feel like he’s about to kiss you. 

That’s the sort of crazy chemistry you seem to have with one another, where even as you both have the rationality to recognize the toxicity of this dynamic you both still find yourselves magnetically pulled to one another in a way that, in most people’s eyes, would be viewed as mindless. 

But it’s just as you swear he’s leaning in that the doctor comes into the room, handing Leehan a clipboard and telling him he can go once he’s finished filling out a few forms. You wait for him, not sure what will happen once you leave but feeling almost responsible to at least see him to his apartment.

And so, you exit the hospital together, and it’s as you’re walking out that you voice to him truthfully, “It feels weird just dropping you off like you didn’t just get your face rearranged trying to save me.”

He lets out a chuckle in response, swinging his body so that he’s standing in front of you before shrugging and saying, “Then don’t drop me off. We could go to your dorm, watch a movie.”

The request to do something as simple as watch a movie sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth that you can’t help but laugh out loud. “When do we ever watch a movie?” you ask, repeating the words in disbelief. 

You’re mostly joking when you ask that, but it’s with a tiny pang of sadness that you acknowledge the tragedy of him wanting your company for something other than sex being something that’s so unbelievable.

“Today. Rocky V is probably ill-timed, but I love a good nature documentary,” he replies with a grin, and as always, you are unable to get a read on his expression to know if he is being serious or not. 

But today has been a crazy day and you know that being in your room by yourself after everything that’s happened is only going to make you feel worse. So, deciding that there’s no harm in keeping him company for just a little while longer, you allow him to lead the way to the building that he’s been to so many times. 

You know from learning your roommate’s schedule that she’ll be in a lab for the next 3 hours, a fact that makes you feel relieved as you enter your dorm with Leehan trailing behind you. He comes in and immediately collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out on either side of the cushions in a way that brings renewed attention to his broad shoulders.

“So. Do you actually want to watch a movie?” you ask casually as you stand a few feet away from him, trying your hardest to keep any bitterness out of your tone as you watch him shrug his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You know, now that I’m here…” he says, already smirking as he watches you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It feels like a much better idea for you to come sit on my lap.”

Even though you find yourself enticed by the invitation, in a small, distant part of your brain, it feels like you’ve been manipulated into letting him come to your room. That watching a movie had always been a lie to get you to have sex with him.

But something has changed inside of you, and from what, you can’t pinpoint. All you know is that the accumulations of lies and divertive tactics that you’ve endured from Leehan thus far has left you almost numb to his provocations. 

Instead of feeling sad or shitty or upset, you just feel nothing. 

And somehow, that change feels more concerning to you than the emotions from before did.

Still, you find yourself stalking silently to Leehan on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours as you make your way towards him. His legs spread naturally as you get between them, and it’s with a jaguar-like slowness that you crawl over his body until you’re straddling him. 

Intensity rolls off of the both of your bodies like water, the silence and shared eye contact only contributing to the growing sexual desire that builds between the two of you.

In contrast to such lust, it’s in a gesture of affection that you lean in to lay a gentle, barely-there kiss against all of the wounds on his face. The cut on his cheek. His busted bottom lip. The knot forming on the top of his head. The bruise on the side of his jaw. You do it almost in apology but also because you want him to tease him, giving him only fleeting touches and kisses before you do anything substantial. He flinches at first at the contact but eventually relaxes into the softness of your lips against him. 

And though you couldn’t articulate the reason why, you get the feeling that he flinches less out of pain, but more in surprise at the unfamiliar gesture of tenderness and how it impacts him. 

You’ve only just reached his neck, sucking hickies into the pale skin there, when you can feel his cock hardening underneath you.

It’s after you’ve kissed every single piece of skin uncovered by his shirt that you decide to relieve a bit of his suffering by reaching a hand down into the waistband of his pants. All you do is close your fist around his shaft and stroke him languidly, but you suppose your teasing worked better than you thought as he whimpers at the simplest of movements. He bucks into your hand, not afraid of seeming desperate and shamelessly moaning at your touch. 

Watching him writhe and shudder beneath you, sensitive in a way you’ve never seen before, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this is one of the few times that you’ve felt even a semblance of control in your interactions during sex. It’s always been you on the receiving end of his endless repertoire of tactics, designed always to render you incomprehensible and under the thumb of his persuasion.

Spurred on by the observation, you take advantage of his submission to ask a question that’s been on your mind since you left the hospital. 

“Can I ask you something? Why did you ask Jaehyun who I was with?”

You can just barely make out the expression of surprise that appears faintly behind Leehan’s glassy eyes, and in a tactic that even you admit is slightly contemptible, you never stop the movements of your hand as you await his answer. 

Desperate for even a moment’s worth of vulnerability from him, you hope that by literally dangling his climax in your hands that he’ll be more inclined to be truthful with you.

But for Leehan, giving you the honest answer — that he’s simply a jealous person who can’t stand seeing you with someone else even though it’s hypocritical — would only serve in making you think that his jealousy is a sign of caring, his caring a sign of affection, his affection a sign that he wants to be your boyfriend. 

And though that assessment isn’t as easy to refute as it may have once been when he first met you, it seems idiotic to put any ideas in your head that could lead to him having to admit feelings he isn’t quite sure of yet. 

So, in lieu of the truth, he replies with something that, honestly, should be a bigger concern for him than it presently is: “Because you should tell me if you’re being intimate with someone else. What if you’re not using protection and I catch something?” 

Up until now, you had prepared yourself to react calmly to whatever Leehan’s answer would be, a task you knew would be difficult because the idea of him being jealous at all is in itself insane and backwards.

It was he who insisted that this dynamic be free of any constraints or limitations. 

But the fact that he’s implying you would have sex with someone else and be so reckless as to not make any precautions for your health has your composure breaking, a scoff leaving you as you blurt out, “Have you been honest with me about the people you’re seeing?”

It’s a question you already know the answer to as you still haven’t forgotten the night of the Halloween party, how Jaehyun let it slip that Leehan had been on a date. You’d never confronted him about it because, deep down, you felt that you had no right to. 

But now, he’s placing judgment on you in a way that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind and express your true emotions to him for what seems like the first time.

Hearing the knowing tone in your question has Leehan worried, tilting his head to stare at you as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. “Are you trying to catch me in a lie, Y/N?” he asks, amusement in his tone though you can tell your questioning rattles him. “I’ve never told you anything that wasn’t true.”

But that’s just because you’ve never told me anything of substance, you think to yourself, reflecting back on all of the times he left your room in a hurry so that he could avoid having to show you anything real.

You continue jerking him off intently, and even though he’s obviously enjoying it, you can tell that you’ve thrown him off. During sex you’ve always maintained this sort of scathing, playful banter, but this time, he knows that your question is motivated by a genuine desire to hear the truth from him. It makes him beyond uncomfortable, especially with his dick still hard and aching in your moving hand. In a sudden change of dynamics, it’s him trying to read what you’re thinking.

Seeing this crack in Leehan’s usually guarded persona spurs you on into saying even more things that you’ve been suppressing. “I know that you’re seeing someone else,” you assert, honesty you never thought you’d be capable of expressing coming out boldly and without ambivalence. “Jaehyun told me, the night of the Halloween party.”

Your eyes are glued to Leehan’s face as you scan for the smallest fluctuation in his expression, searching desperately for any indication of what he’s thinking. And in yet another gesture that might as well be a verbal admission of guilt, Leehan stares up at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. 

Leehan – confident, cool, teasing Leehan – who has always made you feel like you were scared of intimacy for not wanting to make eye contact with him during sex, is now the one shying away the intensity of your gaze. 

The feeling of triumph that comes with finally feeling like you have him at your mercy after months of the opposite has you speeding up the movements of your hand, watching as he almost winces from the overstimulation you provide. 

But more than anything else, you want answers. 

You want to know why he thinks it’s okay to police who else you invite into your bedroom when he clearly does whatever he wants without any regard for you. 

You want him to decisively and plainly decide if he’s either a sadistic asshole who believes that he should be able to treat you like shit while he goes out and fucks whoever he wants—Or if, like you, the passion of this relationship has overwhelmed him so much that he now finds himself feeling things for you that are beyond sexual, things that have caused him to abhor the notion of you being with someone other than him.

It feels like you need the answer to that question more than you need air.

And so, it’s in desperation that your voice comes out shaky as you demand, “Say something.” 

“I can’t,” he manages through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice coming out raspy and submissive making your cunt pulse with arousal. “You’re about to make me come.”

Feeling like he’s being backed into a corner, Leehan wants to tell you to stop, but the euphoria he’s experiencing is too great. He’s never seen you be so assertive, so purposeful in doing things that you know will make him go crazy. 

Rubbing your thumb over his tip. Spitting downward so that the wetness of your spit can reach his cock. Stroking him wildly and meeting his thrusts into your fist. 

Pressure builds in his abdomen until he feels himself about to explode with what might be the most intense climax of his life. 

But in a move that shocks the both of you, it’s just as Leehan is about to finish all over your hand that you abruptly pull off of him. 

Stop the movements of your hand and watch brazenly as the realization of what you just did is processed on his face.

Maybe he thought that you were joking and that this was all just some aggressive manner of foreplay. 

But now, he can see in your shocked expression, how you look so surprised at even your own insistence, that to deny him of his pleasure in this way was something that took a lot out of you. 

It’s been a hallmark of your relationship so far for you to devote yourself to his satisfaction. You’ve always cared so much about being wanted by him, even after he’s shown his disregard for you time and time again.

And so to see you work up the courage to defy him in this way makes it clear to him that you’re not gonna drop this.

This isn’t something that he can smile or flirt his way out of in the hopes of having you wrapped around his finger for just one more day.

You’re gonna force this into being an issue. And fine; if you want to have this conversation, he’ll have it.

Even if it means that by the end of this you'll realize how shitty of a person he is and want nothing to do with him afterward.

If you were still the same pliant, conflict-avoiding Y/N, you’d be alarmed at the change in his expression and how his usual amused smirk melts into a straight-lined frown. You’d transform into the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who’d laugh and pretend that this was all just a way to rile him up into fucking you, hoping that you could forget this moment ever happened.

But it feels like something has been lost in your dynamic that can never be brought back. You’re no longer okay with being lied to, manipulated. And Leehan, realizing how serious you are, seeks to take back control of this situation by flipping your bodies over so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. 

He pins your arms above your head, holding them down so you can’t move. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

He says the statement with a warning sort of tone but it only makes you laugh, no longer able to take his provocations and vague answers seriously. “Then don’t try to act hypocritical and treat me like I’m a fucking irresponsible idiot,” you retort, no hint of banter in your words as you hope he understands how serious you’re being, how done you are with his lies. “Having sex with guys without protection and not telling them about it. How do I know you haven’t been doing the exact thing you’re accusing me of?”

You ask a valid question that Leehan sees no way to get out of answering. Clearly, you already know (because of his disloyal, talkative fucking roommate) that he’s been seeing at least one girl that isn’t you. And because he can tell with certainty that your pliance is dependent on at least some kind of honesty from him, he tells you a technical truth when he says, “Since I met you, I’ve only been fucking you. No one else. I swear.”

It’s an answer that protects him from having to further delve into whether he’s seeing anyone else romantically, an important distinction that he isn’t interested in clarifying for the sake of your continued interest in him.

And as he watches you scan his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you seek to find any indication of either sincerity or hypocrisy in his expression, he seizes the opportunity provided by your momentary lapse in questioning to reach past the waistband of your leggings, sticking two fingers into your pulsing cunt. 

He watches with satisfaction as even in your bitterness, you still can’t help the way your back arches and your mouth parts naturally at the action. Mirroring your tactics from before, he gives you great satisfaction in exchange for your hopeful compliance. Thrusting his long fingers inside of you, he mumbles in sensual truth, “Your pretty, wet pussy is the only thing that’s been occupying my brain for the last three months.”

The part of your brain that would question the credibility of his words is turned off like a lightswitch as the thrill from his fingers takes over. As much as you try to fight off what you’re experiencing so that you can regain the upper hand, it feels like it’s almost in revenge that he fingers you with such vigor that you can’t speak. 

“Can you say the same? Huh, pretty?” he demands, digits angled just right so that the tips of his fingers repeatedly push against your most sensitive parts. “Tell me I’m the only person whose been fucking orgasms into your cunt.”

You could usually appreciate such possessive sentiments from Leehan when they were spoken in moments where there wasn’t any lingering resentment between the two of you. Now, they only annoy you, causing you to petulantly reply in mocking of his earlier words, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

And in a move that is surely in imitation of your earlier actions, he pulls his fingers out of you completely and with them, your orgasm. His expression is a handsome mixture of annoyance and frustration. 

It feels like the two of you are in some sort of scornful, unspoken competition, you trying to get him to be honest and him trying to get you to drop this entirely. And all of this undercut by the fact that both really wanna fuck each other, only adding to the frustration of your pleasure being taken away. 

Though your body reels regretfully from the sudden drop in adrenaline, it’s with an unmoved expression on your face that you sit up, making yourself level with him. 

“What?” you retort derisively, amused to find him upset at tactics you only know because he modeled them for you so many times before. “Does it make you mad?”

“No,” he answers, a fierce expression on his face that lets you know despite the desire radiating between the two of you that he’s being serious when he says, “It makes me question the type of person you are.”

And as you poke his chest assertively, you reply, “A person abiding by the standards that you set,” reminding him once more how he lacks the right to feel entitled to your body. 

You again question why he continues to insist that a no-strings attached arrangement is what he wants when it’s clear he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

And so, it’s in your confusion that you ask, “I’m giving you exactly what you want. So why does it feel like you’re punishing me?”

“This isn’t what I want,” he says in reply. And the way that he says it almost quietly, like a stream-of-consciousness that was accidentally blurted out loud, has you inclined to believe that maybe, he’s finally coming around to seeing just how poorly suited this arrangement is for the both of you.

So, it’s with a curious tilt to your voice that you ask, “Then what do you want?”

Looking at you with a sort of urgent, unyielding expression on his face, it’s after a moment of intense and searing silence between the two of you that he leans in to kiss you roughly. What was once a moment of willful competition between the two of you now becomes intense and panicked as the passion of the last few moments takes over your bodies. 

Your hands move in a frenzy as you rush to take off one another’s clothes, and you get the feeling that had the fabric provided any real obstacle, you both would’ve been willing to rip each other’s pants and tops off. Actualizing your desire for one another becomes the most important and serious task to have ever been endeavored upon.

You’ve only just removed your final article of clothing when Leehan crawls between your legs, finding you soaked and pulsing in anticipation of his touch. Noticing this, he can feel himself going crazy with all of the unanswered questions he has about you and Taesan. He finds himself vocalizing these thoughts shamelessly as he mumbles, “Fuck, Y/N. I need you to be honest with me. Because if someone else has had this pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Make me come, and I’ll give you a straight answer,” you defiantly reply.

Tired of your games, it’s in expression of his growing impatience that Leehan slaps your pussy uncaringly. The act sends a jolt of shock through your body but especially your clit, making you moan in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. 

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says, and rather than being amused by his insistence like you were before, it's for the first time that you find yourself intimidated, as well as turned on. “Tell me the truth.”

Leehan has always been the leader in your sexual dynamic, but you’d never describe him as rough or dominant until now. Rattled by the change, you aren’t able to manage a reply to his demand, but it’s then that Leehan raises himself up so that your faces are level. 

Making sure to keep his eyes on yours this time, he pushes three fingers inside of your aching cunt — more than you’ve ever taken from him and enough to have your eyes rolling back upon impact.

“Tell me that this pussy is mine,” he demands as he fucks you open with his fingers. You’ve never seen him this fired-up, this crazed, and it has you more turned on and pliant than you think you’ve ever been before. 

His fingers thrust in and out of you with strength you’ve never felt before, and in an amount of time that you find to be pathetic, you can feel your stomach tensing with an approaching climax, moans leaving your mouth with every breath and every curl of his fingers. 

But for the second time tonight, Leehan notices you’re about to come and rips it away from you by withdrawing his fingers entirely. And unlike before, you can’t pretend not to be dismayed as you whimper wistfully at the loss of contact. Leehan, unamused, only stares at you from above and says with finality in his tone, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll make you come.”

You can see now how serious he’s being, how important this is to him, and though you find it entirely irrational, the pulsing of arousal in your body is too strong to ignore. 

“I never fucked him. He never touched me until today.”

“And anyone else besides him?”

“There’s no one else, Leehan,” you assure him, body wracked with the weight of several heavy breaths as you practically beg for him to believe you, to touch you, to relieve the almost painful aching of your cunt. “Just you.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn't require any additional scrutiny before accepting your answer at face value, muttering an approving “Good girl,” before diving between your legs.

And you guess by the almost hungry, desperate way he then proceeds to eat you out that his easy acceptance of your word is just as much in service to his own desire to taste you as it is to you and your enjoyment. 

Because you find not just in this instance but always that Leehan gives head like his survival is dependent on your arousal. He licks and sucks and mouths at your clit, moaning languidly into your core like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

And as if that’s not enough to have you reeling, he brings his hand out from underneath your thigh and puts two long, crooked fingers back into your dripping hole, thrusting and curling them inside of you like he’s intent on finding the spot that will make you scream. You throw your head back and close your eyes at the feeling that washes over your body, something like electricity pulsing through you and making your legs shake. 

Without intending it, your hips buck against his tongue in chase of your impending orgasm. And when he flattens the wet muscle, allowing you the agency to take your pleasure rather than him having to give it to you, it’s only seconds later when you feel your abdomen contracting with the intensity of your long awaited orgasm. 

You’ve barely recovered from the high of your climax when you hear Leehan saying tauntingly from above you, “See? No one else can do that as good as I can.” He then spreads your legs apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, slick turning your inner thighs shiny and wet. ”Don’t you know now why you shouldn’t fuck anyone else?

Refusing him the satisfaction of an answer, your only response is to sit up and tell him, “Lay down. I wanna ride you.

Leehan’s only show of resistance to this request is a raise of his eyebrow, but he’s otherwise pliant as you maneuver on the couch so that he’s flat on his back. You hover just below his hard-as-a-rock erection, realizing you should go and get a condom, but it feels like an ultimate test of both your honesty that you assertively inform him, “I’m on birth control.”

Understanding what you mean to imply with this admission, you watch as Leehan’s eyes gloss over, another wave of lust taking over at the notion of having raw sex. In a distant part of your brain that isn’t completely corrupted by wanting, you wonder if this is a good idea given that you have no way of proving whether he’s been honest about his sexual history with other girls.

But as you unconsciously scoot closer and allow his cock to brush against your folds, his encouragement of “Then sit on it,” ringing pleasantly in your ears, the only thing that delays you is your desire to further tauny him. 

“Look at me,” you command passionately, holding on just barely to your own composure as you fight to get these words out amidst your own lust-corrupted brain. “If you stop, I stop. I want you to look in my eyes when I make you come.”

Leehan, either ignorant to how serious you’re being or uncaring, whimpers out your name in lieu of any indication that he understands and accepts what you’re saying. You sink down on him anyway and allow the feeling of being filled to the brim by his long, veiny cock to wipe out any and all thoughts out of your mind. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” he mumbles out in expression of how good it feels, after you’ve only just began bouncing your body up and down his cock. You bear witness to the moment when the embrace of your tight walls becomes too much for him and he throws his head back, disregarding your words from earlier. 

And although it hurts you to do so, makes your thighs burn and your lips part to let out a regretful whimper, you pull yourself upwards until his cock slips out of you completely.

“Open your eyes,” you demand assertively, not just for his sake but for your own, so that you can go back to riding the life out of him until you both can come. “Show me why you deserve this. Remind me why I keep letting you fuck me.”

The scathing remark and the brazen expression you wear as you say it causes Leehan to regain his focus, returning his gaze to yours and making sure to maintain it even as your reinsertion of his cock has him fighting not to shut his eyes closed. It’s with a feeling of regretful foreboding that Leehan realizes this is probably going to end way too soon, that the sickening combination of you riding him, your dominant and sultry words, the view of your body from above him, and the intense unbroken eye contact all work in service to his quickly approaching climax. 

And even as you too feel yourself inching closer and closer to the point of incomprehensible return, you keep talking, feelings that you’ve been suppressing for too long coming out in sultry, brokenly-spoken expressions. “I want you to savor this moment. Memorize how it feels to be inside of me,” you tell him, and then, leaning down to bite the tip of his ear, you whimper, “Fuck Leehan. You’re so big.”

Your purposeful usage of all the things you know for a fact rile him up the most is not lost on him, and it’s almost like you want him to come as quickly and embarrassingly as possible. He lingers on that thought for less than a few seconds, but even just the fleeting idea of spilling his seed inside of you has his brain entering a whole nother level of depraved and uncontrolled, until he’s muttering out the word “Fuck,” in repeated succession and thrusting up into you wildly. “Gonna come,” he announces only seconds later.

“I know you are, baby. And when you do, remember that I can only make you feel this good,” you reply, surprised at your own ability to sound assured and in control in the midst of your own fast-approaching orgasm. But in a way, it feels like you grow more confident the more you watch his verbal and motor skills deteriorate with every bounce and squeeze of your pussy against his cock. 

Making grunting sounds as his thrusts become sloppy and uncontrolled, he replies through gritted teeth, “I know. You’re my favorite girl, Y/N.”

You’ve always hated that term because of the implication it makes that there are other girls with whom he's comparing you to. But as you commit to fighting off all of the weak, vulnerable, sad emotions that have now only rendered you numb, it’s in another show of control that you reply, “Then say it. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

At first, you aren’t sure if Leehan can even manage a reply as you watch him grow focused and intent on his approaching orgasm. But it’s through a mixture of muffled grunts and whines, his hips never ceasing their thrusts into you, that he begins to speak.

“Your pussy was made for me. It’s all I ever think about. The sex we have – nghh – it’s the best I’ve ever had,” he tells you emphatically. 

And the brokenness of his words, the way they come out rushed and passionate as if a suppressed part of him needs you to hear them, has you feeling profoundly impacted by the weight of them. 

“You make me crazy, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. Only you—” 

It’s with one final rough, definitive thrust that Leehan comes inside of you. You’re overcome by the feeling of his hot, warm cum filling your walls, pussy clenching around him as you too experience another orgasm. And as you both recover from your highs, you can feel the atmosphere becoming almost instantaneously stuffy and awkward, the realization of what just happened and all of the things you allowed to come out in the heat of the moment hitting you all at once.

Wanting nothing more than to be released from the clutches of this regretful moment, you pull yourself off of him and wince at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and onto your inner thighs, some of it spilling onto the couch. 

And without ceremony, Leehan does what he does best – he gathers his clothes and things and begins to put them on as if nothing happened.

The silence that overcomes the two of you as you sit naked and uncovered on the opposite couch, watching him change, is unlike either of you. You’d usually at the very least manage  a few words about how good that was, or small talk about anything fun happening soon on campus. Had Leehan been any good with silence, he might’ve just walked out and not said anything to you at all. 

But it’s because of his own manipulative and egotistical desire to continue to remain in your good graces that he says, in desperation to ease the tension, “Hey. By the way, I’m sorry about the picture I sent you. I don’t usually read your messages, so I didn’t see what you had sent me beforehand.”

You stare at him, a mixture of disbelief and hostility coming over you all at once.

Having completely forgotten about the dick picture incident until now, you feel the emotions from then coming back up in a way that feels shocking given the relative inoffensiveness of his apology just now.

It’s hard for you to pinpoint what exactly about the statement sets you off. 

Maybe it’s that you just had the most intimate, soul-baring sex, and now he’s basically back to reminding you of just how little he values you and your personhood. 

How easy it is for him to completely ignore anything you say to him if it has nothing to do with him and his own pleasure.

And with these emotions more than likely reflected on your face, you watch as Leehan — like a startled deer in headlights — makes what are perhaps the quickest efforts he’s ever done to leave your dorm in a hurry.

“I should get back,” he’s replying coldly as he gets up, throwing his jacket over his body so fast that it folds awkwardly along his sides. “But thanks for this.”

This, he says casually. As if his seed isn’t currently wetting the inside of your legs right now.

“But Leehan, the rain—” you insist. Because you can hear thunder rattling your windows outside and you know that to walk home to his apartment is an entirely irrational notion.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, already halfway to your door as he turns around to look at you, something like regret painted all over his passive expression. “We don’t do that for each other, remember?

And it’s with that last parting, ominous statement that you watch Leehan leave your dorm room without another look in your direction. He’s left your room like this — in a hasty blur without a word or an acknowledgement — more times than you can possibly count. 

So why you find yourself overcome with the feeling that this may be the last time you’ll ever see him again, you’re not entirely sure. 

But it’s because of that gnawing, persistent feeling, eating at you like it never has before, that you get up and find a robe to throw over your body so that you can go and find Leehan before it’s too late.

You’re not even sure of what you’re going to say when you find him standing on the outside porch of your building, head down and phone in his hand as he waits for an Uber. All you know is that it’s pouring buckets outside and even with the bit of roofing over your heads, the wind still blows rain onto your bodies, rendering his hair and face wet. 

“Leehan,” you call out, watching as he turns to you and automatically freezes up as he realizes you followed him out here. “Wait. Don’t go.”

It’s at least a little bit understandable why Leehan appears taken-aback by your words and your presence — any other time you’ve had sex, you’ve never once tried to get him to stay behind, even though he could always notice in your expression or quiet intensity that you wanted him to.

So the fact that you’re here telling him not to go, and because of the nature of the sex you just had, it’s like he already knows that you’re planning to pour your heart out to him, and it’s in fear of that that he finds himself saying wearily, “Y/N—”

“No. Let me talk,” you assert before he can finish, a part of you feeling like if you don’t get these words out now, you never will. And so, fueled by the unexplainable feeling that this may be the last chance for you to tell him how you feel, you channel all the confidence you can possible muster and allow all the suppressed emotions from the last three months to spill out without any filter.

“After we have sex, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay because you like being with me. I want you to fall asleep with me. I want you to see me and treat me like I’m a human being and not some physical object that you use for sex and nothing else,” you exclaim with a self-pitying scoff.

“And I tried being the chill girl who just goes along with things that are casual. But Leehan, you make me feel things that no one ever has, and it’s not just the sex. For the past few months…it’s felt like my life only truly felt worth living if you were noticing me.”

You can plainly tell by Leehan’s stiff body language and overall lack of reaction that this entire spiel is making him uncomfortable. And as discouraging as the reaction is, now that you’ve started, it feels like you can’t stop until he knows everything that he’s put you through to get to this point.

“And maybe I only feel that way because when we fuck, it’s not like some one-night-stand or throwaway shit. It truly feels like I’m baring my soul to you. And I know that it’s not one sided,” you remark with confidence. Because being in bed with Leehan is the only time when you feel like you can truly understand him. It’s when your hearts, minds, and bodies are in sync and you can both be at your most vulnerable with each other.

“But then you leave, just like you’re doing now. And it makes me feel like the most massive piece of shit you can possibly imagine,” you mumble out with a broken, wet laugh.

Coming to the end of your spiel, you let your arms come down to your sides defeatedly, and with one last imploring look to Leehan’s blank and starry eyes, you ask the question that has been haunting you for the better part of three months now. “So what I guess I want to know is…what is it that’s stopping you from going all in with me? Is it that I’m just…not enough for you to want anything more than sex?” you question, insecurities that have been welling up for so long coming out in a way that has your voice sounding broken. “Or are you just too scared of commitment to allow yourself to feel loved?

“Because that’s exactly what I feel for you. And god dammit, Leehan, but I’m almost 80% sure you feel that way for me too.”

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else left to say and that you got everything you wanted to explain out, it’s with a relieving sigh that your body expels the weight of three months’ worth of pain, sadness, and thoughts of worthlessness. 

And because you know it must be a lot to be on the receiving end of the heaviness of those words, it’s not surprising that the next few seconds after you finish speaking are filled by silence. Watching Leehan stare at you intensely, you allow him the time and the grace to process what he’s heard before you jump to assuming the worst of his silence. 

But then, his first words to you hit you like an icy blast of wind. 

“Y/N, you’re a good person. And the time we’ve spent together has been so much fun for me. But this has always been just that for me…fun. Sex,” he says unambivalently, framing the words delicately though it does nothing to prevent them from hitting you like a freight train. “And I’m sorry if I ever did or said anything that gave you an impression otherwise.

“But honestly, Y/N…” he continues, looking away from you and losing the ability to sugarcoat his thoughts as he expresses, “I told you from the forefront what this was. Why did you say yes if it wasn’t what you wanted?”

He asks a valid question that you unfortunately don’t have the answer to. Because honestly, what were you thinking? Looking back at that moment when he first proposed this arrangement, you have to wonder what possessed you to be delusional enough to think that this would possibly end well.

As embarrassing and humiliating it is to admit, it’s the sex. All those times he told you he desired you, how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, made you feel like maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. That eventually he’d come around.

“Because I didn’t think that it was that important to you,” you tell him, feeling your confidence shrinking in real time as your voice comes out quiet and whiny. “I thought…I thought you were changing your mind.”

“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Y/N,” he declares in reply, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I like you a lot, but I can’t continue on if I know you have the expectation that this is gonna blossom into something more. I’m sorry, but it’s just not.”

And with that last sobering pronouncement, Leehan runs a hand through his hair, an obviously fake chuckle let out of his lips as he seeks to break the awkwardness of this atmosphere. “This really wasn’t how I wanted this to go,” he mumbles out apologetically, and the way that he stands there stiffly lets you know he wants nothing else than to get away from you right now. 

And sure enough, the sound of a notification going off draws both of your attention to his phone. Like a final dagger to your heart and self-esteem, he’s not even able to hide the relief that floods his expression as he announces, “My Uber’s here, so I just…goodbye, Y/N.”

You watch Leehan step off the porch and into the rain, the lack of light and storm clouds rendering him into nothing more but a blurry, gray silhouette. 

It’s how you will more than likely remember Leehan as you watch him enter the white Mazda that pulls into the driveway. 

Watch the car drive off knowing that you will more than likely never see him again.

He will forever be immortalized in your brain as the stormy force of a presence that came into your life like a tornado, wrecking everything around it and exiting like nothing happened, leaving you a splintered mess of a world to clean up for yourself.

You will be just another Natty, someone Leehan offhandedly mentions to his friends in the car with whoever he chooses to be his next victim, someone he spent a good few weeks with only to never mention them again.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declared with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You rolled your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remained passive, he replied forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

He was right.

The next two months of not seeing, talking, or hearing from Leehan go by in a gray-ish, incomprehensible blur.

You complete your classes, managing a passing GPA and thankfully holding on to your scholarship.

You go out to lunch and on study dates with your mutual friends, neglecting to explain why you always need to know who else is coming before you agree to going out.

You attend a couple parties and events on campus, wondering each time whether you’ll run into Leehan and not sure if the rigid feeling over your chest is because of hopefulness or fear at the idea of possibly seeing him. 

And as you pack up your things to get ready to move out for the winter, it feels like you should be over this by now. You spent three months together. Tumultuous, but still only three – it doesn’t seem to make sense why you still feel so hurt.

But you’re now learning that situationships are the hardest to comprehend in their aftermath because it’s hard to know what exactly it is that you’re feeling wistful towards. Leehan isn’t your ex, but he’s also not a friend whom you simply grew apart from. 

He’s another third thing that you can’t quite capture, making it difficult for you to reminisce on your exciting yet tainted memories with one another.

It’s with these thoughts running through your mind that you finish packing your last few items of furniture, readying them to be stowed away in the back of a U-Haul you rented for the day. 

And with your dorm now basically empty, your roommate having moved out a few days before, you can’t help but to view it nostalgically from the vantage point of your doorway, memories of this semester’s escapades coming back to you all at once.

The dresser that you let Leehan stash his condoms in.

Your cheap bed whose loose, metal springs always robbed you of any chance at secrecy in your interactions. 

Moving towards your kitchenette, you stare silently at the flowers he gifted you that one day, still alive despite several weeks of neglect. The little cardboard fish he stuck between the petals makes it appear almost like they’re swimming among colorful, sagging coral reefs.

Your eyes flit over to your couch, where you didn’t know at the time would be the last place he fucked you before he’d never talk to you again.

Going over these memories in your mind, it makes sense then why when you hear a knock resounding on your door, the first thing you think of is Leehan.

But surely, you’re just caught up in the emotions caused by the sudden moment of reflection; it has to be an RA, or a neighbor about to ask if they can borrow a broom and dustpan.

When you go to open your door, you don’t consider for a second that on the other end could be the one person you’re not prepared to see right now.

So when it swings open and you’re greeted by a straight-faced, wide-eyed Leehan, whose body is relaxed against the side of your door, it feels like all of the air is knocked out of your body.

“Hi,” he says plainly, straightening his posture when he sees you staring at him staggeringly. To say that you feel conflicted as you take in his handsome, tall form would be beyond an understatement. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since you’ve seen each other, and it’s almost like he could tell you right now that he’s here because he wants to fuck you and it would feel normal, like nothing has changed between the two of you.

But even in just making that mental observation, you feel angry and resentful that such a dynamic was normalized among the two of you for so long that you convinced yourself it was okay to be treated that way.

And as you stew in those feelings of renewed bitterness and frustration, you find yourself suddenly and strongly opposed to him being here, asking bluntly, “What is this? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he answers with an imploring look, and habitually you study his expressions in the hopes of discerning whether he’s being sincere or not.

But it’s with a feeling of resignation that you realize how done you are with trying to constantly read his mind and understand what motivates his decisions.

Because the same way there’s a chance that he really did show up here with good intentions, there’s just as equal a chance that he wants you to trust him again so that he can get his dick wet.

And so, in a move that brings you an immature level of satisfaction, you close the door on his face without another word.

You hear him exclaiming loudly “Y/N, wait!” on the other side of the door but you’ve already made up your mind, deciding that whatever he has to say isn’t worthy of your time or attention.

You’re done with his manipulative behavior, with his aloofness and undeserved self-assuredness, but most of all you’re tired of being made to feel like shit. And that’s all he ever did in those few months that you were sleeping together.

As you retreat to your bedroom, you go to return to packing your things, but the adrenaline from the passing moment makes your hand shake and your body pulse energetically. You need a second to pause and breathe and process what’s just happened, to walk around and pace away all of this unresolved energy. 

But then you turn around to go back out into your living room, and that’s when you see Leehan standing right outside the arch of your bedroom doorway.

“Jesus fucking christ, Leehan!” you exclaim in a mixture of both surprise, frustration, and confusion as you wonder whether he broke in or if you—

“You left the door unlocked,” he replies calmly, and even though he knows he has a lot to make up for, he still can’t help the smirk that comes to his face as he jokes, “Kinda 101 not to do that if you don’t want someone coming in. That’s like me leaving the filter of my fish tank —”

“Get out, Leehan. Get out! I have nothing left I want to say to you!” you shout, impatient and uncaring to his jokes and his dimples and everything else about him that used to charm you. It’s all meaningless to you now, and you don’t care if you look crazy or unhinged when you go to physically push him out of your dorm.

But even with the nonchalant, noncommittal way he holds onto your wrist to restrain you, you still only manage to move him a few steps, much to your dismay and rage.

And so, in a heat-of-the-moment, emotionally driven decision, you move to close your bedroom door on his face. While successful in keeping him out of your bedroom, you don’t even realize until seconds later that he’s still free to roam in your hallway, kitchenette, and living room, while you’ve essentially just locked yourself in.

Predictably, you can hear Leehan chuckling outside of your door as he makes this same realization.

“You know, if it was your goal to get me to leave, then I’m not sure locking yourself in your room really…” he begins to say, not able to keep the amusement out of his voice at the foolish mistake on your part. But, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place, he tones it down to say soberly, “Nevermind. It doesn't matter.”

You walk over to the side of your bedroom that’s opposite from the doorway, sitting down on the floor, determined to tune out whatever it is that Leehan is about to say. Maybe if you stay silent and let him tire himself out, he’ll eventually leave knowing that there’s nothing he can say to make up for how he’s made you feel.

“I”m not super good at explaining myself, or talking at all, honestly. I go on tangents and my mind is just…a giant fucking minefield. So I wrote down what I wanted to tell you.”

Leehan’s voice is distorted but nonetheless able to be heard clearly through the thin wood that makes up your door, so much so that you can clearly hear the crumpling noises of a paper being unraveled as he starts to read. 

“If you’re listening to me read this, it’s because I somehow managed to convince you to hear me out. Either that, or I broke into your dorm, which feels like the more likely option,” he says with almost no emotion behind the words, and against your own discipline, you can feel your lips twitching into a smirk automatically in reaction to his strange, off putting way of speaking.

“I know my insistence can come off as crass given how shitty of a person I’ve been to you. But I knew that today was move-out day, and I needed you to hear me out before you left.”

You hear him take a deep breath before continuing with the next part of his speech. “As you know, I’m a pretty fearless person. But when it comes to admitting my feelings for you, I’ve had a much harder time. Truthfully, since I met you, it’s been because of my own immaturity that I’ve seen other girls romantically. Even though I always knew my feelings for you were different, I pushed them away in the hopes of avoiding having to commit to anyone. When you told me how you really felt for me, truthfully, it scared me. I didn’t want to know what my life would look like if I decided to be with just one person.

“I thought that by rejecting you, by being away from you for this long, that my feelings for you would go away,” he remarks with the same sort of unfeeling, neutral tone to his voice, as if he knows the explanation behind his actions is unimportant given how they’ve impacted you. “I wanted to view you as just another name on a long list.”

But it’s with his next words that passion and sincerity and longing bleed into his voice all at once to say, “But it’s taken me this time of being away from you to realize that…I’m still not over you.”

After minutes of hanging onto his every word despite every inclination that has been telling you to do otherwise, it’s those last five words that hit you like a freight train. 

And you know it’s foolish and dumb to be believing anything that comes out of his mouth anymore, but you suppose it’s no different from all of the other times you continued to let him in even when he showed you so many times why you shouldn’t. 

Your reasoning remains the same – you just feel an irrational pull to him that is all-consuming, your heart connected to his in a way you can’t control. 

And it doesn’t help that everything he says next is all of the affirmation you’ve been wanting and needing him to give you throughout your entire time of sleeping together. “You deserve someone that’s going to treat you with respect. Someone that makes you feel loved and beautiful and desired. Someone with the courage to be vulnerable and who will care for you in your most vulnerable moments. And I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t have that with me,” he remarks, and you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath throughout his spiel until your chest literally contracts from the lack of air to your lungs.

“But if you can find some way to forgive me, then I want to make us work,” he asserts pleadingly. And with the finality that it feels like follows that statement, you get the feeling that what he says next is no longer being read off the paper. 

Especially when you can hear what you think is the top of his head, leaned against the door with a small thunk as he quietly laments, “I want you, Y/N. Not just sexually, but for everything that makes you who you are. It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.” 

It’s quiet after that, so much so that you can hear his small and broken breaths being let out against the wall. You hear what you think is the sound of his hand being brought up to rest next to his head. And as the feeling of being pulled in so many directions takes over you, your heart in a heated battle with your brain, it’s after a few moments of silence that you stand up and walk over towards the door. 

Leehan, observing the shadows of your footsteps through the little gap at the bottom of the door, perks up when it’s just a thin barrier of wood that keeps you from being face-to-face with one another.

You prepare yourself to be annoyed when you open the door in expectation that he will be his usual unreadable, unserious self. 

But it’s in surprise but also a little relief that what you find when you face him is the expression of a man who’s truly understood the gravity of his mistakes and feels shameful over them.

“You look really pretty,” he blurts out, the suddenness of the remark almost betraying your slowly but surely growing feelings of understanding towards him. But you also can’t help that his random candor makes you laugh, reminded of some of your earlier interactions as he sheepishly says, “Sorry, bad timing.”

Still standing a fair distance away from him, the tip of your toes just barely meeting the tip of his as you look down at them to avoid eye contact, you attempt to ease the tension of the moment with a shy but truthful, “Thank you, Leehan. For the compliment and for the apology.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze as he tilts his head to stare at you, his attention feeling hopeful but not in a way that makes you feel pressured, but in a way that has you compelled to be completely vulnerable and honest with him.

“I’m just…really scared that you’ll hurt me,” you confess somberly, and it still feels strange to even say things like this to him because you’ve spent so much time suppressing your negative emotions when it comes to Leehan. Scared that you’d lose his approval and feeling like you needed such approval to feel good about yourself.

But over time as your relationship progressed and you found yourself little by little regaining the sense of self that your interactions with Leehan robbed you of, you were able to realize that you didn’t deserve to be treated like an afterthought, like an object only useful if it was giving satisfaction to someone else.

And it was in resentment that over these two months of not speaking you felt like Leehan believed that, too.

But now after hearing him explain himself and believing genuinely that he wants to be with you, you now battle with the parts of you that are scared to believe him in fear of getting hurt and the parts of you that so badly also want to be in a relationship with him.

“I’m not scared,” he tells you, the confidence you’ve come to know him for coming out more strongly than ever before. “I’ve got you, remember?”

He then goes to place his two middle fingers underneath your chin, pushing your jaw upward so that you’re forced into eye contact. Staring into his endless and piercing eyes, it’s for the first time that you feel like you understand him in a non-sexual context. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” you mumble quietly in reply.

And it’s as you feel your lips twitching into a content smile that Leehan leans in to kiss you, and you accept the gesture without question.

five months later

“I wanna go half on a baby with you.”

These are the words that Leehan remarks to your sleeping form as you lay comfortably beside him in bed, sleeping but getting roused into attention by the faint sound of his voice.

“A fish baby, of course,” he clarifies, though you don’t even register what he’s saying as you remain half-asleep. “I think the ones in my tank are getting lonely.”

It’s hard to tell sometimes whether Leehan is musing out loud to himself or talking directly to you, but either way, the deep tone of his voice wakes you up just the same. 

You lay on your stomach, opening one eye to find him sitting up on his elbow and staring down at you with a curious expression on his face. His hand, resting on your back, draws unintelligible figures on the skin that’s left uncovered by your night shirt. 

All in all, it's a pretty domestic, intimate scene, had you not glanced over at your phone to find how early it was.

“Leehan, it’s seven a.m,” you complain to your boyfriend who still just stares dreamily at your sleepy figure. “What are you yapping about?”

Too familiar with your morning grumpiness to be phased by it, it’s with an unmoved expression that Leehan casually replies, “Just about how much I want a baby with you.”

When you hear those words come out of Leehan’s mouth, you’re sure you must still be asleep and that this is just an incredibly vivid dream. Either that, or you’re dating the strangest person in the world. 

Given that both realities are entirely plausible, it’s in your tiredness and confusion that you sit up from the bed completely, staring at a relaxed Leehan with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you think we’re a little young for that? I mean eventually, sure, but while we’re in school—”

“I was talking about fish,” he interrupts you to say, chuckling at your confused expression and giggling again when you pout at being laughed at. “But since you’re so eager, why don’t I put a baby in you right now?”

Your own laughter in reaction to his words is suppressed when he presses a large hand on your stomach, pushing you back down on the bed. He leans in to kiss you, but per usual, you refuse to make things easy for him.

Reaching behind your head, you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it, creating a barrier between your bodies. “You’re such a weirdo,” you playfully quip, a designation he only takes in stride as he goes to throw the pillow somewhere on the floor.

“I’m your weirdo though,” he emphasizes, and it’s as you’re both smiling in satisfaction that he leans in to press his lips against yours.

And as his cold hands roam your warm body, you’re hit with a sudden wave of happiness as you acknowledge how far gone the days of having to wish for him to stay even fir minutes after you’ve had sex truly are. 

Because in the past five months since you’ve gotten together exclusively, not only is it routine for him to stay behind, but you also get to wake up together and experience these sleepy, romantic moments. 

The moments when he slowly kisses down your body, dragging his plush lips down your sternum until he’s positioned between your legs.

The moments when you pull softly at his hair as he languidly drags his tongue up and down your folds, begging you in his gruff, sleep-affected voice to come all over his face.

The moments when you could be sponning sideways, on top of him, or below him and he’ll still find a way to spread your legs apart, pressing his long, veiny cock inside of you until you’re overwhelmed by how full you are. 

The moments where his tiredness renders him impatient and he fucks into you so roughly that you can barely form words. 

The moments when he kisses you lazily through every thrust until the sex becomes so good that all you can manage is the occasional swipe of your tongue against his lips or a whimper into his mouth.

The moments when you reach your climax together and he rocks his come in and out of you like he never intends on pulling out.

The moment when you moan out his name, understanding why when you first met he insisted that to know it was a privilege. That to know him is a privilege.

And finally, your favorite, the moments when you either fall back asleep in each other’s hold or get up to shower the sleepiness and sweat off of each other. 

Today is one of those days that you relent to getting up and showering, convinced only by the fact that neither of you has a morning class, making it a perfect day to visit the pet shop conveniently located just a few miles from your college town.

“What about this one?” 

You turn to face Leehan in the fish tank lined aisle of the pet store, lips curling into a smile as you observe him pressing his face up to the glass in awe. As you come up to his side to view the brown-colored fish that have him so captivated, it’s in a surge of honesty that you reply, “Don’t you think they’re kind of…ugly?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend gasps dramatically in reaction to your words, even brushing his hand against the fish tank in a gesture akin to patting someone's head. “They can hear you, you know. I’m so sorry, fishies.”

Ignoring his childishness, you look around at the surrounding fish and sigh as you’re overwhelmed by all the different options. “Honestly, Leehan, you should just pick one. They all look the same to me.”

“But it should be something we both like,” he answers with a pout, circling the aisles a few more times before finally stopping at a tank in the very corner. 

Inside of it are an array of multi-colored fish, but the one that stands out to you is an entirely white one with a patch of vibrant red at the top of its head. 

It would be indistinguishable from a goldfish had it not been for its striking color and the appendage that looks almost like an inside-out brain on its head. 

A label beside the tank reads Oranda. 

“What about this one?” asks Leehan in curiosity, and in an almost alarming way, he points out the exact same fish you were just eyeing. 

You come around to the other side of the tank to view it from another angle, giggling innocently when you make eye-contact with Leehan through the distorted lens of the water. “It’s pretty,” you remark simply, and because Leehan has come to know you so well, he knows that the simple attribution is a sign of high praise from you.

“Should we make it ours?” he asks you officially, and though you’re certain that this is the fish you’ve been looking for, there’s one question popping up in your brain that you still can’t find the answer to.

“What should we name it?”

You both take a beat to ponder on the question. Leehan chimes in first, blurting out, “I know. Loony.”

At this, you scoff, unsure as to where he would have gotten such an idea from. “Are you trying to say that our child is crazy?” you quip in feigned offense. 

“No. It’s short for lunar eclipse. That’s when I knew we were gonna be more than just a one night stand,” he tells you sincerely, and with that context you find yourself becoming quickly attached to both the name and the fish who you take home in a plastic bag only moments later.

You allow Leehan to take the lead in homing Loony, a process that involves lots of complicated jargon about adjusting the water temperature and changing the salinity that you mostly pretend to understand as he explains it to you. 

And when you are finally able to sit side by side in front of the tank and watch through the glass as Loony swims among the other fish, it’s with an adoring tone of voice that you hear Leehan say, “It’s pretty, awesome, right?”

At the sound of his voice, you turn to face him, and without being entirely conscious of it, you simply take in his features and how content he looks to be here, with you and with these fishes.

“Yeah,” you reply, laying down and resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s awesome.”

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amerecerasus @cadidupped @suhovhs @lionhanie @taesanmoon @revelettre @s9nwoo @brachioswrld @moneygal0re @karatttttt

thank you all sm for your support on this fic <3 your reactions, feedback, and compliments have meant the world

[yurinaa-world]

I see your requests are open so give me a chance!

Can you please do something like Jiaoqiu,Moze,Aventurine and Jing yuan with a Kyouka like (From bsd)reader?

Pls...

"𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Jiaoqiu, Moze, Aventurine & Jing yuan x Gender-neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader that's like Kyouka

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I'll always give you a chance anon!

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

He’s always chided you about those minor injuries you show up with, even if it may be a scratch on your skin, it can get worse, and he rather do anything in his power to make a simple scratch on your skin disappear, as if wasn’t there at all.

Now, no different than before, he even force feeds so you regain all your strength even when you decline his offer, he still won’t take no for it, not one single excuse either! Why must he love someone who so willing to throw theirlife away?! Very iconic...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You don’t have to do this...” you say blankly, staring at the bowl of food he’s made for you. You’re grateful about everything, better than when he was freaking out over the copious amounts of blood on your body and clothes, most of which wasn’t even yours, to begin with, just minor scratches here and there (not even caused by anyone, just by your carelessness).

Forcing you into a shower immediately to get the scent of death off of your body with a nice hot shower, before fixing your injuries (just a couple of bandaids here and there, nothing big as he makes his reaction out to be). 

Now you can hear the emotion in his sigh as he makes something extra for you to eat. “It’s almost like you’re living to starve yourself,” He worried, stirring the pot gently, you can’t help but feel guilty about how he’s feeling, guilty and torn about how worried he is about you.

Take a large spoonful of food from the bowl to at least give a try to whatever he’s made for you and it’s truly not so bad, taking more and more spoonfuls as the flavour of the food gets better.“It’s really good” You smiled, making him so joyful, seeing you give the food a chance and like it. 

“Isn’t it better than starving yourself?”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

You both are quiet, silent love is what you both share. He can’t help but take your hand and kiss the top of your knuckles without any hesitation or fluster in his eyes as he gazes into your own. He has no fear of directly showing his love before leaving for the day.

He knows everything, even when you secretly glance at desserts displayed outside a bakery, maybe taking more of a glance—which never goes unnoticed by him, you have such a sweet tooth it’s obvious.

Every day he brings you that cake you’ve always been looking at, just seeing that happy expression on your face when you see the cake in his hands always makes him go soft for you. (It might just be his way to avoid you noticing his injuries).

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You can put the knife away.”

He held your wrist firmly, just so that knife in your hand wouldn’t stab him in the face from your reflexes—he really shouldn’t set your reflexes off with his silent footsteps—your ears were made to hear even the sound of pen dropping—he might just be asking for a death wish. 

Seeing your eyes go from murderous into soft ones as you sigh, realizing it’s him, prompts him to let go of your wrist, and watches you put down that dull kitchen knife.

“You should be more careful, I could’ve killed you.” You chided. No doubt that you could leave a deadly injury even when that dull knife is in your hands—even the dullest of objects you could make into the sharpest of weapons.

“I got you a gift.”

Revealing his other hand to a boxed-up cake from that new bakery that opened up in the Xianzhou Yaoqing you’ve been interested in—shocking he even noticed that quickly, you didn’t even mention it to him. Seeing your expression light up as if you were a kid receiving a huge gift, even holding the boxed-up cake like a kid.

“Thank you. Let me cut this properly so we eat this together” You smile brightly, ear to ear, watching you skip to the kitchen.

 He was glad you were happy with this gift, and he couldn’t allow your happiness to be ruined by a foolish injury of his—a worried expression if you had noticed his arm bleeding through his previous bandages—trying to quickly bandage a new wound on his arm before meeting you in the kitchen.

He can’t help but wrap his arms around you while you just get a spoon and eat right from the cake instead of cutting it—it looked too good!—“It’s so good,” You mutter, before taking another spoonful of that soft dessert.

“Thank you, Moze.”

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

Your little obsession with little trinkets, makes him laugh whenever you stop in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk just to look at the little fragile trinket displayed behind a window. Your eyes light immediately, which prompts him to take you into the shop, so you can buy something (even if you refuse).

He could buy you the entire trinket shop if you truly wanted, yet it’s quite fun following you around while you stop to pick the little trinket in your hand, holding it in your palms like it were an animal.

Showing him the little thing and asking him what he thought of it, before quickly moving on to see a different part of the store like a needy child with a craze to see anything. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I could just buy you the entire shop.”

His words just went one ear and out the other—you disliked too much of his spoiling, it made you lose yourself, in case you needed to protect him, one it enough for you—while you stayed crouched down looking at a little bunny trinket on the bottom shelf. Which just boosts his grin, watching you pop back up with the little thing in your palms as if it were alive.

“Doesn’t it look so cute?” A pretty smile accompanied by a happy tone of voice makes him weak for you—irresistible as always—and he just goes soft. “It does look cute, yet it seems like it's missing something,” he smiles before giving you a confused look, the thumb on his chin just puts the whole act together. 

“What’s missing?”

“Its lover, of course.” Saying like it's fact, which causes the light bulb in your head to shine brightly, before looking back at the shelf to look for another trinket that matches. He can’t help but to one out for you to match with, a little dolphin with a smiley face. 

“How about this one?” 

“It matches perfectly!” 

“But…” He seems to get more confused.

“But?” 

Forgive him for taking a little advantage of you, watching you lean in closer with your whole body. “Her friends are missing.” Was This his way of making you spend more, maybe? Not as if you're declining, so it’s a win-win in his books.

💫𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈"

He’s quite the lover, dozing off whenever he can, which just leaves you to gently wake him up and take him back to bed so he doesn’t catch a cold. 

When you drag him back to bed just to be faced with no pillows, ah…how could this have happened…(orchestrated by a certain general, of course)..there’s nothing you could find which just leads you to lay him on your lap so he doesn’t hurt his neck without having anything under his head.

It was an enjoyable feeling when he feels his head on your lap as he wakes up from his slumber, he might just dig his face more into your lap. A general abusing his knowledge to have you to himself, not the first or last.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Gently caressing his hair while a peaceful expression was spread upon his face, known to you, Jing Yuan was half awake just enjoying the amazing feeling—it was too good to let his tired body let go of—he forced himself to stay up, only to be caught by his selfish desire to want more before slumber gets to him.

“Is this comfortable for you?” You whisper, leaning down to caress his cheek with your hand, his lidded eyes staring back at you—as if it were a scene out of a romance novel. “More than comfortable.” He yawned, before digging the side of his face into your thigh as much as he could.

“Jing Yuan.”

A worrisome expression spreads on your face, prompts him to grab your hand and lean more into your touch—he’ll any type of physical affection he can get from you. “You shouldn’t be sleeping outside so leisurely, there might be assassins or spies who would take their chance.” You fretted, while he didn’t seem to take words only enjoying the feeling that he’s waited for.

“You worry too much, soon the hairs on your head might turn gray,” he hummed, such worrier you are, yet any man wishes to have such caring lovers as someone like you. He doesn’t want that worried look on your face to stay present for long, he gently moves your hand until your fingertips are on his lips, pressing a kiss on those precious hands of yours. 

“I'm only teasing, I’ll be fine.”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hiya! I’m so happy your requests are open omg your writing is impeccable. So I’ve been with this concept in my head for so long since I read this prompt somewhere: what is with your weird fascination with me?

And just immediately my head started creating a story about reader having the nickname ‘Death’ because she has the highest body count known, skilled as no other and, also, imposible to know on a deeper level because she is like a wall, not letting anyone in. Until John Price needs her for a mission and is, as the prompt says, fascinated by her (and feeling other things he doesn’t want to admit), and is able to break her a little when he gets hurt in a mission after months of working together.

Glory to the Reaper

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: He was strange, you admitted to yourself. Always around even when you didn't want him to be. But perhaps the Brit just might surprise you.

WORDCOUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, death, gore, canon typical violence, avoidance tactics, fluff, pining, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: I switched around the codename but it's still the same plot! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes slip over the file on the table, slowly caressing the parchment with easy and careful consideration of every word and comma—searching. Focusing. You hum under your breath and slide the page away to spy on the one behind it, the room quiet and the air cold. Outside the window the entire compound is asleep, only the light of the street lamps illuminating the land; inside this office, your feet barely shuffle over the tuft of the rug.

Clicking your tongue, you go to the next document in the pile. 

The still-warm body flinches and jerks below you, but you barely notice—he hadn’t put up much of a fight; wasn’t memorable. Sighing and itching over the mask along the bottom of your face, you snatch the last six papers from the desk and fold them four times, stuffing them into your vest pocket. 

Stalking with sure steps, you press into the radio on your gear as you step over the body and head to the door. Bloody bootprints follow behind you like a crimson shadow of surefire death.

“Actual, intel secured. Heading to Evac now.” Laswell was listening intently on the other end, your Op of the highest priority. 

You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t, surely. The small click from the other end greets you as you shove open the office’s door and saunter down the hallway paved with glints of marble and pools of viscera like a Roman horror story. Eyes numbly slide past the scores of bodies; necks slit and stomachs burst from bullets fired through silencers. 

“Good job, Tomb,” Laswell utters, voice fast and serious as always. “What’s the clean-up status?”

Your lips flinch upward, “I suggest fire and a prayer, Actual. But no one knows I’m here. Main house is neutralized.” 

A small pause later and a huff of dull amusement. 

“Copy, Tomb. Your ride is waiting—best not to miss it, we need you back sooner than later.” The structure of your lungs rearranges in a small chuckle that echoes off the ceiling; molten silver from the moon slips over your darkened form. The patch upon your right shoulder is illuminated in steady intervals, the familiar image of a mausoleum and a guarding Sphinx. 

Alone, that patch is, with no other dark affiliations beyond that demonic cause. Many see it right before they meet their end, but the insignia was entirely left to ruin—no one sees it and lives besides other soldiers.

“Copy.” Your voice is easy and bland as the curtains from the single open window shake in the breeze. “Tell the boys I’m on my way.” You pass the window and slap a gloved hand to it, hearing the squeak of the frame as it hits back down before you turn the corner, slinking away to reform into a figure that evokes grim glances and sliced sentences. 

—

You stare into blue eyes with a sheen of disinterest coating your own, hands stuffed into your pockets and gear heavy on your chest. From your shoulder, the strap of your rifle sits as you speak, tilting your head, “Captain Jonathan Price of Task Force 141.” 

The man was tall, you admit, fit and formed to harsh military life. Undoublity he’d been in the service for decades. You’d seen his face before—the brunette beard and the strong jaw; small eyes with wrinkles, it’s how you had ID’d him. Plus the bucket hat. Laswell had told you he’d been inquiring about your file and you’d done your own digging off the books. 

John grunts a greeting before nodding.

“Pleasure. Tomb, was it?” On the tarmac, you glance around with stiff shoulders as the blades of the helicopter slow down behind you. Morning was just on the horizon, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep on the flight back.

Lips thin, before your vision slides back into place. John’s hands are crossed casually, but his blue holds glints of intrigue. You don’t like that. “...The one and only. Excuse me.” 

Walking past, you move like a crane, legs taking long, steady, strides. A hand comes up to scratch at your cheek through your face covering. Laswell was expecting you immediately. 

And those feet at your side were not supposed to be there. Your eyes shimmer lowly at the shadow of John as he follows.

“Should tell you that Laswell’s in building two, then.” Pace halting, the Captain continues off on his own as your sharp gaze burns into his neck. He spares a glance over his expansive shoulder before adjusting his course to the East. “Told me to bring you to her. We need to have a little chat, yeah?”

You stay silent, watching John travel to the larger building where Laswell was apparently now waiting for you. After a still minute where you listen to the birds waking up and the scent of dew is in your hidden nostrils, you sigh deeply and roll your shoulders before beginning to walk behind. 

“Hm,” Garbled grunts are only heard by you as you stay well enough back from the man. Cautious as you stare at his head. 

He holds the door open for you when you finally make it, and you stand blankly from the opening as John’s calloused hand clenches over the door. When you don’t enter, the Captain shakes his head and releases a deep chuckle. 

“Alright, then,” he mutters, shuffling through the door first. You follow the strain of his back until you look away and reach for the barrier, pushing it back from you. Making your way inside, you sigh and wonder what you’re getting into. 

“Laswell said you don’t like strangers,” eyes peek back at you as the buzzing from the overhead lights echoes in your ears. Your throat releases a hum; shoulders showing a picture of wound ease. “Can’t say she’s wrong, now can you?”

Watching another soldier pass the two of you, you tilt your head to make sure the stranger’s footsteps turn the corner before you answer John’s question with a raised brow to mirror his own. 

“Did she also tell you that I don’t plan on joining One-Four-One, Captain?” His bearded smirk catches you slightly off-guard, perplexed by not even the hint of shock in his gaze. He’d done his research.

John grunts as his eyelids narrow, amused. Your muscles tense.

“Affirmative.” The meeting room door is opened and this time he allows you to ease your paranoia by slinking in first. 

In the room sits an occupied Laswell, a long table, a projector, and black-out windows. Confused but used to last-minute changes, you simply enter silently and pick a chair with your back to the wall and a good view of the room. 

“Laswell,” you utter in greeting as the woman hums a hello, shifting through numerous files. In your breast pocket, you pull out the files you’d stolen and toss them onto the wood. John stands near the entrance with crossed arms, hips shifting every so often as his feet re-situate themselves. 

He blinks down at the papers and then back to you with a careful glance at Kate.

Your Station Chief chuckles when she looks at you, tilting her head before she snatches the prize. 

“Good work as always, Tomb.” 

“Why is he here?” You get to the point, one hand going up to brush over your hair as the other sits limply on the seat’s arm. Your gear sits heavy on you, but that brutal tic of curiosity blooms. 

John’s lips twitch before he answers, “An offer. Knew I wouldn’t be able to meet if Laswell wasn’t the mediator, eh? You’re bloody difficult to track down.”

“Offer?” Small talk never mattered to you, hadn’t since you’d signed up, and probably never would. You didn’t understand why people beat around the bush—just say what you need to say and get it over with. There was only so much time in a day. 

It seemed John Price carried part of that opinion as well. 

Blunt, you admit to your opinion of the man, and sure of his strengths.

“I need your skill set.” Kate looks back and forth between you two before she focuses on her work, multitasking. John continues, pointing a hand at you in demonstration from their hold on his chest. “Mission in three days. Turkey…” He watches you closely as if gauging your abilities. “You in or out?” 

You wait in a dim silence for a minute or two before you tilt your body to Laswell, eyes still stuck in stormy blue and pale wrinkles inlaid with dirt. 

“Kate?” 

“Totally off the books,” the woman says confidently, pen sliding over paper. “Two targets in Bursa. There’s a file in your office.” Raising a brow, John hides his cheeky smile behind a bored mask.

“Take your Lieutenant,” you glare, “Ghost, was it?”

Price shakes his head, hat flinching along with it. “On assignment. I’ll need an answer today, Tomb. Time’s ticking.”

Your jaw clenches in annoyance, “Capture or kill?” 

John shrugs nonchalantly, “Either. Is this a yes or a no?”

In this game of cat and mouse, you find yourself slipping. Your obligations as a soldier call to you to take the mission immediately, but for the simple fact that this Captain was unknown to you—and apparently, you weren’t unknown to him. 

John was checking all of the boxes of people you didn’t like to be around.

Your voice grits out, eyes burning in their glare, “...When?” 

His smirk makes you want to storm out.

“Tomorrow. 1300.” The air in the room is thick, tense like a thick layer of molasses was overtop everything. Under the table, your foot taps to the steady beat of your heart, your face tensed, and the layers of your facemask suddenly too formed to your neck and chin. 

Twitching your nose you dig your eyes into John, peeling down his expansive shoulders and chest to take in the layers of packs and other miscellaneous items. His thigh holders and the way they hug his legs. You end with one last dead-on look into his eyes, trying to pinpoint intentions and flay the lines of his brain. 

Most people glance away, but John returns the look with a casual tilt of his head and a raised brow. Not at all off-put. 

Your hand steadily clenches over the chair. 

All you give him is a firm nod—nothing more than a mere jerk of your chin. Kate sighs from where she’d been watching. 

“Perfect. John,” she points her pen at the Captain as you both stare off. John grunts before his eyes flicker to the side, leisurely roving back moments later. You blink and rub your forehead. “You have your answer. Now would the both of you get the fuck out of here?”

“Copy, Kate.” John sighs, and you huff; standing as you plan out the amount of time you have to clean up and sleep before you have to leave. With an easy brush of your shoulders, your form shimmies past the Captain with dull enthusiasm. 

You weren’t happy about this, but fine. You’ve been through worse. 

As you shuffle down the hallway to the armory, your ears quirk when the footsteps ring in the drums of your ears like a hiking beacon. Already you’d memorized the walking pattern. 

The thump-bump, bump-thump, of boots and the clink-clank of metal on metal. Shoving down a growl you hiss out into the air, not turning around. 

“Problem, Price?” A gruff humph bounces. 

“Negative, Tomb.” His shadow comes to conjoin with yours, large body standing side-by-side. Eyes flash to the side of your face, hidden from all by the cloth—like a bored cat, you continue to pave your way to silence; hoping whatever thought this man had in his head would disappear. “Just curious, see.” 

“Curious?” your brow raises, the make of your muscles showing your unease. “Can’t help you with that.” 

“No, probably not, eh?” John grunts and reiterates as strange emotion spikes in the lines of his face as he glances along you. “Tomorrow. 1300. Don’t be late.” With nothing more, he halts and pivots, peeling back to leave your side as his sudden absence leaves you devoid of heat. 

Confusion breeds in your chest, but your steady legs carry you on until your tension leaves. Under your breath you utter a question as you enter the armory, shuffling your rifle off of your chest. “What the hell was that about?”

—

Price and you stand inside the safehouse with fast hearts and narrowed eyes. Blood was dripping down your hands, the black gloves flooded with gore that sure as hell doesn’t belong to you. 

“Fuck,” John growls, guttural reverberations echoing off the walls. With stiff ribs, you go and lightly peel back the fabric of the nearest window to study the street below; looking for any suspicious figures. Frowning, you see nothing and let the curtain fall, eyes wafting to the Captain. 

“We either lost them or they have surveillance on the building. Best for you to not leave either way.” The mission had gone sideways—apparently one of the targets had an ID on John as a member of One-Four-One. One thing led to another and resulted in you sticking a knife into some man’s gut to get away when he’d been spotted. You blink at his agitated expression, the black beanie on his head ruffled as he runs a hand over it.

But you don’t say anything else. Peeling off your gloves, you listen to him as a rain of blood splatters the carpet. 

“This sets us back—since when does bloody fuckin’ Metin Baydar know who I am?” John’s hands are clenched, jaw so tight you wonder if his molars will crack under the pressure. A smirk twitches your lips at the thought. “Tomb,” you slowly tilt your eyes to him. The man sets his lips and crosses his arms, the brown casual wear in his chest bunching. “I’ll need you to be my eyes on this, yeah? If I leave this position I jeopardize your safety.”

“My safety?” you huff a laugh and push your gloves into your loose pants. “Captain, I don’t need you to worry about my safety.” 

He seems to pause for a moment, and with a shake of his head his blue eyes shutter closed. A deep, tight, breath is taken and those tiny lids are forced back as you lock gazes. You send a blank look his way and he nods firmly.

“Keep low.” Is all he grunts, feet standing apart and his stare intense. “Copy?” 

A swirl of amusement dances in your gut—you tap the earpiece in your shell with a stained streak of blood on your fingers. John stares, unreadable.

“I’ll leave when the streets cool. Just keep on the line so I can relay my intel, Price.” After a moment of silence, your eyes tighten with intrigue. “How do you wonder Baydar knew your face?” Standing by the window again, you peek out and keep John in view. His form shuffles, and he scoffs before walking beside you. Over your shoulder, he also views the buildings and businesses below. You still at the sensation of his breath on the back of your head, hand twitching over the curtain. It ruffles your hair for a moment before you snap out of it, eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Task Force isn’t exactly known,” you finish your sentence, voice strained. 

Clearing his throat, as if realizing how close he’d gotten with only the intention of gazing outside, the man’s form jerks back; taking a step or two away to give you distance. Your far-gone eyes blankly continue to look outside but your chest gains some tension to it. You don’t know why.

This Brit is strange. You frown, watching a cat traverse the concrete far below. Not that I really have much to go off of. 

“Haven’t a clue.” John sighs again, one hand going to itch at his chin. “Your guess is as good as mine. One thing I do know is that we have to fix this. Now.” 

“You should tell Laswell,” you mutter, turning around and walking past him to stand around your packs—all of which hold your gear. Your knife was set into a small sheath inside your shirt, leather wrapped around your waist as you stopped near the coffee table. You pull the lip of your clothes up and grasp at it before peeling the metal out with an inquisitive eye. 

If there was any breakage to the tip, you’d be furious. 

John watches from across the room, catching glances at your bare skin riddled with scars and burns; unmarred flesh foreign. He feels his breath hitch before you drop your shirt back down and bring the blade into the light. 

Holding it parallel, you gaze along the edge and tilt your head, eyelids half-closed. 

“Kate?” Price answers you, clearing his throat. “No, it’s better not to create any more shite. She’ll be good off not knowing, yeah?” The brunette’s brow raises in question.

You hum and don’t reply. 

The rest of the mission was spent with the two of you conversing over the open line of your comms as you scoured the streets for any sign of the target, feet carrying you over the city as the chill of the late afternoon set in. Presently, you didn’t know how to feel about your situation. Working with others was a strain on your focus—on the walls you’ve built up; John had obviously noticed that you didn’t exactly play well with others. It was plainly stated in your file, after all. 

“—attitude, or lack thereof, is a detriment to the structure of any team/unit/platoon that she is placed into under all circumstances. Recommended reserved operations to limit drawbacks.” 

Having a pleasant attitude wasn’t your job. 

Stalking around the corner, your ears twitch to John’s voice. “Sitrep, Tomb. What’s it looking like out there?” 

It was strange, then, that the man over the line was so eager to speak to you. Your sigh hits on deaf ears, and you respond as you carefully walk past civilians making their way home.

“Quiet. No sign.” The silence re-settles and you gradually loosen again. Like a cat, your ears twitch to hear the muttering from the commuters; eyes sliding with watery film across faces. 

Baydar owns a restaurant as a front for funding terrorists. Anyone exiting from this direction could be part of it—

“You said you’d never join One-Four-One,” John’s voice makes you shove down a flinch, ripped out of your focus. In your pockets, your hands close into fists, and a deeply annoyed mask fits itself over your expression. “Why’s that, then?” 

“What is this?” Your voice goes cold, “interrogation time?”

“With a record like yours, you’d get pick of any Task Force or SOF in country.” The Captain seems to ignore your hiss and jab as his deep voice continues; accent low. You hear the drag of a cigar and the puff of smoke. Internally, you’re thankful for the casual yet attentive acknowledgment of your skills—how the man doesn’t seem in the slightest worried about you. “Why is it that you’re always alone out ‘ere? Couldn’t wrap my head ‘round it, truthfully.” A tobacco-slick chuckle, “Bloody hell, people would kill to get you on a mission like I did, eh? No doubt.” 

For a long time, you don’t answer, leaning against the wall across from your target’s restaurant doing recon. Frown tight and face stiff. John’s voice fizzles. 

“Ah, fuckin’ forget it Love, just a man’s curiosity speaking for ‘im. I’ll leave you to focus.” Before the line can click, you open your lips—as if the things have a mind of their own.

“People are unpredictable.” The Captain’s breath is gently puffing over the line. He listens and you know he hangs on every word; it was a strange feeling to know that. From under you, your feet shuffle. “They do things that don’t make sense. I don’t like dealing with it.”

A grunt. “Well, can get behind that…” John had a smirk on his lips, you can hear it. “You’d lose your head if you met MacTavish.” 

Your focus waning, you blink, getting sucked into this strange interaction with an even stranger man. 

“Yeah?” You wonder, head tilting to the side. “One of yours?”

“Hm,” he affirms and the chill of the night caresses your skin. John chuckles. “Sergeant. Bloody good shot, but can get into trouble faster than his fucking gun can fire.” 

Your mouth quirks. “Sounds horrible.”

“Makes my job a living hell,” John admits and you shock yourself by listening. “But no one better to keep by my six…You’d ease up to him.” 

“I’m not joining, Price,” Your voice mutters out like how a dragonfly snaps its translucent wings on still air. “This is it.”

In the safehouse, John hums under his breath, staring out the window at the blinking lights of the city as you watch the restaurant with far-off thoughts. A smile twitches his lips. For some reason there was something about you he wanted to figure out—something to unravel. You were like Ghost sometimes, but more… fascinating. Darker.

And you knew how to get the job done better than anyone.

John wanted you on his Task Force, your expertise, and the only way to get that was to take you apart like a puzzle of razor blades. Study you. Learn you as the edges cut up his flesh. The Captain had no idea what picture you’d make when everything was in its proper place, but he’d be willing to try with the very tenacity that had gotten him this far. 

But there was something else there, too. Some kind of tightness in his chest when you looked at him; he'd gotten it when he’d seen you on the tarmac back not so long ago like some schoolboy. Those blank eyes of yours…why did he want them to light up? 

Why did he want to see your laugh? 

John wasn’t immature enough to not know his own feelings or attractions, but this was an entire section of its own. Blinking, the man grunts to himself and smirks. “Well, better make it last, then.” 

You feel your eyelids carefully pull in surprise. 

“I…” Your voice starts but dies off, swallowing saliva down as your mouth clacks shut with a connection of teeth. Closing your eyes, you steady your heart, which had suddenly created a concerning skip in its beats. 

John places the cigar back to his lips and takes a long drag, leaning out of the window to watch the smoke disappear into the twinkling lights. Lips peeling his beard hairs back.

—

As it turned out, the mission in Turkey wasn’t the only time you’d have to deal with John Price, and it certainly wasn’t the last time you’d see his face in front of yours. One mission turned into two—two into three and so on. You hadn’t exactly wanted it, but you found you couldn’t turn him down either. 

At whichever base you were stationed at, all of a sudden he’d just show up; standing on the tarmac with his arms crossed and that casual set to his shoulders. The first time you’d seen him after Turkey, you had half convinced yourself he was a mirage. And then he’d smirk at you and tilt his head and you’d have no control over your words. 

It was pathetic…disgusting…it was…it was…

You shake yourself back to the present when a bullet whizzes past your head, a sharp call from across the utter warzone you’d found yourself in the middle of.

“Tomb, what in the hell’s wrong with you?!” John’s voice is harsh, and you lock onto it. “Get your gun up!” 

You sigh, unperturbed. Peaking past the large crate you use as cover, your eyes glare at the enemy soldiers across the dock, fixing your finger’s position over your M4A1. The small unit you’d been dragged into by John was mostly dead—only four of you remaining from the ten.

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. 

Jerking back, a splintering of wood explodes in front of you as the next fast piece of metal nearly takes your nose off. With a grit of your teeth, you flick your safety off and swivel your shoulders. 

Popping from the top of the crate, your sharp eyes lock onto the first visible body before you press your finger to the trigger with practiced ease as the word shrieks all around you. Recoil is eaten into the padded kevlar of the junction of your shoulder and arm. 

When you dart back, the body has yet to hit the ground. 

“There she is!” John calls, and you look forward with a steady stare as the brunette laughs from behind his own crate a few feet away. “Keep your head in the game, Tomb.”

You frown, normal facemask back over your chin hiding it. While you loathe to admit it, John had grown on you in these…what was it…? Months? Yes, that seemed about right.

Months of joint missions. You could hardly believe that he’d dragged you out like this.

“Tell the others to flank,” Your voice whisps over the line like smoke, “Left side—there’s a gap in the crates.”

John looks you in the eyes and blinks, eyelids twitching. With his beard covered in gunpowder, the man looks across the open space between the gunbattle to the left. Sure enough, right before he’s forced to snap back down to cover, the Captain spies a very well-hidden gap in the defenses.

He smiles viciously like a dog, and barks a laugh to you, nodding, “Good eye! Boys,” the two don’t pause their assault but call their questioning voices over the line. You don’t listen, occupied with giving off bursts of gunfire and trying to avoid the eyes of your fellow dead soldiers. Your lungs are compressed inside of your ribcage like prisoners. “Flank left. We’ll cover you!” 

“Sir!” Steadying your breath, you avoid John’s confused glances and scoff to yourself, resituating your clammy hands. 

When all’s said and done the four of you are the only ones left. Letting your gun sit on your chest you use the body as an armrest, allowing it to hang off the side from the trigger-guard. Your fingers twitch, and as John speaks to the two men, you stare silently at the gushing bodies of your fellows like phantoms spring from their chests.

John’s voice slows when he sees you apart from them, glancing at the soldiers at your feet before ordering the remaining men to get to the evac point. They try to argue everyone should be going together, and on all accounts, they’re completely right, but John won’t hear it. 

“Go—that’s an order.” Reluctantly, the two glance at each other and speed off. 

You jolt at a call of your name, head turning to face stormy blue as they gaze at you with concern. Stopping a few feet away, John stands still and folds his arms, face going rigid with concern as he glances you over for wounds.

His head slightly leans in, chin down.

“...You alright?” Hand flinching, you clear your throat. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, fixing the position of your feet and forcing away the images of dead bodies and blank eyes. 

You’d seen scores of men dead before—friend and foe—but you had thought you’d never have to see more of your own fall. It had been a long time since you’d felt the distant lull of numb horror in the back of your brain; like some ocean wave that drowns you under every time it comes back. It always comes back. 

John narrows his eyes and frowns deeply, glancing around and hiding the slight way his right arm sags. 

“Tomb?” He says it so lowly that you really have to focus, ears straining. That gravel was back, and you found yourself latching onto it. “Eh, you just focus on me, yeah? I’m right ‘ere.” 

“I know,” you snap, eyes shuttering away only to find more vacant stares. You flinch back and look up into the sky; a sudden burn in your brain that you need to quell.

The man grows even more concerned with you, taking a step forward and clenching his jaw. He studies you, your shaking tension and the clench and loosening of your fists—attention always on you but roving to the dead men all around. Something clicks with a violent inhale.

John moves to you without a word and grasps you around the shoulders quickly. You gasp at that, immediate reaction to shove away, but only gape at the warmth that he brings you instead—the steady presence and chest to lean on. As the Brit drags you, you focus instead on calming your breathing. 

The Captain lightly shimmies down your facemask and you suck down tight air as you go limp into his side. 

“C’mon, Tomb. It’s alright. I’m here. I’m right here.” He’s muttering to you, disguising his pained grunts in favor of taking care of you. 

That strange affection for you had grown in your time together…not that he’d said anything. It was more proper of him to watch out from a distance, not sure of your own feelings or the probability of you gazing back at him with the same amount of concealed longing. Many a night he’d sat on his bed and wondered. Wondered how an animal so extraordinary and remarkable took the form of a woman with a black sphinx patch and sharp eyes. 

John had heard you laugh once through your expeditions together—sniping in Greenland. Once had been enough; if he never heard it again, he could still recall the pitch and frequency to the yawning of his soul. He didn’t need to hear it again. 

It was locked into the fabric that made up your skin and speech, and every time he stared at you he could find it in your eyes. 

The Captain puts you down near a crate around the corner, letting you lean into it as he turns and captures your neck from either side. You shake under him, blurry vision stuck to his dog tags as they wink against his chest. 

“Tomb,” John says again, and with a lick of your chapped lips, you carefully turn your head up. Blue eyes crease worriedly. The thumbs on the sides of your neck caress up and down your rapid pulse steadily; calluses creating stimuli. A small smile meets you. “There we are, atta girl. Focus.”

Tears dribble down your cheeks, and you flatten your lips, whispering out brokenly, “I said I don’t like teams.”

John’s heart breaks. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” his hand captures the back of your head and you’re brought into a deep and firm embrace—gear pinching and prodding but neither of you care. 

When was the last time you’d been held like this? The feeling makes your mouth quiver, your face stuck into the junction of the Brit’s neck and shoulder.

“John…” You whimper out and his arms around you only tighten—his tense nose shoved into your scalp as his eyes closed tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, heart racing, “I’m so, so, sorry.” 

You don’t know long he holds you there, the air filled with blood and death but just so soundly resting atop his vest and limp to his gentle swaying. The tears dry at some point, they always have to. Sniffling, your burning face takes in the scent of beard oil and gunpowder and you find yourself calmed by it.

Calmed by John. 

The man holding you waits a moment more before he slightly leans back, staring down at you intently; nervously. You lick at the tears drying into the line of your mouth to taste the saltiness on your tongue as fingers grasp at your chin. 

Angled up, your face is on full display. 

John sighs and the drowned keratin of your lashes flutters, embarrassment flooding you. His eyes crease before his hands come up to take away your sorrows with a soft brush of his digits. The man clears his throat tinily, voice deep with emotion.

“Better?” Your eyes dip away from his, knowing you’d been staring. 

“I…” Glancing over his right shoulder absentmindedly, you only get a word off before you see a fountain of red. Blinking away the last of your tears, John’s finger on your cheek stops moving as you freeze—stiff to the touch. 

His panic spikes again. 

“What’s going on—”

“When did you get hit?” Your voice is hard and laced with something you can’t name. Shaving back from John you frantically grab at his arm. In an instant, the Captain is whirled around and shoved back into the crate; he grunts loudly, eyes snapping wide.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He grumbles, but flinches when you peel at the bloodied layers of his compression shirt. John smirks, letting your touch rove him as your nose scrunches. He represses a shiver at the bite of your nails, whispering out, “If you wanted to throw me ‘round, Love…all you had to do was ask.” 

You blink rapidly and turn your fast gaze to his eyes as you stutter, fingers covered in blood and holding apart the fabric of his outfit to show a bullet graze to his pale upper bicep. John’s cheeky smirk grows and against all the pain and the dark corners, you feel a bubbling in your gut. 

A small chuckle snakes out, like twinkling bells. 

“Shut up,” your smile leaves him breathless, smirk falling to a small open-mouthed screen of obvious admiration. A hum marks the back of his throat, eyebrows loosely curving upon his forehead. 

You look over and find him like this—his gaze trapping you like his arms had. Like music, it takes you into its melody. Staring, your smile, gradually too, leaks out. 

“What are you doing?” Your question is breathy. "What is your fascination with me?" John’s eyes stick with you, the shining, shimmering, blue. There are tempests held there and if this man was anything, he was a storm of intentions and promises. 

“Looking,” John answers lowly. "Just looking." 

You take down a breath, “At what, John?”

He chuckles at you, face close and pleasant, “Y’know, I haven’t quite figured that one out yet, Love.” 

Blindly you wonder how the world can still turn while you both stand here—was it, even? How can life go on when such things are uttered to light? When they’re buried deep into your marrow like the dirt on top of a grave? 

How can the Reaper knock at your doorways when love exists in such quantity…in the fractures of his eyes? Only when his lips brush yours do you understand. 

It’s all here, and then it’s gone. Nothing can truly be as it was in the past, and therein lies the small, glorious, deaths. Both a blessing and a curse.

Your lips press deeply into one another and the blood of old wounds dries. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gentle Care - Jade

Author Notes: So, this is another fanfic that has been sitting, collecting dust in my Google Docs for quite some time now. It is finally getting to see the light of day because I wanted to post a Jade fic (totally not because of any cards that recently came out on the Japanese server). I didn't really listen to anything specific while writing this, so I really can't say there is any specific inspiration for this fic either. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ flirtation/ romance implied/ fluff

Word Count: 1393

When Azul had called to ask for your assistance in patching someone up, you hadn’t been surprised. 

First, you’d gotten very good at handling bandages and whatnot simply due to your numerous Overblot experiences. You always ended up with a myriad of bumps and scrapes after those.

Secondly, Floyd getting into a fight was hardly uncommon, so the idea of him being a little scraped up was hardly startling. 

Finally, Floyd was perpetually mercurial, and if he’d even implied that he’d sit still and let you bandage him without squirming around, then Azul would do what it took to get you to Octavinelle just to ensure Floyd didn’t cause him any more of a headache.

An added bonus was that Octavinelle had all the supplies you could ever dream of, so there wasn’t even any need for you to bring anything with you. In fact, Grim even stayed at Ramshackle, opting not to join you on your little jaunt to Octavinelle. Though he did make sure to put in a request that you bring home some food for him that had you rolling your eyes slightly as you slipped out the door.

Your only real concerns on the trip to the mirror chamber were whether or not the other person had survived the altercation and how exactly you were going to scold the injured eel, even though you knew perfectly well that your words would do little good to keep him from getting into yet another fight. 

Those thoughts vanished though when you stepped into the Mostro Lounge and found yourself greeted with an unexpected sight.

Jade, sitting there as calmly as ever despite the bruises and red scratch marks that were sprinkled across his person as he talked to his brother, who was currently crouched in front of him, “Yes, it seems they mistook me for you, Floyd. Handling them was an easy matter, but-”

Jade halted mid-sentence as he spotted you, his eyes widening briefly before his usual, carefully crafted smile appeared, “I wasn’t expecting you quite yet, Y/n. I do hope you didn't rush.”

It was those oh-so polite words that immediately sparked your ire, sending you striding forward and snatching the bandages off a nearby table as you did so. After all, that long red scratch on his arm looked particularly nasty.

“Do I want to know?” Your irritation was obvious to everyone present, but no one seemed terribly concerned. But, to be fair, you were already kneeling and inspecting the young man’s injuries.

Azul let out a sigh, stepping into the room and holding a stack of papers, “It seems that a group of juniors looking for a fight mistook Jade for Floyd.”

“It’s alright though, Shrimpy. Jade handled ‘em all perfectly well.” Despite Floyd’s reassurance, you were hardly pleased. Eying the tell-tale burn that affirmed that magic had indeed been used in the fight despite school rules.

You glanced up, immediately making eye contact with the injured young man who’d been sitting silently, with a slight smile on his face as he’d watched you this entire time. Almost as if he were gauging the situation before he said anything.

“So you got in a fight you could’ve avoided?” Your flat tone said everything, and Azul took it as a cue to leave. With a single motion, he signaled Floyd, and the two exited the space. Floyd linger long enough to cast a single glance that flickered between you and his brother over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Jade met your accusation with an easy calmness and no small degree of amusement, “I wouldn’t be so sure. That group seemed to have quite a bit of aggression towards my dorm and probably didn’t really care if it was me or Floyd.”

You remained silent as he continued, going about bandaging some of the worse scratches while he calmly spread burn cream on his arm, “And even if I had made them aware of my identity and they’d left, it would’ve simply meant my dear brother would be in my current position, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

You pressed a band-aid down with a bit more pressure than strictly necessary as your eyes found his, “Don’t play coy with me, Jade. You wanted to get in that fight.”

You had to curb your urge to roll your eyes at the innocent expression he gave you before you continued, “You’re far too smug to have not gotten your way.”

With those words, you stood, grabbing another band-aid and turning your attention to the scratch marks that were scattered across his face, “So who were they?”

He smiled, his sharp teeth flashing as he did so, “Three of them were beastmen. I personally thought the Diasomna fellow was stronger, though. But don’t worry, all of them are in far worse shape than me.”

You snorted in response to his all too smug response, your amused tone not matching your chiding words, “Don’t gloat.”

Despite yourself, you were smiling even as Jade spoke again, his tone getting gradually more amused, “It works for Floyd.”

Your gaze flickered over to his, your hands carefully placing the band-aid on his cheek as you frowned at him, “No, it doesn’t, and it won’t for you either. I treat you two the same way.”

You gently smoothed the too-tan fabric across his pale cheek, and he chuckled, “Surely you know better than to lie to me, my dear.”

Your movements stilled as his hand reached up and wrapped around one of yours, his gaze holding yours captive as he smiled like he’d won some sort of game, “You and I both know you treat me far differently than how you treat my brother.”

You tugged at your hand gently, and Jade let it go with ease even as his fingers carefully brushed the skin on his cheek where your hand had just been with a distinctly pleased expression, “Your gentle care for me proves it.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head slightly as you frowned down at him, “Don’t tease. I might be helping you right now, but I will leave.”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to a feigned mask of betrayed hurt, “And abandon me to the care of Azul and Floyd? You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

You rolled your eyes slightly at his dramatics but reached over and grabbed another band-aid, “I might. You never know when I’ll surprise you.”

A smile curved across his face as his gaze stayed locked on you even as you focused on one of the other scratches on his otherwise pristine skin, “Indeed, I never do….”

You hummed slightly as he trailed off, “Right, so you’d best watch it and not get hurt like this again. I might not take care of you next time.”

“Wouldn’t that mean playing favorites since you’ve kept on helping every time Floyd gets himself hurt?” He didn’t miss a beat, and you frowned at him, causing him to chuckle, “I won’t make any promises. I rather enjoy getting taken care of, you know.” 

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder in a faux slap, “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” You paused, turning to look over your shoulder as you called out to Azul and Floyd that you were done.

Jade tilted his head as you looked back his way, his smile still present as he looked up at you where you stood between his spraddled out legs from his seated position, “Leaving so soon? Floyd made dinner.”

You snorted lightly, shaking your head at his coaxing tone even as Floyd stepped out of the kitchen, “You staying for dinner, Shrimpy?”

You held Jade’s gaze as you felt a smile spread across your face, and, despite yourself, there was very little hesitation as you called back, “Sure! Sounds good!”

And once again, Jade’s smile was all too smug, but at this point that was nothing new. Especially since you knew perfectly well that if he, or Azul, or Floyd, got hurt again, you’d be back to take care of them once again, even though all of you knew it was hardly necessary.

And that was even taking into account that you did play favorites. But you weren’t about to admit that to Jade, and, judging from the smile on his face, he already knew anyway.

[strawbeerossi]

Insecurities

Pairing: Gender Neutral!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You realize Spencer has been avoiding sex the past year of your relationship. You need to get to the bottom of the reason.

Content/Warnings: Body insecurity, comfort, handjob, blowjob, cock worship (I think that’s it)

Word Count: 1.2K

Kinktober Day Twenty One: Cock Worship

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Dating Spencer was a dream. He was a very sweet man, spoiling you with books or coffee whenever you were at work. At home, he was the same way. He would read to you, hold you, and spoil you with nothing but warm love. 

You had been together for nearly a year, the both of you finally deciding to move in with one another as soon as your lease expired for your apartment. You enjoyed living with Spencer, even if you were both completely different people. He wasn’t a slob but you were definitely a clean freak, always cleaning and straightening up the apartment even when it wasn’t too bad. 

You’d gotten to know each other in every aspect, besides sexually. Spencer always mentioned how he wasn’t ready, which you understood. Some people wanted to wait a while before touching one another and you would wait as long as you needed to.

Tonight, you actually thought you two were going to seal the deal. You’d just gotten back from dinner with the team, the both of you getting hot and heavy on your living room couch. 

Your hips had rocked against his lap, however whenever he was hardening in his pants, Spencer was nearly panicking as he pulled away and gently nudged you off of him. “I need to pee.” He excused his actions in a poorly crafted lie before he was going to the bathroom. You were quickly standing and following behind. “Wait, Spence!” You called, sighing as the door was locking you out from seeing him. 

“Is it something that I’m doing wrong? I thought you were into it, I can stop being so forward, I’m sorry.” Spencer’s squeak could be heard from behind the door as he was working to unlock it and open it. “I was into it!” He assured while putting his hands on your upper arms. “Please don’t apologize. This is my fault. I’m just.. Embarrassed.” He finally admitted, cheeks as red as a tomato as he was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why are you embarrassed? Spencer, you should’ve told me this before..” You sighed while offering an assuring smile. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You know that I love you.” Your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders in an effort to hug him close.

“I just don’t like being naked, you know?” He spoke softly while slowly letting out  a breath of relief. Thank god, you weren’t upset with him. “I think it’s a self conscious issue. I just don’t want you to be.. Unsatisfied.” He admitted, your eyebrows raising. “Spencer.. I could never be unsatisfied with you. I love you and that means I love every inch of you.” Hearing his fears now made things much clearer for you. 

“You’re just saying that..”

“No, I’m not. Let me prove it, Spencer.”

The words had a rush of blood going straight to his half hard cock, making him fully erect as he cleared his throat. “I, uh, okay. Yeah, let’s do that. I don’t wanna make you think I’m ashamed to be with you sexually cause that’s not it at all!” He’d rambled while you offered a smile, leading him to your shared bedroom before nudging him to sit on the mattress. 

“I know you’re nervous but I promise that I’ll take care of you.” After pressing a chaste kiss from his lips, the both of you were fumbling to get his pants and boxers tugged down to his knees.

“You’re sure you are ready to go through with this?” You asked, not daring to drag your eyes down his body until he gave you the okay. “I’m sure.” He assured, watching as your eyes finally trailed down to the part of his body he’d desperately been hiding from you. 

You let your head dip down before you were pressing a kiss to the tip of his leaking cock. “You didn’t have to be shy, Spencer.” You assured as your body sank to your knees while getting settled in front of him. “I think you’re perfect. There was nothing to even worry about.”

Insecurity was hard but you didn’t mind letting him see just how much you were attracted to every inch of his body. As your tongue swiped over the thick tip of his cock, you were collecting the bead of precum that had already bubbled over. You let your lips press a few kisses on the underside of his shaft, knowing that you wanted to take your time and savor the experience Spencer decided to share with you. He definitely wasn’t complaining, his head tilting back as he took in a soft breath. 

As your tongue was licking alongside each vein, he was letting out a soft whine. “Fuck. Feels really good.” He spoke softly, slowly bringing a hand down to rest your hand over the back of your head. The way your mouth worked his cock without trying was enough to make him kick himself for not talking about this with you sooner. He snapped out his thoughts as your thumb swiped over the sensitive slit of his cock to smear some of the slick on his cock. “You’re so pretty, Spence. Everything about you is just so..” You paused while offering a smile. “Perfect.”

The words had his face flushing, shyly looking away as he let out a soft whine at your hand squeezing the base of his cock. “What do you say?” You asked, an eyebrow raised as you expected an answer. “T-thank you.” 

He was swiftly awarded as your tongue was trailing over the tip of his dick, collecting the salty taste of precum on your tongue while now suckling on the head. Each moan, whine or whimper was motivation for you to take him further and further in your mouth, head bobbing at a quick pace.

“Ah- I might last much longer.” He whispered, nose crinkling. It was too early, he was sure of it. When you didn’t complain and instead brought your hand to play with his heavy balls, he was letting out a groan of appreciation. “C-Can you swallow it? I just-” He blushed as you were moaning around his cock at the suggestion, the vibrations jolting through his body and causing the shaft to twitch in your mouth.

As your mouth and tongue worked wonders, it wasn’t long until he was painting the back of your throat with ribbons of cum, your eyes fluttering shut as you welcomed the substance and milked Spencer for all he was worth.

Pulling off with a pop, you brought your thumb up to wipe a bit from the corner of your mouth. “I should’ve talked to you sooner. I’m sorry, Spence. I wasn’t paying enough attention to know why.” 

His hand came up as he was letting another hand gently grab your hand to help you stand. “No, I’m sorry. I should’ve talked with you instead of running away.” He offered a gentle smile while tugging you close, arms around your body.

“Is it too soon to ask you to return the favor?” You asked teasingly, laughing as your boyfriend was tossing you back against the mattress.

“I owe you. It’s only fair.”

[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 xi. (wc: 2.1k + social media near the end)

Renjun had a plan, and it wasn’t going to be easy. According to his conversation with Dejun, it was crucial to find proof of Jaemin’s misdeeds before informing their mutual friends - yet finding a time alone with said boy’s phone would be near impossible, considering there’d be a large sum of people in his apartment. 

After a while of organizing a scheme during his late night hours, Renjun had settled with mistaking his bag with Jaemin’s, and taking it into the bathroom to quickly shoot a video of his shared messages with Jisung. There were two flaws in this plan: Renjun had no bag that could be nearly mistaken with Jaemin’s incredibly unique and decorated tote, and even if he was able to jump over this hurdle eventually, he was not aware of his password. That being said, Jaemin was extremely predictable when it came to those things, so he assumed it’d be something along the lines of the anniversary of getting his cats. 

Regardless of whether he was ready or not, Renjun was insistent on getting this evidence, feeling insanely guilty for the way he treated you. It didn’t entirely hit him until he saw you at a mall and waved at you, causing you to flinch and frown once you located him, that he realized how much he must’ve hurt you, and he knew he’d have to start working immediately to gain your forgiveness if he was to ever make up for his actions. You two had such a deep bond before the mishap, and he wasn’t willing to forget it so easily as he had before. Using that as encouragement, Renjun was prepared when the sun came and he was setting up snacks. 

Jisung was the first to come, having a lot of spare time since your breakup, considering he was attached to your hip before. After him was Jeno, then Donghyuck, then lastly Jaemin. The rest had informed him earlier on that they’d be unavailable, which served as a breath of relief, because he knew it’d be harder to sneak around with two other nosy individuals watching his every move. 

“I have to use the bathroom, but can you guys continue setting up in the kitchen? Leave your stuff here, I don’t want a mess on the table.” Renjun tried with all his might to appear unsuspicious, and it worked mostly since he had a very neutral tone, yet he missed one flaw in his plan - Donghyuck could not follow directions if his life depended on it. While the rest of the guys headed into the kitchen, Renjun took the green light to grab Jaemin’s bag, and he felt pride swell up at his success until a voice interrupted him. “What are you doing with his bag, Jun?” The voice was inquisitive, noticing how unusual it was for Renjun to confuse his own belongings. 

“Oh, umm.. I just… There’s something I forgot… Umm-” “Don’t lie to me. Fess up.” “Fine, but you have to come into the bathroom with me.” “Are you flirting with me? I never thought this day would come-” Donghyuck’s quirky remark was stopped by Renjun pulling him by the ear. 

“Okay. You have to promise to not blow my cover or snitch about any of this, it’ll ruin everything.” Donghyuck simply nodded, encouraging the older male to continue. “Dejun contacted me…” “That loser? Really?” “New rule. Don’t interrupt either. Anyway, he basically proved Y/n’s innocence to me. I know you’re like dead set on hating her and trust me, I was too, but they genuinely had all the proof necessary.” Donghyuck’s eyes widened at the revelation, almost in a shocked trance as he recalled all of his cruel words, yet Renjun continued. “Someone framed her, and all signs point to Jaemin. I knew from the beginning that he kind of had his eye on her, right? But I never knew it was this bad. Dejun told me he told Y/n that he and Jisung were fighting, which is a lie, and so Dejun told me to record his messages with Jisung to show her proof that he’s lying. After that, I’m allowed to tell you all that Y/n didn’t cheat. They already have a plan to confront Jaemin.” 

The scene in front of Renjun was not one he was expecting - tears ran down Donghyuck’s closed eyes, and he quickly sniffled, raising his hand to wipe his cheeks. “Renjun… It’s… It’s all my fault, shit. He told me! I swear he showed me a photo… But I didn’t know…” “It’s okay, Hyuck. Calm down. What are you talking about?” “Jaemin! He showed me a photo of Y/n supposedly cheating, and I told Jisung, but now that I think about it - it probably wasn’t her, she just had similar hair. Fuck, she’s going to hate me. She probably already does… All I’ve done is tear her down and accuse her online.. Renjun, what do I do?” His desperation was obvious as he kept crying, reaching out to grab his friend’s arms and plead. “Help me distract Jaemin, Hyuck. It’s the best way you can help prove she’s innocent, and once we do this we can all apologize.” Renjun’s words were enough to make Donghyuck calm down and nod, rushing out of the bathroom to do as he was instructed. 

Once he left, Renjun was quick to pull out his own phone, recording Jaemin’s messages with Jisung. Unsurprisingly, his password was his cats’ anniversary. Not even bothering to read them all, he just caught glimpses of the shared words, and it was clear to see Jaemin was lying. The feeling of hope surged in his body, knowing this would definitely be enough to both clear your name and prove to Jisung that you were innocent. The hope was diminished a bit, remembering Dejun’s words - you weren’t looking for Jisung’s forgiveness anymore, and the feelings you felt for him were no longer positive. 

He thought back to the day after the breakup, when he was at Jisung’s apartment and you had left gifts at his doorstep. The fact that you were innocent throughout that exchange, and this could’ve been communicated earlier, as he assumed the letter you left was your attempt at explaining yourself, made his grief grow. Maybe if Jisung had known at that time, you would’ve gladly taken him back, yet it appeared that wasn’t an option anymore. 

Nonetheless, you deserved to be apologized to, and Renjun was planning on helping this occur, so he swiped up until it was undebatable that you were being lied to, and after doing so, he snuck back into the living room, slipping the phone back into Jaemin’s bag and making a grand appearance in the kitchen. 

It was truly hard to not make a scene right then and there, confronting the male, yet he knew it would be much more satisfying for you if you and your friends did so, so he held back, acting like nothing happened.

Throwing a glance at Donghyuck, who appeared to recover from his sobbing moment quickly, he nodded his head as to let him know he had succeeded, and a small grin grew on Donghyuck’s face. The rest of the night went as planned, yet every time either of the two interacted with Jaemin, there was a small disdain. On one side, Jaemin was their best friend and they had grown up together, yet on the other, he clearly didn’t value friendship as he was quick to throw away Jisung’s happiness, alongside yours, for his own selfish motives, so with all the strength Renjun could muster, he continued his plan until the very end. Once the night had ended and the boys had all left, he picked up his phone, navigating to his messages with Dejun and sending the video, in which he strategically clicked on Jaemin’s contact at the last minute, to make sure there was no excuse he could use, such as saying it wasn’t his number and the profile was fake. His part of plan was finally finished, and it was up to Dejun and Yangyang to take over now.

It was around midnight when a knock on your door disturbed your sleep. You had assumed, being as late as it was, that it must be a friend in an emergency, so you gathered yourself before approaching the door, yet as you checked through the peephole, the guest was not who you had expected.

“Donghyuck? What are you doing here?” With no verbal answer, the male quickly approached you and took you by shock by embracing you in a hug. Your eyes widened and you failed to reciprocate the affection, feeling uncomfortable instead of the usual warmth you once experienced with him. After a while of his embrace, he realized you weren’t accepting his hug and stepped back, and the tears came back concerningly quick.

“Y/nie,” he started with the nickname he used to address you by, which brought back several memories, yet the shell you had grown took over once more, refusing to find comfort in what he was saying, “I’m so, so sorry. You have to believe me… I didn’t know.” Putting two and two together, you gathered that he was unconsciously addressing the elephant in the room - he was aware, now, that you hadn’t cheated. 

You should’ve felt angry, honestly. You should’ve kicked him out of your apartment and cussed him out before slamming the door on his face, yet all you could feel was sorrow. Sorrow for how quickly he abandoned your friendship, sorrow for the fact that it took him this long to realize you weren’t capable of cheating, and sorrow for the fact that you couldn’t find it in yourself to forgive him. You weren’t mad at him, you were simply disappointed, and this disappointment prohibited your mind from allowing him back in, so you shook your head at his words, taking a step back into your familiar living room. 

His eyes faltered as he noticed you weren’t accepting what he was saying, and his desperation grew once more as he stepped forward, trying to follow you, yet you stopped him with an arm to his chest. “Donghyuck…” He flinched at the tone in which you said his name, also noticing that you didn’t call him Hyuck as you once did, yet he didn’t believe it was at his liberty to ask you to, so he let you continue. “I don’t know how you found out but… But I don’t want you guys coming over here please. I assume you all know now… and I don’t want to see you. Any of you. Please understand where I’m coming from… I’m not mad, I just… We aren’t friends anymore, you made that clear, so please leave. And tell the others to not come either.” Donghyuck’s tears increased at your words, and a part of you would find this scene humorous - he wasn’t even the one who broke up with you yet he seemed so torn by what you said - had you not been so miserable at the current situation. 

“Y/n, please. I… I get why you don’t want to see us, but we’re all so, so sorry, and we want to make it up to you. I know why you said we aren’t friends - none of us have treated you like one, but we can make it up to you and we will.. Please… Jisung loves you and I know when he finds out, he’s going to feel so horrible, and he’s going to seek you out. If you can’t forgive us, please at least listen to him.” Donghyuck didn’t miss the way you lightly flinched at the mention of your ex, and it was then that you began to cry as well, mirroring him. “No.” Your tone was hushed, almost a whisper as you shook your head, “I tried… I did… He ignored me, he called me a whore Donghyuck! I don’t want to see him please… Don’t tell him the truth, I’d rather he think I cheated. He doesn’t love me, because he doesn’t trust me at all… You get that, right? We were together for years, yet at a mere mention of me being supposedly unfaithful he… he left me… You can’t love someone and not trust them.” Your words were rambled and the tears grew tenfold, “Please go. I have to go to sleep-” “Y/nie, please…” “I have to sleep. Please don’t tell him. Goodnight.” Not letting him continue to plead, you stepped back and closed the door in front of the male, staring at the darkness of your living room in shock for a few minutes, before falling to your knees against the door, and it was only then that you began to sob loudly, hiding your face in your arms. 

The only thought flooding your mind was the pitiful question, repeated over and over again, until you grew tired from crying and eventually fell asleep in the uncomfortable position. Why did it take him this long to understand how much you loved him? You would’ve trusted him… 

a/n: haechan's part lowkey reminded me of my ex so i spiraled into our old messages and cried to sienna gosh its so hard being a lover girl in this world </3 (don't take me seriously this was months ago and i've moved on... mostly...)

this isn't as long as i thought itd be please forgive me guys... i'll be posting the next chapter soon :3 and it will be so ANSGTY! possible jisung y/n reunion (not dating lol i hope no one's hopes are high cause i'm dragging this outttt) but at what cost?

i'm working on a taglist bc one of you beautiful readers helped me tysm!!! so that will be done soon >.< let me know if you want to be on it in the notes or in my inbox <3 i'll add everyone who's asked so far

anyway... i will dedicate this chapter to all the readers who have also been heart broken... i hope we all heal. for now i personally heal by fangirling over nct because they've helped me sm ^_^ so expect a LOT more fics and smaus to come >:3

[office-to-fantasy]

hii! may i ask for a shu x fem!reader nsfw one-shot? shu’s been teasing the reader all day (for being a lewd woman or whatever you’d like) and she gets mad and sad and thinks he doesn’t truly love her. they end up doing it and during the act he reafirms his love for her (he worships her) thank you!

[Everyone prepare yourselves, this is gonna be a long one! Enjoy <3!]

NSFW Warnings: No Protection, No Pull-out.

Shu Sakamaki x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

He was doing it again.

His finger traced up the side of your thigh and goosebumps rose on your skin at the touch.

It was electric…

You looked down at his wandering hand and followed his arm up to his face. His eyes were closed with a neutral look in his face, as though he felt nothing when touching you.

It was maddening while at the same time, a bit hurtful.

He removed his hand and the day went on, his hands making soft brushes against some of the most sensitive places on your skin. His face seemed blank each time.

Did he really not care?!

You decided to do the same now, finding him at a random time and acting casual as you sat next to him. It wasn’t unusual to spend quiet time together, you both understood that silence. Your fingers started at his knee and then slowly brushed the tips of your fingers up his thigh.

A hand caught yours and you couldn’t help but freeze.

“Lewd woman, are you trying to seduce me?” His voice was that beautiful low vibration you enjoyed so much. Hearing him respond to you was damn near heavenly.

Your jaw dropped slightly, trying to find the words you wanted to utter, but nothing came out.

He chuckled and stood up, walking out of the room.

He was really messing with you…

The rest of the day was filled with his teasing remarks about your attempt. His voice was now crystal clear and awake as he did so, fingers still brushing you at unexpected times.

Were you simply a joke to him at this point?

No, you wouldn’t allow it.

You sat at the couch in the living room, an attempt you were using to avoid him. You’d normally be somewhere near him to “disturb” him as he called it, but you’d had enough. The constant teasing just to get a reaction out of you was making you mad. You felt like a plaything and nothing more..

You were reading for only a few minutes before feeling the brush of something soft against your arms and a weight on your lap. Looking down, Shu’s beautiful face was the one to greet you, easily causing heat to rise on your cheeks and swelling in your heart.

You acted instinctively, reaching down to softly brush his wavy blond hair, twirling it around your fingers.

That teasing smirk appeared on his lips again.

And you were mad all over again.

You retracted your hands despite every longing in your body and tried to act nonchalant, holding the book back up to your face.

Even you couldn’t fool yourself.

“‘Mmm..” He shifted on your lap, facing towards you. His eyelids lifted ever so gracefully, blue eyes piercing your evading ones.

Your face flushed.

Why was it so hard to resist him?!

Your eyes looked down against every will, but you couldn’t regret it. You loved looking at him… being looked at by him.

But you frowned nonetheless. “Stop,” you stated firmly.

His brow raised ever so slightly. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me…” You tore your eyes away and sighed. “I’m done being played with today. So unless you’re gonna do more with those hands and look at me more sincerely then I don’t want anything from you.” You brought the book to cover his face and stared blankly at the pages, a rush of adrenaline pushing through your veins.

Despite the treatment… you knew how Shu was, but something about today just pushed you over the edge.

Maybe it was getting to you that maybe the romantic fantasies in your mind about you both was simply just that… fantasies

The book was out of your hands before you could think twice, and those beautiful blue eyes were staring straight into yours again. This time, they were only a mere inches away.

“You expect a lot from a vampire, have you forgotten who you’re dealing with?”

Your lips parted slightly, itching to say more, but you couldn’t help glancing down at his lips and how close they were to you.

The corner of his lips tilted up, and you melted.

“Is it a lot to expect you to love me?” The words were out before you could think, but you didn’t regret them. You waited.

His smirk faded and you were suddenly met with the most eager set of lips against yours. Flush and cold but soft, he kissed you.

You didn’t hold back, you didn’t want to. Your fingers pushed through the threads of his hair and you breathed him in. Enjoying the feel of his lips moving against you and his tongue softly brushing against your bottom lip.

You moaned into the kiss.

Your tongue met his and you were beginning to feel breathless, but how could you stop?

His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you against him.

Your eyes opened for a moment, seeing the ceiling of his room. Your back pressed against the soft covers and your legs spread, his body pressing further against you like a puzzle piece. Your breath hitched at the feeling of him pressing his hips against you, your fingers gripping his hair.

His hand slid down your waist to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer before moving his hand between your clothed legs. His fingers pressed against you and a moan pushed past your lips.

The kiss parted and he lifted his head, watching as desperate moan after moan left your throat.

You squirmed beneath him, almost grinding into his hand. “Oh please,” you breathed, softly tugging his hair as your eyes closed and your head fell back.

He chuckled at the sight of you, at your begging for him to touch you more. He loved watching your hips move so eagerly against his hand despite the fabric of your pants hindering the contact.

Your cheeks flushed at how easily you begged for him, and you couldn’t stop. “Shu, please,” you whimpered.

He bent down, softly kissing your neck before biting down, taking your blood sip by sip and your body growing more desperate and needy by the second.

“Fuck!” you groaned at the heat building up.

He licked the wound, pulling your shirt off and kissing your breasts. His fingers worked quickly on your bra as he unclipped it, removing it easily and bringing his attention back. He kissed his way to your nipple, taking it between his cool lips and running his tongue over it. His other hand moved up, softly squeezing your other breast.

It felt like too much, if you came simply from this, he’d surely tease you for weeks.

You wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“Shu! Please!” Your back arched, your whole body practically shaking from the pleasure. Your lungs felt desperate for air and your heart pounded in your chest.

He bit down on your breast, your body flooding with heat at his bites.

“Don’t stop… Shu…” you moaned, pushing your hips against his hand more eagerly.

His hand stood still between your legs, skimming up to the hem of your pants and tugging them down. They were off before you knew it and his mouth continued working its way down.

He watched you, the way your chest rose and fell… blood dripping down your breasts to the valley between them.

Your face scrunched up in pleasure.

His eyes moved down to the wet spot between your thighs. Your underwear soaked from where his fingers almost made you cum.

His hands caressed your thighs, reminding you of when he’d only teased you of doing as much.

You were almost sure of what he was going to do next, of what pleasure he was going to tease you with.

He bent down, his head moving down to your soaked underwear but only pressing a kiss to your clit. A teasing but tender gesture to your most sensitive area.

Your eyes opened, looking down at him surprised as he moved back up, your heart racing faster and skipping a beat.

He kissed your lips as he removed your underwear and the rest of his clothes.

You parted the kiss, your hands on his face as you looked up into his eyes, a gentle look in them that was more transparent than ever.

His lips moved down to your ear and softly kissed your earlobe. “Your moans are music to my ears,” he whispered.

Your cheeks flushed and you moaned loudly, hands gripping his shoulders as you felt the tip of his cock push through your entrance. Your breath hitched and your eyes shut in pleasure, unable to hold back the ache between your legs from not only the pain, but for more. You mouth spoke before you could think. “Fuck me,” you whimpered against his ear.

He groaned at your words, holding your hips with one hand and the other supporting his weight. He pushed into you further, stretching you in a way you’d never felt. He hummed in your ear at the pleasure and then slowly pulled out, only leaving the tip inside before pushing back in.

Your legs wrapped around his hips as you gasped for air. “Shu… you feel so good inside me…” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pushing a hand through his hair to softly grip. “Don’t ever stop… please…”

“So desperate…” he groaned against your ear, your pleasure enhancing at the sound of his voice alone.

He pushed in and out, holding your body closely as every movement became more pronounced and sacred.

A passionate dance between your bodies.

His thrusts were slow but felt intense when he’d full out into you, like a shock of pleasure jolting through your body and senses.

It felt so right to be in his arms, to be so carefully fucked by him. It resembled such a passionate dance that you couldn’t help but beg for it.

“Don’t stop making love to me, please…” Your eyes burned with the implication of your words. The implication that he wasn’t just reaching for his pleasure or capturing your moans, but that he was showing love for you in the most intense way possible.

His fingers gripped your hips at your words and lifted his head. For a moment you feared he’d stop, that he’d pull away and laugh at you, but he didn’t. His eyes stared into yours with a gentle smile on his beautiful lips.

“I won’t.” He paused for a brief moment, catching your hands in his and pinning them above your head. His fingers intertwined with yours and his thrusts became faster as he kissed you.

You moaned against his lips and held his hands tightly, your heart pounding in your chest at his words. You kissed him eagerly as he pushed himself deeper into you. The pleasure built up more and more and it suddenly felt like something was about to come undone.

Your lips parted slightly and he groaned, placing one last kiss before whispering against your moaning lips.

“Cum with me.”

Your body shook, the built up pleasure finally coming loose as you felt his cum fill you. His hips pushed into yours as he came, holding your hands tightly and groaning. Your walls clenched tightly around him and he made the smallest movements with his hips to feel every part of you.

You relaxed against the bed slowly, still feeling the jolts of pleasure pulse through your body. “Shu,” you sighed.

You felt his lips kiss your cheek and you slowly opened your eyes, looking at him adoringly.

“My woman,” he mumbled as he nuzzled his face into your neck and relaxed against you, still buried deep inside of you. “Do you still want to doubt me?” he chuckled.

You smiled and softly caressed his back, placing a gentle kiss on his head, reciprocating his feelings tenfold.

“I love you too, Shu.”

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

The Titans have faced a lot together, but never something quite as troubling as the possible return of an inter-dimensional demon that shreds apart worlds and leaves nothing standing in its wake.

You hate to admit it, but even standing with your team - you're afraid. Dick tries his best to comfort you, but for once during his career as noble, selfless team leader - he takes a moment to be selfish, and does something that he has been avoiding doing for years.

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 4, Episode 6.

Word Count: 2,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this one is a bit more on the angsty side; this fic features major spoilers for season 4 (and for the majority of the show) - so if you're watching it for the first time or you haven't seen it yet and you want to watch it spoiler free, then avoid this fic for now; the reader character is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; the reader is one of the original Titans; the reader and Dick are childhood friends through the Justice League - the reader is the adoptive child of Oliver Queen/Green Arrow (the reader is a talented marksman and trained in combat); the reader is mentioned to be an orphan (again, aren't all good superheroes); major pining from Dick - he has had a crush on the reader since they were kids (most of this is from his POV, so it's not specified if the reader has returned his feelings for just as long); mentions of canon character deaths; a lot of this is from Dick's POV so - warnings for Dick being emotionally constipated and referring to romantic feelings as a 'disease'; this is an AU where Dickkory never happened; mentions of canon violence - not described in graphic detail; mentions of the apocalypse/the world ending (and the anxiety this can cause); the reader is feeling extreme fear/anxiety due to the possible end of the world; technically - unresolved pining. I believe that's it.

A/N: The second part of the First Kiss series! I had a lot of fun with this one. This is the first really romantic fic I have written for Dick, and I enjoyed it so much omg. I was so tempted to write an enemies to lovers version with him, because he annoys me so much in the canon, and I feel like 'kissing in the middle of a heated argument' would work so well with his character - but maybe we'll save that one for Jason (or Hank, idk). instead, I went with emotionally constipated Dick Grayson, because that is sooo canon. he would not admit his feelings for someone if he had a gun to his head. and I had a lot of fun writing this mostly from his POV. I feel like he is such an interesting POV character to work with, so I might do more from him in the future. anyway, please enjoy!!

...

Stress. 

There were few other words to describe the horrible feeling that was dense in the air around them. 

Everyone was looking to Dick for answers, and unfortunately, he had none. Sebastian was missing, likely kidnapped by Mother Mayhem in order to complete a ritual that would likely mean the end of the world. Rachel had lost her powers and the Titans needed her unique form of magic now more than ever. Tim was impatient, annoyed because Dick wasn’t letting him use the minimal training that he had. But of course, Dick was hesitant to let the next would-be Robin off the bench after what had happened to Jason. 

(Dick could barely bring himself to think about Jason these days.) 

Kory was having difficulty controlling her newfound powers, and so was Gar. Which left the team weakened on all sides. Jinx was helpful on the magic front, but she was far from easy to control when it came to executing plans and corralling her rather wild personality. 

And Dick didn’t even want to think about what was happening with Conner. He just had to pray that this whole shaved-head, Lex Luthor impression was part of his mourning for his would-be father, and hopefully - it would be temporary. 

All of the chaos among the team left Dick leaning on you. As usual, you were likely the only person on the team who wasn’t experiencing any extreme drama. You were the only Titan with some true stability. 

And you were the person on the team with the most experience. Even more than Dick himself. Beyond being part of the original Titans team that had helped to found The Tower, you had been trained under Oliver Queen, who was part of the Justice League as Green Arrow. Ollie had taken you on as his own child when your parents died and left him as your carer in their will. Naturally, early into your childhood, he had started training you in the art of combat and marksmanship - so you grew up with intense skill. 

You and Dick met soon after he was adopted by Bruce. And much like Donna, you were a kind face and a wise voice that kept him mentally grounded well into adulthood. But you were also someone mischievous that made him smile; someone he could always turn to for a well timed laugh. 

You always kept him sane. 

And very much unlike Donna - soon after he met you, Dick started to develop feelings for you. 

Of course, back then, it was just a silly crush. When he told Donna about it at the time, she laughed. And when he had hidden his face in embarrassment, she then told him that it was ‘cute’. She told him that you two would be good together when you got older. So naturally, Dick took her words as biblically concrete advice. 

He decided that he should wait for you. That the two of you would be good together when you got older. 

So he waited. 

And he waited. And eventually - life got in the way. 

He had a huge falling out with Bruce, things at the Tower went south. It was never the right time to tell you. How the hell could he tell his best friend that he had those big, terrifying feelings mounting inside of him, worsening each year like a disease? 

It was never the right time to tell you because he was dodging disasters left and right and he needed you more as a friend than as a lover. He needed you as a brick wall to lean on. He needed you as that voice of common sense in his ear - the leader’s loyal first mate, giving him advice behind the curtain and keeping his head on straight. 

He didn’t need to tell you about his awful, festering feelings and have you gone from his life too. 

When Garth died, and then Jericho died and the Tower shuddered, it still didn't feel like the right time. Wounds were tender and even if you were never downright angry at him like everyone else was - you needed your space. Dick respected that. 

That day, you stood at the mouth of the elevator, about to leave for Star City to go and lick your emotional wounds at Ollie’s for a while, and you looked at Dick with tears in your eyes - looked at him like you were waiting for him to say it. But it wasn’t the right time. 

He still thought about you every single day when he was in Detroit. And then - he showed up at your door with a scared little girl, needing more advice, needing that brick wall again. It was only natural that when chaos found him, he needed your help. 

He hated that your advice was to call in Dawn and Hank. He relied on you, and you relied on family. And he hated that they were waiting at your apartment, called against his will once he had left to do some more sleuthing. 

But he found that you were right when he saw how Dawn bonded with Rachel, when Hank put up a vicious fight against those strangers who came to collect her in the name of her father. 

Watching you get thrown off that roof sent Dick’s heart through his stomach. As he clung onto the rooftop with his fingers and the muscles of his arm burned, all he could think about was you. As you sputtered out blood and he cradled your head, unsure of how to help you, terror gripped him in a way that it never had before in his life, because he realized that he might actually lose the most important person in his life. 

As you lay in the hospital, a set of machines barely keeping you alive, with Dawn loyally holding your hand in comfort and Hank seething to get revenge on the people who had hurt you - Dick ached with regret and not having told you. 

Still, when you showed up at that house in Ohio, somehow magically awakened from your near death by Rachel's powers - Dick felt that it just wasn't the right time. He swallowed his regrets like ash in his mouth when he reunited with you, hugged you tight. He didn’t even consider telling you about his feelings to be on the radar of possibility. 

When you came back to the Tower to help bring in Doctor Light - it just wasn't the right time. When you showed up in Gotham to help bring down Red Hood - it just wasn't the right time. 

Even when Dick died and was brought back to life by some strange magical pit, a pool of waters that brought him dreams of a far off life with you - it still wasn’t the right time. 

You were there to Dick's call, loyal and waiting, every single time. You looked at him with as much love and longing in your eyes as he needed (at least, according to Dawn and Donna you did) - but still, it never felt like the right time. 

It never felt like the right time to destabilize his entire life by uprooting the one good friendship he had. It never felt like the right time to truly fuck things up with you. 

Now, because of some cult that Dick believed to be long gone and a stupid blood ritual, the world was ending, and it still didn't feel like the right time. 

He wasn't the son of a demon from another dimension, but he still felt cursed. 

When Dick saw you slip out of the room, clearly trying to sneak away from the group, his stomach twisted with nerves. It was rare that you of all people cracked under the pressure. It was rare that you needed to escape from the madness for a breath. He mumbled an excuse to Kory and then chased after you, knowing that it wouldn't be hard to tell where he was truly going - but truthfully, he didn’t care. 

He easily caught you in one of the late night deserted halls of STAR Labs. 

The many glass walls overlooked the city - a collection of bright lights that made up Metropolis. Thousands of people that you never knew, that you had never met before. People that all seemed too important now as you contemplated their lives; thought about the fact that you might not be able to save them. 

Dick saw the sickly look on your face, the glassy sheen of guilt in your eyes even from far off as you leaned on the polished titanium railing that separated the upper floors from the atrium. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall and you heard him approaching from far off. He made no effort to sneak up on you or conceal himself, not wanting to startle you when you were already in such a distressed state. 

The minute you looked over your shoulder and saw him, your face broke from that dark, doomed frown into a haste smile, and you reached up to wipe away your tears, attempting to be subtle with that motion. You were trying to hide yourself from him. 

Dick came to stand beside you, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms. He desperately wanted to shelter you away from any fear you might be feeling. Maybe it was selfish; wanting to hold you, wanting to protect you from anything in the world that could possibly harm you. Maybe it was downright idiotic - because realistically, he knew that couldn't protect you from this kind of harm. He couldn’t protect you from the world ending. 

“Y/N-” Dick murmured your name gently, clutching a fist tightly by his side to resist the urge to reach out and soothe a hand over the trembling muscles of your jaw. 

You were holding in a sob, and it came out as a harsh, sarcastic laugh instead. 

“I know.” You said. “I know. You're doing that Team Leader Guy Thing.” 

You tried to make it sound playful and joking, but with your voice wet and soaked with worry and fear, it came off as a pathetic bid to deflect. 

Dick wasn’t sure how to reply. Because yes, he was doing that ‘Team Leader Guy Thing’. He was trying his best to, anyway. 

“You're gonna ask ‘are you okay?’ and I'm gonna lie and say ‘I'm fine, boss. All good.’” You continued. 

At least you were being straightforward about it being a lie. 

Dick wished that he had something genuinely helpful to say, but his throat stalled with dryness and his chest ached at seeing you so distraught. It really wasn’t something that he was used to. 

“I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world.” You let out another dry, sarcastic laugh. 

Then, there was a moment of silence - a beat of realization as your chin quivered and more thick tears rimmed your eyes. 

“It's - it's only the end of the world.” You spoke these words heavier, dropping any false laughter in your tone - it truly hit you. Any further jokes you could make left you. 

Dick choked on his own tears when he heard the aborted sob in your chest - something that came out as a whimper when you reached up to clutch at your heart. 

You were genuinely terrified. Terrified that the Titans wouldn’t be able to find a solution in time. Terrified that everyone was going to die. Not just the people you loved, but - everyone. 

“Hey, come on.” Dick said, his leader instincts, his natural caring for you kicking in. “We've been through worse.” 

Working with the Titans, you had been through a lot. Drug busts, battling against costumed psychopaths, the loss of a dear friend to a dangerous assassin. But you weren’t sure that you had been through something worse than this. Everything the Titans had been through had never affected the world on such a large scale. 

“Have we?” You argued gently. 

Perhaps not. Maybe the only time the team had been in such dire straits was the first time Trigon attempted to come to earth. But that had been when Rachel had been armed with her powers and had been prepared to take him down. But Dick wasn't going to voice those thoughts to you. 

You waited in agony for him to say something, and your tears finally breached - rolling down your face in hot tracks, laying marks of the true fear you were feeling, laying it all bare for the first time. Dick knew that his own eyes reflected that same glossy hurt now, if only for the pain he felt in seeing you cry - something that was so incredibly rare over the time he had known you. 

Dick reached out and gently cupped the side of your cheek, running his thumb across your face and wiping some of those tears away. You were so startled by the tenderness of the touch that you couldn't help but to let out a whimper, and you felt frozen as Dick spoke his next words. 

“It's gonna be okay.” He told you, trying his hardest to sound confident in the words. “We're gonna get through this. I know we will.” 

This time, unlike many before, you couldn't be inspired by his confidence. 

“Have you - have you considered what happens if we don't?” Your voice barely reached above a whisper, barely daring to tempt fate with this possibility. 

Honestly, Dick had not. In these kinds of situations, he didn't allow himself to focus too much on the negative. As the team leader, he did have to take all the possibilities into account. It was something he had to do in order to keep everyone safe. But if he focused too much on death and darkness, much like Bruce did, then he knew that paranoia would overtake him and his team would get caught in the crossfire. 

He had to spend his time coming up with solutions to fix the problem rather than spending his time caught up in knots, worrying about what would happen if he fumbled and didn't actually fix things after all. 

The literal end of the world? It just wasn't a possibility in this mind. 

But right now, standing there, staring into your big eyes, glossed over with fear as you looked to him for answers - there was only one thing that Dick could think of. 

And it was so incredibly selfish. It didn’t have anything to do with the team or being a good leader. It didn’t have anything to do with helping the others. 

Dick brushed his thumb over your cheek again, an incredibly tentative touch that had your skin tingling. You let out a small sigh, and the world froze around you when he leaned in - slowly, moving toward you at a pace that more than gave you time to escape if you wanted to. But you found that you didn’t want to. You found his closeness to be an incredible comfort in these moments of mental chaos. 

And so, he gently planted his lips on yours. 

It should have come as a shock - your childhood best friend kissing you. But in that moment, it just felt right. All you could do was shut your eyes and lean into the kiss, reaching up to grip his wrist, keeping him close to you as you leaned into his smothering heat. His lips were surprisingly soft, and he tasted like coffee - using caffeine to keep himself awake for days, trying to marathon a solution against the impending doom. 

His kiss was firm but so giving - a touch that easily swallowed you up with heat from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. It was a sensation that pushed out the rest of the world, smothered any worries about who or what might bring an end to it. 

It was the most tender, but most wonderfully passionate kiss that you had ever experienced in your life. 

When he pulled away, you sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling incomplete without his lips on yours. The shock then began to set in, like pulling the knife from a stab wound and feeling the blood rush out of you freely. It created a dizzying mixture with the heat that was now boiling under your skin. 

Why? Your brain screamed out as you stared at him. When? How long had he wanted to kiss you? How long had you been missing out on Dick Grayson? 

Dick could see all those questions bubbling beneath your surface as the fear in your eyes shifted to confusion, and he finally decided to speak. 

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. “But if the world does end, I couldn't die without knowing what kissing you is like.” 

“Dick-” You sighed, about to go on a long rant about how he could have done that years ago, about how he should have - and the end of the world was a shitty excuse. 

But you abruptly cut off your own words when more footsteps squeaked down the hall - the rubber soles of sneakers scuffing against the polished floor. 

Dick jumped away from you as though he had been burned, clearly wanting to keep the interaction private. Both of you tuned to see Gar approaching. 

“Dick?” He posed. Gar had a look of confusion, clearly wondering if he should question what was going on between the two of you but swallowing it. 

“Yeah?” Dick replied. 

“Um - Conner's missing.” He announced this in a nervous, meek tone, not wanting to bring the team leader any more bad news. 

“What?” Dick gaped. 

There was no time to further discuss what Dick had said to you. With the end of the world in your hands, it easily fell to the back of your mind. 

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[citrusandcyanide]

Can't Lost You | L.G.

Part 3 Final

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x f!Reader

an. This took so long to get out cause my classes almost broke me this semester lollll but also I had two possible ways to end this and it took a long time to decide how it would go. This is the last part. I appreciate all the love on the first two parts. I promise I'll write something happy next <333

Synopsis. Reader finally makes her decision to stay or leave for college.

words. 1.2k

Warnings. angst angst

Part 1 Part 2

You woke up in a half drunk daze in Lips bed. The events of last night were as blurry as your vision through the tears you knew clouded your vision at some point in the night. Snippets of your conversation came back to you slowly as you stared up at Lips ceiling. And then it comes back to you, the feeling of his lips against yours, and his hand against your cheek. Lip’s arms guiding you to lay down on the bed. Your hands immediately went to your chest, clinging onto the fabric that still clung to your body. You silently thanked God that meant the kissing was as far as you went. Sitting up, you looked around the room, finally noticing the empty space beside you. He wasn’t there which partially relieved and puzzled you. Slowly you stood up and made your way downstairs. 

Upstairs had been far quieter than you had ever remembered the gallagher house being. The silence was unsettling. Familiar voices filled the kitchen as you descended the back staircase. Lip stood at the counter with a plate of eggs in front of him. To your surprise Mandy was cooking the eggs. Upon your entrance, Mandy turned to you and smiled. 

“Rise and shine, princess,” Mandy greeted you with a quick hug before motioning you to sit down next to lip. Your hug was weaker than hers, but you hoped she would attribute it to having just woken up. You knew Mandy sometimes shows up early, but after last night the air in the room felt heavy. You couldn’t help but look over to Lip, who was not trying to hide avoiding your gaze. Mandy put down a cup of water and a mug of coffee on the counter for you.  “Lip told me you drank a little too much last night. I couldn’t help but check in with you when I got her. You were sleeping like a baby. I couldn’t wake you even if I tried.” 

“Yeah.. Yesterday was blurry,” you replied, picking up the cup of coffee and taking a seat next to Lip. Mandy’s laugh triggered a headache, bringing your attention to the hangover that was getting stronger as you woke up more. “Where did you sleep Lip?” 

“Couch,” He replied quick and quiet. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye. He just kept eating his eggs. You were too tired and hungover to try to interrogate him on the events of last night. Mandy’s presence also made you want to avoid the subject. The guilt in your chest was slowly building up as Mandy proceeded to make you a plate of eggs and toast. But Lip’s silence was more concerning. Why did he sleep on the couch last night? And why did I fall asleep in his bed? 

“What were you guys doing? Y/n doesn’t drink unless its something big,” Mandy asked. You and Lip froze, waiting for the other to answer. You brought the mug to your lips, hoping he would break the silence and answer. 

His words from last night repeating in your head. 

‘Y/n if you stay, I’m yours.’ 

‘You’re keeping me here’ 

‘I love you’ 

The words “I’m yours” practically throbbing to the rhythm of your headache.

“Y/n’s going to Berkeley for College,” Lip Answered. Just before the coffee could make it out of the mug, you froze. You felt dizzy again. You must of misheard him. I’m going where? You placed your mug down with a deep breath and turned to look at Lip. His face was neutral. You had no idea what was going on in his head. He turned to face you, for the first time this morning looking directly at you.  “We were celebrating.” 

Your lips turned sour, hating the feeling of his that still lingered there. This was enough to make your decision clear. Last night you let your boundaries slip farther than you would ever allow again. Lip was at your feet begging you to stay and you just heard him say you were leaving. Announcing the opposite of what was decided when he kissed you. Who were you kidding? Nothing was decided. There was nothing promising you would stay. There was nothing promising he would be yours. It was just a kiss. You were drunk. It was blurry.  It wasn’t the alcohol that made you believe him, that you would be his that easily. You couldn’t blame it on that. You were waiting for him to say it, hoping he would tell you to stay. But here you are, in his kitchen hungover and delusional. His girlfriend is standing in front of you making you breakfast. And he is telling her, you are leaving. Lying and saying you were celebrating. You had to convince yourself it was all lies. This was enough. 

You heard Mandy cheer which snapped you out of your thoughts. “So you’re actually going?” She asked you with a big smile on her face. In that moment you knew your answer. You were going to erase everything that happened last night from your memory. And you were going to try to do the same for the years you wasted on Lip gallagher. 

“Yes,” You said firmly. “I’m going to Berkeley.” 

You quietly excused yourself from the table and thanked Mandy for the breakfast. You said your goodbyes to her, promising to see her at school. Lip kept quiet as you gave Mandy a hug. When you pulled away, your eyes locked with his. You weren’t going to waste anymore time on him. There was no use in a goodbye. Your silence said it all. 

Epologue: 

The next day you heard knocks on your front door. You didn’t answer him. There was not going to be an apology this time. You had nothing left to say to him. For the next few weeks, you’d get voicemails from Lip, asking where you were and if you’d speak to him. Everytime he called, you’d never reply. After awhile you stopped listening to the voicemails completely. Then they stopped. He didn’t try to approach you at school, even though you could feel his presence when he was around. Once you graduated, you stopped seeing him completely. He respected your distance and kept away. The rest of the Gallaghers seemed to respect that too. You attended Berkeley, moved across Chicago and left your hometown behind. You got the freedom you wanted, and life without Lip was just as pleasant as you imagined it. Lip, however, wouldn’t let go completely. He’d send you text messages every now and then asking you how you were. Sometimes the messages would contain apologies, begging for your forgiving, pleading for you to come back. You didn’t reply. Your silence said it all. 

[neiptune]

a series of (un)fortunate drivers

cw: 1k wc, gender neutral reader, fake dating trope, roommate to lovers, they're both idiots (affectionate). sponsored by the ever generous @yellow-sword-lily who decided to trust my writing and contribute to the wonderful @ficsforgaza initiative!

“Does it hurt?”

Atsumu is met with a familiar, stubborn silence that prompts an exasperated sigh. You’re being awfully quiet for someone who’s chest is pressed to his back, close enough he can smell the shampoo that actually acts as shampoo (he learned that, apparently, a 3-in-1 body wash is indicative of not knowing how to take care of his own needs on approximately day two of living with you).

He knows you’re perfectly capable of not uttering a single word the entire way home, just as you know he’s keeping his pace slow to minimize your bouncing and reduce the discomfort to the best of his ability. It makes you want to strangle him.

“Blink once if it hurts” Atsumu turns to the side and his caramel gaze takes yours by surprise for just a second before you decide to resolutely focus on a specific spot on his shoulder.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know” he balances you better against him with a small hop and you swallow the petty comeback already dancing on the tip of your tongue.

Truth is, it does hurt. Your ankle is swollen, probably about to bruise, an annoying circumstance that could’ve been well avoided if not for a couple of drivers that worked against your luck to progressively fuck your evening back-to-back: a) Hinata convincing you that a pair of chunky sneakers would be an excellent investment, b) the decision to wear said inappropriately chunky sneakers, c) Atsumu ignoring how excessively flirty the woman at the bar was being (one can estimate the impressive size of his biceps without necessarily squeezing his arm multiple times), d) the spirit of an immature six year old that decided to suddenly possess you at the sight, causing you to make up a dumb excuse to storm out before Suna and everyone else could even get there to begin with.

The heated march was soon and quite harshly interrupted by your ankle turning in an awkward way, causing you to even more awkwardly tumble onto the goddamn sidewalk right as a bottle blond pro athlete was forced to drop everything (drinks, friends, excessively flirty woman) to chase you down the street.

You insisted you could’ve walked (not true) or called an uber (also not true, you forgot your phone on the kitchen island) but, with the utmost care and deaf to your objections, Atsumu collected the things scattered on the asphalt the same way confusing thoughts are dispersed around your brain still, checked your ankle with furrowed brows and sentenced you to a piggyback ride home.

He refuses to let you slip off his back as he kicks off his shoes, rolls his eyes when you scoff and makes his way to the couch by which he carefully bends down to gently place you against the throw pillows.

“Don’t” Atsumu swats your hand away when you attempt to lean forward “I got ya” he rolls your sage green linen pants all the way up to the knee and attentively unties your shoes. You suck in a sharp breath between your teeth when he removes the sneaker, warm hand supporting your leg by the calf. A fluffy pillow is placed on the coffee table and underneath your foot, an admonishment to hold still mumbled with affection as he disappears into the kitchen to rummage through your freezer.

“I can do it” you accept the ibuprofen but protest firmly when he sits on the table, ice pack in hand.

“I know ya can” Atsumu offers a smile “but let me”

Defeated, you hiss at the contact: the skin feels so tender even grazing it with a finger would hurt. He knows, he’s had his fair share of injuries throughout his career.

Atsumu is more observant than what people give him credit for. He knows exactly when everything changed, the night that shifted the precarious equilibrium of your roommate relationship. It wasn’t when he suggested you’d fake a relationship for a while, just to get his PR team to shut the fuck up and stop trying to pair him up with some unknown model just for the sake of it. Can’t, I already have a partner. You were happy to accomodate his request: some pics for social media, a few shots of intertwined fingers and steaming bowls of ramen. Always his treat. Atsumu promised he’d take over the cleaning activities you hated the most for two entire months in return. You would’ve been free from dusting, scrubbing the bathtub and washing dishes (he’d insisted on laundry too but you simply weren’t going to risk all your whites turning pink).

No, it was Suna’s birthday that changed everything. The night you both had a little too much of that fancy wine and ended up sharing a drunken kiss with you perched in his lap, eager fingers in his hair, kissing with little to non existent restraint. It felt so good, so right, he could only think he wanted to do it again, when sober. And now, after acting like that never even happened for an entire week, your little tantrum makes him think that perhaps you’d like to do it again too.

“I think we should stop, ‘Tsumu” you murmur, eyes kept low when he looks up from your ankle.

“What are we stoppin’?”

“The whole thing. Tell your team you’ll do what they want”

He cocks his head, seemingly imperturbable. ‘Samu would be the only one capable of sensing how fast his heart is actually beating. “Why would I do that?”

“Why would you not do that?” you finally meet his stoic gaze “let’s just stop now before anybody’s feelings get hurt, okay?”

“Ya think I’d do that?”

“I didn’t say…”

“What are you saying, then?” Atsumu leans forward to gently grab your jaw, forces you to look at him “all I’m hearing is you’re worried about yer feelings. Whatever we are going to do with mine, right?”

You jump a little at the unexpected words and he rolls his eyes. It’s just so typical of you to be all lost in your own head, too buried in futile concerns to notice just how unnecessary they are.

“Let me tell ya what I think we should actually do” Atsumu makes sure the ice pack stays in place or is at least balanced enough to stay on as he slides from the coffee table onto the couch “I think you should stop assuming I’d be interested in anyone who's not you” he offers a grin that suppresses your heated remonstrance before you have the chance to voice it “and I should take you out on a proper date. Maybe to one of those museums ya love so much. Blink once if you agree?”

He’s ridiculous. Maybe ‘Samu’s initial warning “it will rub off on ya” wasn’t such a senseless prediction after all, because you do blink. Slow, deliberate. And Atsumu smiles the most beautiful smile: it’s much better than the ones that win him magazine covers and sparkly photoshoots. This one’s all yours.

You lean forward first, the ice pack slips from your ankle to the floor.

[fawnandshadows]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

I Miss You, I’m Sorry

Word Count: 30k

Warnings: Language, Mental Health Issues

AO3

Two Augusts ago I told the truth, oh, but you didn't like it, you went home

You're in your Benz, I'm by the gate, Now you go alone

“So,” Azriel’s voice crackled over the phone. “You’re staying with Feyre and Rhysand?” 

Elain was surprised he’d answered her call. For the last two weeks she had tried to call him a handful of times and just sat there while it rang against her ear. It wasn’t until she was nestled on her new bed in Feyre’s house that he answered. She wondered if he knew. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to let you know,” Elain said, leaning against the fortress of pillows on her plush bed. Feyre must have had a ball decorating the entire house, the room she was staying in was a luxurious sea green with gold accents. “I’m trying to work on the whole communication thing. A bit.” She forcefully clenched her teeth to stifle her ramblings. 

“A bit?” Azriel asked, sounding slightly more in focus than before. 

“Yeah,” Elain said, her fingers toying with the tassels on her comforter. Even though June was just around the corner it was cold enough that Elain sought to huddle under the massive, fluffy blanket on her bed. It was only her second night there, but she and the bed got along nicely. She might only be in it for a short time, but it was a nice love affair. “Some things don’t need to be said.” 

Heavy, uncomfortable silence fell between them. Her foot firmly in her mouth. 

“Just that—”

“It’s fine, Elain,” He cut her off in a clipped voice. “Somethings are better left unsaid,” Was he talking about her? Spiders crawled under her skin at the thought, her one moment of honesty in the last five years had caused so much messy turmoil. “For the sake of communication,” Her breath caught in her throat. “You should know Feyre is planning a surprise party tomorrow.” 

Elain groaned, slinking down in her bead. Her hair tangling against the pillow as she sunk below the line of her comforter. 

“Define party?” Elain asked, the knowledge biting at the back of her head that Azriel had known she was moving before she had told him. She wondered how long — how many calls did he ignore knowing he couldn’t avoid her forever? Would he have answered any of them if she hadn’t moved back? 

“Pizza,” He said neutrally and Elain could hear him moving over the receiver. A fridge opening? “Nesta and Cassian. Rhysand and Feyre,” She heard glass shifting and the rustling of plastic. “And me.” Two weeks ago that sentence would have ended with And me and Gwyn, but two weeks ago they wouldn’t have been having this conversation at all. 

“That’s it?” Elain asked, scrunching her face as little flickers of hope fluttered in her chest. It shouldn’t be too awkward. If they could keep Nesta and Azriel away from each other…The break up between Azriel and Gwyn had not been pretty, Elain heard. She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom packing when Feyre called her, she answered, unknowing that Feyre was calling her to give her a play-by-play of the mess she had caused. Azriel had called it off a week after the long weekend in the cabin and Gwyn (understandably) had asked for a reason and Azriel couldn’t give one — he had tried to claim cold feet, but she offered to postpone. He tried to say he just ‘wasn’t the marrying kind’ but she insisted that after three years together how could marriage be any different? She asked if there was someone else and he firmly said no, but apparently she didn’t believe him. He didn’t so much as hesitate, but Gwyn swore there was no other reason for him to want to call off the wedding, unless he didn’t love her. Azriel’s silence had prompted her to throw a vase at his head, he dodge and it shattered across the wall. Gwyn had packed her bag and left that night to stay with Nesta. Nesta had called Feyre the next day, asking if Azriel had talked to her or Rhysand. Feyre had called Elain later that day. 

“That’s it,” Azriel said, shutting the door and Elain heard the pressure release of a popped bottle cap. Beer, probably. “I wasn’t going to go, but you know how Feyre is.” Impossible to say no to. 

Elain tossed the words over in her mouth before saying, “Was it me or Nesta you didn’t want to see?” 

His sighed rankled her spine. Like steam slowly being released from his body. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Elain said quickly, trying to save him from answering because in all honestly the answer was probably both of them. 

“You and I,” Azriel spoke like it pained him, his voice a tension laced coil. “We aren’t together, Elain. I need you to know that.” 

An elephant stepped on her chest. 

“I know.” she said in a meek voice. It was startlingly clear that they weren’t together, especially since that night her memories have been screaming at her from when they were together. Even more vividly than the ones that haunted her every waking moment and followed her around the city. 

He paused for a moment and Elain wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. 

“We should talk,” He said evenly and Elain could feel him pulling away from her, what little he had deemed to give her slipped out of her fingers. “In person. Once you get settled.” He wasn’t in a rush, she realized, to have a conversation with her. Not that it was surprising, but she had hoped…she wasn’t sure what she had hoped. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Elain rushed out. The fragility of their conversation wasn’t lost on her. It felt like she was balancing on a pin while juggling and doing an astoundingly horrific job at it. “When-um-whenever you’re free.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Azriel said and clicked off the phone before Elain could say goodbye. Her phone almost slid from between her fingers, but she caught it before it knocked into her nose. She…didn’t know how she felt about the call. Despite her best efforts, a wiggling of joy (or something as equally unfamiliar) wormed inside of her. 

Delicate. Everything was delicate.  She sank further into the bed, replaying the conversation with Azriel on a loop. His voice was so real she swore he was beside her. It was friendly, almost, if she squinted. Friendlier than any other conversation they’d had in the last five years and maybe…maybe…maybe…something good was around the corner.

Read The Full Story On AO3

[shxtodxroki]

𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚍

Summary: You and your boyfriend Katsuki get into an argument when he comes home from work injured, but Katsuki wants to make up for his faults, apologize and be better for you. 

Warnings: Angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of injuries (not inflicted by reader or Katsuki, he just comes home injured from work), mentions of food

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

- You should have seen the signs of an argument brewing long before you did. The air had been noticeably different between you and Katsuki ever since he had returned home, and you knew that your boyfriend never responded well to scolding or anger directed towards him.

- And you were no stranger to expressing your own feelings, you knew you’d be giving him an earful long before he came home after what you had seen on the news earlier that day. 

- So really, you should have expected things to escalate to the point they were at now.

- But honestly, you didn’t care. Of course you never want to fight with Katsuki, you love the man and don’t like when there’s conflict between you two, but unfortunately sometimes arguments can’t be avoided. And right now was one of those times.

- “All I ask is that you tell me when these things happen, Katsuki! So I can be there for you, so I can help you, and so I can stop worrying all the time!” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice level despite your frustration.

- “Why do you need to know?! I’m home now and I’m perfectly fine, shouldn’t that be enough? I’ve told you to stop fucking worrying so much, clearly it’s not good for you!” Katsuki bit back, equally as frustrated.

- Your boyfriend had gotten injured during his hero work earlier in the day, not terribly bad but still enough that he found himself in the hospital after they managed to apprehend the villain he was dealing with. Luckily he hadn’t taken any major damage, and he was patched up and sent home after being thoroughly checked up to ensure there were no underlying injuries, but you still wished he had told you like you had asked.

- You had told your boyfriend before to tell you as soon as possible any time he got hurt on the job, especially if it sent him to the hospital. Even if it was nothing major, you told him that you still wanted to know so that you could be by his side, with him every step of the way to ensure he was okay and fully taken care of.

- However, Katsuki hadn’t told you anything about his injuries that day, and instead you had to find out that he was sent to the hospital through the news as you watched TV, meaning he likely wasn’t planning on telling you at all if you didn’t find out on your own. Being unable to reach him while he was there left you worried sick, and just as you were collecting your things to head out and meet him at the hospital, your boyfriend texted you letting you know he was on his way home.

- From there you waited, anger and frustration building up within you with each second you were left to your own thoughts until he finally arrived home, and you two wound up in the position you now found yourselves in. 

- “How the hell am I not supposed to worry, Katsuki?! If I knew that I could trust you to just tell me when these things happen I wouldn’t be so anxious about you all the time, but I can’t do that because you refuse to do this one thing for me!” You responded immediately, practically pleading with your boyfriend to just communicate with you when he was injured so that you could ease your own worries and help him when these incidents occurred. 

- “Even when I don’t tell you, you sit here watching the news and worry yourself to fuckin death! Just let it go, damn it! I’m a fucking pro hero, I’ll be fine on one damn patrol.” You could tell you were starting to reach the point where neither of you were thinking fully logically, clouded by the frustration your argument caused as you snapped at one another. 

- You could feel tears of frustration burning your eyes, and the water pooling in your boyfriend’s eyes as he spoke indicated he was in a similar state. It was a heart-wrenching sight, as Katsuki almost never cried even in front of you, but both of you continued on, too stubborn to let your own points of view go in your mental clouds of frustration and hurt. 

- “Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my boyfriend is alive at the end of the day! You work one of the most dangerous jobs in the fucking country and you’ve been getting attacked by villains since fucking middle school, Katsuki, of course I’m gonna worry!” You had reached your breaking point, letting out all of your frustrations and fears with no holds barred as you cried to your lover. “I know how you are, I know you’ll save someone even if that means sacrificing your own life, and the thought of losing you eats away at me every single day you leave for work! So excuse me for just asking that you tell me when something goes wrong to ease some of my fears!”

- There was complete silence following your outburst, frustration still burning clear on both of your faces as Katsuki was at a loss for words. Tears were pouring down both of your cheeks at this point, and after sitting in the silence for a moment in an attempt to collect your thoughts, you walked off to your shared bedroom to have time to yourself to cool down from the fight.

- Katsuki followed suit, making his way to the couch in your living room to have some time of his own to let his anger dissipate and to truly think about what you had said and why you were so upset with him. 

- Katsuki knew why you worried about him, of course he did. Obviously you loved and cared about him, and this naturally lead you to worry when his job required him to put his life on the line every single day for the sake of others.

- But even though he knew why you worried, that stubborn part of him that lived inside of him ever since he was born struggled to just let you care, to let you worry about him. 

- It made him feel weak, like you shouldn’t have to worry about him and that he should be good enough at his job that you’d never have to worry about him coming home injured (or worse, not coming home at all).

- But, Katsuki realized as he reflected on his actions and the reasons behind them in the dim light of your shared living room, that wasn’t how reality worked. No matter how amazing he was at his job he would always be at risk, and he needed to accept that he could never be the perfect hero. 

- It wasn’t fair for him to expect you not to worry. He wasn’t being fair to you, he could see that now. All you had asked of him was to simply tell you when he got injured, and his stubbornness and pride had gotten in the way of your simple request. Again.

- Katsuki quietly groaned to himself at the realization, hiding his hands in his face in shame. He put you through so much every single day, working and risking his life as one of the top heroes in the country, and at the end of the day he had only made things worse for you by not even being willing to call and communicate with you when he was injured to help appease your worries.

- He felt like the worst boyfriend ever, tears still rolling down his cheeks from your argument as his internal frustration at himself boiled over.

- But he didn’t want to allow himself to turn this issue into a pity party for himself. He had fucked up, and rather than lamenting and simmering in it and using it as an excuse to never do better and lose you, the thing he cared about more than anything else in the word, he needed to do his part in fixing his mistake.

- Wiping his eyes quickly with a tissue as he stood, Katsuki quickly rose up from the couch and began to make his way to your shared bedroom. If you shooed him off and asked for space then he would give you more time to yourself, but if you were willing to let him, Katsuki wanted to apologize and right his wrong sooner rather than later. 

- Katsuki made his way to your bedroom door quietly, peeking in to see you staring down at your hands as tears continued to fall down on your face. He could see that the argument had left you feeling incredibly hurt and frustrated, and he wasn’t going to let you feel so upset over his actions for even a moment longer.

- You turned your head in surprise as you heard a gentle knock on the door, not knowing what to do or say when you saw your boyfriend’s crestfallen face in the door frame. You couldn’t seem to form words at the moment, unsure of what to say following your argument from just moments ago, so you found yourself silently watching as he entered the room and took the place beside you on the bed.

- Your boyfriend had never been good with conflict or admitting when he was wrong, that much you had gathered from your time together. You had expected to be the first one to approach him and apologize, like you typically were, once you had both cooled down. 

- Which was why your eyebrows raised in shock as Katsuki opened his mouth and spoke his first words to you since the argument.

- “...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Was all he managed at first, but the apology was enough to leave you completely stunned as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close in a tight hug.

- “I know I wasn’t being fair to you. I know I’m an idiot with a fuckin scary job and you have to deal with that every day, and you’re right to be worried. I was just too far up my own ass to let my pride go, and I’m sorry about that. The last thing I want is to hurt you or make you worry.” He continued, pressing your face gently against his chest as he apologized. His hand cradled the back of your head so gently, and the apologies that fell from his lips were so genuine, that you just pulled him in tighter as relief washed over you at him finally understanding your position.

- “Thank you for listening, Suki.” You responded, finally pulling away to look your boyfriend in the eyes as you spoke. “I know that my worries may seem overbearing to you sometimes, but I can’t just not worry when you risk your life every day. I love you so much, the thought of losing you makes me feel absolutely sick to my stomach and it’s not easy to deal with that every day.”

- “I know babe, I know. You’re not overbearing, I’m sorry that I have to stress you out like that every day.” He reassured you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead to help ease your tension.

- “It’s your dream, Suki, and I’d never try to take that away from you.” You promised him, knowing that hero work was something he’d longed for ever since he was a small child. “Just promise me that from now on, you’ll tell me when you get hurt. Even small injuries, I want to be by your side when you’re being treated and be able to help you, for both of our sakes.”

- “That I can do, I swear this time I mean it.” A grin finally made it’s way across your boyfriend’s face, your worried brows finally relaxing as you realized that things were going to be okay between the two of you. Both of you were learning and growing together in your relationship, and you were incredibly proud of your boyfriend for getting over his pride and being the first to apologize to you after realizing his wrongdoings. 

- Katsuki wiped the remaining tear stans off of your face with the back of his hand as he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your pouty lips, hugging you once more before standing up from the bed and reaching a hand out to help you up.

- “What do you say I make you dinner and we spend the rest of the night together, huh? I’ll call off work tomorrow, so we can stay up late and watch that new movie you’ve been wanting to see.” He offered, a bright grin lighting up your face as his suggestion. “Take it as my way of apologizing for being a fucking idiot to the best partner I could ever ask for.”

- “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Suki.” You responded with a smirk, taking the hand he had offered to you as the remaining frustration seeped out of your pores and was replaced with love and content. You two would make it through this, like you always did, and you knew that in the end, your relationship would be stronger because of today’s revelations.

Request - @thekaylahub​ said: hello, i hope you doing well! i saw that you’re requests were open so i just decided to submit a little something. i’d like to request like a hurt/comfort of bakugou and reader getting into like a bad fight/argument (i don’t care what the fight is over!) and the two of them end up in tears?? but instead of the reader being the one to apologize first, can it be bakugou? like he’s the one who approaches the reader and just comforts them and apologizes profusely?! please take your time and don’t feel like you have to do this one if you don’t want to!💕

A/N: I’m honestly really proud of this, I feel like I’m getting better at writing realistic dialogue and spacing out events, even in a short piece like this one, better and I’m just really happy with the way this turned out. :) Also I swear I’ll write individual pieces for more than just Bakugo, he’s not even my own personal favorite character (I do thunk he's really interesting and fun to write for though) but I definitely get the most requests for him, and a lot of interesting requests too! I don’t have a ton of requests to get through right now, though, so if you have any requests please feel free to send them my way, especially headcanons as those are definitely my forte!

Taglist: @pasteldaze​ @yeagerfushiguro​ @papijean​ @deadmans-toe @trashy-bowtie​ @palenightmarepersona​ @thekaylahub @applepie-macaroon​

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[theycallmeazalea]

My thoughts #idfk || LJ’s parenting and how it might be because of generational trauma.

It’s been a while since I did smt like this.

I have overthink a lot of stuff about Nezha’s family, specifically the parenting style of LJ (as well as DBK with redson), and how it might be because of generational trauma.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate LJ a lot, I do not like his harsh ass parenting style and how it affected Nezha later in life and I honestly wished LJ wasn’t shown in lmk at all. But I can’t seem to rub off the feeling that this is generational trauma. And here’s why:

Back then (and still now) Filial piety is a large factor in many family traditions, even mine. Which can affect a family household positively or negatively. In some cases it helps a family get closer, but in some cases this backfires and families turn into a toxic environment where the new generation gets mentally scared for who knows how long, which is caused by the parental styles, like harsh parenting. It’s also kinda of a factor why some children go no contact with their parents. And especially way back in the days, stuff like trauma isn’t fully understood, such as how it’s manifested and how it can be avoided/treated. So harsh parenting isn’t seen as a big issue, which it is because it affects a child’s mental health negatively, where that behavior could’ve been passed down to later generations. (Which is still in effect, child abuse, doesn’t matter if it’s cultural/family tradition or if those action where of no ill will. Like you can’t say that your actions were of no bad intentions while you committed a heinous act where it led to many people traumatized for lives.)

Basically, to think that LJ’s parental style is a manifestation of how his parents treated him when he was a child himself isn’t impossible. Since he still cares for his children but doesn’t see the wrongs about his way of parenting, meaning he could’ve grown up with that type of treatment and thus grew neutralized to such behavior thinking “it’s normal” while unknowingly hurting his kids’ mental health. Which goes to lmk DBK and Lmk PiF’s parenting as well, I won’t forget how rather poorly they treated redson. (In the actual myth’s it’s different)

BUT, that’s all just a theory, A (somewhat) MYTHOLOGY THEORY, thanks for reading.

-

[hoshinoyozora]

Roses in the Thorns

🖤 Pairing: Yandere! Malleus Draconia x Female! Fae! Reader

💛 Word Count: 2,3k+

❤ Warnings: -

[Edited]

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission. Also, don’t ask for a sequel unless I like the story enough to write one. Please reblog so other people can see my stories!

***

I haven’t seen ch 7 yet, but I heard Mal causes snow too when he’s upset? Idk let’s just say he does that here XD Also the meaning of the title is that rose often denotes romance, but is it really romance in their relationship? @married-to-google-translater

Malleus didn’t really like going home.

Of course, he missed his grandmother that worked hard in his stead. His little rose garden waiting to be tended and admired. And his palace that held the comforting yet no less fascinating gargoyles and grotesques. But he didn’t miss the loneliness of his status and species, the fear from people, and you.

The fiancée that his grandmother set up from some Duke a few centuries ago.

It wasn’t as if he hated you, per se. You did your job as a princess and a fiancée very well, perhaps a bit too well, strengthening Queen Maleficia’s fondness for you. She, out of all people, knew just how lonely he was, regardless of his attempts to hide it, and you were more than ready to spend the next centuries with him. Malleus knew he should be delighted, grateful even, that his fiancée wasn’t a shy or fearful thing. But if he had to pinpoint why he disliked you, he might not be able to answer it quickly.

“Welcome back. I miss you.”

You hugged him tighter and closer than any royal couple had done, than any royal couple was supposed to be doing. You hummed contentedly against his shoulder, trying to sway him side by side. You weren’t fazed by his rigid body, however, and merely smiled up at him.

“The castle feels so lonely without you, you know.”

Malleus squinted slightly. He never really knew if you were jabbing at his little insecurity or if you genuinely felt that way. Maybe he was reading too much into your actions, maybe he wasn’t. Who would’ve known?

“I see. That’s unfortunate.”

A neutral answer; neither sympathizing nor mocking. He pushed you away, gently as to avoid any suspicion from the unseen eyes and ears that your relationship wasn’t as harmonious as it should be.

“Avoidant, as usual.” you mused, trailing after him with your hands clasped behind you. “But allow me to accompany you a bit more, Malleus. Fortunately, I have a loose schedule for today.”

Your smile widened just as your eyes glowed in the dimly-lit hallway.

“Because I knew you’d come back to me.”

Ah, that’s right. He disliked you because of your confidence. While it didn’t exactly tiptoe the line of arrogance, it was still annoying how you thought he favored you any more than he favored other women desperate for his hand in marriage. Then again, he couldn’t really fault you for trying. A cold, formal marriage might be the standard for many royal couples, but a harmonious one – both in public and private – would greatly benefit your relationship and image.

And yet…

“I’m tired. I’d like to rest for now.”

Your confidence wasn’t the main reason behind his antipathy.

“Are you sulking, Malleus?”

It was your perceptiveness. Your ability to make him feel naked, vulnerable, tamed. Lilia had that power too, but he was his caretaker and retainer. He cared about him. While you? You were an enigma. A wildcard. A stranger that his grandmother was forced to marry soon.

“What makes you think so?”

Calmly, you closed the doors of his bedroom.

“Why, your face says it all, of course.”

Instinctively, Malleus touched his face. Was he really that expressive? Lilia could read him, but once again, he was his caretaker and retainer.

You chuckled, “Are you thinking about whether you’re being very expressive right now?”

His eyes widened slightly.

“Well, you’re not. But I’ve spent centuries observing you, so I can pick up all your emotions now.” You peeked through your lashes coyly. “So, did you finally find some joy in that school?”

Malleus resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. He shouldn’t be surprised considering that you were his fiancée, but he knew that had you were more blatant with your ‘observation’, he’d think of you as another Rook Hunt instead.

“I didn’t go there to search for amusement.”

“Oh, really? Not even a new friend?”

“The people there are mostly pleasant.”

You simpered, eyes softening slightly.

“You know I’m not talking about schoolmates.”

“Quit talking in riddles. If you don’t have any business left to discuss, you may leave my chamber at once.”

“Always so cold to me, and yet, you’re strangely warm to that magicless human.”

Stiffening, Malleus whipped around and gripped your arms.

“How did you know about Yuu?”

“Are you really asking me that? I’m your fiancée. I ought to know about your matters, too. How else can I help you if you encounter problems?”

“I already have Lilia with me. I don’t need your intervention.”

You cocked your head in mock questioning.

“Really? Just like how you’re barely invited to any event, including the ceremony? Or how your own retainers forget about you sometimes?”

Malleus ground his teeth.

“I suggest you to watch your tongue if you don’t want to lose it.”

“Oh, but what would people think if they found out that you punished me due to a simple couple spat? And we don’t need to imagine how Her Majesty would react to this. She loves me, you see, and you know it too.”

“Don’t think you’re invincible, [Name].”

“Maybe.” You shrugged carelessly. “But I’m the reason why people started to look at you in a better light now. If I were to, say, complain that you’re being hurtful towards me, they’d sooner believe me over a big, scary dragon.”

His grip tightened. As much as he hated to admit it, you were right. Ever since you got engaged to him, you often invited him to events and used the power of social pressure by displaying affections to him. Of course, Malleus had no choice but to comply and requite the unwanted gestures. And those nobles, foolish little creatures despite the intelligence they touted, immediately believed the act and spread the news all over the country. Now, everyone knew you both as an unconventionally loving couple; surprising but no less heartwarming.

But he could care about his image later.

“Whatever you do, do not harm Yuu in any way.”

You huffed a laugh.

“You wound me, Malleus. When have I ever treat humans so unjustly? They’re a part of our people, too.”

Malleus squinted and opened his mouth to retort, only to close it back. What was he going to say again? That he thought you’d hurt Yuu out of ‘jealousy’ of his friendship? Thinking about it was silly enough; saying it aloud would make him a bigger fool. You probably couldn’t feel jealous, not when you seemed so complacent even in the face of threat. What would you respond later? Another jab? Another sneer?

***

“Lilia, are you the one who told Princess [Name] about me being excluded to school events?”

The cup hovered as Lilia paused to process the question. Peeking up through his lashes, he discerned Malleus’ agitated expression.

“Why, even if I don’t tell her, she can still find out somewhere else.”

“You know I don’t like it when she meddles in my affairs,” Malleus grumbled. “and now she knows about Yuu’s existence too. What if she hurts them?”

“I’ve been observing her, and never once did she mistreat humans. She might seem like a know-it-all, but she’s only trying to do her duty. Let’s not be too paranoid.”

Despite Lilia’s attempt to reassure him, Malleus couldn’t subdue the agitation in his chest. You were too unpredictable, in a way that might just be worse than Lilia. Even if the said fae wasn’t his retainer, Malleus would still trust him to be around Yuu due to his wish for a peaceful life.

Unfortunately, his anxiety was proven true when he spotted you talking with Yuu in the Ramshackle yard at one night.

“Oh, hi, Tsunotarou!”

You glanced at them in bemusement yet devoid of surprise, as if you knew the nickname was harmless. On one hand, Malleus was relieved to know that you wouldn’t scold or punish them for discourtesy like Sebek would’ve done. But on the other hand, he was still angry at your insolence.

“Pardon us, Yuu, but I’d like to speak to her first.”

“Oh, yes. You guys are, uh, dating, right? Go ahead.”

Squinting, Malleus grabbed your wrist and dragged you to a secluded spot.

“Why did you tell them that we’re ‘dating’?! And what are you doing here?! Why didn’t you tell me that you’d come?!”

“I just want to know what compelled you to them. It’s rather baffling, but I think I understand now. That child doesn’t see you for your species, right? They don’t even know about your true name.”

Malleus remained silent.

You simpered, “And it appears that you didn’t tell them about your status too. Why? Are you afraid that they’d change their mind about you?”

“That is none of your business.”

“You know, they’re the one who thinks we’re dating. And they’re not wrong. We are dating, aren’t we?”

“That’s because you’re being nosy!” Malleus hissed. “Can’t you just stop bothering me and let me have some peace for once?!”

Suddenly, your face hardened just as your body went rigid under his grip. It was rather eerie to see you without your calm smile or the way your eyes stared at him without their usual gentleness of complacency. Had he finally displeased you?

“Your grandmother once told me that you liked to read fairy tales and dreamed of happily ever after. I can give you that, and Queen Maleficia knows I’ve been trying for the past centuries, but it seems that my efforts are actually futile all this time.”

You snatched your wrist from his grip and stopped beside him.

“One day, you shall see that I’m the constant part of your life. Not even your fragile and temporary friendship with that magicless human can replace me.” you declared quietly. “And one day, you shall come back to me once the loneliness becomes too overwhelming for you. Because I am the only one you need in your life.”

The wind blew past him, and with it, you were gone. Malleus looked at your empty spot, wondering since when the silence rang too loud in his ears. Then, he scoffed.

How silly. You were useful as a princess and fiancée, yes, but as a companion? No. He didn’t need you platonically or romantically, and he was sure he could live for the next centuries treating you as a business partner or a distant roommate. Just like many others before him.

He could bear with that cold, formal marriage. He was sure of it.

Seasons changed, the calendars turned their pages, and Night Raven College became a distant yet bittersweet memory. Crowley officially failed to bring Yuu home, so Malleus decided to give them a new one in Queendom of Roses so they’d feel close to their friends. It didn’t lessen their eternal anguish and longing, but at least they were able to hide it in the letters and smile at him on the rare times they met. On the other hand, ever since that incident, you’d become distant despite your new status as his wife. Although you were still successful at fooling the nobles with your loving façade, the people close to you managed to sense the wall between you. It was concerning enough until Queen Maleficia decided to confront you both, and with a masterfully calm smile, you replied.

“We simply have a disagreement, but I assure you, it won’t affect our duties or images in any way.”

Malleus could tell she didn’t really believe it, but she sighed in a way weary parents usually did, including Lilia. And you both weren’t exempted from Lilia’s admonishment itself.

For years, the invisible wall remained sturdy, neither heightening or lowering

Until, one day, Yuu died.

Nobody needed to guess who the culprit was when blizzards and thunderstorm kept falling interchangeably around the country. Lilia had implored him to calm down to prevent more deluges in the small villages, and at one point even proposed to visit you for comfort, but Malleus merely lashed out at the latter. How dare he suggest such a ludicrous thing?! All Malleus wanted was to meet his one and only friend again, not you. Never you.

But, alas, Yuu’s fate was already set in stone, and for all his power, there was nothing Malleus could do. The storms had lessened, but dark clouds still lingered in the already gloomy sky. The cloud was heavier around him who refused to leave his room, leaving the court to handle the brunt of his duty. Including you.

“[Name].”

Calmly, you sipped the warm tea and put the cup back to its saucer. You didn’t turn to look at him, but Malleus knew you were listening. You were always listening for him, about him, and the thought strangely flattered him now.

Malleus crossed the drawing room and stood beside you. He stared down at you for a moment before he kneeled.

“You’re correct.”

It was an abrupt apology yet no less sincere. He took your hand from your lap and clasped it within his cold and desperate hands, looking at you pleadingly despite your silent refusal.

“You are… the true constant part of my life. My queen, my wife, and my companion. I was mistaken to believe that my friendship with Yuu could be anything but…” He swallowed the grief and pride. “fragile and temporary, not when they were a mere mortal in my impossibly long life. Forgive me for being so blind and foolish to the truth.”

Malleus rested his forehead against your lap, already resigned to the silence that might stretch on forever. It wasn’t until he felt a hand prod him to raise his head did he obey.

Finally, you looked at him.

“I told you.” you whispered, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. “You’ll come back to me. Because you just can’t live without me, can you?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You are the only I need in my life.”

Slowly, you smile widened just as your eyes glowed in the dimly-lit room.

The same confident and complacent smile that he once hated but now loved.

The same confident and complacent smile that told him you won this centuries-long game of cat and mouse.

“Good boy.”