#don’t get me wrong I still love the show but

[pacofprunes]

DARK / TOXIC SQUID GAME REACTIONS TO YOU TRYING TO LEAVE THEM

CONTAINS — namgyu x reader, thanos x reader, myungi x reader, inho x reader, sangwoo x reader, saebyeok x reader

WARNINGS — toxic relationship, domestic violence, baby trapping, manipulation, guilt trip, prepare yourself for namgyus that’s the worst probably, mentions of suicide (thanos)

masterlist

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI-SUBONG — manipulates you / would let you leave and crawl back to him

doesn’t take it well at all. he’s going to laugh and think you’re joking, but after realizing that you’re not, he’s quickly going to scream at you. telling you that you’ll never find anybody better than him.

“do you really think anybody else will want you? if you leave me you’ll never find anyone else. you’ll never find anybody better!”

he’ll start breaking shit. punching walls, shit, he’ll even break your own phone if it’s in arms reach. if you still insist on leaving he’ll say he’s gonna overdose. he tells you that he’ll kill himself if you step out that door while pressing a blade up to his arm. if all else fails, he’ll totally act like he didn’t just beg you to stay and scream at you to go then and not to come running back.

“fine bitch, go ahead and leave! but don’t come running back to me for nothin’.”

in reality, he’s definitely stalking your socials, making fake accounts you haven’t blocked him on, stalking your friends accounts to see other photos of you, visiting the club every night (not that he didn’t already do that) to try to see if you’d show up. after about a month or so of doing this and going out and fucking other girls to get over you, he can’t do it anymore. he’ll send you some fake heartfelt text that he probably used ai to make and call you while making himself sound like he was crying, trying to make you feel bad and convince you that he’s changed and that he can be a better boyfriend. if you fall for it, you’re doomed. the relationships only going to be a million times worse than before. instead of knocking glass over and breaking shit, he might slap you. in public, he might grip your wrist ten times tighter, scared you’ll run away. when he finally lets go, his fingers will be embedded in your skin. he might even guilt trip you into getting a matching tattoo with him. “if you really loved me and forgave me then you would.”

if you really don’t go back to him though, no matter how many times you block him, you’ll get a new video sent to your phone from some unknown number of him fucking a new girl. he sent you the videos in hopes of making you jealous or something. he’s not going to stop for a long time. if you don’t go back to him, he’s going to harass you for the rest of your life. and if you do go back? you’re in for a world of hell.

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124 — would threaten you, would actually harm you

“you’re one funny bitch. you know how much shit i got on you?”

he finds it admirable, honestly. but still, fucking hilarious, that you, you, think you can leave him. what? when did you grow some balls? yeah, no. you just hurt his ego and that’s about the stupidest thing you could ever do to him. he’s not very empty with his threats. if he says he’s leaving? he’ll leave. (for like a week…) if he says he’s gonna hit you? you’re gonna be bruised for a while. if he says he’s gonna kill you? well, you haven’t gotten to that point yet. but keep this up and you sure will.

he keeps every nude and threatens to release it. sure you’re his and all, but that doesn’t stop him. so what if some other guy sees your body? he could care less. now if another guy touches you? let’s not think about what would happen. threatens to send the pictures to your family and threatens to send every sex tape of you two that he filmed behind your back.

“what the fuck is wrong with you namgyu? when the fuck did you film that?”

don’t raise your voice at him. once he hits you and you fall to the ground, he’ll keep kicking at you with his foot over and over until he thinks you’ve had enough. don’t speak up to him, don’t speak against him, and don’t piss him off. just sit there and be pretty, okay? he’s going to be bolder now. next time you two have sex he’s just going to shove the camera in your face. he’s going to manipulate and force you to take nudes for him since you don’t want to anymore after he threatened to send them out. sometimes he’ll force you to strip and then he’ll just take the pictures himself. all in all, sometimes he might just say no and leave it at that. but if you keep pushing, he’s going to threaten you. and if you still keep pushing, he’s going to go through with those threats. you really are just some whore to him, don’t think he’s above killing you.

MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★— would let you leave and crawl back to him (except he’s the one who crawls back), babytrapping

“really? fine, if that’s what you want then leave.”

he acts like he doesn’t care because he thinks his annoyance will make you turn right back around to him. he acts like he doesn’t care because he’s trying to not get so bent out of shape about it and move on quickly. but when he hears your footsteps disappear and the door shut, he immediately balls up his fists. you seriously left? he didn’t expect that, but whatever. he doesn’t need you.

he tries to move on but after barely even a week, he can’t do it. he contacts you, but when you block him, he makes more and more numbers. he thought you’d be running back to him, not the opposite. he sends you pictures of you two together in hopes you’d change your mind, but when you just keep blocking him, he’s knocking on your door demanding you open it up. he tries being nice but when you don’t open it, he starts banging on the door. really? you’d been together for months and you’d already gotten over him? no. no no no. you don’t get to just move on! what the hells wrong with you? when you still don’t open the door, he leaves and goes back to his place and sits on his bed while he ponders his next move. he decides for now just to stalk your page and harass you from more and more numbers. he’s not going to stop until you at least respond. oh, you’re gonna get a restraining order? you’re funny. you think that’ll stop him? don’t go back to him. if for some reason you give in, the next time that you two have sex, he’s going to make sure that you can’t leave. he’s sure that you’ll look so pretty with your stomach swelled up.

INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001 — straight up says no / baby traps / makes you feel like you’re going crazy

straight up, no. you want to leave? no. he doesn’t even care for an explanation on why, you’re not leaving. completely ignores your words and changes the whole topic. everytime you try to say you’re leaving he just completely overrides you with something different.

“inho, i’m serious. i’m leaving you! i’m packing my shit right now and i’m not coming back, i swear to you.”

“what did you want for dinner again? i have to go back out to get some groceries so there’s not too much…”

maybe it’s on purpose, maybe it’s not. but it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind. then he will deliberately go out of his way to make it seem like you’re crazy.

“i’m leaving because of what you’ve been doing behind my back, inho. it’s fucked up and you’re insane.”

“baby, you could follow me around tomorrow. i’ve got no idea what you mean.”

and he says it all with that stupid small polite smile that he gives everyone. you just want to strangle him. if somehow he can get you in bed with him after you just got so pissed, he’ll be more passionate than ever. he’ll treat you nice, focus on your pleasure before his and then quickly when you’re blissed out, he’ll pull out of you, slip the condom off and slide right back in. you don’t notice at all, but he makes sure to tell you like the cocky fuck he is. but he does it while he’s thrusting and when you can tell he’s about to cum. poor you, it’s too late to stop him :(.

“i’m about to fuck a baby in you — agh, i — i took the condom off. gonna have a beautiful—fuck—fucking baby with you.”

how could you leave now? do you have enough money to take care of a child without him? and would you really deprive your child of their father? you’ll get an abortion? he’ll find a way to keep you locked up in your house. you’re still going to leave? he’s going to guilt trip you to the max. and if that still fails? once again, he’s just going to find a way to keep you locked up in your house. he’ll figure it out as you go on, but for now, have your happy little family with him.

KANG SAE-BYEOK — straight up says no

she’s not going to entertain you at all. she might not even say no, opting to just stay silent instead. if you get in her face about it because she’s ignoring you, she’s just going to push you away. if you keep nagging her about it, she’s going to slap you. if you decide not to drop it, she’ll drag you by your hair and lock you in a room. are you stupid? don’t start this shit first thing in the morning.

“saebyeok, this isn’t working. we should go our separate ways.”

“no. did you hit your head or something?”

you should just drop it and move on with your day. nothing you say is going to convince her and if you piss her off too much, like said before, she’s just going to lock you away until you stop sounding ‘crazy’. she’s very cold, but she’s generally pretty nice to you still though. she’s a good girlfriend to you, just a little possessive, but it’s never gotten out of control. you just didn’t think the relationship was working and that it just wasn’t the right time. all in all, if you don’t push to much, you won’t see the shitty side of her that she never shows you. however, if you keep pushing the idea, she’s going to give you a real reason to break up with her.

SANGWOO — would let you leave and crawl back to him

“you want to break up? fine.”

it leaves you shocked at the sound of him not caring. it was as simple as that. you want to break up? bye then bitch! it hurt. it almost made you want to change your mind and say never mind and just stay with him, and that’s exactly what he wanted. that’s exactly why he said it like that. but that didn’t work and you just walked out the door. that’s fine though, you’d come back to him, he knows it.

he makes sure to post old photos of you two on his Instagram. not ones with your face in it, duh, but he posts the photos that you took of him where you’re behind the camera or ones where your arm or your hand is slightly showing. he knows you still stalk his socials. he’s posting these knowing that it’s going to hurt your little heart and make you crawl right back. he leaves every photo of you two up on every platform, not deleting a single thing. for a little while, he even keeps his pfp the same. you two holding hands. whenever he posts something, he always makes sure to put something in the caption that he knows you love. you liked tulips? he’ll put a tulip emoji in the caption. you loved cats? he’ll put a cat emoji in his bio. all these subtle things where you won’t know he’s doing it on purpose, but it’ll be so much of a coincidence that you’ll think this is a sign to run back to him.

he’ll tell his friends to ask about him to you whenever they talk with you.

“how are you and sangwoo doing?”

“oh he talks about you all the time.”

he tells them to act like they don’t know that the two of you have broken up. he makes sure to get in your head and eventually? you’ll come running back. if for some reason you don’t, he might have to pull some strings. spread some rumors about you so that your friends want nothing to do with you and so all that you have to run to for comfort is him.

[zomboivex]

Getting personal for a moment. But I feel it’s important to share, anyways.

When I was married, everyone in my life gaslit me to believe I was terrible with managing my money. Any personal expensive was noted as frivolous and wasteful. Bought some fabric for my hobby of dress-making with money I earned from a bonus?

That could have been used for the water bill next month!

Had a $1000 bonus? No. That’s for the house mortgage that he didn’t let my name exist on even though I paid for majority of the renovations because he was content letting the kitchen sit in disarray with thick dust in the air. Causing me to have severe allergy attacks every day.

Called off sick?

How could you? We have bills to pay!!!!

Go through extreme harassment at work?

No. You’re making it up. It’s an excuse to take a day off and relax.

Ignore the fact that he called off regularly because he had headaches while I was shamed into going to work despite having the flu.

Set up a joint account where only I contributed to put money in for bills to pay. Because he would pay from his account. Then he’d constantly drain the joint account for ‘bills’ and then spend his money on who even knows. We had 2 maxed out credit cards in his name.

But this was so normal to me. Because I grew up like this. I grew up with my ‘support system’ telling me this is normal. Telling me that I am the problem.

And I believed it.

I believed that everything that was wrong was me.

I didn’t know he was $7,000 in debt until our divorce where he was demanding I pay it off.

I never did find out what he used that money on. I suspect it was on his gaming addiction and my alleged ‘best friend’ he was sleeping with.

When I finally got out of that relationship, I was in financial ruin. I had nothing in my name. At 30.

I lost everything. (Except for the car that I begged for him to let me take and 3 of my 4 cats).

I lost the house I lived in for years. It was all in his name. There was nothing I could do about it. Because we were ‘only married for 3 years’ despite being together for 10.

I had no furniture to take with me. Save for a couch. That I couldn’t actually take because I had no place to go. I was couch surfing or sleeping in my car at this time.

I lost my dream job because my ‘friend’ worked there as well. And while they were beyond accommodating to my situation, I could no longer mentally handle being there nor could I handle the hour drive once I did find a place to live.

$1000 down on a new apartment.

Car broke down a month later. $1000 down on a new car.

Said car was stolen twice. Can’t even begin to tell you how much money that leeched out of my savings.

$23,000 (with health insurance) for surgery due to appendicitis.

All in a year after divorce.

It was defeating. It was so fucking hard.

In a span of a year I went through multiple life crises events. I can feel how it physically changed my ability to process information. In a way, I’ve become ‘dumber’ because of it. I can’t hold onto information. I have a hard time reading and staying focused.

Only reason I was able to even financially get through all of that was because I had some money saved from a lawsuit at the job that was harassing me that I wound up winning after the divorce. That and I finally caved in and got a credit card (my credit score was good) and a couple of personal loans.

I’m still paying it all off. It has been so fucking hard.

And I’ve been going through waves of hating myself for being so naive to feeling terrible for what I’ve been through because I didn’t see anything wrong with what I experienced as it was happening. And I’m finally coming to my own form of peace with this. But it was hard.

I had been with him for 10 years.

I don’t love easily. But I did love him. Even if I showed it in odd ways. I wouldn’t have married him, otherwise.

And then when everyone around me said I was the problem, I believed them.

Even now, I have an incredibly hard time understanding when I am truly in the wrong with a situation or if my reaction to things are justified.

I didn’t realize I was being put through mental and financial abuse by so many people around me.

I wish I could hug me from a few years ago and let them know they are so strong for going through all of this. But that they shouldn’t have had to be so strong for so long.

I wish I could hug every woman on the planet that has been through anything where they had to ‘be strong’ to survive while thinking it’s normal.

Baby, it’s not normal. You deserve so much more in this world.

You deserve your own freedom and a support system that values you and lets you know when you’re going through actual bullshit instead of painting you as the villain.

To all the women out there who go through these things; I love you. I see you.

maybe i’m a joyless bitch but i actually do NOT think it’s funny to see women being like “the house is just in my husbands name” or “my husband makes all the money” or “i don’t even know who our mortgage is with” or “the only bank account/credit card is his and i get an allowance” like i do NOT find that cute or romantic and i am begging these women to Stand Up. you should at least be named on the deed to your house and the title to your car and the bank accounts even if you don’t pay for them/earn all the money. you can’t stop existing in the eyes of the law and the credit unions simply because you have a husband. if you’re raising his children and washing his socks half of everything he’s got is yours and it needs to be yours LEGALLY BY NAME. "he takes such good care of me :)" girl you are a PRISONER!! that’s all

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[kasagia]

Hi babe 🩷 hope you’re doing okay and we miss you so much!! I don’t know if you’re still taking Feyd requests or not, but if so can you please write a little cutesy smutty piece about our sweet dark prince being so touch starved and never really knowing what a gentle or loving touch felt like and our reader shows him all the different ways that soft touches can feel good? I’m just in the mood for some Feyd worship (completely obsessed with him)

HIS Right Hand

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!ex-bene gesserit!pregnant! reader Summary: After defeating Atreides, you and Feyd rule Giedi Prime peacefully. (As peacefully as you can with him by your pregnant side.) And you show your husband a whole new side of intimacy. Warnings: 18+, canon violence, smut, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen; A kind of sequel to Right Hand - my most beloved series with our Na-Baron. Hope you will enjoy it! 🖤🖤🖤 Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~Main Masterlist

Everything was wrong today.

Your old armour—the outfit in which you walked the corridors of Giedi Prime as Feyd's right hand—no longer fits you at all because your pregnant belly started to show.

Not that you hated it. Quite the opposite. You loved your unborn children with all your heart, but after so many changes that had come so quickly and suddenly into your life, the fact that your old clothes no longer fit somehow completely broke your composure.

So now you were standing in front of a tied prisoner; you don't even remember who he was anymore, and you were abusing him, making cuts in some places on his body, painting the floor with his blood, and his body with wounds in your current vision to get out some of these... anxiety in you.

You realise with dismay why your husband had done this so many times. It was just so fucking therapeutic.

Each cut represented your anger at something different. Stupid, useless advisors. Disgusting, back-pedalling Reverend Mothers. The emperor's spoilt little daughter was only on the throne because you and Feyd didn't want to take that position yet. A poorly cooked breakfast. Stupid, ill-fitting clothes...

"In my wildest dreams, I never thought that pregnancy would make you so aggressive, little witch. If I had known, I would have placed you in this condition earlier. It's rather... exciting to watch." Feyd sneers cockily, leaning against the doorframe and watching you work on the prisoner in unconcealed admiration.

He nods to the guards in the room, causing them to obediently leave, leaving the two of you alone with the barely alive man. Apparently, all of your deep conversations must have taken place in the presence of corpses.

"Don't provoke me, husband." You growl at him and plunge the dagger into the trapped man's chest like it was a bag of pins. The pierced flesh and muscle squelch under your movement, and you swear you see your husband's eyes blacken with lust at the sight and sound. Horny madman.

"Oh, but I love provoking you, my dear darling wife." He responds sweetly, smiling at you as he wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you closer to him and licks the blood from your temple that had obviously splattered on you in your crazy attack on the poor man.

You must have looked ridiculously like your husband in that state. And that turned him on. Narcissistic asshole.

"Feyd." You growl at him menacingly and give him a dry, cold stare—something he's used to but has become... rare after the two of you ended up together.

He swallows and delicately reaches into your hand, removing the dagger from it—his experience with you stabbing him when you get overly emotional tells him it's best to disarm you before he says something that will unsettle you.

"What's wrong, my Baroness?" He asks, reaching for your chin and forcing you to look him in the eye. You might not have been as open a book to him as he was to you, but Feyd was slowly learning to read you. And each time, he revelled in the small victory of reading you. He hoped that this time he would succeed because you looked... very agitated and nervous. And he didn't like that at all.

"If you laugh at me, I'll spit your guts out and tell our children they never had a father." You growl your threat and rest your chin on his shoulder.

He stiffens a little, unused to being treated affectionately, but slowly he tangles his hand in your hair—perhaps one of the most ethereal things about you—and allows you to hide from his watchful gaze for a moment.

"That's a threat I'm not going to test. Just tell me who to punish."

"My clothes don't fit me anymore." You say tearfully, and, driven by some strange instinct, you nuzzle up to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly and pressing his body closer to yours.

You cry into his chest, completely oblivious to how stiff he has gone, frozen in shock at your odd behaviour.

You and he didn't have an easy past. It was unheard of for you to show any weakness, tears, or need for physical contact other than seeking sexual pleasure from others.

You, as a former Bene Gesserit, had to remain alert and composed at all times. He, as a Harkonnen, was supposed to be the definition of strength and brutality. That didn't exactly go with the cuddles, the tender, caressing touches, and other shit Feyd had read in one of your romance novels that you tried so hard to hide from him.

No, he didn't like them at all. He just liked to know what his woman was doing and liked.

Even after you and he finally ended up together, there wasn't... much tenderness in your relationship. Sure, the sex was amazing, the tension and chemistry between you unthinkable, but seeking solace and a cuddle that wasn't directly related to the hot passion of the moment? Never. Well… maybe in life-threatening situations. We all forget about control in such moments.

That's why Baron Feyd-Rautha, the great warrior, husband, and soon-to-be father, has no idea what to do when his pregnant wife cries and clings to him like some teddy bear (which neither of you have ever had, by the way).

"Hug me, damn it!" You say, or rather order him, irritated. And that side of you is already something more familiar to Feyd.

He obeys your command without hesitation, his strong arms holding you tight, and he swallows nervously, amazed at the power you have over him, how even when you're the one crying and showing your sensitive side, you still hold him by the throat, unsure of what to do next.

"Is ordering new clothes such a big tragedy?" He asks, unsure of your reaction, and by the way you stop shaking from crying in his arms, he dares to think he has solved your problem.

He's never been more fucking wrong in his entire life.

"Of course you have no idea what I'm on about!" You growl angrily and push yourself away from him. "All you know is how to twirl your sword and your penis and nothing else! I sleep in my old chambers tonight!" You scream furiously at him and leave the dungeon like a fury, slamming the grate behind you with such force that the right one falls off its hinges.

Feyd makes a note to check the state of his dungeons and thanks himself for having the prudence to pick the dagger out of your hand earlier. Now he knows damn well what it's like to be on the verge of life and death. And being on the other side of his treatment, he doesn't like it at all. Especially since his pregnant wife had bigger mood swings than him.

"Marital quarrel. You understand, right?" He says to the barely conscious man and ends his suffering by killing him on the spot. After all, he couldn't let anyone witness his little fight with his wife.

Unfortunately, this is not enough to calm his anger.

He moves on to the next prisoner, completely ignoring the knowing, discouraged glances the guards exchange. They're going to have a hell of a lot of cleaning up to do today after their Baron and Baroness visits.

Feyd tossed and turned over again. His large bed with its black velvet sheets was mocking him with how lonely and cold he felt without the familiar warmth of your body next to him.

Just a few months ago, he didn't even know what it was like to have you in his bed and in his arms every night. He didn't care about something like sleeping in his bed; he only considered it an interruption, something annoying that took him away from his training. And with you... he wanted every little second of a nap with you in his arms.

Damn. He was a Harkonnen. A fucking killing machine, he wouldn't let something as shallow as...

His thoughts are interrupted by the quiet opening of the door. He closes his eyes, pretending to sleep, and moves his hand under the pillow, gripping tightly the hilt of a hidden dagger (yours, ironically).

"Leave it, or you'll accidentally hurt me or worse, our children, and then I'll really start a civil war with you." You snap at him, both irritating him and calming his racing thoughts.

He opens one eye and checks the hour. 2:58. You should have been asleep by now in your condition. It wasn't healthy for you or your children.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this late visit? Is there something wrong with your rooms?" He allows himself to mock you, embittered by your childish behaviour, and sits down to get a better look at you.

Your hair is dishevelled—a clear indication that you couldn't sleep either, and the hastily thrown-on robe over your nightgown gives him a beautiful view of your figure and the slightly rounded curve of your belly. A strange warmth blooms in his chest at the sight, making him almost completely forget about your earlier unfounded outburst at him and that he should be mortally offended and angry at you.

"Move your ass."

"What?"

"You lie on my side."

Feyd snorts angrily, keeping up his indignant appearances while trying to hide the fact that before you came in, in his desperation he reached for your pillow, burying his nose in it in the hopes that the scent lingering on it would somehow lull him to sleep.

He shifts, raising his hairless eyebrows in surprise as you lie down next to him without a word. It is true that you growl something under your breath before pulling him roughly by his neck closer to you, but that's something Feyd was used to by now. He actually expected you to yell at him again. But you just bury your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms tightly around him, snuggling into him.

He lies still for a few minutes, then he hesitantly wraps his arms around you and rubs your back the way his mother used to do to calm him. An old, unwanted memory.

"What is that?" He dares to ask, but he doesn't let go of your grip. If anything, he presses a little closer to you. You were warm. And… cosy.

"Shut up. I need this." You mumble into his pearly skin and nuzzle his neck, burying your face deeper. He allows himself a small smile as you wrap your arms around his chest, clinging to him as he absentmindedly brushes through your hair.

"Why exactly?"

"I don't know. Fucking pregnancy hormones. So shut up so we can both sleep, or I'm going to start crying, and I promise you'll regret the day you put that thick, monstrous dick inside me." You growl madly, which leaves him completely confused about what you're on about or what exactly he did wrong this time.

"As you wish, my Baroness." He mumbles and presses his lips to your temple, making you purr in contentment and snuggle even closer to him.

He accepts your strange clinginess to him, though, more surprised by the fact that... he actually enjoys cuddling with you than by your mood swings.

"I like it a bit. This side of you."

"What? An aggressive cold bitch with mood swings?" You snort, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. He barely manages to keep from bursting out laughing at how accurately you described yourself. No one said you wouldn't reach under your pillow and commit an act of murder on him for such an insult.

"This is the version of you I've had every day since you stepped onto my goddamn ship. I meant more... that… that is... pleasant in a different way." His heart flutters faster when he feels your lips form a tiny smile against his skin at his words. He tightens his grip on you, making sure you’re covered tightly by the blanket.

"Whatever." You mumble dismissively, inhaling his scent. You intertwine your legs with his, pressing yourself as close to him as possible.

"You like it too." He teases you, delighting in the feeling of your heart beating gently against him.

"Feyd?"

"Hm?"

"Shut up." You shush him, to which he only mutters something under his breath and obediently falls silent. The feeling of guilt grows inside you, causing an unpleasant lump to form in your throat and tears to press to your eyes. Fucking pregnancy hormones.

It was probably the first time, with anyone, ever, that you were so... open about what you wanted, what you needed. And as good as it felt... there was still a little red lamp in the back of your head, a conviction trained over the years that you couldn't just let go of your barrier. But if not with him, then with whom else could you?

"I love you." You mumble against his skin and press a kiss to his neck, leaving a small mark there for your eyes only. He smiles a little and presses a kiss to your forehead, silently returning your gesture.

It wasn't the first time you'd "apologised" to each other in this way, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Just as it wouldn't be the first and last time you fell asleep cuddled up together, simply enjoying the other's closeness.

It's instinct. That's how Feyd tells himself when, during a meeting, he reaches over to his wife's side and rests his hand thoughtfully on her pregnant belly, stroking it gently.

It's instinct. That's what you tell yourself as, lost in thought while reading reports and listening to Rabban's words, you reach for the back of Feyd's head and begin to trace lazy patterns on his smooth skin.

You have been acting around each other in this way for several days now.

First, it started when Feyd decided to renovate the throne room, and he happened to start with your throne, which resulted in you landing on his lap for all sorts of meetings and audiences.

You thought it was just his typical prank, an excuse to hold you closer and enjoy the closeness of your body, but the next day during dinner, instead of sitting in his usual seat across from you, he chose to sit right next to you so he could keep his hand on your upper thigh or around you.

And you didn't remain passive to him. You also looked for various opportunities to lay your hands on him. And not at all with sexual overtones, which surprised you greatly.

You realised it this morning when you woke up for the first time in a long time with Feyd still in bed, and most importantly, cuddled up to you.

At first you thought he had overslept for his morning workout and that was why he was still cuddled up to you with his head against your belly, but the moment you felt his finger lazily stroking patterns on your side and found your hand in his tightening grip, you realised he had purposely skipped his morning workout to stay in bed with you.

"Are you sick?" You ask him in disbelief and let your free hand wander to the top of his bald head. You smooth your nails over his skin, not liking the way he lets out a quiet sigh at your caresses.

"Good morning to you too, woman." He mumbles against your skin, not even lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm deadly serious. Should I call a doctor? Have you gone mad? Am I supposed to rule Giedi Prime alone?"

You smirk as he rests his chin on your belly and gives you a hostile look. You decide to tease him even more and start tracing the lines of his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, and his jaw with your fingertip. He leans into your touch and purrs at the pleasant feeling of your soft skin.

"Unfortunately, I must curb your imperial ambitions. I am more than capable of ruling... for now. Unless my dear, cruel wife uses her skills that she learnt as my right hand to dethrone me, declaring our unborn children the rightful heirs to the throne and making herself regent."

"Nicely thought out. Do you want to retire?" He snorts in amusement at your question and shakes his head, not moving even an inch away from you.

"No, I am quite good right now." He mumbles and presses his lips to your belly. You smile, trying to hold back giggles as he tickles you, placing kisses along your baby bump.

It feels a little surreal. Being here with him, when he shows you such affectionate behaviour. Who would have thought a few months ago that you would find yourself in this moment? That from his right hand, his most trusted person, you would become his wife, the mother of his children, someone he simply adored.

Despite the many doubts and the series of unknowns that lay ahead on your path, you wouldn't trade your messed-up relationship for anything else in this world. Especially not when it felt so good to simply lie with his arms wrapped around you. And to think that at one time you would consider this a form of imprisonment for you...

"Fine. But only because I will still need you. Who would hold me and keep me warm at night if you left prematurely?"

"It's great to know you find useful uses for me, my Baroness."

"Very useful, I would dare to say, my Baron." You mumble, pulling him higher so you can plant a proper kiss on his lips.

You moan as he practices his skill in the way that drives you crazy, and you gladly grant his capable tongue access to your mouth. You wrap your arms around him, supporting yourself against him as you sit on your bed.

His broad, rough hands travel beneath the material of your nightgown, caressing the bare skin of your upper thigh as he removes the black silk material from your body.

Your hands travel to his pants, hastily pushing the material at his waist down his legs to finally...

"Can you stop for a minute?" Rabban's voice tears you from your memories of this morning.

You frown and try to understand what exactly he means, but Feyd takes over the situation and covers your ignorance by asking:

"What do you mean?"

"Touching... her like that. I thought it was supposed to be a serious political meeting."

Your head shoots to where Feyd's arm wraps around your waist so his hand can rest on your growing baby bump. His other hand—the one with the wedding ring and Baron's signet ring—rests securely on yours as he plays with your own rings. You blush slightly and are about to squirm out of his grip when Feyd tightens it around you, making it nearly impossible. You look up at him, almost sighing when you see his eyes crinkle at his brother.

"If it was supposed to be that serious political meeting, then we wouldn't invite you, brother."

"Feyd." You scold him quietly, but he doesn't take his watchful gaze off his brother.

Instead, he moves his hand to your thigh and squeezes it tightly, sending an involuntary shiver of arousal through you. In an instant, a thousand other uses for his large hand and thick fingers run through your mind, as well as the chair he was currently sitting on. Or the table in front of you. The floor. The walls. The windows... fucking pregnancy hormones.

"I just say that you could keep your hands off your whore for a while."

And after these words, you already know that a very cruel murder will take place here.

You watch Feyd carefully, ignoring Rabban's wide eyes of fear and surprise as he realises what has slipped through his lips. Your husband... wears the most calm expression his subjects have ever seen. But you know him too well. You see the glint of cruelty in his eyes, the exact moment when your reasonably rational Feyd leaves the scene and gives way to his innate, brutal Harkonnen nature.

Once, when you were still his right hand, it would have meant a lot of cleaning up after him and organising something for him to do to keep his restless mind occupied, to cool his raging blood—a whore(s), a prisoner to torture, a particularly intense sparring session, whatever.

Now, as his wife, it mostly meant entertaining displays of his cruelty to watch... which occasionally ended in an incredible fuck. And given your raging hormones and the way he dug his fingers into your thigh, you would have preferred to skip straight to the second one without watching your husband smear his brother's insides all over the floor.

But apparently your husband had other plans.

In an instant he's leaping, fucking leaping, the length of the table to get to his brother. After a rather brief and pathetic scuffle and a few broken chairs, Rabban ends up defeated on the floor with Feyd pinning his head to the floor with his boot and twisting his right arm out of joint.

"Are you jealous or stupid? How dare you talk about your Baroness in such a way? Either you have a death wish or you really envy me that I have a wife that I can touch and caress whenever I want, and you can only count on your fist, right, brother? Apologise to her."

"It is not..."

"He will apologise." Feyd interrupts you before you can even finish your sentence, preventing you from even offering to forget his brother's "sins" against you. "On his knees. Kiss the chair she is sitting on. The future of House Harkonnen."

You can barely keep yourself from rolling your eyes at your husband's crazy diva behaviour. Rabban, scared to death, without smelling, puts his mouth to the legs of your chair. Feyd nods with satisfaction and lets go of his brother, who takes the opportunity and runs away, before his brother decides to chop off his limbs.

You sigh as the door clatters shut behind him, and you place your crown on the table.

"That was cruel." You comment, rubbing your hand over the back of your neck. The metal thing was getting heavier and heavier on your head with each passing day.

"It turns you on when I'm cruel." He shrugs at you and walks over to you.

You groan as he stands behind you and begins to massage the aching muscles in your shoulders and neck. You lean into him and bite your lower lip, trying not to flatter him like that. You were still mad at him. It only took you a few seconds to remember why.

"Not to your brother."

"And why not?"

"Because... that's a bad example for our children."

"How fortunate that they are not here yet to witness my outrageous behaviour." He mocks you and pulls away. You want to snap at him angrily, but he suddenly reaches over and places his hands under your knees. You gasp when he suddenly lifts you up and sits you on his lap.

"But they can hear it. You wish they would treat each other the way you and Rabban do?" You continue, trying to ignore his dilated pupils and the glint in his eyes that only meant one thing. Trouble.

He gives you a small smile and lazily tucks your hair behind your ear before leaning down to press his lips to your neck. Bastard, you think as you try to control your shaking legs as he slowly strokes your bare ankle.

"You know perfectly well that this is entirely something else. Besides, who will forbid me to keep my hands on my wife, my baroness, the mother of my children, my right hand, my little witch?" He whispers into your skin, leaving a hickey on your skin with every nickname/role he utters.

"You're clingy." You gasp, squirming in his lap, trying to find a more comfortable position as he practically pulls you into him. And it feels so fucking good. You have no idea how or when the two of you got back to the can't-keep-your-hands-off-you stage, but you loved it.

"It's my wife's fault. She raised a monster." You smile at his teasing and nibble on his earlobe. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, his face buried in your cleavage as he tirelessly kisses every inch of your skin.

"A real monster, isn't it?" You ask, grinding against his crotch to prove your point. He can’t help but let out a raspy chuckle as you also gently stroke the back of his head.

"It's true… So what are you going to do about it?" He growls against your skin, cupping your collarbone gently. You sigh, digging your finger into the skin of his scalp and pressing your lips to the tip of his head.

"Oh, should I do something?"

"It would be appropriate." He nods, pushing the material of your dress aside with his chin to begin peppering kisses across your sensitive breasts.

"Since when did we do anything that was ever considered appropriate, my Baron?" You snicker at him as his hands go to the fastening of your dress.

"There's always a first time…"

"I'd boldly assume that neither of us has any more first times to tick off." You interrupt him with a mocking smile as he slides the material of your dress off your shoulders.

“No, that’s not true.” He mumbles, blowing warm air onto your nipples. You bite your lower lip to hold back a small moan and close your eyes, looking up at him from under your lashes. “I don’t remember ever doing this on this chair with you. Or anyone…”

"Unbelievable. I guess we need to change that."

"Very quickly." He nods eagerly and makes some room for you to place your hands on the waistband of his pants. Of course, still holding you in his tight embrace and not withdrawing his face from the valley between your breasts.

You unbutton his pants and wrap your hand around his cock. He doesn't need much preparation, already eager and ready for you, but you love hearing him pant with anticipation and frustration as you prolong the inevitable. You straddle him and position yourself above him, slowly lowering yourself onto him.

Even though you had done this countless times before, you doubted you could ever get used to it. The way he stretched you, the way he filled you so deliciously and perfectly, was simply indescribable, and you doubted anyone else before him had fit you so perfectly, had fulfilled all your inner needs and desires… or to be as fucked up as you.

Slightly irritated by his lack of movement, you lift your hips, prepared to ride him, when he suddenly squeezes your side tightly and settles you back down on his cock. You whine in protest, but he silences you with a lazy kiss, the pads of his fingers gently tracing circles on your bare back.

"Don't move."

"But..."

"I told you something, woman." He growls in your ear, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. You wince, trying to keep yourself steady against him, but with every breath you take, you feel him more and more inside you. And it's incredibly difficult to stay still under these circumstances. "Do. Not. Move." He warns you, staining your arm with new marks with every breathless word.

You knew from the way his cock twitched inside you that keeping still was as much of a task for him as it was for you. It was little comfort to your desperate need for him, but it was some kind of comfort. At least you had the satisfaction of knowing you were both suffering.

But over time you began to understand why he suddenly insisted that you warm his cock. It felt so... nice. Him buried safely deep inside you, his arms around you and his mouth on your neck, his breath hitting your skin, his scent and warmth around you. It was like... a safe cocoon.

You almost snort thinking about how ridiculous it is to equate him with safety.

But right now, on his lap, as you stroked his shoulders, his neck, his head, his cheeks, and his lips with your fingertips, feeling him beneath you, inside you, and around you in such a vulnerable, passionate, and tender position... your heart beat a little faster.

"Feyd..." You mumble into his skin as he presses his nose to your neck and inhales your scent, inhaling it like some kind of the best drug.

Is it possible to be addicted to another person? Probably not. But you don't know how else to explain the tingling and buzzing in your head and the euphoria of being so close to him.

If love was a drug, then you never wanted to be clean again. No. You wanted to be tainted by it, soaked to the core, able to reduce him to the same quivering mess he reduced you to with the slightest touch of your skin against his.

Just a few months ago, such a thought would have caused you great anxiety. Now, it was an exciting challenge. What a bloody long way you've come.

"Y/N..." He groans, his hips bucking slightly, making him push himself even further into you. You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders, feeling his length deliciously poke through your walls.

"I know. I know." You mumble tearfully and stroke the back of his head, pulling him closer to your bruising, needy kiss, as if lamenting the fact that you can’t get any closer to him than you've already been.

He slowly thrusts into you, watching your every tiny reaction to his thrusts. All you can do is hold on for dear life, pulling him closer and closer, encouraging him to sink his night-black teeth into your skin as you leave bloody scratches across his arms and back.

You yank at his clothes, ripping his shirt and exposing his chest to you. Your mouth travels along his neck, worshipping every scar, every muscle, every perfect blemish on his body that years of training in war and combat have left—the living mark of being the Harkonnen heir.

You moan loudly as his thrusts intensify. He tightens his fingers on your hips, probably leaving a few bruises there, but all that mattered now was how wonderfully he was pounding into you from below, his chest rubbing against yours as he held you tightly against him, practically encouraging you to collapse onto him and cuddle up to him as he fucked your brains out.

It's humiliating how little it takes for you to come. After a few more thrusts, you're a moaning mess, a mass of bones and muscle you can't control, giving yourself over to him completely as the world around you turns white as his skin, screaming his name.

Your chin falls onto his shoulder; you are wrapping your arms tightly around him and letting him use you however he wants as you come down from your orgasm haze, appreciating the way his cock, wet from your cum, digs a spot inside you for release.

Feyd grunts, his thrusts becoming jerky as he presses his nose to your temple and sucks on the sensitive spot behind your ear, coming buried deep inside you. You shudder as his thick, sticky seed floods your already full womb and spills between the two of you, sealing you together.

You both breathe deeply and shakily, clinging desperately to the other, holding on to the other's body for dear life and not daring to move an inch as you appreciate the other's intimate closeness.

This was... completely different from your usual fucks. Usually it was raw passion, teeth and claws, desperate pursuit of orgasm, and finding pleasure in the other, but here... this was about closeness. A real sense of another person. You shiver as you feel something wet land on your shoulder. Your heart stops a little when you realise it's a tear. His tear.

Neither of you comment on this. You don't have to. You don't want to. You know how raw and vulnerable this moment is for the two of you. What you just did was really meant.

And you dare assume that this is the first time you've actually, truly gotten closer to each other. In a much more meaningful and deeper way than you've ever dared to think you could with anyone.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

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Silent Conversations

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — After living in Madrid for nearly a year, Jude's gotten the hang of spanish. So he never thought he’d have to learn a new language just to flirt with someone—until he meets you.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x Deaf!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 9.7k

Warnings! FLUFF!! Jude is kind of obsessed with you in the best way, lover boy, you're very adorable in this one, reader speaks but can't hear, reader can read lips,

Preview

********** Being deaf and a chatterbox is a contradiction that most people don’t know how to wrap their heads around.

But it’s who you are.

Since you can remember, you've always loved to talk—loved filling spaces with words, with thoughts, with laughter. Being deaf has never stopped you. If anything, it’s only made you more creative in how you communicate.

People underestimate how much talking you can do with your hands, how much personality you can pour into a single sign, a raised brow, a quick smirk. They think "talking" only means sound, that conversations without voices are somehow lesser, as if the absence of noise makes words any less real. You’ve spent your whole life proving them wrong.

And tonight is no different.

Your little brother practically vibrates with excitement next to you, hands flying as he signs about how insane the game was. He’s been a Real Madrid fan for as long as he’s been able to walk, and your parents had gone all out for his birthday—jerseys, meet&greet tickets, the whole experience.

So far, the night has been going well.

Your family has been cheering and chanting for Real Madrid alongside the thousands of other fans packed into the stadium, their voices blending into the electric hum of excitement that fills the air. The game has been nothing short of exhilarating, each pass, each near goal sending waves of emotion through the crowd.

Your hands ache from the number of times you’ve signed to your brother, asking for updates on what’s happening when the movements on the field become too chaotic to follow. He’s been patient, grinning as he translates key moments for you, his enthusiasm infectious.

When the final whistle blows, confirming Real Madrid’s victory, the stadium erupts into cheers. Your family is ecstatic, jumping to their feet and embracing one another in celebration. You smile, soaking in the energy, but exhaustion is already creeping in. The weight of tomorrow morning sits heavily on your shoulders.

You love nights like this—love the way your father’s face lights up after a good match, love the way your younger cousins beam with pride, shouting the players’ names like they know them personally—but you can’t afford to linger. Not when your boss expects you bright-eyed and fully alert at the crack of dawn.

You sigh, glancing at the time. If you leave now, you’ll get home at a decent hour, and maybe you'll get six hours in tonight. I should go, you sign to your brother.

He frowns. So soon?  

"I have work in the morning."  

He relays this to the rest of your family, and they groan in unison. Your mother reaches out, squeezing your arm in understanding. "Text us when you get home," you read on her lips.

You nod, exchanging quick hugs before making your way toward the exit.

The corridors are still crowded with lingering fans, some of them stopping to take pictures or rewatch highlights on their phones. You weave through them, emerging into the crisp night air just outside the stadium, and pull out your phone to call for an Uber.

Five minutes.

Not too bad.

You exhale, shoving your free hand into the pocket of your jacket as you make your way toward the designated pick-up area near the parking lot. Your feet ache slightly from standing for so long, and the cool breeze is a welcome relief after being surrounded by so much body heat. You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, debating whether to pass the time by answering a few messages or just watching the people around you.

That’s when you feel it.

A presence.

It’s subtle at first—a shift in the atmosphere, a slight prickling at the back of your neck. Then, footsteps. Slow. Unsteady.

You look up just in time to see him stumbling toward you.

The acrid scent of alcohol hits you first. It’s overpowering, the kind of stench that clings to a person’s skin and clothes, the kind that makes your stomach churn. He’s disheveled, his jacket slipping off one shoulder, his eyes unfocused. But there’s something sharp in the way he grins at you, something that immediately puts you on edge.

"Hey," he slurs.

Your grip tightens around your phone. You don't respond. Instead, you take a step back, angling your body away from him. But before you can put more distance between you, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength.

"I'm talking to you, you little bitch!"

Panic spikes through you like ice water.

Your breath hitches, your heart hammering as you instinctively jerk back, trying to free yourself from his grasp. Your hands move on their own, the motions quick, desperate. Leave me alone.  

The man’s face scrunches in confusion. "What? What are you doin' with your hands?"

You swallow hard, pulse racing. You try again, this time forcing yourself to speak, hoping the sounds come out right. "I can't hear you. I'm deaf."

His expression twists into something cruel. "Deaf?" He laughs, loud and mean. "You serious?" His grip tightens. "C'mon, don’t be like that. Just talk to me.I can show you a good time."

Your throat constricts. You shake your head quickly, signing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, over and over, even though you know there’s nothing to apologize for. It’s just instinct. A plea for him to stop, to let go.

But he doesn’t. If anything, your silence only makes him angrier.

"Stop doin' that shit!" he snaps. "Just say something!"

Before you can react, before the panic fully settles into terror, a shadow moves behind him. Fast. Deliberate. A hand clamps down on his shoulder, yanking him backward with enough force that he nearly loses his balance.

"That’s enough, mate." The voice is low, firm. Unmistakably authoritative.

The drunk stumbles, blinking in confusion as he turns to face whoever pulled him away. And that’s when you see him.

Jude Bellingham.

He’s taller than you expected, broader too, his frame imposing even in casual clothes. His coils are damp, like he just stepped out of the showers, and there’s an undeniable exhaustion in his features—deep shadows under his eyes, a certain heaviness to the way he holds himself.

But none of that matters right now. Right now, his entire focus is on the man in front of him, his jaw tight with barely contained irritation.

The drunk sneers. "Who the fuck—"

"Walk away," Jude says flatly.

The man wobbles slightly, his mind struggling to catch up as he starts recognizes Jude. His eyes widen. "I was just—"

"I don’t care." Jude’s voice is sharper now, cutting through the drunken haze like a blade. "She’s not interested. Walk away."

There’s a moment of hesitation. A beat where the drunk seems to consider whether or not this is a fight worth picking. He glances between you and Jude, his lip curling in annoyance, before finally, begrudgingly, releasing a scoff.

"Whatever," he mutters, stumbling back. "Wasn’t even worth it."

You don’t breathe until he’s gone.

The moment he disappears into the crowd, your entire body sags, tension draining so quickly that your knees feel weak. You swallow, pressing a hand to your chest in an attempt to steady yourself.

Jude turns to you then, his brows knitting together in concern. "You alright?"

You nod automatically, even though you’re not entirely sure it’s true. Your hands tremble slightly as you sign, Thank you.

Jude watches your hands carefully, and your gaze shifts to his lips expecting him to say something next—to offer words you wouldn't be able to hear. Instead, he hesitates, then lifts his hands.

You… okay? The sign is clumsy, the movements stiff, but the effort makes your heart stop.

He had recognized what you were signing before. He had understood. you think.

You nodded, your throat tight with gratitude. He relaxed a little at your response, but still glanced around, protective. "You waiting on someone?" His lips move slower this time, giving you a chance to read them.

You nod again, holding up your phone. "Uber." The words come out in a bit of a slur but he understands them.

Jude frowns, looking at your screen. "Two minutes?"

He must have seen the time displayed on your phone because there’s no way he could’ve understood the tone of your nod. "Yeah."

The way he scowls in response makes you think that’s not an acceptable answer. His eyes shift, scanning the parking lot, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "Look, you want to wait inside? The security team can keep an eye on you till your Uber arrives."

His concern is sweet, and you find yourself nodding before you can think. "Okay. Thank you."

You let him lead you back to the main building, where there’s a security team waiting by the entrance. He explains your situation, and they offer you a smile. They won't let you stay inside the stadium since the game has already ended, but they’re willing to stand outside with you until your car arrives.

You nod in gratitude and wave a goodbye as Jude makes to leave. You expect him to keep going, to be on his way, but instead, he hesitates. For a second, he just looks at you, as if deciding something, but he shakes his head, offering a quick smile as he slips away into the night.

The security team stays with you the whole time. They make sure you’re safe and wave down your Uber when it arrives. You thank them and climb into your car, making your way home.

That’s it, you think. That’s where the story ends.

But it’s only the beginning.

**********

-Bianca🌻

[worthlessnepenthes]

So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

[shimohyo]

Konfessions

I hate you

I hate you so so so so much.

Your actions make my very skin crawl, your cruel words are my nightmares every night. You make me sick just thinking about you.

I hate what you did,

I hate what you did to them.

You hurt those four, you killed two of them and those you left alive will never be the same.

You took away their pillars of safety, and now they are scrambling for an anchor to ground themselves with.

I hate hate hate how you acted. You acted like you didn’t even care! You didn’t care about the lives you had ruined!

So I hate you. I hate you with either fiber of my being, every bone in my body, every part of me hates you.

But I don’t hate you, do I? I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. It hurts that I love you. I hate the fact I love you because I should hate you. Because my brain tells me that I should hate you but my heart screams and scrambles for an explanation, reason, excuse, anything to justify your actions. To justify loving you.

You hurt so many people for something so so childish and stupid! You killed two people. You mutilated his body just to mess with and hurt his friend so so so much when he saw his best friend missing a head.

And you did that just for some convulsed plot to kill your ‘rival’! You killed her right in front of him. You drove him to stab you! You practically tortured him just to get at her. All for the sake of your stupid delusions!

Loving you feels like a sin. A horrible horrible horrible action. You hurt so many people. So many people I see everyday and talk to and I feel so wrong because I love you and they don’t and I’m in the wrong for loving you still!

….i wish i could just hate you….

….Maybe I don’t love you for you.

Maybe I love the idea of you. The you I thought I knew. The you that you showed to me to keep me on your side. The you that was a mask, just like the one you always wore, hiding your disgusting truth underneath it. 

I hate the True you. The true you you showed everyone except me until the end. The true you who would mutilate a corpse to mess with others. Cut off someone’s head and tongues and disembowel him and oh god I’m about to throw up just remembering it. 

I love your mask, but hate the real you. The you under your mask. The you that is bloodied underneath.

I don’t know if we’re going to be 

Foxes our next lives.

You have a lot of sin to pay for after all.

Maybe I’ll join you down there. 

For the sin of loving someone so terrible.

[marsdql]

through rose-coloured glasses [P.SH] v.1

synopsis: Sunghoon thought you would always be there—his angel, patient and unwavering. But the thing about angels is that once they fall, they never return the same. And when he realizes what he’s done, it’s already too late.

toxic!sunghoon x naïve(?)!reader | wc: 1.4k | cw: Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, possessiveness, abuse of power in a relationship, self-doubt, mild violence (psychological), themes of control and dependency, full angst, mentions of angels(angel concept)

Want to see other versions of this drabble? Click here!

Sunghoon didn’t know when he started feeling it.

The weight.

The suffocating, gnawing weight of your absence, pressing against his chest like a cold, heavy stone.

You were still here, technically. Still breathing the same air, still sitting across from him, still responding when he spoke.

But you weren’t here.

Not really.

And that’s when he knew—he had finally done it.

He had finally broken you.

You used to wait for him.

Every night, even when he didn’t come home, even when his phone rang unanswered, you still waited.

You still smiled when he finally showed up, arms open, heart soft, always willing to forgive.

But now?

Now, you didn’t wait.

You didn’t call.

You didn’t even ask where he had been.

That should’ve made things easier for him.

He should’ve felt relieved.

Instead, it terrified him.

It started with the little things.

The way you stopped greeting him with soft kisses, stopped reaching for his hand first, stopped filling the silences with your usual bright, endless chatter.

Then, it got worse.

Your eyes, once so warm, so trusting, had gone dull.

You used to look at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

Now, you barely looked at him at all.

One night, he came home late. Again.

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp.

You were sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring at nothing.

Something inside him twisted.

“Angel,” he called softly, like he always did.

You didn’t even blink.

His throat went dry. He stepped closer, hesitating before sitting beside you. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Silence.

The kind that made his skin crawl.

Sunghoon sighed, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you mad?”

Finally, you looked at him. And for the first time in forever, he wished you hadn’t. Because the way you looked at him wasn’t sad.

It wasn’t angry—It wasn’t anything. You just looked… empty.

“I don’t think I have the energy to be mad anymore,” you said simply.

His heart stuttered.

“Angel, don’t—”

“Don’t call me that.”

His breath caught.

You had never stopped him before.

Never.

His fingers twitched, but he pulled his hand back, suddenly unsure, suddenly scared.

You sighed, looking away. “I think I finally get it now.”

His chest tightened. “Get what?”

You smiled. Small. Hollow.

“The way you are,” you murmured. “The way you only pull me close when you feel me slipping. The way you make me think I’m the problem, that I’m too much, when really… you just never had enough to give.”

His stomach dropped.

“Wait—”

“I spent so long thinking if I just stayed, if I just loved you enough, you’d love me the same.” You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “But I was wrong.”

Sunghoon’s head spun. “That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You know I care about you.”

“Caring isn’t the same as loving.”

Sunghoon’s blood turned cold.

And it was in that moment—when he saw the hollow look in your eyes, the space where your warmth used to be—that he understood the full weight of what he had done.

You had fallen.

Not just away from him, but from everything.

You had fallen from grace.

He had taken your light, your softness, your belief in the good of people, and twisted it into something unrecognizable.

He had pushed you so far that the angel who once believed in unconditional love, who forgave him time and time again, was now nothing more than a shell of herself.

You were no longer his angel.

You were a fallen angel.

It wasn’t just a change in attitude or behavior.

It was in the way your presence had shifted.

The lightness that once radiated from you was gone, replaced by a darkness that felt thick and heavy.

You were still here, still walking in this world, but you had fallen into something else.

Something cold.

And he had made it happen.

Sunghoon couldn’t understand how he didn’t see it sooner.

How he didn’t realize that the angel he had been holding onto so selfishly was no longer the same.

You didn’t look at him the way you used to.

You didn’t care the way you used to.

And when you finally spoke again, the words cut deeper than any insult or argument could.

“I’m not waiting for you anymore,” you whispered. “I’m not begging you to love me anymore.”

He didn’t know what to say.

His chest felt hollow. His limbs heavy.

He had thought he could fix this.

He had thought he could pull you back, whisper the right words, hold you close again, and you’d forgive him—again.

But now, it was too late.

The angel he had known was gone.

And in her place, stood something darker, something colder—

A fallen angel.

And it was his fault.

You didn’t need him anymore.

The angel that had once given him everything had disappeared, leaving nothing behind but the broken pieces of a love that could never be mended.

You had fallen so far from where you once were, but there was no redemption in sight.

Because you no longer believed in the same things.

No longer believed in him.

Sunghoon’s heart clenched as he realized what he had done.

You weren’t his angel anymore.

You were something else now—someone who had seen the darkness, who had lived in the shadows, and who no longer believed in the light.

And he couldn’t bring you back.

Because he was the one who had made you fall.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t wait for him to apologize, to change, to fix what had been broken.

Because you had already fallen too far to care.

And there was no saving you.

Not anymore.

[nubiawrites]

chapter seven

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex.

Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.

Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.

MASTERLIST

Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.

For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.

Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.

As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.

“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.

“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled. 

“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”

Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.

“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.

“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.

“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”

“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.

“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”

“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”

“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”

“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover. 

“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”

“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.

“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.

“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.

“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”

“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”

“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.

“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.

Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.

“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.

“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.

“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”

“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine.  “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”

“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.

“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”

“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”

Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure. 

Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.

“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.

“The rooftop?” Iriye stated. 

“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her

Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.

“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction. 

“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his. 

“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.

“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”

“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”

“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.

“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.

“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”

Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.

“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened. 

“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”

“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.

“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.” 

“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”

“What about me?”

“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.

“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”

“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.

“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.

Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.

“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.

“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.

The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.

“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did. 

“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

“Your parents were one and done?”

“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”

“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.

“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father. 

“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”

“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.

“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.

“Thank you.”

By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.

“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.

“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.

“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”

“What are you asking, love?”

“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-

“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand. 

“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.

“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him. 

“That’s someth-”

“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.

“Then let’s go,” 

Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.

But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.

Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.

“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything. 

Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.

“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs. 

“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.

Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.

Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.

“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”

Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.

Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.

“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him. 

Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself. 

“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.

Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.

“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”

“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again. 

“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved. 

Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.

Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips. 

“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.

Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.

“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.

Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.

Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.

“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her. 

Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.

“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room. 

“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.

“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.

“Mhm,”

“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.

“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.

Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.

“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.

“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.

“Oh shit,” 

“Yes! Right there,”

“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.

“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom. 

Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.

Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.

“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”

“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”

Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[songbirdseung]

older / park jonseong

jongseong tried his best to be the man for you, to be the one you deserved, did everything for you, showed you how much he loved you. but only gets a heartbreak in return. song recommendation: older by conor matthews & universe by thuy

i think it's safe to say that most people find childhood love to be one of the purest and most endearing things. there’s something so innocent about the way two kids can form a bond—stable yet naive, built on nothing but shared laughter, pinky promises, and the simple joy of each other’s company. to the parents watching from the sidelines, it’s heartwarming. seeing their child shower someone else with love, even in the smallest ways, reassures them that they’ve raised a kid who knows how to care, how to cherish. it feels like proof that they’ve done something right.

but on the other side of the argument, there are those who believe young love is nothing more than fleeting foolishness; that kids have no business being in relationships, that they’re too young to grasp what love truly means or to handle the inevitable heartbreak that follows. let children be children, they say.

your parents and jay’s, however, never thought that way. in their eyes, you and jay were something special. two kids who found each other early, who had the rare gift of experiencing love when most were still figuring out friendship. they saw it as a blessing; something rare, something precious. after all, how lucky were you to find someone who made your heart race before you even understood what it meant? someone who, even in your youth, you were certain you could never be without?

but love, as beautiful as it was, had a way of making people blind. and for as much as your parents adored the bond you and jay shared, they also overlooked the dangers of it. because love at that age wasn’t just innocent... it was reckless. it was consuming. it was two kids falling headfirst into something they didn’t fully understand, unable to see the consequences waiting down the road.

how does someone go from being a stranger to becoming your entire world? how does a person you never even noticed suddenly become the only thing occupying your mind? how does someone go from nothing… to everything?

it started small, as most arguments do. just a spark, something barely worth acknowledging... until suddenly, it wasn’t.

"you don't get it," jay huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, brows furrowed in frustration.

"what is there to get?" you shot back, voice sharp, laced with something you didn’t quite understand yet. "you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.”

you scoffed, throwing your hands up. “oh, right. because me walking home with someone else one time is apparently the end of the world.”

jay exhaled, looking away, jaw clenched so tightly you swore you could hear his teeth grind. “it’s not about that.”

“then what is it about, jay?”

he hesitated.

you could see the way he was struggling, the way he was trying to find the right words, like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but didn’t know if he should say it. and it frustrated you. the silence, the tension, the fact that you were even fighting in the first place over something so stupid, something that should have never turned into this.

so you pushed.

"i don’t understand why you’re acting like this," you muttered, softer now, but still just as stubborn. "like i did something wrong.”

jay ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as he exhaled again, slower this time.

"because," he started, finally meeting your eyes, and for the first time since this argument began, he wasn’t just frustrated, he was hurt. "because i was supposed to walk you home."

your breath hitched.

he shook his head, almost like he was mad at himself for even saying it. "because that’s our thing. and then i saw you with him and-” he stopped himself, letting out a dry laugh that didn’t sound anything like him. "never mind. forget it."

but you couldn’t. because suddenly, it wasn’t about walking home with someone else. it wasn’t about something as mundane as that. it was about jay; jay, who always waited for you after school even when it made him late. jay, who never let you walk on the outer side of the sidewalk. jay, who carried your bag when you complained it was too heavy, who always made sure you got home safe, who, without ever needing to say it out loud, cared in a way you didn’t fully realize until now.

it was about something so much bigger than the argument itself.

it was about you and him.

and maybe… maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

what was once love and adoration turned into sour and bitter remnants of a relationship that had once been everything. the easy laughter, the stolen glances, the quiet understanding. it all turned into sharp words, exhausted sighs, and the undeniable ache of something slipping through your fingers.

the final fight wasn’t about something small anymore. it wasn’t a misunderstanding, a fleeting argument over something that would be forgotten by morning. it was everything, years of built-up tension, of unspoken words, of feelings neither of you knew how to handle at such a young age.

"so that's it?" your voice wavered, trying to sound angry, trying to sound like you didn’t care, but failing miserably.

jay's jaw was clenched, hands in fists at his sides. his eyes held that same look they always did whenever you fought; not just frustration, but something deeper. something pained.

"what else do you want me to say?" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "we're just… we're not us anymore."

the words hit harder than they should have.

because he was right.

you weren’t the same two kids who thought love was just hand-holding and pinky promises. you had changed, grown into versions of yourselves that no longer fit together the way they once did. and maybe, deep down, you knew this was inevitable.

but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

the next few weeks passed in a blur. apologies left unsaid, memories packed away, and then, just like that, jay was gone.

moved to another state. a clean break.

no chance to fight for it. no chance to fix it.

just distance, silence, and the heavy weight of knowing that what once was everything had turned into nothing but a memory neither of you wanted to hold onto.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Fix You-Part 1

Kelly Severide x Reader x Matt Casey/ Sevasey x Reader

You get sent to Firehouse fifty one as a temporary placement when a paramedic is needed. Your first day you meet the house Captain and Rescue Squad Lieutenant.

“Where’s your placement?” your sister asked as you balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder, trying to gather everything you needed to get out of the door. “Firehouse fifty one. They need a new partner for Brett after Dawson moved. I’ve worked with the rig in passing but this will pretty much be my first time working with the truck or rescue squad” you told her as you rushed out of your apartment, locking the door behind yourself.

You’d met with Chief Boden already along with Sylvie Brett but when you’d met with the two of them it had only been them. Today would be your official introduction as a temporary member of the house. You knew most of the firemen by name and face at the very least but you would be there for ten months. You’d hopefully build at least a few friendships.

You parked your truck across the street where Boden told you it was ok then grabbed your gear and headed over to the station house. Sylvie spotted you and stepped out of the bays to meet you halfway “Hey Y/N” you grinned “Sylvie! Glad you’re here already. I would’ve hated to walk into this without at least one friendly face at my side” she laughed and slipped her arm through yours “They’re not that bad, really”

You raised an eyebrow and she shrugged “Ok, well they’re not worse than any other house” you laughed “Now that I believe”

The two of you walked into the bays and you spotted a few men sitting around a table, one in a freaking recliner. “Who’s the grandpa?” you asked without thinking about it and when he turned around you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you. It was Squad Three Lieutenant Kelly Severide. A grin slipped onto his face as he stood up to face you “Who’s the spitfire Brett?”

You recovered from the embarrassment fast enough to smirk “Spitfire huh? I kinda like that. Name’s Y/N. I’m the temp paramedic here as a partner for Brett until Boden finds someone who’s a fit” he nodded as you held your hand out. He shook it then winked at you “Think I’ll stick with Spitfire, suits ya just fine” 

Matt Casey, the house Captain, walked out behind him and put a hand on his shoulder “Is this idiot bothering you ladies?” you shook your head “My fault really, I called him a grandpa” 

A grin split Matt’s face at that as he cut his eyes at Kelly, affectionately running his hand over the other man’s grey hair “Grandpa huh?” “Don’t you dare babe” Kelly replied then nodded at you “This is Y/N, the temp para but I think we’re gonna call her spitfire”

Matt looked back at you “Spitfire?” you shrugged “I like it” he nodded “Then it’s settled. Sylvie will show you around, get you a locker. If you need anything feel free to holler at me or Kelly” you nodded “Thanks”

Within about a week or two  you were on a first name basis with everyone you were on shift with and knew everyone who worked out of the station house. It was a family of sorts and even though you were only a visitor they were welcoming you in with no hesitation. 

“Why are you working as a temp?” Cruz asked one day when all of you were picking at breakfast before any calls had come in. You shrugged and sipped the coffee in your hands “Haven’t really found a house that fits me. This way I’m still doing what I love and helping houses that need it in the meantime” Kelly leaned back from where he was sitting across the room next to Matt and you knew the moment he grinned he was about to tease you “So you’re a stray sniffing around for a home?” 

Matt slapped him behind the head then looked at you “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to house train him for years but it hasn’t taken” you laughed as Kelly rubbed his head and cut his eyes at his boyfriend. “It’s fine Matt, he isn’t wrong really”  “Think you may stay here?” Sylvie asked and you shrugged, feeling very much like you were in the hot seat “I don’t know yet. I mean I like working here so far but it’s a little too soon to tell”

Matt met your eyes and you knew he could tell you were uncomfortable because he cleared his throat “That’s enough with the twenty questions” you shot him a small smile as a thank you as everyone turned their attention back to their food or other conversations. 

A call rang out for a structure fire needing the truck, rescue and ambulance so everyone was on their feet and in motion, any semblance of breakfast long forgotten as you headed for the bays. 

You ran past Matt and smiled “Thanks for that” he nodded so you hurried to hop into the driver’s seat of the rig as he ran to the truck and Kelly ran to the rescue squad. Sylvie cut her eyes at you as you fell into the line of vehicles as they pulled out onto the road “I think you’ll end up staying”  You laughed lightly “That you thinking or hoping Brett?” She shrugged “Little bit of both?”

You walked into your apartment and considered for a second just crashing across your couch instead of making it to your bed but your phone chimed with a text from Sylvie We’re going to Mollys. You in?

You were tired but it was a friday and you were off the next two days…screw it. You texted back Meet ya in twenty? And she replied See you there!

____________________________

You walked into Mollys and spotted Sylvie sitting with a few women from med and the twenty first so you headed towards her. You smiled when Kim Burgess greeted you “How’s fifty one treating you?” you cut your eyes at Sylvie then nodded “Best partner I’ve had yet” and Sylvie grinned broadly. You looked around “Where is the rest of your unit Burgess?” she shrugged “Adam is currently retrieving our drinks, we got you one too. Jay and Mouse are over there in a booth with Fireball” she nodded and you saw the men in question with their girlfriend. You knew Fireball well, she was a trauma nurse at Chicago med. One of the best you’d seen. Probably from her time as a combat medic, from what you’d gathered that was how the three of them had met.

“Where’s the other two?” you asked and she grinned “Kevin has a date with that new nurse from med that just moved here from scotland and Firecracker stayed in tonight with Will and Connor”  you nodded as Adam made it back to the table carrying the drinks and passed them out, shooting you a smile “Here ya go spitfire. If it’s not right, blame your partner” you laughed “It’s fine Adam. A free drink is a free drink. Especially one I know I can trust”

____________________

You and Sylvie had Adam and Kim laughing about a call you responded to where a frat guy got his head caught in a stair railing. “He was breathing fine, not in distress but I swear it reminded me of something that would’ve happened in a movie from the eighties” you laughed around your drink.

You’d only drink two with alcohol then switched to soda but the company was good so you were still enjoying the night out. “There’s our medics” you heard Matt’s voice and cut your eyes up with a smile “Captain” he shook his head “We’re not at work, just call me Matt” you nodded “Ok Matt” Kelly grinned at you from next to him “And you always call me Kelly anyways” you laughed “That’s cause Matt always acts like a captain. You only act like a lieutenant when we’re actively on a call”

They nodded to the table “Can we join you four?” you shrugged and looked around. Sylvie shrugged and Adam patted the table “Sure” Kelly went to grab them drinks as Matt sat down next to you. “So, spitfire, how long is your contract for anyways?” you grinned “Trying to get rid of me already?” he raised an eyebrow so you grinned “Ten months unless I put in a request to stay. Boden said I’d have that option as soon as six months hit”

Sylvie gasped “You did not tell me that” you grinned “Because I don’t want the twenty question game to start back up” Matt shook his head “It won’t. I won’t let it” “Thank you” you replied and turned back to your previously abandoned conversation with Sylvie and Kim as Matt started talking to Adam then Kelly came back over and joined their conversation as well. Maybe you could find a place at Fifty one? 

It was still a little soon to tell but it was starting to feel like home already.

@desimarie12

[jackoshadows]

"... best you have a new face as well.” He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. “A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own." - Arya, ADwD

A recap and a lesson for fandom newbies -

We have this CANON ACCURATE fanart of Arya Stark from the incredibly talented Tonyloom with the long face, brown hair and grey eyes dressed for feast time at Winterfell as the daughter of the Warden of the North.

A Sansa fan gets triggered by this Arya fanart because it's different from ones that Sansa stans usually like for their 'Stark sisters' fanart - where Arya is drawn dark skinned to highlight Sansa's fair complexion because Sansa is beautiful and Arya is ugly, where Arya is missing teeth, always a sword in hand, messy hair being braided by Sansa to conform to what Sansa likes etc. - and goes on an insane rant about how Arya fans don't want Arya to be ugly because of equating goodness to beauty....

So Arya fans respond to this attack on the fan artist and point to the book text where several characters call Arya pretty and beautiful and ask why they should consider the character ugly when she is not in the text of the books.

A BNF then jumps into the discourse and reblogs the 'Arya is ugly and Arya fans have internalized misogyny' post and pretends that Arya fans are the ones starting this whole discourse on Arya's looks.

BNF tags it as 'This is weird discourse, who cares if Arya is pretty'. Who cares if Arya is pretty? The weird, racist Sansa stan that you reblogged the post from, who got triggered by some Arya fan art and had to go on an entire rant, that's who. Who cares? Well you cared enough to reblog an 'Arya is ugly' post and point fingers at Arya fans, that's who.

And now the BNFs reblog spreads like wildfire amongst the casual fans and we have many who actually think that canon Arya is ugly and Arya fans just have internalized misogyny. This, children, is how the many wrong but popular fanon gets created.

Remember, this BNF had nothing to say about racist Arya fanart. Nothing to say about sexist posts where Arya is masculinized and her femininty stripped from her. Nothing to say about the many posts from Sansa stans/Jonsa shippers about how Jon is repulsed by Arya's ugliness and loves Sansa because she is so beautiful.

But they had to step in and make sure everyone knew that Arya is ugly and it's Arya fans who are the problem.

This is actually nothing new. The reason there is so much wrong misinformation about Arya and Daenerys, and the way this fandom has opinions about these two female characters, is because it's been crafted over decades of fandom BNF's spreading posts and meta like this through BNF blogs like Asoiafuniversity. Explained so well in this post here:

Villainizing Arya fans as 'bad fans' has long been a thing in fandom. Asoiafuniversity, which was the goto place for all things asoiaf in those days, had actual posts equating Arya fans to Walter White fans from Breaking bad who hated on his wife Skylar.

Keep in mind, this is an actual quote from a post on the most popular asoiaf blog when the fandom was very active:

The interesting thing about Arya is that unlike most of the male Bad Fan icons, she doesn’t have a wife to embody her Bad Fans’ frustrations and serve as an outlet for their ire – no Betty Draper, no Skyler White, no Carmela Soprano. Instead, she has a sister, Sansa, who winds up serving the same function. Much of Bad Fandom is a gendered phenomenon, pulling for he-man figures against shrewish wives who just don’t understand them. It’s fascinating to see how the phenomenon can alter itself to accommodate a female-female pairing while still targeting characteristics we typically gender female. The Bad Fan is nothing if not durable.

So much toxic sexism masquerading as feminism, where they equate Arya fans to the chuds who hate female characters and whose unfair target is Sansa because she is 'female'. And Arya is a 'he-man' figure....The mind boggles.

But this was the typical vile sexist garbage Bnfs were spewing about both Arya and Daenerys in the days when fandom was most active and this is where a majority of the sexist opinions about Arya and Dany comes from.

This is why these canonically wrong aspects of these characters are so widespread and entrenched in fandom thought that it doesn't matter if we use actual book quotes to show that it's the exact opposite.

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 7

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: court proceedings, angst, fluff, slight smut, mention of sexual assault

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter will touch on the sentencing of the jackasses, how the family is navigating life and other twists and turns. 

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

I moved back into the bunker but not our shared bedroom. I slept in the spare room down the hall. Most nights I stared at the ceiling longing for Dean. My heart was still broken from the cruel words he flung at me, the anger he had towards me. 

We had appointments with a therapist. Delilah, Dean and I had our own, then a family appointment and of course one for Dean and I together. I was scared the cracks in our foundation would open up and swallow us whole. 

The day we were due back in court for the sentencing I woke up early. I took a shower and walked quietly to the kitchen. Turning the corner I gasped softly. Dean was sitting at the table. His green eyes flicked up to mine. He looked exhausted and sad.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” My breath hitched and my heart clenched. I missed hearing him call me that and meaning it. “Good morning, Dean. Are you ready for today?” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He shifted in his seat and there was a crackle of tension in the air. “Hey, um, do you think you and I can sit and talk later?” He asked in an unsure way.

I took a deep breath, “Dean, I think we should wait and talk with the therapist. They can help us with communication so we don’t end up saying things we’re going to regret later. Hurt each other more.” 

Dean took a shaky breath and nodded. He stood and walked over to me, cupped my face, “For what it’s worth I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for Delilah. I spoke out of anger. I love you and I can’t lose you.” 

I leaned into his touch, “I love you too, Dean. I never stopped, but we have some work to do.” He nodded and let his hand slowly fall from my face. The warmth on my cheek lingered. 

A few hours later we were sitting in the courtroom. I held Delilah’s and Charlie’s hands. Dean sat on the other side of Delilah and held her hand. 

The judge came in and discussed the trial and what the charges were. “Since both defendants showed a lack of remorse, and it has come to light this attack was not the first one I feel it is my duty as an officer of the court and a sworn protector of justice that I sentence both of you to the max time and you two will have to register on the sex offender registry for the rest of your lives. Bailiff, please take both of these young men into custody where they will be transported to the regional jail.”

We all let out the breath we were holding. The boys were crying and their mother’s were wailing. Delilah looked at me and I leaned over, “Don’t feel bad for them. You did nothing wrong. Daddy and I raised you and Charlie to take accountability for your actions, this is how they take accountability.” 

She nodded. I made eye contact with Dean and he offered a soft smile. I craved his arms around me, his lips on mine. I just wanted us to get back to the way we were. I missed my husband.

The next few days we spent time together as a family. The distance between Dean and I was growing. Sam, Eileen and Jody came over more often and tried to help. 

Today Dean and I had our first therapy appointment together. I was nervous. All the hurt from the past few weeks was taking a toll on us. The ride to the therapist office was quiet. 

When we arrived, Dean walked around and opened my door out of habit. Walking into the building, his hand graced my lower back. Again, habit. It made my heart flutter, a smile formed on my lips. Almost like there was a spark of hope igniting between us. 

When we walked into the room the therapist invited us to sit wherever we were comfortable. Dean and I sat on the couch, but opposite ends. I noticed she wrote something down. 

She started telling us about herself and then invited us to tell her about our marriage and what brought us here today. She already knew about Delilah, but she didn’t know what happened between us.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his spot. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “Well, the stress of what happened to Delilah really got to all of us. Dean and I didn’t handle it well, and things were said that led to our separation. When I got into my accident I wasn’t living at home. Waking up in the hospital I saw my babies and Dean. Leaving the hospital I decided to move back home.” 

“I see, are you two sleeping in the same room?” I shook my head no. She wrote something down. She looked at Dean, “So, Mr Winchester, what do you think happened that brought you two here today?” 

Tears filled Dean’s eyes and my heart broke. “It’s my fault. I got so angry at not being able to protect my baby I took it out on my wife. I’ve always been able to protect people. She didn’t deserve the things I said to her. It wasn’t her fault and I told her it was. None of this was her fault. I’m a coward. I got scared and lashed out at the one person I knew who would always love me. She’s seen me at my worst and helped put me back together. I guess I just assumed she’d always be there no matter what. Now I’ve lost the love of my life forever.” 

I gasped softly and the therapist looked over at me. “Mr Winchester.” “Dean, please call me Dean.” “Okay, Dean, tell me when you first knew Y/N was the one. Tell me about the moment you fell in love with her.”

Dean smirked a bit and I looked over at him, wondering if it was the same day I was thinking about. 

“We had just finished a particularly grueling, um week at work.” I smirked at his choice of words. “We hadn’t been dating long, but had been working together for years. The two of us decided to get away for a bit so we went to a friend’s cabin. Y/N didn’t know because I blindfolded her. When we got there I had blankets spread out on the floor, our favorite takeout and pie. Had to make sure my girl got her favorite pie.” 

I smiled thinking about the day. A warmth filling my body.

“Candles everywhere. I went to start a fire and the wood was wet. I ended up chopping wood. She doesn’t know it, but I saw her watching from the doorway. The soft smile that ran across her lips, the way she bit her lower lip.”

I clenched my thighs together thinking about his cutting the wood. His shirt was tight against his body, the flexing of each muscle with the swing of the ax, and the way his strength was on display. I remember how it turned me on and made me feel. Like this man could protect me and anyone else that came along for the rest of our lives. 

“When the fire was lit, I put on some music. I don’t know how to dance, but I knew how much she loved it, so I tried. I took her in my arms. I still remember the way her eyes looked at me. So beautiful, so full of love. We danced and I lost my footing. We tumbled onto the blankets, me hovering over her. Her hair falling in her face. I gently brushed her hair back, looked in her eyes, kissed her lips softly and that’s when I knew. When I knew I was in love with her and would never love anyone else for the rest of my life. I knew she was going to be my wife, the mother of my children. That was the day I told her ‘I love you’ for the first time.” 

By the time Dean finished, tears were streaming down my face. The therapist told us it sounded like there was still a lot of love between us. This tragic incident in our lives tried to create a wedge. So, she gave us some homework, “I want the two of you to spend time together. Just the two of you. No children, no family. Just the two of you. You two need to get back to what made the two of you fall in love. I want you two to go away for a long weekend, or a week. Y/N, I want you to start by moving back into your bedroom with Dean. If this is going to work you have to be back in there.” 

I nodded. We thanked her and left. Walking to the car, Dean’s hand was by his side. I looked over at him and slid my hand into his, our fingers intertwined. He looked at our hands then at me and smiled. 

The drive home wasn’t as tense as the drive there. We talked about the homework and how we would figure out how to get away for a little bit. He took my hand and held it tight, “We will figure it out, baby. I want to make us work. I want to fix us. I will never forgive myself for hurting you. I love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you too, Dean. I want us to fix us too.” He kissed my hand. We drove home and when we got home I walked to the spare room and started to gather my things. 

Dean came to the door and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you need any help, sweetheart?” I looked up at him and shook my head. He walked towards me and cupped my face, “I’m so sorry, baby.” His forehead rested on mine. I looked up at him, our eyes met and he leaned closer to me. I leaned up and our lips met softly. 

He pulled back and looked at me. Tears in his eyes and tears in mine. His hands moved into my hair and pulled me closer to him and his lips crashed on mine again. The weeks of separation, the anger, the pain, all slipping away. 

We pulled apart when we heard someone clear their throat. We looked at the door and saw Sam. “Well I see therapy is going well.” He chuckled. “Actually yes. We have homework that we need to talk to you and the kids about. First, my beautiful wife is moving back into our room with me.” 

I grabbed my things and walked past Dean and Sam. Sam smiled at me as I walked past and he squeezed my shoulder. 

Walking into my shared bedroom with Dean I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I felt more of the shattered pieces coming back together. 

“Okay guys, we need to talk to you all about the homework our therapist gave us. She wants mom and I to go on a long weekend away. Just the two of us to refocus and work on us, our marriage. So Sammy, if you don’t mind could you keep an eye on them?” 

“Yes, of course.” Jody looked at us and smiled, “Well guys, you’re welcome to use the cabin if you want, and I’ll keep an eye on the kids when Sammy can’t.” 

I hugged her, “Thank you. The cabin sounds great.” Delilah smiled and looked at Sam and then at Charlie. 

“We will figure out a good time for everyone so we can get away. I want to make sure schedules are lined up so nobody is inconvenienced.” 

Sam stepped closer to me, “Y/N, what would inconvenience us the most is if you and Dean separate. Y’all should go this weekend. That gives you a few days to get things in order.” I nodded.

Once it was settled I walked into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. Dean came in and leaned against the doorframe watching me. I was standing at the stove when I felt his arms snake around my waist. “Is this too much too fast? I can let go if you want me to.” “No, Dean. It’s perfect.” I leaned back into him. 

My heart beat wildly in my chest. I craved him. He spun me around to face him and he tilted my chin up, “I will always love you. You are the love of my life and I am so thankful you’re my wife, my partner, the mother of my children. Thank you for giving me a beautiful little girl and a devilishly handsome son. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve.” 

Delilah stood at the door and watched us. She loved watching us and seeing the love between us. Her heart ached at the pain there was between us and she was determined to help fix it. Knowing our love story, and how we needed to get away she talked to Sam and Jody about recreating the magic of that weekend where Dean and I fell in love. Sam and Jody were all for it. Charlie offered to help too. 

Jody and Sam went ahead to the cabin and got it ready. They met with the local florist to have flowers delivered to the cabin the day we were supposed to arrive.

Dean helped me finish cooking dinner and the four of us sat at the table like we used to. I couldn’t help but smile looking around the table. 

“So daddy, can we have a movie night like we used to?” Delilah asked, batting her eyes at Dean. He chuckled, “Yeah, pumpkin. That sounds perfect.” 

The four of us sat around eating and talked. Delilah said she was glad I was back home where I belonged. “I am too baby. I missed you three so much.” Dean lifted his eyes and looked at me. He smiled softly. 

Delilah took notice and looked at Charlie, “Hey rugrat, let’s go get the cave ready for movie night.” “But I’m not done eating.” “Bring it with you.” She said more sternly. She glanced between Dean and I and Charlie nodded. 

He grabbed his burger and headed out of the kitchen with Delilah.

Dean and I chuckled. “She’s not subtle.” He smirked, “No she’s not. I wonder where she got that from?” “Her daddy and Uncle Sammy.” Dean laughed. That deep, head tilted back, full of joy, belly laugh that I missed. 

“I missed this, Dean.” “Me too sweetheart.” “I’m going to clean up the kitchen before we start the movie. I should be long.” 

I stood and Dean stood. He took my hand in his, “Y/N, tell me we will get through this. I can’t lose you.” 

I took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, “Dean, we will get through this as long as we’re both willing to put in the work. This, tonight, is a big step in the right direction.” 

He nodded and cupped my face, “We were interrupted earlier. Care to continue what we started?” 

His green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the sunlight. I smiled and leaned close to him. I placed my lips softly on his and my hands found the back of his neck. Dean sighed against my lips. Each time we kiss feels like parts of the cracks start to heal.

The two of us finished cleaning the kitchen and made our way to the Dean cave holding hands. Charlie and Delilah saw us holding hands and exchanged smiles. 

Settling in for a movie, Dean offered me his arm and I slid in next to him. A small olive branch to help mend our relationship. He kissed my head and pulled me close. His fingers draw delicate patterns on my skin. 

Delilah was on his other side. Her usual place since the day she was born. Even as she’s gotten older, her relationship with Dean has gotten stronger. It has changed to grow with her, but there will never come a day where she won’t need him. 

Even in the midst of all of this pain, I am thankful she and Charlie see us working hard at mending our relationship, not just throwing it away. She’s been able to see Dean as a protector and a fighter, and someone who will always be there for her.

I looked over near the end of the movie and saw Charlie asleep on the floor and Delilah asleep against Dean. Dean’s eyes were closed too, his lips slightly parted like he was asleep. I smiled and started to get up slowly. 

With his eyes closed he smirked, “Where are you going?” 

I giggled, “I’m going to get blankets to cover the three of you up.” “I’m not asleep, besides, I’m not missing the first night of you back in our bed.” I chuckled softly, “Fair enough, but I need to cover them up before we do.” 

I stood and he slipped off the couch, carefully laying Delilah down. We grabbed blankets and put them on the kids. Dean turned off the tv and the light.

We went to our bedroom. The door closes behind Dean with a click. I walked to my dresser and pulled out some clean underwear, and an oversized shirt. “I’m going to jump in the shower before bed.” Dean smirked, “Okay sweetheart. Enjoy.” I nodded and walked into the bathroom. Part of me wanted Dean to come in and the other part knew it wasn’t a good idea yet. We still had so much work to do before we had sex again. No matter how much I wanted it. 

When I finished my shower I walked into the bedroom and saw Dean leaning against the headboard. He was shirtless and in his gray sweatpants. The ones that drive me crazy without him even trying. He smiled at me as I bit my lip. “Did you enjoy your shower, sweetheart?” “Yeah, I did. It was great.” 

He pulled the blanket back on my side and motioned for me to slide in. I climbed in the bed and he slid down, taking me in his arms. “Baby, I hope you know I’m not expecting anything. I’m just glad you’re back where you belong. Sleeping right next to me.” 

“I know, Dean. I’ve missed sleeping here. I love you and I know you’re not expecting anything. I do want you, more than anything, but I think we should wait.” He nodded his head in understanding. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get some sleep.” I nodded and snuggled closer to his side.  

Drifting off to a better sleep. Better than I’ve had in a while. 

The next morning Dean and I were packing and planning our trip. I was excited and a little nervous. Dean and I hadn’t been on a trip alone since before Delilah was born. 

“Okay, so you two are going to be okay with Uncle Sammy and Aunt Jody? You have everything you need, right?” 

Delilah smiled, “Relax mom. We are going to be just fine. You and dad need to focus on you two. Don’t worry about us. We are in very capable hands.” I nodded. 

Dean carried out bags out and I noticed the way his biceps flexed under his shirt as he walked past. 

My breath hitched and I licked my lips. Delilah smirked, “Dad’s a total babe, isn’t he mom?” My head spun and I looked at her. My face flushed red, “Delilah Rose!” “What?! I can see how you look at him mom. I hope one day I have a love as great as you two have.” 

I cupped her face, “You will sweetie, I promise.” 

Dean walked in and said “She will what?” Before I could answer Delilah smirked and said “Oh a husband that’s a total babe like you so I can undress him with my eyes like mom just did you.” 

Dean laughed loudly and I covered my face. “That is not what I said.” “You didn’t have to mom.” She winked at me. 

Dean flashed a smile at me and walked over, taking me in his arms, “You were undressing me, were you?” I hid my face in his chest. He smiled as he pulled me close. 

We said our goodbyes and we took off in the Impala. Dean grabbed my hand and interlaced our fingers. “Ready sweetheart?” I nodded and he hit the gas. 

As we drove closer to the cabin, memories of that weekend played in my mind like a silent movie. I looked out the window and over at Dean and smiled. He’d steal glances at me and his memories of that weekend ran through his head too. 

Since that weekend, we’d been through so much, getting married, having babies, raising them, now we were faced with the prospect of our marriage not surviving if we didn’t put in the work. 

Dean was willing to do whatever it took to keep his marriage going. 

I was staring out the window and saw our favorite take out place. Dean saw it too and pulled in. I smiled. 

“Should we eat here or get it to go?” I asked softly. “I think we should get it to go.” I nodded. 

We walked in and ordered the food. Not much had changed in the restaurant. More dust covered items hanging from the wall, the carpet was worn, but the woman behind the register was just as sweet as she had been. 

She remembered Dean and I and asked how we had been. Dean beamed with pride when he told her about the kids and how we were getting away for a romantic weekend, just the two of us. 

She smiled, nodded and held up her finger. Dean and I shared a confused look. 

She returned with a small bamboo plant and handed it to Dean. “This is for good fortune, growth and resilience. You two will be okay. I see love. Strong love.” She smiled at us and Dean thanked her. 

A few minutes later we were back in the car with the food. 

I sat with the plant in my hand thinking about her words. She was right, there was definitely strong love still there. 

We pulled up at the cabin as the sun was beginning to set. Dean and I started to carry things in and as we walked in I gasped. 

There were blankets spread out on the floor, battery operated candles everywhere, and beautiful flowers on the counter. I looked at Dean and smiled. 

Walking to the kitchen I put the food down and grabbed the card attached to the flowers. I read it and smiled. “What does it say sweetheart?” 

I read it out loud: “Mom and Dad, we hope you love the flowers and the blankets. We want you two to be as comfortable as possible while you’re falling in love again. We love you both. Love Delilah and Charlie.” 

Dean smiled, “Those sneaks. I bet Sammy and Jody had a hand in this too.” I smiled, “probably.”

We unpacked the food and Dean carried it to the blankets. “I’m gonna start a fire.” He stood and grabbed some wood. “Huh, there isn’t enough for the whole weekend. I’ll have to chop some tomorrow.” I giggled, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.” 

Dean looked at me and smirked, “Well then I guess I better put on a show then.” I touched his arm, “I can’t wait.” 

We ate dinner and talked. Remembering the therapist’s advice about talking about us and not focusing all our energy on the kids. At first it was hard but we eventually started talking about us and how we fix our relationship. We laughed and we cried. 

Dean stood and walked over to the record player. He turned on Led Zeppelin’s Since I’ve Been Loving You. He offered me his hand and I stood and took it. 

We swayed and he held me tight as he sang along to the lyrics. As the song ended he dipped me and I smiled. “We made it without falling this time.” “Oh sweetheart, I never stopped falling.” 

My heart fluttered and I gasped softly. Dean leaned forward and kissed my lips. 

Lifting me up he walked me backwards towards the blankets that covered the ground. The light of the fire casting shadows around the room. 

He gently laid me down and hovered over me. “You’re more beautiful than the first time we were here. You’ve given me an incredible life and two amazing children. I love you more than anything. I’ve loved you since the minute I laid eyes on you and I still can’t believe you chose me.” 

I looked up at him. His eyes full of love and regret. Dean leaned down and slowly kissed my lips. The kiss healing more of the cracks in the foundation of our love. I knew he was sorry and he regretted everything he said. It still hurt, but our love was worth fighting for. He was worth fighting for. 

My hands found the back of his neck and I pulled him down. The kiss between us turned heavy and needy quickly. 

Dean’s hand slipped down and to the hem of my shirt. He stopped and I nodded against his lips. 

His hand slid under my shirt and left a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

Within minutes our clothes were discarded and Dean was hovering over me with lust filled eyes. His eyes scanned mine for any sign of hesitation. I saw his question and cupped his face, leaned up and kissed his lips. “Dean, I’m ready if you are. I love you and I want you.” 

The look in his eyes quickly changed back to need and want. Positioning himself between my thighs he lifted my legs and pushed in slowly. 

My fingers grabbed his biceps and my head tilted back as I moaned his name. 

His head found the crook of my neck as he stilled. “Baby you feel so good.” 

We made love over and over until we were both exhausted. 

“Dean, that was incredible.” I rolled over and kissed his lips. “Baby, I love you so much and I’m so sorry I hurt you. You didn’t deserve anything I said to you. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had left me for good.” 

I placed my hand on his cheek, “Dean Winchester, you are the love of my life. Yes you can be an ass sometimes, but I could never nor would I ever leave you. I understand why you did it and I forgive you.” 

Dean’s eyes filled with tears and they silently fell. “I don’t deserve you, sweetheart.” “Yes you do. You deserve me, our children, Bubbles, and the beautiful life we’ve built together. Don’t ever forget that. You saved the world. So you, Dean Winchester deserve so much more.” 

Dean pulled me in his arms and threw a blanket over us. “Want to sleep out here tonight?” I snuggled closer and nodded, “I’m quite comfortable right here.” 

The two of us fell asleep, our bodies tangled together in front of the orange glow of the fire. 

The next morning we woke up to the sounds of the birds singing and the sun shining through the large ceiling to floor windows. 

Dean stretched and looked at me. “Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?” I smiled, “Better than I have in a very long time.” He kissed my lips, “Me too, baby. Well I better go chop some firewood. Want to watch?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I smiled. 

“You better believe it.” I giggled as I stood up with the blanket wrapped around me. “First I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?” 

He grinned and as I took off down the hall he came bounding behind me. Our laughter and giggles filled the cabin. When Dean caught up to me he pulled me in his arms and kissed me. Our chests rising and falling, trying to catch our breath. “Sweetheart, I love hearing you laugh. It’s been too long since I was the cause of it. Thank you for not giving up on me or us. I love you.” I placed my hands on his firm chest, “Dean I’ll never give up on you or us. I love you too.” 

Back at Jody’s house the kids were settling in for the weekend. They decided to hang with Jody and the girls since Sammy and Eileen were working late. Jody noticed Delilah was very quiet over breakfast and pulled her to the side to talk to her. 

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to her alone since all the stuff happened with Jaxon and Adam. 

Delilah was sitting on the bed in the guest room and was on her phone. Jody knocked on the door, “Hey sweetie. Can I come in?” Delilah nodded. 

“How are you doing, baby girl? I know a lot has happened lately.” Delilah shrugged, “I guess I’m okay. I just feel so guilty mom and dad are having problems. This almost broke them. They have always been so in love and they almost split up because of me.” Her tears started to fall. 

Jody grabbed her hand, “Hey, no. This isn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. I don’t care if you snuck out and danced naked in the streets, he had no right to put his hands on you. Neither one of them did. As far as your parents, sweetie, they will work it out. I’ve known your dad for years and he can be a jackass sometimes, but he is head over heels in love with your mother. He’s going to do whatever he has to in order to make it right.” 

Delilah took a deep breath, “Thank you, Aunt Jody. This is just so hard.” “I know honey. I went through the same thing. I was about twenty and went to a friend's party. I remember getting a drink, and then the next thing I remember was waking up to a boy on top of me. I screamed and fought, but I passed out again. The next morning I woke up naked and bruised. I was so ashamed, but therapy and a great family helped me through it. You have that right here. So many people love you and are here for you. You’ve got this sweetie. After all, you’re a Winchester.” 

Delilah smiled and hugged Jody. “Thank you, Aunt Jody. Thank you for telling me and reminding me what I have.” 

Sam had stopped by to check on the kids and to make sure they had everything they needed. Charlie asked Sam if he could talk to him for a minute and Sam nodded. 

Sam and Charlie went outside and sat on the porch. “What’s up buddy?” “Uncle Sam, no one will tell me exactly what happened to Delilah. All I know is it was really bad. I just want to know so I can help her.” 

“I get it bud, but it’s not my place to tell you. Just be there for her and help her when she asks for it.” Charlie nodded, “Okay. Thanks Uncle Sammy.” 

Sam ruffled Charlie’s hair, “Anytime buddy.” They stood up and as they got to the door Charlie turned and looked back at Sam, “Uncle Sammy, I might not know exactly what happened to Delilah, but I can promise you nothing will ever hurt her again. I’ll make sure of that.” 

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[lonelierthanu]

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 4.9k

warnings: cursing; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build; slow to update; college au

summary: your new boyfriend has a fiancé? But now you’re the fiancé. Of course you don’t know what the fuck to do.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 …+

Before departing the questionable safety of your apartment, you were nervous to venture out of it. It was the realization that you and Satoru spending so much time together that had given the wrong impression that caused the sudden anxiety. You weren’t being treated terribly, per say, but it was the whispers and snickers, maybe even a light shove at your shoulder that had you convinced the torment would only get worse once the break was over. It was like you were waiting for the bomb to drop.

You went through your entire school career since you were eight avoiding any sort of drama. Seeing the things your older sister went through was evidence enough. From being bullied to being cheated on, you saw the misery drama brought upon her and others, and you made it your life’s mission to avoid it.

Your head was on a three-sixty swivel the entire walk to the bakery you were meant to meet your project partner at. Though, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be. With the encounters you’ve had with Kaiya and her entourage you thought it’d be much worse. You thank the stars it wasn’t.

When you concluded last night that the amount of time you and Satoru have been spending together is a problem, you decided you want to broach the idea of keeping your interactions to a minimum. You really want that, honestly ridiculous, rumor to die off so the paranoia of getting pelted with tomatoes or something can also go away.

If he shows up.

It’s been twenty minutes since you’ve arrived and still no sign of him. You tried to order something to pass the time, but the prices here are out of this world. Makes sense as it was Satoru’s recommendation. Getting increasingly impatient, you’re about to shoot your project partner a text letting him know you won’t wait much longer. Then you notice the man is already walking towards you.

“Hey babe, I’ve got a surprise for you” he says with a saccharine tone that makes you cringe.

“I told you not to call me that,” You go to put your phone in your pocket while your other hand swipes a finger across the mousepad to wake your sleeping laptop.

“You said not to call you baby,” He plops himself and all of his crap onto the booth across from you, “Nothing about babe,”

“Well don’t call me that either,” You go to reach for your bag.

“M’kay sweetie~” he teases. You pause to glare at him.

“Gojo.” You warn, tone stern.

“Last name?” he places a hand against his chest in faux hurt, “It’s Satoru to you pumpkin,”

“ugh, stop.” You reach into your bag again to grab your notes and resume typing, “The nicknames are getting worse.” Satoru laughs.

“About that surprise, cupcake,”

“Please—“ you begin to plead, not looking away from your screen.

“I think you’ll really love it,” he interrupts.

“I don’t really care for any surprise,” from you, you wanted to tack on, but felt that might be too mean.

“But I know you’ll love it~” he sang.

“I don’t care~” you sang back, mocking him.

“C’mon love muffin,” he pouts.

“If I indulge this will you stop calling me stupid nicknames?”

“Yes,” You know he’s lying.

“What's the surprise?” You stop typing to cross your arms and level with him.

“Before I tell you that, I need you to come somewhere with me tonight,”

“Hell no,”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he whines.

“I don't need to. No surprise you have up your sleeve is worth it,” it’s silent between the two of you and, for a moment, you think you might’ve hurt his feelings, then you see his fat ugly (not really) smirk begin to form on his face.

“You don’t like me,” he states; it wasn’t a question. Your brows furrow as you look away. You feel a little embarrassed that you don’t like him for seemingly no good reason to anyone but yourself, but you don’t deny this claim either, “which is perfect,” he adds after a beat. The furrow in your brows deepens when you look back at him.

“Huh?”

“I just need some harmless company for a thing I have to go to tonight.”

“And what does not liking you have to do with that?”

“That’s how I know you won’t try to sleep with me,” your expression goes blank as you blink at him. “If I ask anyone else they’ll assume that I am, and cling to me for the rest of the year. I already have enough desperate people trying to win my favor, I don’t need another one.” What? He’s so fucking popular that he knows any other rando he asks will immediately bend over backwards for him? As if anyone can fall for this egotistical prick. Your expression must have conveyed your disgust because suddenly the prick in question was laughing. “See? You’re perfect,” he says in between giggles.

“I’m glad you find this funny,” You continue to type on your laptop. “My answer is still no.”

“Pleeeeeease? I promise I'll make it worthwhile,” he attempts to give you puppy dog eyes over his sunglasses. You roll your eyes.

“What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you out of my own free will,”

He shrugs, “I’ll pay you,” And again, he has pissed you off. Because this spoiled brat seems to think he can do whatever he wants and buy whomever he wants just because he has the money to do so. You know he has money, but you don’t give a single fuck.

“I don’t care,” you almost groan, your patience running thin at his insistence and, frankly, ignorant behavior.

“I can make those girls leave you alone,” he tries. You keep your eyes on your laptop screen, your brows furrowing once again out of annoyance. As much as the thought of hanging out with this pampered highlighter outside of obligation gives you a headache, the thought of being able to walk through the halls peacefully again does make you want to consider it. And even though you were initially pissed off at his offer of money you know damn well you aren’t walking out of this heavily compensated. With those factors in mind, and the added bonus of a “ surprise “, you're growing more annoyed with yourself for actually contemplating this.

Though, how bad could it really be? As much as his confidence and ignorant comments piss you off, that’s really all it is. As painful as it is to admit, Satoru actually has this…charm about him. A vibe that could make anyone feel like they’re his friend. Even though you don’t think of yourself as such, you don’t think he’s terrible. Everyone is frothing at the mouth to sleep with him or at least to be within his inner circle so that must count for something. So, you reason, whatever he’s asking couldn’t be worse than what you’ve gone through with him already.

“What would I have to do,” he flashes you an excited smile before he schools his expression into that damn smirk.

“Just dress up fancy and be ready by 8,” You scoff and shake your head.

“I swear to god if this is another frat party trap-“

“It’s not I promise,” he extends a hand towards you, as to solidify this odd deal. You look at it, then at him, and you completely ignore it, going back to typing on your laptop.

“Thirty minutes. Three hundred dollars.” you state, without looking away from your screen.

“I thought you didn’t care,”

“Clearly you don’t need my company that bad—,”

“Okay, hour and a half, one hundred dollars,” he bargains. You glare at him, pissed that he genuinely thinks so much of your time is worth so little.

“I can still say no,”

He laughs, “An hour it is. Will two hundred be alright?” you roll your eyes, starting to type. He takes that as a form of agreement and starts taking out his laptop and notes. Finally beginning to get some work done.

It didn’t take you long to get ready. You only owned one fancy-ish thing and it was your prom outfit. You only wore it that one time and you brought it with you to college just in case. You had asked Gojo later on what thing he was asking your company for and he told you it was a small gathering at a hotel. Something his grandparents threw together. At first you were worried he was having you meet them or his parents, which you were terrible at, your nerves making you act awkward leading to parents thinking you were rude. He reassured you that you weren’t, but didn’t mention much else as to who was also attending or if you were going to meet other individuals.

You threw on the thickest cardigan you could find over your outfit in an attempt to appear fancy. You had other coats and plenty of sweatshirts but nothing that would fit the occasion. Then put on a scarf that sort of matched. It was crocheted so it kind of looked a little juvenile in comparison to what you were wearing, but it was all you had. You’re still kind of annoyed at yourself for agreeing to this. Especially with how vague Satoru was being when you were trying to ask him more questions about the impending night. You’d kill him and then yourself if this is anything nearly as uncomfortable as the frat party disaster.

Your phone dings, alerting you of a message. You take it out of the pocket of the cardigan to confirm it was Satoru letting you know he’s here. You brace yourself to feel the cold night air as you open your front door. You don’t immediately see any cars as you descend the stairs from your shabby little apartment. A gust of a strong wind cuts through you, your coat not thick enough to block it. A violent shiver and a wave of irritation washes over you at the same time. You’re about to freeze your ass off and this idiot texted while he’s around the corner, making you wait in the shivering cold.

You finally see his Lexus pull up after what felt like five minutes, though it was probably only forty-five seconds. When seeing Satoru emerge from the driver’s side of the car, your eyebrows raise for two reasons.

One, he was dressed in a really nice suit and a thick long windbreaker that you were envious of. He, unfortunately, looked really good. On a regular basis it’s easy to ignore how attractive he is, considering the moment he opens his mouth it kills any sort of attraction you might have had. But in this moment you had to actively tell your brain not to think about it. Which lowkey surprised you.

Two, that he stepped out of the driver’s side. You had assumed he was going to pick you up in the same impersonal way he had done when you first went to his (real) house. You didn’t know he knew how to drive. The thought that he has a chauffeur just because he doesn't feel like driving bothers you, but you know you’d do the same. It just seems so typical of him that it’s annoying .

“Well,” he sings, “Don’t you dress up nice,” He looks at you over his sunglasses.

“I’d say the same, but your ego is big enough for the both of us,” you cross your arms in an attempt to fight off the cold.

“So you’re saying you think I look good too,” he smirks. Your lips press into a thin line, deciding to hold your tongue. Then you step forward to try to get in the car. Tired of him and the cold. He stops you before you take a second step. “Nuh uh, I’m a gentleman tonight,”

“You pick and choose when to be a gentleman?”

“Yes,” he feigns remorse, placing a pale hand on his chest, “but that’s only because very few people deserve my kindness,” he opens the passenger door for you, “You’re one of the few people that do,” he smiles, definitely teasing you.

“I feel honored,” you reply dryly.

“You should,” you scoff before plopping down in the passenger seat and yanking the door from his grasp, slamming it closed. You see him laugh more than you hear it, as you watch him walk to the drivers side. You look out your window and angle your knees to the door before he gets in, trying to convey through body language that this arrangement is purely out of obligation. You aren’t receptive to his charms and refuse to let any of your actions be confused for friendship. You’re acquaintances at best.

The ride is surprisingly smooth. You had half a mind to peek over and see what he looked like driving but decided against it, in fear you would look interested. You were, but you didn’t want him to know that.

After, what you know was five minutes, you start to grow a little antsy. The silence stretches unbearably with no site to an end soon. You cough into your fist to hide your unease, still stubbornly refusing to look at Satoru. Then, from the corner of your eye you see his long fingers toggle with the buttons on his radio. He switches through a few stations before finally landing on something. You’ve never heard the song; it sounded like it was some sort of japanese pop song for kids.

At first you think, surely, the man who judged you for your choice of pen two weeks ago can not be into this upbeat funko pop tune. But when you chance a peek at him, not only is his finger tapping to the beat against the steering wheel, he’s also mouthing the words.

You’re more surprised at yourself for not being upset at his hypocritical nature. Instead, you find amusement in the thought of him working out at the gym while this is blasting through his headphones.

Once the song ends you see that the car was beginning to come close to a grandiose white building with incredible gold detailing. The building was skyscraper height and had a glow that lit up at least a five foot radius of its surroundings. The architecture had you believing it was something straight from heaven.

He pulled closer to the plaza of the hotel, decorated with an abundance of white roses, marble columns with string lights circling around them. A giant water fountain in the middle spraying water in intricate patterns. It was intimidatingly gorgeous. As was the black marble valet you seemed to be pulling into. You see Satoru park in front of a black podium and a man in a black and gold uniform fancier than your own attire. Your jaw is properly on the floor.

Satoru gets out of the driver seat and makes quick work of getting to your side to open the door for you. You blink away all forms of shock as he does. Once the door opens he extends an open hand for you to take. You do so reluctantly and remove your scarf to leave it in the car. Now having seen the place you feel too embarrassed to take the scruffy thing with you. You’d take your cardigan off too if it wasn’t so cold. He adjusts his sunglasses before he tosses the keys to the Valet man without a glance in his direction, who bows and thanks Satoru for coming, as he begins to guide you inside.

You, on the other hand, are completely lost. And beginning to regret agreeing to go with Satoru anywhere. You were right the first time: No surprise is worth this.

You didn’t think much of the invite when you first agreed to it, just assumed that maybe he needed company for a small gathering at some semi-fancy restaurant. You were wrong. A large part of you suspects the reason Satoru was being so vague was because he knew that if you knew where he was taking you, you would have said no in a heartbeat. You grab Satoru’s (hard) bicep roughly. The only sign he acknowledged the action was the slight head tilt in your direction.

“I thought you said you needed harmless company for something your grandparents threw together? This doesn’t look thrown together at all,” you whisper aggressively, “I asked you if it was something fancy and you dodged the question. Why didn’t you tell me?” He just smiles at you softly as he guides your hand to his forearm and places his atop yours to keep it there.

“You’d’ve said no,” he hums sweetly at you. You feel a vein in your forehead pulse.

The inside of the building was even more grand than the outside. The ceilings are high enough to dangle a diamond chandelier three times the size of your apartment. Illuminating the foyer in a soft golden light. You see people wearing thick fabricked coats, garish leather boots, smooth manicures, trimmed mustaches and fancy up-dos. You feel entirely puny in this luxurious place, walking among lavish people, on the arm of an opulent idiot. You frown at the situation you’ve found yourself in and hope that whatever the fuck Satoru just dragged you to is quick and you can hide in a corner somewhere.

Satoru drags you to a set of glass doors further down the large foyer, off to the side across the bathrooms. The doors are wide open and a doorman, in a cream and gold uniform, holds a list but doesn’t even check it as he happily moves to the side and thanks Satoru for coming. The action makes you wonder who in the world this guy carrying you around like a purse is. But before you could think further on that question, you’re being swarmed by people of all ages.

Well, you’re not being swarmed. The idiot is. And, actually, they all completely ignore you. You somehow get detached from Satoru’s arm. When that happens, a sea of people come between you, then suddenly you can’t see him anymore.

Instead of trying to push your way through you decide to wait by a nearby wall. You don’t want to stray too far from the only person you know here. On your way to the wall you’ve marked as good enough, someone, a young woman that seems close to your age, meets you halfway. She grabs hold of your arm like the two of you are familiar. You bristle against the contact.

“Hello,” she begins, curtly, “I see you came here with Satoru, why is that?” She cuts straight to the chase. You are unsettled by this. Her aura gives off mean girl vibes already. You want to ignore her but the grip she has on your arm is vice-like. You wouldn't be able to shake her off without drawing attention. You try to crane your neck over the large headdress the woman is wearing to try to find the man you came here with, but she expertly spins the two of you around so your back is towards Satoru’s direction. She starts to guide you to the bar and leans in close. To anyone looking on, the two of you look like good friends. “He can’t help you,” she giggles. You frown, “He’s busy fending off his suitors and their parents,” Your confusion is evident on your face. So he wasn’t just being cocky about having desperate suitors.

“Who are you?” she now asks. Before, she didn’t seem the least bit concerned about who you were, just more upset at the fact she saw you walking arm in arm with Satoru. You tell her your name, but this answer is apparently unsatisfactory. She just hums, and doesn't offer her name back. The two of you finally make it to the bar but she still has an almost painful grip on your arm. “Who are you to Satoru?”

Your first instinct is to tell her to mind her business, but then you remember that you’ve been invited here by Satoru. He knows way more people here than you so this girl might be someone important. Though, you’re most likely never going to see this girl again so who cares. But also, if she is important she can probably get you thrown out of here with the snap of your fingers. You don’t want to have to shiver in the cold waiting for Satoru to pry himself from his entourage to try to find you. However, if you keep taking too long to answer her she might have you escorted out anyway. You wouldn’t even know how to answer the question though.

Luckily, the stars decided to smile upon you and cease your anxious thoughts, cause you hear his voice come up behind you.

“What are doing Yumi?” He questions the woman as he physically pries her away from you. She lets go easily and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“I was just getting to know your friend,” she says innocently. Your face scrunches in mild disbelief at her sudden change in demeanor. Satoru catches it, slowly becoming accustomed to reading your facial expressions well.

“I doubt that,” he says before grabbing hold of your hand and walking away. The woman, Yumi, quickly catches up with the two of you though.

“Are you going to introduce us? I want to get to know your friend,” She spits out. Clearly not interested in actually getting to know you.

“No.” he grits through clenched teeth.

“C’mon Satoru~” she whines. It makes the both of you cringe. “You have to be nice to me now ‘Toru,” Satoru stills, turning on Yumi, your hand still clutched in his.

“Firstly, don’t ever call me that.” He bites. “Secondly, nothing is ever going to happen between us so leave me alone.” he spins back around to continue walking. He starts to pick up his pace in order to shake Yumi off, and if he wasn’t holding your hand he’d shake you off too. It was hard to match the stride of his long legs with your shorter ones. It’s when you almost fall a second time, barely catching yourself before face planting on this nice marble, that you say something.

“S-Satoru, my ankles are about to snap,” you huff. Suddenly he stops. He looks at you through his thick sunglasses —seriously, does he ever take them off?— and watches as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” he sighs. Still holding your hand, he guides the two of you to an empty table, secluded next to the stage that’s in the front of the room. Curtains frame the stage, so once you get to the table, you’re perfectly hidden from everyone else.

“What the fuck?” You immediately ask as soon as you’re out of view.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again, “I didn’t know she was going to be here,”

“What did you bring me here for? What even is here?”

“Satoru?” Both of your heads snap to the person speaking. You don’t know this woman, but you would bet your first born child that it’s someone related to the white haired idiot as she also has blindingly white hair that cascaded well past her waist.

“Mom-“

“Who is this?” The woman, his mom, asks. Not even sparring you a glance. Satoru opens his mouth to say something but his mom cuts him off before he gets the chance to, stepping closer to where the two of you are standing to jab a finger at his shoulder, “How dare you bring a date to the meeting your grandfather arranged for you,”

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” Satoru grits his teeth, getting pretty worked up from what you can tell.

“Still, this is extremely disrespectful.”

“No, what was disrespectful was putting this meeting together behind my back and springing it on me the day before. And on top of that you didn’t tell me she would be here.” he juts his chin out to gesture to the rest of the large room. You think he’s talking about the unsettling woman he saved you from.

“You need to take your guest out of here and apologize to your grandfather,”

He scoffs. “You’re not even fucking listening to me,”

“What do you want me to say Satoru? You made a mess of the whole night and he won’t even speak to anyone until you apologize,” Satoru places his sunglasses on his head to scowl at her.

“That’s not my problem,” he gets closer now, standing right over his, pretty tall, mother. She looks up at him with a twin scowl on her face.

“This is too much Satoru. What are you even doing all of this for? Hm? You’re not dating anyone so-“

“Yeah I am,” His mother raises her thin brow.

“Oh really? Who?” she scoffs out.

“Who else?” Then her brows furrowed together, confused. Satoru then intertwines his fingers into the hand he was still holding. You have half a mind to rip your hand out of his grip, just now realizing he was still holding it, and ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. This is not what you signed up for! You look from your hand to Satoru’s mother and you see the confusion melt from her face as she looks at your hands and she crosses her arms. Her thin brow raised again.

“I don’t believe it,” Satoru rolls his eyes at her.

“Either way, tell that woman, her parents, and grandfather that I'm not doing this shit. And if they still don’t get it, tell them to kiss my ass,” You and Satoru’s mother’s jaws drop simultaneously, maybe hers a second later because it took her brain a second to really register what her son had just said to her. Either way, you’re both equally dumbfounded. And it seems the reaction pleases Satoru. His infamous smirk returns as he brings your hand to his lips and places a chaste kiss to the back of it. He begins to stride away, your hands still interlocked.

Then you hear a banshee scream.

“Satoru! Wait!” The man in question doesn’t even look back and picks up his pace, your legs moving before your brain can catch up as Satoru pulls you along. You look back to see a fuming Yumi trying her best to catch you two in her tall heels. Satoru rushes through the door, the door man barely even bending at his waist to bid him goodbye. Your palm is sweating against his, and you’re hyper-aware of every set of eyes burning into your back.

“What the fuck.” you hiss under your breath, but Satoru doesn’t stop until you’re both back in the lobby, away from the thick air of scrutiny and rich propriety. Only then does he slow his pace, turning to you with that infuriated grin. Your confusion grows into anger at the sight of it.

“That went well, don’t you think?” You snatch your hand from his grasp and resist the urge to smack him upside the head.

“What the hell was that? You wanna explain why I got roped into pretending we’re dating?” Satoru rubs the back of his neck, but there’s no shame in his expression. If anything, he looks amused.

“Well, I needed an excuse to get out of a forced engagement setup,”

You gape at him “Engagement?” He shrugs like it’s nothing, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Yeah. My grandad’s been trying to marry me off to some rich family’s daughter for ages. Thought I’d make my thoughts on the matter more clear,”

“So dragging me into your family drama was the best idea you could come up with?” Satoru grins wider, leaning in slightly.

“If i'd told you the truth would you have gone along with it?”

“No!” you snap. “Absolutely not! And now I’ve probably got a bounty on my head because these weird rich people think I’m your fiance or something!” He pats your shoulder, like he’s congratulating you for completing a marathon.

“Relax. You’ll probably never see them again. And if you do, just tell them I broke your heart or something. Should be easy to believe.” You close your eyes, inhaling deeply in an effort to stop yourself from committing murder.

“I swear to god, one of these days—“

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off playfully. “You’ll smother me with a pillow, push me down a flight of stairs, shank me in an alleyway. I’ve heard it all before.” He strides ahead of you, out to the valet. You glare at his back, but your anger slowly turns into exhaustion. You begin to follow him.

“So what now?” He checks his watch.

“Well, since we’re already dressed up and out, wanna grab a bite to eat?” You blink at him, incredulous.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” he sing-songs, placing his sunglasses back on.

You hate that that makes you laugh.

With a resigned sigh, you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, trying to firm the cold. “Fine. But you’re paying. And I’m getting the most expensive thing on the menu.” Satoru beams, placing a hand over his heart.

“My dear, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You roll your eyes, already regretting your life choices, but as you watch his car pull up to the valet stand, there’s a tiny—very tiny—part of you that doesn’t mind the chaos as much as you should.

And you hate it.

(･ω<)☆

i’m always thinking, “why don’t i ever write series?” This. This is why. I run out of creativity to write anything for like three months then randomly get an idea. but then when i go to write the idea i suddenly dont know how to write anymore and have no idea where to start 😭

also i’m thinking of starting a taglist? should i?

★prev next☆

[darl-ingfics]

Feveruary Day 9: ALT - "I don't get sick."

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jeonghan (cold)

Caregiver(s): Vernon

Word Count: 862

“What are you doing?” Hansol asked, watching Jeonghan warily from the kitchen doorway. 

The older man paused, turned around, looked at Hansol like he’d said something incredibly stupid. He held out his arms. “I’m making breakfast. What does it look like I’m doing?” But the audible congestion in his voice thwarted the patronizing tone he’d been going for. 

It had been bitterly cold in Seoul the past week, so cold in fact that all of Seventeen’s extraneous schedules had been cancelled to keep the artists and staff out of the weather. The extra time off had been lovely; sure, they still had their regularly scheduled practices, but they also had more time at home together in the mornings and evenings. Time they usually didn’t get to spend just enjoying each other’s company. 

The extra rest had a second motivator, though. While the team’s schedules had been relaxed, it appeared that their collective immune system decided to take a break as well. Which wasn’t helped by their appearance on a music show last Friday, cramped into tight quarters with several other overworked, exhausted idols. Especially because, during this time of year, ’exhausted’ often meant ‘sick, but pumped up on meds to hide it.’ So it wasn’t surprising but unfortunate when several members had gone down with a rather nasty cold, not bad enough to keep them from practice, but certainly not something anyone wanted to worsen.

Hansol had been one of the first hit with the virus, and had fully kicked it in less than a week, (as had Soonyoung and Minghao, a hopeful sign for the rest of them.) He was still, however, having difficulty staying asleep, his body still sending mixed signals that something was wrong, even though it wasn’t. Which was how he’d heard Jeonghan (he admittedly hadn’t known who it was when he’d first heard the movement, but still), get up and leave his room, and stumble downstairs. Intrigued, Hansol had gotten himself up to investigate. 

And one day, Jeonghan would thank him for it, because it was very obvious that the older man had finally been struck down with the cold himself, and needed someone to knock some sense into him. 

Assuming his role as ‘the one to convince Jeonghan to lay down,’ Hansol arched an eyebrow. “Really? Cause it sounds to me like you’re just making a racket.” In fact, the slamming of cabinets and clinking of pots had been what woke Hansol in the first place. 

“Well, sometimes cooking is noisy.” His statement was punctuated with a chesty cough, similarly as noisy as his banging around. 

“What’re you making?” 

“What’s it to you?” Jeonghan turned back to his task, swiping at his nose with his hoodie sleeve. 

“Well, I’m just a little confused why you’re making breakfast at three in the morning, so I just wanted to understand what food is incredible that you couldn’t wait until morning.”

Jeonghan froze, back going stiff. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Why the third degree, Nonie?”

Hansol set his lips in a thin line. “Hyung. You’re obviously sick.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “I don’t get sick.” His face instantly crumpled, and one hand grasped for the counter as the other bent over his face as he collapsed forward. “H’arrchu! Atcshu! Hratschoo!” He sniffled thickly, moaning in pain as he brought his other hand against the counter, stretching his back out like a cat. 

“You’re right, hyung,” Hansol said, nodding to himself. “You don’t get sick. You fully succumb to illness.”

Jeonghan glanced up at him, eyes watery and unamused. “Smug bastard,” he muttered just loud enough for Hansol to hear before coughing into his sleeve. “Ugh.” He pushed himself up off the counter, rubbing at his pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What were you really doing, hyung?” Hansol asked gently. 

“Looking for the good tea. I know Hao hid it earlier this week so people wouldn’t make it by mistake.” Hansol chuckled to himself, pushing off of the doorframe. He stepped over to the counter right behind Jeonghan, reaching behind a stack of plates and pulling out the desired teabag. Jeonghan frowned, sniffling indignantly. “How did you find it so fast?”

“Chan found it yesterday. He thought it was funny, but he only told me and Kwannie about it cause he didn’t want to anger whoever had actually hidden it there,” Hansol answered, turning on the electric kettle. “Pretty sure he’s going to try to hide something too, just for the fun of it.”

Jeonghan pouted, his hands hung limply by his sides. “It isn’t nice to hide things from your group members.”

Hansol snorted. “Can I get you to say that again on camera?”

Jeonghan did not look amused. He sniffled again, coughing lightly. “Be nice to me. I’m ill.”

“What happened to ‘I don’t get sick?’”

Jeonghan closed his eyes, sighed like a heavy weight had been placed on his shoulders. “I am a dramatic man, Hansollie. I like to live my life in absolutes. And right now, I absolutely need a cup of the good tea and an entire bottle of Nyquil.” 

Hansol smiled just as the kettle whistled. “We can make that happen.”

[gothicxreylover]

Hi! Can I request the reader to act cold and distant to punish the uppermoons? Like, acting like their soul and spirit are broken and just looking like the sad part of nature, but once the demons literally come crying, sobbing, pleading and begging (yes, I'd like the reader to act like that for long enough for the uppermoons to go insane), they act like nothing happened and just start coddling and doting on their demons as before?

But, I would personally beg you to add in Kyogai cause my first love and husband (him) doesn't get a lot of love either way in the fandom.

Here ya go! I add your hubby into the mix and I hope you enjoy!

Hantengu

The gentle, anxious demon had noticed first. Your distance was so jarring to him, like a sudden chill in the air. At first, he thought it might be nothing, that you were just upset over something small. But the more time passed, the more the reality set in: you were actively avoiding him.

His trembling grew worse with each passing day. “Y/N?” he called out softly, hoping for your attention, but you turned your back to him, your gaze fixed on some far-off place.

“W-What did I do wrong? Please, please tell me…” His voice cracked as he came closer, but you didn’t respond, your eyes as cold as the stone walls around you.

The others were equally disturbed, but Hantengu could barely hold himself together. “Please, Y/N, you’re breaking my heart,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he reached out, but you still didn’t flinch.

It wasn’t until he found himself on his knees, sobbing in front of you, that he understood the depth of his helplessness. “I-I need you! I can’t bear it without you… Please, come back to me.”

Finally, you turned to him, your eyes softening as you whispered, “I’m right here. There’s no need to cry, Hantengu.” You embraced him, your tone light and affectionate, as if nothing had happened at all. He clung to you, utterly broken and relieved.

Gyokko

Gyokko’s pride kept him from showing how badly your coldness hurt him, but deep down, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Your silence in response to his usual antics—it was unbearable.

“Y/N! Are you truly ignoring me now?” he demanded, but his voice lacked the usual venom. He was confused, hurt, and growing desperate.

When you refused to look at him, when you didn’t so much as blink his way, his frustration grew into something more—something darker. “You can’t be serious. You can’t do this to me!” He approached you again, but your expression remained unreadable.

For days, he tried to get through to you. He threw his most vibrant and exaggerated gestures at you, hoping to make you laugh, to see the warmth return to your face. But you didn’t.

Finally, it was too much. He burst into the room, his voice shaky as he cried, “I’ve done everything for you! I’ve shown you my art! Please, just look at me! Tell me what I’ve done wrong!”

You turned to him with a casual smile, unaffected by his tears. “What’s the matter, Gyokko? Did you need something?” Your tone was soft, too sweet, and it made his heart ache with longing. He fell into your arms, broken and relieved that you were finally back.

Daki

Daki’s heart sank as soon as she noticed your distance. Normally, she would be showering you with affection, but now you refused to meet her eyes. You wouldn’t let her touch you, and you barely spoke to her.

She tried everything to coax you out of your shell—sweet words, flirtatious gestures, and even a few pouts, but none of them worked. It was as if a part of you was gone, and she couldn’t understand why.

“You’re not even looking at me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She reached for your hand, but you pulled away, sending a fresh wave of panic through her. “Please, don’t leave me like this.”

Days of this treatment stretched on, and Daki’s usual confident smile was replaced with concern. “Why are you doing this to me, Y/N? Don’t you love me anymore?” she cried, holding your hand in desperation.

Finally, you turned to her, your cold demeanor melting into something warm and familiar. “I never left you, Daki,” you whispered, your voice soft. You pulled her into an embrace, gently stroking her hair as you returned to your usual doting affection. She clung to you, sobbing, relieved and overjoyed that you hadn’t abandoned her after all.

Gyutaro

Gyutaro’s tough exterior had always kept him from showing his vulnerability, but the moment you withdrew from him, something inside him cracked. His tough guy act faded as your indifference dug into him like a knife.

“Y/N,” he muttered, irritation and desperation in his voice. “Why the hell are you ignoring me? What the hell did I do?” His eyes narrowed, but his usual coldness was replaced with fear. He couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away from him.

As the days wore on, he could feel his mind slipping. The bitterness, the anger, all of it boiled up inside him as you continued to shut him out. “If you don’t speak to me… I swear to god, I’ll—!”

But no threats could reach you.

It wasn’t until he was crouched before you, begging you to just give him something—a glance, a word, anything—that you finally relented. “Stop crying, Gyutaro,” you said, the warmth in your voice returning. You gently cupped his face, kissing his forehead as if nothing had happened, your love enveloping him once again.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo’s pride was unshakable, and for the longest time, he tried to convince himself that your withdrawal didn’t affect him. But each passing day, it wore him down until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had never been one to beg, never one to be so openly vulnerable, but your distance made him question everything.

He confronted you late one night, his normally steady hands trembling as he reached for you. “Y/N… please. Tell me why you’ve been like this.” His voice was low, almost pleading. “I can’t stand it any longer. Do you still love me?”

You turned to him, your face blank and unreadable. “Love? Of course, I love you, Kokushibo,” you whispered, the warmth returning to your voice as you reached for him. His face softened, but the desperation in his eyes remained.

“You never have to feel alone,” you said softly, brushing away his tears with a gentle hand. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.” Kokushibo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulled you close, unable to hide the relief in his eyes.

Kyogai

Kyogai’s heart broke slowly, like a crack in porcelain. Your distance from him was so unnatural, so unlike you, that he found it impossible to believe. His drums, normally a soothing sound, now rattled with anxiety as he tried to get your attention.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a quiet desperation. “I don’t understand. Please… please tell me what’s wrong.” His hands shook as he reached for you, but you recoiled, leaving him staring at you with a hollow, pained expression.

Every attempt to speak to you, to make you smile again, was met with silence. He tried to be patient, but the frustration and heartbreak were becoming too much.

“I-I can’t stand this anymore,” he confessed, falling to his knees before you. His drums rang out in a sorrowful melody, and his voice cracked as he begged, “Please, Y/N, I need you. Don’t leave me like this.”

You finally turned to him, your expression softening. “Kyogai,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek, your hands tender and warm as you returned to your usual affectionate ways. “I never left you. I just needed to see how much you cared for me.”

And just like that, he was whole again, wrapping his arms around you as he cried, “I will never leave you again… I promise.”

Douma

Douma’s usual playful, carefree nature was shattered the moment you started acting distant. At first, he thought it was a game, something you were doing to tease him. But the longer it went on, the more unsettling it became. You no longer smiled when he made his usual jokes, and your eyes, once warm with affection, were now cold, emotionless.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked with his usual bright grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He reached out to take your hand, but you pulled it away, as though his touch meant nothing. He chuckled nervously, trying to play it off. “You’re not playing with me, are you? Come on, don’t be like that…”

But no matter how many times he tried to engage with you, to coax a smile from your lips, you wouldn’t budge. You acted like you didn’t care for him, like he was just another face to ignore.

It gnawed at him.

Days went by, and Douma grew more frantic. His usual carefree demeanor slipped as he watched you continue to shut him out. “Y/N, please…” He was losing his composure, his voice cracking with desperation. He tried to grab your wrist, but you pulled away again. “Why are you doing this to me?” His voice shook with the vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to hear.

Finally, in an emotional outburst, Douma fell to his knees in front of you, tears glistening in his eyes as he whispered, “I can’t live like this. I can’t take it, Y/N. You’re everything to me. Please, just… look at me.”

For a moment, you just stood there, as if undecided. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned toward him, your eyes filled with a gentleness that had been absent for so long. “Douma,” you whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’ve always been here. You’re not losing me.”

His face immediately softened, and he collapsed into your arms, relief flooding him as he clung to you. “I’ll never let you go again. Never,” he vowed, his voice full of sincerity, even as his playful mask returned. He smiled up at you, his gaze bright again. “You’re mine, after all.”

Akaza

Akaza had always been fierce and proud, but even his immense strength couldn’t protect him from the crushing weight of your coldness. When you first started pulling away from him, he tried to ignore it, convinced it was a phase. But with every passing day, your detachment made his heart ache more than he’d like to admit.

He would catch glimpses of your back as you walked away, never meeting his gaze. Even when he tried to speak to you, you’d give him only the briefest of responses. No warmth, no affection—nothing.

“Y/N,” Akaza growled one night, his voice rough with frustration. “What’s going on? Why won’t you look at me? Why won’t you talk to me?” He was never one to show vulnerability, but this was different. This was something he didn’t know how to fix.

You didn’t answer him. You didn’t even glance his way.

Akaza’s temper began to rise. “You think you can just shut me out like this? I’m not someone you can ignore!” He grabbed your arm, his grip tight, but you didn’t fight back. You just stood there, your expression as blank and cold as ever.

The silence between you two stretched on, and for the first time in a long while, Akaza found himself unsure. His anger began to melt away, replaced by something far worse: fear. The fear of losing you.

“I don’t care what you’re upset about. I’m here,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it. Just don’t…” His words caught in his throat. He never let anyone see him like this. “Don’t shut me out.”

It wasn’t until you turned to him, your eyes softening, that he realized the full depth of his desperation. “Akaza,” you whispered gently, taking his face in your hands. “I was just waiting for you to show me you cared. To show me you could be vulnerable with me, too.”

Akaza’s hardened exterior cracked at your words. He pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your hair as he let out a breath of relief. “I never want to hurt you,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re everything to me. Don’t you ever doubt that again.”

Your warmth returned, and for a moment, it was like nothing had ever changed. The walls that had been between you crumbled, and Akaza held you close, knowing that he’d never take you for granted again.