#either he gets a million times worse but at least no one is around to be hurt by it

[sammygender]

s13 sam has literally just rewritten the events of s4 in his head to make them more kind to dean. ‘Dean helped me though this’🙏how?? by making it worse?? ‘Dean you saved me’🙏NO HIS ASS DID NOT. ‘you didn’t kill me’ that is technically true yes. but he did lock you in a fucking panic room and leave you to die😭😭😭😭and he’s doing this while dean is still calling jack a freak in front of sam w zero regard for how this could be triggering for sam let alone how awful he is being to jack <3

[miirohs]

birds of a feather [k.s]

pairing: Ken Sato x GN!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: bad hurt/comfort (?) an: i got that skibidi found family type brainrot fs 😂 on gyatt.... anyways i promise i will get back to writing formula one but i need to simp for this man solidly. also i can't write hurt/comfort ive said this a million times but ugh man does it suck to write.

The house in Japan was a lot more peaceful than the one in the States. More secluded, quietly overlooking the city. 

Every day you came home from work, the house dark and empty with Ken gone to his other job.

You didn’t bother him about it, keeping the delicate balance between his two jobs. You didn’t mind it either. It gave you time to yourself, time to adjust, but you weren’t sure you could’ve said the same about Ken.

Ever since his last run-in with the KDF, he’d been exhausted. His eyebags only grew instead of shrinking, and his watch went off almost every possible moment it could. You had asked him what was wrong, but he’d never been one to let you lick his wounds for him, watering it down to some kind of side effect of the stress on him.

Unlocking the doors, you hopped inside, pulling your shoes off as you looked around.

You could hear the tv running in the background, the clinking ice against metal. It wasn’t strange for him to be off duty after games, but you just assumed he wouldn’t be.

The beatdown was probably worse than usual, if you had to guess.

You wandered into the living room, and there he was, sitting in his ice bath. You couldn’t see much because of how dark the room was, but part of his face was lit by the replays on the screen. 

You could almost make out his eyes narrowing at the screen, huffing as he sunk deeper into the water.

“Ken?” He turned to you, eyes pained as he pushed himself up.

“Hi baby.” He greeted softly, a hand tenderly moving to his side as he turned to you.

“Are you okay-“

“I’m fine.” You flinched at the strained quality of his voice.

“My bad. I was just trying to check on you.” You mumbled, holding up your hands as you stood stuck to your spot.

He saw, and his eyes softened, extending an inviting hand to you.

“I’m sorry. The seasons been kind of rough lately.” He murmured as he held your hand gently, squeezing it.

You hummed in response, eyes trailing down the expanse of his body. You could see some bruising, blooming in splotches of yellow, purple and red under his skin. It looked like it hurt.

“I’m taking it you got into a fight on field?”

“Not this time, no,” He scoffed, leaning against the warmth of your hand, “I collapsed, tried crawling my way to the last base, and failed. I was so close to getting those points.” The last part was tinged with embarrassment, his face pulled into a grimace as your hand ran across his arm.

“That's terrible, I'm sorry Ji.” He shrugged, eyes staring ahead at the screen, those embarrassing scenes reflecting back in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“So you’re off duty tonight then?” He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

“For now, but who knows?” He said sullenly. You couldn’t stop your hopes from crashing entirely, hand slipping out of his unconsciously.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know how it is. I can’t control what happens, I…” He stopped, a look of regret creeping onto his face.

“I'll join you in a bit. Promise I'll try not to leave tonight?” He tried softly, looking at you with poorly disguised hope in his eyes. 

It worked, and you released the breath you were holding.

“You’ll be okay?”

He didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him for one, quietly leaving the room.

True to his word, he appeared at the door an hour later, dragging himself across the threshold. He looked worse than he did earlier, wincing slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, hunched over into himself.

“That must have been one really good ice bath…” You trailed off, eyes narrowing at the various injuries on his arm.

“Those look awfully fresh Ji, did you at least get Mina to look at those?” 

“No! No. Uh, no. I didn’t want her to.” He spluttered, crossing his arms. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost imagine the expression he was making.

“Take off your shirt.” He blinked, a baffled look on his face as turned to you.

“No, why the-“

“Take off your shirt Ken, don’t make me say it again.”

He crossed his arms tighter as you got closer, hand outstretched. You paused, looking at him.

“Would you be okay with me looking?”

He nodded reluctantly, grumbling about not wanting to make a big deal out of it. He had turned away from you, breathing uneven as you got closer.

You pulled up his shirt, heart thumping at the sight. It was worse than what you’d seen earlier.

“Ji, what is this? How…?” He didn’t respond immediately, rubbing his face as he took a deep breath

“I didn’t think they were that bad,” He muttered, wincing as he pulled the shirt over his head, holding it in his hands tightly, “Not as bad as they were last week, babe.”

“How did you even get these?” You questioned, finger tracing up his spine, avoiding the poorly bandaged cuts and bruising.

“Do I have to tell you?” He said, flustering you with the defensiveness in his tone. 

“No. No, you don’t have to.” You reaffirmed quietly, returning to your side of the bed to rummage through your night chest till you found what you needed. “But I would’ve liked it if you did.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I figured it would be. Hold still for me?” 

You shook the bottle of neosporin, spraying down the wounds. He tensed up, a squeak escaping his lips.

“It hurts!” 

“Would you rather Mina do it?”

He shook his head. 

“That’s what I thought. Luckily these were already somewhat decently clean. That bruising looks like a muscle injury though.” You whistled, setting down the neosporin in favor of some bandaids. 

He continued to let him work on your, mostly silent other than the occasional wincing. You could tell he was trying his hardest to play tough, unaware you could see through it all.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” He muttered suddenly, fists clenching the bedsheets as you gently laid the bandages on his back. “It’s not fair to you.”

“Kenji, I know it's tough for you, but I'm here because I want to be. I care about you." You scooted to the edge of the bed, looping a hand into his loosening fist.

The dim lights highlighted the sharpness of his face, eyes cutting through the dimmed light as they looked out the window. He looked beautiful, as exhausted as he was.

“I want to tell you. I don’t know if there will ever be a right time for you, and you deserve better than me being on the move all day and night.”

“Nope.” You popped the p, clutching his hand tighter. “We promised to stick together, remember? Hell, I followed you all the way from the states because I was confident we could work together. So, I need you to speak to me. Make it work.”

A heartbeat passed. And then he spoke.

“The pressure, the expectations... I feel like I'm constantly running, trying to keep up." He confessed quietly, “There's a lot riding on what I’ve done.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about baseball.”

“I’m not,” He laughed humorlessly, “I’m just worried I’m not doing enough. That I’m not enough.”

"Ken," you said softly, turning to him “I can’t pretend to understand what you do, but you’re making so many people proud. Your mother, your father, me.”

His eyes were glossed over, and he brought up an arm to cover them, sniffing slightly.

“I hope you know I’m here for you. Birds of a feather, we gotta stick together, you know? I’d follow you to hell and back Ken, and you know that.” You continued, bringing up his hand to press a kiss to it.

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the tears. "Thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "For everything."

“Of course,” you replied, leaning against him carefully.

“The next time you get injured, just let Mina or me know, understand?”

“Perfectly.”

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — nine: bitter

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

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Heeseung graciously offered to buy you a dress for the gala, saying it was the least he could do since you agreed to accompany him in the first place.

He dropped it off at your house with flowers, a gesture you found yourself smiling too hard at that your cheeks practically hurt.

See you tonight, the small paper inside the flowers said, and you set it in a vase on your dinner table.

The dress he bought was a silky black dress, one that went all the way down to your feet. It was extravagant, and you almost dropped it when you looked at the price tag.

Six hundred fucking dollars.

The dress was shipped from New York in America, so you knew Heeseung wasn’t playing around when it came to Seojun’s gala.

By the time it hits 8pm, you could hear the familiar honk of Heeseung’s Mercedes. You finish your last touch up, pressing a sebum control powder on your face until your skin looked perfect in the mirror.

Then in a rush, you grab your heels, slipping into them and running out to Heeseung’s car.

He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to open the passenger side door.

“You look… pretty.” He says, eyes glancing up and down at your body.

“Thank you for the dress.” You say shyly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his stare.

“Seojun told me they already started but we’re really not missing out on anything.” He says reassuringly, adjusting his front rear mirror.

After he’s done, he reverses the car until he’s out your parking lot, speeding away into the night.

“Hee! Glad you made it man,” Seojun throws his arms around Heeseung’s shoulder, an annoying smirk plays on his face. “Aaaand Heeseung’s friend? You’re the one who did the physiology project with him right?”

You’re surprised he remembers you, so you only nod hesitantly.

“Well don’t be shy, tonight’s gonna be a blast.”

As soon as Seojun opens his gigantic doors, you’re greeted with all sorts of guests in expensive dresses and suits, some holding champagne glasses while others make themselves comfortable at the tiny tables Seojun has set all around his living room.

“Park Seojun, you never fail to impress me.” Heeseung says, patting the boy on the back. Seojun responds with a loud cackle, slapping Heeseung back jokingly.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Heeseung whispers in your ear. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”

You nod shyly, watching as Heeseung disappears into the kitchen which was on the other side of the house.

This was the perfect opportunity to sneak up Seojun’s stairs and go into his father’s study. Perhaps there—you could find proof of his manipulation.

You watch as everybody else in the gala is too engrossed in either the music or each other, quietly creeping up the stairs.

Seojun’s house had a long hallway, which felt cold and dark. Above each door was a name of which room belonged to who, and you could see the biggest room in the end of the hallway was Seojun’s father by the way it said PARK HYUNGWOOK’S STUDY.

It was big enough that two large tall wooden doors stood before it. You knew you had to open it quietly to not disrupt the rest of the guests—or even worse—Seojun himself.

You shuffle throughout the cabinets and drawers, trying to find whatever proof you could find yourself on. Your eyes widen when you see the receipts of the most recent transactions to Joseon Internationals, a company that often got into scandals for allegedly using their wealth to get top positions in politics.

Holy shit, Seojun’s dad donated half a million to Joseon Internationals in one week alone?

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear shuffling from outside the door. In a panic, you rush underneath the large desk, which was thankfully a dark brown color so it hid you perfectly in the dark.

“You showed up with her again?”

Wait a minute—you know that voice.

The doors to the study open, and you can briefly make out two shoes from a crack underneath the desk.

One of them was Heeseung’s shoes.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do here Hanni? You want me to wait around for you forever?”

The girl scoffs, arms crossed. “You’re real classy Heeseung. Does she know you bought the dress for me?”

You almost let out a gasp, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

The black silk dress Heeseung had supposedly bought for you.

“Why does it matter, Hanni? You make it clear every time that it’s not me you want, it’s Sunghoon. Then you get all mad when I’m with Y/N, and question why I’m bitter?”

Hanni scoffs again, foot tapping the floor impatiently. “Whatever, tell Seojun I am leaving.”

You could hear her quickly leave the room by the taps of her heels on the carpet floor of the study.

“Wait—at least let me drive you home.” Heeseung’s voice fades away as he follows her, and you swear your heart breaks all over once again.

You stand up, body still in shock of what you just heard in the room. You take a quick picture of the receipts in Seojun’s father’s study before leaving, tears already falling down your eyes.

“Whoa—Y/N?” The voice of Sunghoon only makes the tears come faster. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” You mutter out, coming to wipe them. “Get out of my way, I’m going home.”

“Good point,” he says. “But I also know that a girl crying like you shouldn’t go home by herself. I’ll drive you.”

“Like I want to be in a car with you.” You mumble, silently grateful when Sunghoon bats the other way.

“You didn’t drink, did you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You quickly say, sniffling.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Sunghoon helps you in the passenger seat of his car, and you could make out the figure of Danielle sleeping in the back.

“Don’t worry about Dani, I’m just driving her home too.” Sunghoon explains, grabbing a pillow from his trunk and putting Danielle’s head against it.

“I’ll drive you home first.” He says to you.

Although the light hum of the car in the quiet night should’ve comforted you, you only felt worse as the ride wore on.

Because no matter how much it seems like Heeseung actually wants you, his feeling for Hanni never ends, and it makes you end up feeling like shit over and over again.

Sunghoon pulls up to your parking lot, his eyes telling more than his mouth wants to say.

“Oh and Y/N,” he says quietly, clearing his throat.

You turn around, facing him completely.

“I know we may not be the best of friends,” he continues. “But if you need to talk about tonight, I’m here.”

You close the door, choosing not to say anything to Sunghoon.

You just needed to shower and get to bed. Maybe a good night sleep will make everything go away.

AUTHOR’s NOTE. it gets better soon.. i promise

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[prettyinpwn]

Stan Pines: A Masterclass in Character Writing and Symbolism AKA Stan is Godly, Literally (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 5)

If you're interested in reading a similar writing analysis on Ford Pines, please visit this page.

I've wanted to write a post on Stan for a long time, because I'm going to make a bold claim: he is THE best written character in Gravity Falls. I literally have never been able to find a flaw with his writing, and the reason? Not only does he have the markers of quality I mentioned in my post about Ford's writing (a want, need, character arc, realistic flaws), but...

I would also argue he is THE main protagonist and hero of Gravity Falls if I had to pin it down to just one, and his character arc matches the external conflict, that being Bill Cipher and the theme of growing up vs. staying in childhood and ego vs. selflessness, in ways that are just - and I'm not exaggerating - poetic. And the best part is, he had a lot more time and attention in the spotlight in the show than Ford, so everything I mentioned in the other post that was good about Ford's writing, ramp that up x100 for Stan.

His character also touches on multiple other fantastic themes: breaking generational trauma, healing broken familial relationships that seem unfixable, redemption, the misunderstanding of the family "fuckup" (although Stan is not that in the least, but that's part of his character arc), positive masculinity, true brotherhood, self-love, self-identity, and probably a million others I'm missing and will find out even just as I write this.

As for the godly part, well... you'll just have to read to the end. And no, I'm not kidding or exaggerating, either.

Okay, okay, gushing aside, let's get to the analysis. I'm not sure this will be as neatly structured as Ford's was, but there are just so many damn good things about Stan's writing that it's hard to stick to just one point. Let us begin.

Stan's Backstory: I Am Not Ford and That's Bad + Protecting/Providing for Family > Everything Else

So as I discussed in my post about Ford linked above, much of Stan's childhood revolved around Ford. His entire existence as a child was summed up by one question: how do I compare to Ford? This is especially emphasized in how their father, Filbrick, treated them. One of the end credits ciphers in the show reads as follows:

"A STUBBORN TOUGH NEW JERSEY NATIVE, FILBRICK WASN’T TOO CREATIVE, HAVING TWINS WAS NOT HIS PLAN, SO HE JUST SHRUGGED AND NAMED BOTH STAN."

Haha, very funny. But OUCH. Imagine knowing that your whole name is your name, was because your father only expected one son and was too lazy to come up with anything else. So literally, Stan doesn't even have his own name - his own identity - technically. Stan also was apparently the second twin born, so came in "second" even from birth, and being Ford's (either identical or very similar fraternal) twin, well... it's hard for someone to untie their identity from their brother's with those factors surrounding them as a kid.

There are many other factors that illustrate my point (Ford got Filbrick's name as his middle name, the way Filbrick literally put Stan on the lawn for sale as a kid for failing a test, etc). All in all, Ford receives their father's love, Stan does not, although we could argue that this isn't that great for Ford, not really, as I did in my post on his writing. Because it's a love that comes with a, "I'd also like to use you." attached (just like Bill, gee).

All in all, it's very obvious from all these context clues that Ford was the beloved one, and Stan was the unexpected one, from birth to the end of Gravity Falls, where he uses that to his advantage - albeit in a different context - to defeat Bill Cipher.

Worse yet, Stan happened to have a twin that was extremely smart and talented in a way that was easily noticed. Ford is a Golden Child, as I described in his own writing analysis post, and siblings of the golden child like Stan? Well... the other sibling(s) are often the Scapegoat. As the source in the last sentence states, the Scapegoat is "often blamed for family mistakes, discarded, neglected, and has been gaslighted into believing it was their fault. The scapegoated child is usually assigned at a young age and often carries this role through to adulthood and never loses the unfortunate title.". This can highly affect the Scapegoat's self-esteem, even into adulthood.

This page also covers the Golden Child vs. Scapegoat dynamic. Pay attention to these quotes from this source:

"You are the one the parent will come after when things are going wrong."

"You are subjected to their emotional and verbal abuse the most."

"You may even feel like you need to fix your broken family."

Also, take into account these panels from the comic, Lost Legends, released after Gravity Falls ended:

Yikes. A child doesn't say these things unless a parent has taught them that everything they do is wrong and they are lesser than their sibling. This kid's noticed how Filbrick looks with pride at Ford, but not him. And here's the thing: the item Stan stole in this comic that made Filbrick mad? Stan did it to clean it to make his father proud. Sound familiar? In the events of Gravity Falls, Stan works on the portal for thirty years and gets Ford back, and he gets... yelled at for it. Stan always has good intentions. Although, Ford has a point in the above comic panel: Stan does take shortcuts that get him into trouble. He did almost get jailed by the US government and end the universe to save Ford.

But this is a consistent theme with Stan's character throughout the show. Even WE as the audience first see Stan the way his family did - a conniving scoundrel and money-grubbing criminal - but through the events of the show, just as Stan's family starts to realize it, even when Stan does things that seem bad, like stealing radioactive waste, working on a portal described as a potential cause of the end of the world, has a ton of different identities, etc... we find out Stan had good intentions all along.

Even Stan's greediness? That need for money? That also stemmed from the same good intentions, because how ELSE was he going to afford Ford's mortgage to keep the Shack in order to keep working on bringing him home? It was also likely something ingrained into him from when he was kicked out. Because Filbrick told him, basically, until you make us the money that Ford losing his chance at West Coast Tech cost us, GTFO. Literally. :'(

So Stan... really IS not what he seems. He seems like a fuckup, a criminal, a liar, and a greedy conman. But really... he's a family defender, protector, and supporter. Want to have your mind blown? Intentional or not, let's look at the very first scene we see Stan in in the series:

"Oh look, I'm a monster!"

"Just kidding, I'm not. I'm someone else under what looks like a monster."

Yes. Stan's whole character arc is foreshadowed in like... three seconds in the first episode. The very first time we see him. Not just his arc, but also his role as someone that seems deceptively evil but is actually good. And not just the arc that Ford and Dipper take from distrusting Stan to finally understanding his good intentions, but also the realization WE as viewers have about Stan as we follow the story. Additionally - which we'll get into later - it's symbolic of Stan's internal character arc he takes across the series of realizing he himself isn't the monster that his father planted in his mind as a child, but a good person worthy of love.

All of that... in a few seconds of animation. If that wasn't intentional, then DAMN did the writing gods smile on the Gravity Falls team the day they planned this scene. Back to the point about who Stan really is: the family "fuckup" (not really, but we'll get to that later), and a family defender and protector. This is the true core of Stan's character throughout the whole series. Not only was he Ford's defender as a child, protecting him from bullies, but you know those scenes the fandom universally agrees on were Stan at his most badass? Ahem...

"Everything I've worked for, everything I care about, it's all for this family!"

"Turn around and look at me, you one-eyed demon! You're a real wise-guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family."

Yeah. Look at what Stan is doing in EVERY single one of these scenes: protecting his family. And as bad as Filbrick was, just like I explained in the post I made about Ford's writing... Filbrick also passed down some things to Stan that make him the hero he is. And it's also stuff that Stan passes down to Dipper:

Yeah, it kinda sucked for Dipper at the time. Was it a perfect way of teaching a child to be tough? Er, no, although another mark of a well-written character is that they can make mistakes and have flaws; Stan's not perfect. And the fandom has criticized the way Stan passed down this lesson to Dipper, because it can be considered very similar to the way Filbrick passed it down to Stan. But look what it did: when the world fights and threatens his family, just like Stan, Dipper fights back. With punches, too:

So... to summarize this first part: Stan was taught from childhood "I'm not Ford, and that's bad. I am a monster unworthy of love that always messes up.", and his role is a family protector, which started with how he protected Ford from bullies as a child. This is the core of his self-identity. So let's get into the writing techniques that make a well-written character that I discussed in Ford's writing analysis post...

Stan's Core Want vs. Need

I'll quote my explanation of want vs. need from my own post on Ford I made about a year ago:

"When I took writing classes in college (and over years of writing in general and drooling over writing advice podcasts and blogs), I found that the best method for me, personally, when it comes to crafting characters is to focus on two major things:

1. Their want.

2. Their need.

On the surface, these look like the same things, but in character writing, they can be vastly different. For example, say that you have a character that greatly desires fame and recognition. They want these things.

But what’s the real reason behind it? Is it because they had a parent that was famous and want to live up to their example? Is it because they want to be adored by people? Is it because they were told they’d never amount to anything by someone and want to prove them wrong?

This real reason behind it all is the core need. Yes, they want fame and recognition, but they need it because, say, they have low self-esteem and need copious amounts of outside validation to boost it.

Tied to this need is usually a backstory reason (sometimes called their wound). Say your hypothetical character was bullied a lot as a child. Or abused by a parent. Etc. Whatever the wound was, it caused a big, painful hole in their heart that they try to fill and fix with their want.

So they go on a journey. The want is often the external journey. The need is often the core journey / character arc. Our example character seeks fame and recognition on an external journey, but deep inside, they realize they need something else, which is to understand that their past trauma/wound doesn’t define them, and fame and recognition will not be the balm they expect it will be. Often, they realize they had what they needed all along. They grow past their flaws associated with their seeking this want through understanding and instead pursuing the need."

I'll summarize Stan's character writing using these concepts right here, like I did for Ford in his analysis post:

“I want to be Ford because I want to be loved like he is, and I want to protect those I care about and do the right thing. But what I need is to realize is that who I am - not Ford, but Stan - was good enough all along, proven by how I've always protected those I care about, and I never NEEDED to be Ford in the first place. This stems from a wound from my childhood where I was a scapegoat child treated like a fuckup who never did anything right and could never measure up to Ford, and was conditioned to think that being like Ford was a ticket to earn familial love. I had what I needed all along: myself, because I am good enough and worthy of love, despite what my father taught me."

Stan's Arc: I Am Not Ford... and That's Okay

AKA Stan's arc is basically: learning to love yourself and be yourself, even when you were conditioned to think you have no value. Don't believe me? Guess what Stan does for thirty years: pretends to be Ford. And he literally does it by pretending to have died. He "kills" Stanley Pines AKA himself in a staged car crash to become Stanford Pines.

And guess how he defeats Bill? By pretending to be Ford. His greatest weakness is actually his strength, and then he flips it: he reveals to Bill that he's not Ford, he's actually Stan. And THAT'S when the antagonist of Gravity Falls is truly defeated - an antagonist that represents stasis, lack of change, and with The Book of Bill's context, an antagonist that never freed himself from his own past - is when Stan learns to accept himself and admit who he really is and learns to let the past go. And it's telling that this is what he says when he does it:

"Heh. Guess I was good for something after all." AKA: "Yeah, fuck what Pa said about me."

There it is. The moment of Stan realizing his father was wrong, and he was wrong for thinking himself a fuckup all those years. And this is the expression he pulls at this moment of realization; at the peak of his character arc, all while burning in flames like a phoenix reborn. It sounds corny when I put it that way, but LITERALLY, all the fire symbolism feels like it wasn't foreshadowing Stan's death, but his rebirth as himself after pretending to be Ford all those years. He's not burning who he is, he's burning away who he thought - who he was told - he was. Funny that it takes place in the mind, huh?

This is the face of a man who is at peace and finally loves himself for the first time in his life. That ain't just his mind burning. That's him punching his demon that's haunted him and his brother their whole lives, protecting his family as always, and, symbolically, punching a demon that represents the show's overall antagonist of the shackles of staying stuck in the past, forgiveness, and the value of moving on. He literally punches the antagonist - staying stuck in the past - to pieces and THAT'S when he wins.

Also, can we talk about how Bill and Filbrick share color schemes, and Filbrick even has a brick-like pattern in his suit (also, I mean... come on, he's got 'brick' in his name)? I'll let you make your own conclusion about what that means for Stan's character arc:

It's also telling that Bill Cipher's backstory is that he burned his home dimension and loved ones - including his family - to ashes. The Axolotl - Gravity Falls' equivalent of basically God, from what I can tell - says himself about Bill in one of the books released outside of the show:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy. He's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

Bill misses home. He wants the past and to hold onto his family, just like Stan and Mabel do. Isn't it funny how whenever Bill shows up... time stops?

And look what Bill says in Weirdmageddon: "This party never stops! Time is dead and meaning has no meaning!"

Time stopped. He just wants fun. He's almost like a child that never grew up. And... look at what it was that Stan wrecked in A Tale of Two Stans as a teenager:

A perpetual motion machine. That thing that's not supposed to stop, just like time. Stan 'breaking' time by wanting to hold Ford in the past, with him, instead of leaving him to go to college while Stan was stuck in the past/Glass Shard Beach? That's what broke their brotherhood.

But what makes Stan a hero, and Bill a villain, is that he lets go of the past and his childhood. Bill never does. And he's defeated when Stan lets go of the past, something Bill never did. Why? Because he has family to make facing the future easier. He has familial and self love. Bill doesn't, because he killed his own. (Sorry, got off track again, but Stan's arc and story ties so deeply to the other characters' and the main themes that it's hard not to take some detours, because it illustrates just how well-written Stan is. Gravity Falls' story IS his story.).

Wanna know something cute? Wanna know how Stan realized he had worth during that scene after he defeats Bill? Why I'm betting the show runners showed Stan clutching to a picture of Dipper and Mabel as this happens? I'll give you one guess why Dipper and Mabel are so important to Stan, and why he clutches to their photo even as his mind is burning apart in the finale:

They're the first family members since Ford (whose love he'd lost) who loved Stan for who he was, not for who they thought he should have been. Mabel trusting Stan in Not What He Seems is basically the first damn time Stan's heard in thirty plus years from a family member that, "Hey, I trust you have good intentions and aren't just a lying fuckup. You're not a monster. You're not what you seem.".

Also, he's protecting his family. That always makes him happy, too, of course.

Ego Death and the "Stan is Godly" Part

Yep, we're taking this analysis post train all the way to "damn this is deep and PrettyinPwn is likely crazy for noticing it" station. The only reason I'm tacking this part on is that I saw a Q&A with Hirsch recently that sparked my attention. He was on his The Book of Bill tour, and someone asked if there was anyone more powerful than Bill in Gravity Falls lore. Of course, Hirsch said the Axolotl, but what he said about what Bill vs. the Axolotl stands for caught my eye:

The video in question. The question and answer starts around 21:22. The quote I want to point out is, though, is what we learn about these two beings:

Hirsch: "Bill's weaknesses in terms of his overconfidence, his ego, and his lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time are things that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him because of those things."

So when we boil the conflict of Bill vs. the Axolotl down to simple terms - what makes evil vs. good in the Gravity Falls universe - is this: ego and selfishness vs. no ego and empathy.

Guess which characters wrestle with these themes? The correct answer is: ALL of them. But especially Stan and Ford. This is really what their conflict is about at the core. They both struggled with ego and selfishness, and that's when - in the story - they lose most. But they win when they choose selflessness and empathy. When they... drum roll, please... partake in ego death.

Well, let's describe an ego death. First, we must define what an ego is (source for all of the following quotes):

Ego: "The ego is a sense of self that you develop at a young age." and, "-relates to your feelings about your own importance and abilities.".

*cough "I'm the family fuckup and poor man's version of Ford because that's what people taught me to believe in my youth." cough*

And an ego death "-is the (often instantaneous) realization that you are not truly the things you've identified with, and the "ego" or sense of self you've created in your mind is a fabrication. In some instances, it can offer a profound feeling of peace and connectedness with all that is, as the walls of separation the ego creates come crumbling down."

*cough "I'm not Ford's poor copy, I'm not a fuckup, I have worth, and I realize this in my literal mind as I pull this expression-

-of total peace as the walls of my mind literally BURN around me" cough*

And, "When one comes through on the other side having released all the things they've identified with, with only their true spirit left, Kaiser says, they begin to live from a place of pure love."

*cough "I'll hold a picture of the ones I love and realize self-love as my mind burns around me because this is who I really am: a man who protects and loves my family and my family loves me" cough*

Cheeky asides, well... aside, are you seeing what I'm getting at, folks? Look, I can't prove that Hirsch and crew intended all this, but in my opinion: you wanna know why there are so many gags of Stan or versions of him melting or burning in the show? Why fire is such an important symbol surrounding him? Why there are so many times he's killed his own identity and became a "new" man again and again and again, be it as a young grifter, or as a drifter who became his brother to bring him back again, or as an old man who "killed" his own mind to save the world and his memories returned?

Because it's ego death. The rebirth of true self from a lie you were living. That's literally what Stan's arc is a metaphor for. Even better, he reaches his character arc's zenith when he does this:

That's not an old man punching a stupid little bastard. That's an old man punching what threatens his family, punching his own past, punching his own demons, punching his brother's demon, punching his prior identity, and - given that we know that Bill is a symbol of ego now - punching the personification of literal ego and letting it burn. There are, let's count, seven symbolic meanings in that punch at the very least. Maybe eight if you count that the rightside-up triangle is the alchemical symbol for fire, and by Stan beating it, it's symbolism of his defeating the fire that's eating his memories AKA why he gets his memories back. I could find more, probably.

And yes, the chubby old conman we love so much - and is the opposite of spiritual both in action and in Hirsch's words (he's said Stan is an atheist as an adult) literally has a character arc where he attains spiritual enlightenment that aligns with the god of the Gravity Falls universe - the Axolotl, who has no ego as Hirsch said - hidden under many layers of symbolism. I don't know if Hirsch and the writing crew planned this with Stan, but holy damn... this is what I meant when I said that Stan is the best written character in Gravity Falls, even if this part was unintentional. There are just so many layers of meaning here.

And the best part? Stan was this hero all along. Everything we cheer him on for - be it punching zombies to protect his niblings or spending three decades of his life trying to get his brother back - is when he's being selfless and empathetic. We love Stan as a character because he has a big heart. He's a good person because, as we described above, he is - through beating ego in a universe where its god represents a lack of ego - godly.

No, fangirls, put the sexy Hunkle art down. I mean literally spiritually godly in the Gravity Falls universe, at least in the way good and evil is portrayed in the themes and worldbuilding. No, I'm not exaggerating, either. Let's return to that quote about the Axolotl's powers and why he's stronger than Bill:

"-that a being that has no ego, thinks on a long scale, and does have empathy is actually stronger than him (Bill) because of those things."

Well... guess what Stan does? He loses his ego so hard he regularly kills his own identity multiple times in his life and goes through a symbolic ego death, he thinks on a long scale (thirty years long), and is empathetic and selfless to the point of sacrifice. And the Axolotl in real life lore? Xolotl, the god of Aztec myth? Guess what he's a god of (source):

Why I highlighted "vulture"? Honestly, this is just a neat little thing I wanted to point out, and was a part of a massive theory I was writing about Stan and Bill that sadly never came to fruition (although I may return to it someday), but here's a hint: what was Stan and Ford's school mascot in New Jersey?

I'll let you take away from all the above what you will. Let's just say: there are a LOT of similarities between Stan and the Axolotl and its real life god counterpart, Xolotl. Does that that mean he's literally the Axolotl when I say he's godly in the Gravity Falls setting? Maybe not.

Here's one last odd something that caught my eye. This is also a leftover from that theory I mentioned above, but I'll just... leave this here, because I don't think anyone else has ever pointed it out before and it expands on what I've been talking about:

Stan in the opening. The first time we see this guy, technically. He's sitting in his favorite chair. And as we all know, he turns to look at something. But just where the hell does he turn to look?

Half of you are like, "Well, what? What's he looking at?". There's a blue glow to his right, and you know what that blue glow is? The tank, which happens to have...

Could be a coincidence, maybe unintentional, but it's... kind of odd, not gonna lie. To have a character that embodies the traits of the setting's god look over at the setting's god the first time viewers see him. Just... a bit strange... and Xolotl was also a shapeshifter god, and given that Stan goes through so many identities in his life... and axolotls are able to regenerate limbs and so are a symbol of healing and rebirth like Stan - whose whole story is about healing and having multiple "rebirths" - is...

Anyways, I've gotten far off track mentioning things from that theory just for fun that I never posted. I may still post it, so I won't spoil all of it or list any more of the very odd coincidences between Stan and the Axolotl, but all you need to know from this post is that Stan shares a lot of similarities with his setting's god in symbolism, and embodies the power of the Axolotl AKA godliness in the Gravity Falls universe: no ego, selflessness, and knowing how to play a long game, because those are exactly the traits he uses to defeat Bill, as well as the traits that help him resolve his character arc wound.

So... now what?

I'm not really sure what to put here, to be honest. This post was a lot more meandering than Ford's was, but that's because there are so many different aspects of Stan's writing that are amazing, especially in symbolism. I hope it was coherent and made sense. A part of me was considering leaving out the ego death and Axolotl parts, but I thought it interesting enough to keep in. Let me know your thoughts!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

trying to put it into words / shining just for you

osamu dazai x reader

thoughts about helping dazai change his bandages. for the yail series 🫧

inspired by mirrorball

he always running back home to you.

well, not always running. most of the time, he’s in a cab after a night drinking alone. or, he’s walking through the dimly lit streets of yokohama, something he can do as a man. simply put, he’s always returning to you.

he only gets an hour or two of sunshine each day. but its fine by him, if it means he stays handcuffed to you. he adores that smile, and wonders why you go to such great lengths to even catch a glimpse of it- a genuine one, at that.

he’s used to the perfomances, to calling you his pretty baby and giving you kisses on the forehead. he’s used to wrapping his arms around your waist while you cook, whispering some filthy thing about double suicide while complimenting you’re new perfume. he smiles, jokes, and acts for the masquerade revellers around him. he’ll get you out on the floor, shimmering beautiful, all to hide the pain that resides beneath the surface.

and sometimes, you’ll watch even as his shattered, bloodied edges glisten. he’s smart, and calculated, and a good man- at least, thats what he wants people to think. when he breaks, its in a million pieces.

however, late on a hush night, when no one is around, you can catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

“what happened to you!?” you scold, heaving him into the apartment. he can walk fine, but you need him in your arms to know he’s alive. blood stains your clothes and your floor, but mostly his wrists, soaking into the white gauze that covers his arms.

“i have a lot of enemies, bella.” he chuckles, hoping you didn’t see the way his eyes wince in pain when you examine his injuries closer. he’s either hazy from blood loss, or lightheaded from seeing you so worried. maybe both.

he’s hoping to avoid the inevitable. you’ll have to replace his bandages.

but he’s in too much pain to complain.

“samu.” you whisper, catching his attention. normally, he’d answer with a ‘yes, beautiful?’ or something flirty along those lines. but right now, he’s wounded, coming to you only half his weight.

you place a hand in his cheek. yes, the blood is bad. but the sadness in his eyes, the pure defeat, is so much worse.

“i’ll take care of you.” you say as you slowly begin to unravel the fabric.

he takes a deep breath, feeling the bloodied gauze peeling off from his skin. you’re about to see the labour, the locks and the pain he tries to keep hidden. he just wants to make you happy. and he worries this’ll do the opposite.

examining the injuries on his arm, you surmise a few stitches will do. but the multiple scars, faded with time and littering his skin, isn’t lost on you.

you tilt your head, lips quivering as you look at him. his eyes are looking downwards, head tilted avoiding your gaze. he’s trying to control his heartbeat like could do so easily in other intense situations. his hand squeezes yours tighter every passing minute.

he’s scared.

he ignores the sting of water and soap when you wash away the blood. he feels like the end is near, but he’s still on his tiptoes just wanting to shine for you and for everyone. he doesn’t want to be vulnerable. whether its a demon prodigy or a changed, good man, he’s afraid of being hurt.

but your touch calls of the circus and burns the disco down, gently handling his injury as you stitch it up. even when he’s still on that tightrope, still doing everything to keep you laughing at him, you stay. you stay for the charades and help him find himself afterwards.

he isn’t used to this.

but he won’t reject it.

dazai blinks staring at his injury, now tended too. he’ll have to let yosano check it in the morning, but for now, its enough.

he opens his mouth to make a joke about his near death experience. anything to avoid emotions, anything to keep you looking at him. he’s never been a natural. he just wants to try, try, and try.

but for once, he doesn’t feel like he needs to stay on that trapeze. with you, he can step down, and take a break from the show.

“thank you.” he whispers, hugging you with his good arm. “you saved my life.”

he makes sure to bury his face in your shoulder so you can’t see the pain, that true pain, etched on his face.

the calculations in his brain, the puzzles that told him vulnerability hurts you, didn’t add up to this. he showed you his weakness behind the circus show, and he was met with something else.

love. he concludes, feeling your arms hug him back.

“you scared me.” you sigh, kissing his cheek. “don’t do that again.”

he chuckles, and smiles. “no promises, belladonna.”

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s my Religion- Part 3: Everyone Wants to Have Their Taste (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- You and Astarion don’t see eye to eye about him ascending. Cazador kidnaps you to lure Astarion to the palace. Astarion realizes that more powerful vampires may not be capable of love.

CW: Violence, non-descriptive mentions of gore, mentions of SA, threats of SA, mentions of suicidal ideation

I feel so gross cause I made myself sob while editing this.

*picture belongs to @clowndroids

It had quite literally only been two hours since Pale Petras had kidnapped you. You were having a drink with Karlach after your fight with Astarion.

Astarion finally broke you and you gave your opinion on the Rite of Profane Ascension- he was not thrilled with your opinion to say the least.

“Astarion! I don’t even want to marry a fucking Master Vampire!” You had screamed after he had gotten pissed at you for saying you didn’t think he should ascend, “not only that- I will lose you entirely. You will no longer be anything, but fucking Mephistopheles’ vessel to what he pleases with! I can’t be with you if… if you ascend- I can’t sit back and let you torture me for eternity or watch you fade away.”

“Well-I guess we’re done then.”

You had watched him walk off miserably- your heart shattered into a million pieces. Karlach consoled you at the bar.

You should have tried to be calmer, maybe it wouldn’t have resulted in a break up.

You had begun to not feel well so you went back to your shared room with Astarion.

Astarion was out hunting so that he could be at his best for the fight with Cazador tomorrow- that gives you plenty of time to move your stuff into another room.

You are sniffling as another uncomfortable wave of nausea and exhaustion overwhelms you and then you collapse. You hear footsteps walking towards you- hoping it might be someone friendly. You thought how incredibly inconvenient timing it would be if the Cult of the Absolute was coming to kidnap you.

Except it wasn’t an Absolute Cultist or a friendly face- it had been Pale fucking Petras.

You woke up in what you assume is the Kennels- Cazador leering down at you like he’d caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to do.

Oh and you had. You had given yourself to Astarion- let yourself be “ruined.”

Every lash of the flail against your bare skin feels even more numb and painful than the last- you are barely conscious by the time Cazador decides he’s done and you are “purified”.

“What a shame- I would have liked your skin to remain porcelain and perfect before we have to consummate our marriage,” Cazador feigns sadness, “but I do suppose you have time to heal- a few hours, give or take. Dalyria- please help my beautiful, crimson colored bride clean up a little bit, leave the majority of the blood- it smells delectable.”

Cazador begins to leave and then turns around to say one last thing, “And do get her into her wedding dress. I have a homecoming to prepare for my prodigal son and I’m sure he’d love to wish us eternal happiness, my Love.”

The smile he gave you made your entire body shake with fear. He kidnapped you to force Astarion’s hand. You hope that Astarion stays out all night like he occasionally does when he hunts pissed off.

You would much rather he be prepared to fight and feel confident than rush head first into a battle because you are in danger. Or worse- maybe he wouldn’t care at all. He did break up with you.

You know the consequences if Astarion doesn’t show up quickly- Cazador is going to marry you, violate you, and then turn you into his spawn. Cazador told you that, by the time he is done completing the ritual, you should be ready to be his obedient consort.

Astarion would die knowing you were damned to an eternity of suffering at Cazador’s hands- whether he got there in time or not was inconsequential to Cazador- either would make Astarion crumble (despite telling him that he had quite literally dumped you not even an hour or two earlier).

You asked him how stupid he is considering he revealed his whole plan to you before you had even been there 30 minutes (he knows about the tadpole)- he bashed your head into the wall two times. Hard.

“Better?” He had said, roughly grabbing your hair and making you look up at him.

You listen for his footsteps and hold back the painful, strained sobs that rattle your broken rib cage. Your head is throbbing and your body is aching- every piece of skin cut up in some way or another besides your face. That needed to be “protected” according to Cazador.

You don’t remember when Dalyria gently helped you up off the ground and provided you with awkward, but soothing words. You cried as she began getting you ready for your impending doom. She washed your hair with care and despite what Cazador said, she made sure the majority of your blood was cleaned up and the wounds were safe from infection.

“He’ll get here in time,” Dalyria whispers, “Astarion won’t let this happen to you- he adores you far too much.”

“Doubtful,” You sniff, “and anyway, I don’t want him to make any rash decisions.”

“Right now, Tav?” Dalyria looks at you with sorrow, putting makeup on your cheeks “rash decisions is what is going to save you.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion is nervous while heading back to Elfsong Tavern- he had a bear for his meal and he is eager to see you. While he was out hunting, he realized that you had a lot of very valid points. In what world could he ask you to become his thrall when Astarion knows how Spawns suffer at the hands of their master’s. The other point that stuck with him was when you said you would lose him. Astarion can acknowledge those points- he is sure he can even reassure you. Cazador never let anyone touch you nor did he ever lay a finger on you- not all Vampire Lords are evil and abusive. Astarion will be wonderful to you.

Except, when he gets to your shared room to talk- you are gone and the only evidence of you being there is a blood stain on the floor and your supplies scattered every which way.

Astarion is frozen and he runs to Karlach and Shadowheart’s room- hoping you are maybe there and just had a minor cut that needed healing. Karlach informs him you had gone back to your shared room when you stopped feeling well.

Once all the pieces were put together- everyone was sprinting out the door towards the Crimson Palace. It had been two whole hours since anyone last saw you. Astarion can’t imagine that Cazador would actually hurt you- he’s too possessive of you.

Astarion feels sick to his stomach, enraged, and terrified all at the same time.

Astarion isn’t sure he believes in any of the Gods, but he is begging to any that will listen to him that you are okay- unharmed.

************************************

Cazador holding you up by your hair, tears streaming down your face in a blood stained revealing white wedding dress is an image that will forever be burnt into Astarion’s brain. Cazador has mutilated your skin.

Astarion and your other companions had ran in right as Cazador was cutting into you again- yelling at Dalyria that she did this to you, if she had just listened and not cleaned up the blood like he had said- he wouldn’t have needed more for the dress.

When Cazador notices Astarion, he gives him a chilling grin.

“I told you that he would come for you, Pet,” Cazador cooed, a broken sob escapes your lips, “it was so cute, boy. ‘Just use me for your ritual, I’ll take his place, don’t hurt him-“

You whimper as Cazador licks the blood running from one of the cuts on your collar bones- nipping at the skin painfully. Astarion is going to rip the bastard apart, limb by limb.

“My favorite though,” Cazador maliciously states, “is when she told me how you left her and that you wouldn’t come for her. I’ve never been so thrilled to see someone so heartbroken over the life and love of a pathetic creature such as yourself. I’m not worried though,” Cazador places kisses along your neck and Astarion watches as another wave of sobs racks your body, “I’ll pleasure myself with her body until she starts screaming my name instead of yours.”

Astarion is seething as another pained scream leaves your mouth as Cazador gives you one last deep cut on your right side- dropping your weak, shaking body to the ground. The smell of your blood and fear is overwhelming.

Astarion barely remembers the battle- he remembers Wyll pulling him out of the ritual and then killing every creature that dared try to keep him from you.

Cazador is still looming over you- occasionally digging his staff into your side and Astarion gets angrier with every wheezing cry he hears. You are trying so hard to fight back- clawing, kicking, and punching. You are throwing cantrips as Cazador continues to throw you around.

Cazador goes to hit you again, but his swing is interrupted by Astarion stabbing his dagger straight through the Vampire Lord’s wrist- the staff landing with a clatter.

Astarion is all daggers and nails- his rage towards Cazador coming out in a frightening display of bloodlust. Cazador is barely visible under all the blood Astarion as drawn, but the man still teleports to his coffin.

Astarion charges towards the coffin- he’s not done yet. Astarion wants the man to suffer for everything he’s done to him, to the countless lives he forced Astarion to ruin, and you- your freedom and guaranteed safety. He’ll be killing Bridril Von next.

Astarion pushes the lid off of Cazador’s coffin.

“No, no. No healing sleep for you,” he pulls the Vampire Lord out of his coffin, “Wake up!”

Astarion flings the man with so much force he slides across the floor. Cazador gets onto his knees and looks at Astarion with pure loathing and disgust.

“Get your hands off me, worm.”

“Ha! I’m not the one in the dirt,” Astarion says with a sneer.

Astarion picks up the knife nearby and looks at Cazador, “one last thrust and I’ll be free of you. I’ll never have to fear you again.”

Astarion cocks his head to the side, “but, if I finish the ritual you started, I’ll never have to fear anyone, ever.”

“You think me a fool? That I would allow anyone to usurp me, speak the words and ascend in my place?”

Cazador cackles before continuing, “The runes I carved into your flesh bind you and all seven thousand souls to the ritual. Complete it, and all those bearing the scares will be sacrificed- you included.”

Astarion’s face contorts as Cazador smiles, “ you are simply a means to an end. I made you to be consumed.”

“I am so much more than what you made me,” Astarion retorts.

His whole body is shaking with anticipation- Astarion will finally end this man’s life. Astarion will have pow-

The pull of the Ascension is disrupted by Shadowheart screaming for Halsin to come and help- you’ve lost a lot of blood and she thinks you may be poisoned to some extent as well. You aren’t talking and you are motionless on the ground. You are looking at him though, tears rolling down your face.

Your affection for him warms his body as he enters your mind through the tadpole. You are barley conscious enough to notice the invasion of privacy.

Without the pull of the ascension, Astarion is unsure of his next move. He needs to know what to do, he doesn’t know and he needs your help.

Astarion’s body is then filled quickly with an intense suffocating grief. He is watching memories of the two of you together run through your mind as if you are having your own silent funeral for him. Astarion hasn’t seen himself in 200 years, but seeing him from your point of view- a loving, grieving point of view- takes all the wind out of his sails. Astarion is beautiful, but your affections towards him make him even more so. Together reading books, making love, joking, playing games- it’s all there in a nice warm little box that is slowly turning blue.

There is a finality in your head that eats him alive. There is acceptance and happiness for him- Gods all you have ever wanted was for him to be happy- but you are screaming and crying on the inside for your lost love. Aching and all alone- wishing Cazador would have just killed you and hoping there is a possibility they won’t be able to save you in time so you don’t have to watch him become Mephistopheles’ puppet- now or in the future.

Astarion feels tears stream down his face as your eyes begin to close. Your breathes are getting more shallow and he feels you give up- unable to continue with this life all alone. You’ve lost everyone now.

Goodbye, my Star. I should have told you I love you.

[iwas-princess]

You ABSOLUTELY should write about atsumu's boobs!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

writing abt them again bc they’re j so great

miya atsumu • not at the dinner table

“if i’d known how much ‘ya’d love my tits, i woulda upped my weights a long time ago, sugar.”

your cheeks heated as you blushed at him, slightly flustered that he’d bring up such a topic while eating.

well, to be fair, you were also burning holes into them at the dinner table and practically drooling on your plate. it was only a matter of time before he would say anything.

you nudged a green bean with your fork, rolling it around your half empty plate. your eyes flicked down to the discarded vegetable, avoiding getting caught looking for too long in fear of his growing ego.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘tsumu.” you lied, your voice wavering slightly in hesitation.

he scoffed, lightheartedly but taken aback by your lie. his own eyes dropped down, but instead of staring at his own plate, he mirrored your previous actions by admiring the cleavage of your tank top.

“not that i blame ‘ya for staring, i can hardly keep my own eyes away from yer tits too.” he mumbled, ignoring your previous attempt at fibbing.

you swallowed thickly at your boyfriend’s flirtatious comment, suddenly finding it hard to sit still as you began to rub your thighs together mindlessly.

he quieted, his gaze locked on your supple breasts spilling over the lowly cut fabric and giving him an eyeful. he silently thanked himself for choosing to lounge in nothing but sweatpants today or else the topic of breasts might have not been excusable at the table, if it wasn’t for your wondering eyes continuously checking out atsumu’s bare chest.

“can i, maybe, touch them after?” you mumbled, your voice shy and unsteady.

his ears perked up at your sheepish behavior, watching you in amusement as you fidgeted with your food nervously.

he always admired how shy you got when it came to sexual related questions, acting as if you being the filthiest slut he’s ever fucked wasn’t reality. as if you weren’t begging him last night to fill you up with his cum. or as if slobber wasn’t dripping down your chin and coating his heavy balls as you took all of him down you greedy throat yesterday morning.

he found it impossible for him to go one day without burying himself inside of you at least once, the sight of someone so sweet having the filthiest desires keeping his sex drive at all time high.

he never in a million years expected his precious babygirl to be so desperate over a pair of enlarged muscles, especially on his chest. atsumu was always big, but fuck, ever since he increased his weight training he’s been insatiable.

beforehand, you and atsumu would fuck each other five days a week, regulating a healthy sex life that kept the both of you more than satisfied with your busy work schedules. but, ever since you discovered this new kink of yours, it’s been impossible to keep your hands and mouth to yourself.

something about the way his hardened nipple felt in your mouth with your cheek pressed comfortably against his plump breast as you contently suckled, made your brain short circuit. the sensation was so serene yet incredibly sexy, and also deeply addictive— to both parties.

because even though your cocky boyfriend likes to let you believe that he only ever indulges in this kink of yours for your pleasure, he secretly enjoys if just as much as you do.

your mouth had always drove him mad, either it be wrapped around his cock or pressed against his lips, atsumu had always daydreamed about the wicked things that your filthy mouth could do for him. now, it’s even worse. watching your lashes flutter shut as you relaxed against the cushiony flesh, your lips wrapped tightly around his blush nipple and lazily suckling as you both winded down for the evening, was always the main thought that occupied his horny brain as he worked out every morning. the amount of times that he accidentally caused himself to pop an unwanted boner was beyond recording at the point.

“ya’d love that, wouldn’t ‘ya, princess?” he teased.

of course he was going to let you suckle on them later, it was his new favorite passtime. but, poking some fun at you beforehand can’t cause any harm.

your breathing caught in your throat, long lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks as you fluttered your eyes closed in longing.

atsumu’s teasing never failed to rile you up, no matter how vulgar he could be. in fact, you’ve found that the meaner, the better. he always repays you with soft aftercare anyway to heal any possible mental wounds that his words may have caused.

he chuckled at your reaction.

“are ‘ya going to ask correctly, princess?”

you gathered yourself rather quickly, knowing well enough that if you don’t give him a direct answer quickly, you would have to opt for another form of pleasure.

“pl-please, ‘tsumu. let me suck on your tits tonight, i’ll be a good girl.” you embarrassedly pleaded, your ears and neck turning red with humiliation.

the tint of your flushed skin caused a spark of corruption to jolt through atsumu’s cock, the electric feeling causing the organ to twitch in his sweatpants. he spread his legs farther under the glass table, attempting to make himself comfortable with a massive hard on.

“can’t really deny ‘ya when ask so pretty like that, now can i?”

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Pt. 7

Pt. 7: To destress

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Your week was stressful to say the least. This shootblock had you in almost double the amount of videos than usual. This meant you really only got to see Spencer professionally, your usual chill banter and leisurely hang outs put on the back burner to focus on more career oriented things. 

You’ve said it a million times before, you love your job, but man you couldn’t wait for this week to end. It wasn’t just you feeling the stress either, the whole company was stressed. There were multiple big things happening and it was crunch time. Vidcon was coming up, merch was releasing soon, and both pit and games were announcing new series. 

Everyone was a little frazzled but the payoff would be amazing. The company was making big strides and you couldn’t be mad at that. However, you hadn’t had a movie night or dinner or anything with anyone, let alone Spencer, and your mood was beginning to sour. Your sociable personality thrived off of being around those you love, and when the only time with them was at your job–no matter how fun and silly it may be– you didn’t feel your best. 

This wasn’t going unnoticed by Spencer either. It wasn’t until today that Spencer knew you needed a break, and bad. You had walked into the office later than usual, dark circles under your eyes that your makeup couldn’t quite hide and the biggest redbull Spencer has ever seen. 

You were by no means late but you didn’t get to the office when you wanted to. First your alarm didn’t go off then the elevator in your apartment was closed and to top it all off the traffic was exponentially worse today due to some construction on your usual route. To say you were over it was an understatement. 

You threw your bag down next to your desk, immediately opening your computer and getting to work, hoping that you could finish any digital tasks before your shoot and take a nap. It was your last shoot day of the week thankfully. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it was shaped like your bed. 

“You really can’t say anything about my kickstarts now.” Spencer teased, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his eye. 

“Yeah well I got no sleep last night, my neighbors decided they had to get in an argument at 2 am.” You sighed, “Oh! And the construction at 6 am.” 

“Oof, that sounds rough.” Spencer sympathized, “Come over tonight, there's no construction or arguing neighbors by me.” 

Seeing your reluctance at anything distracting this week he continued, “I’ll make you dinner… I’ll order us dinner.” He added, seeing your grimace when he mentioned his cooking. “Come on, you need to relax and clearly your place isn’t providing that.” 

You thought for a moment. It did sound nice, Spencer lived in a nice area, admittedly much quieter than yours. “Okay, that sounds great actually.” 

Relieved at your agreement he gave your shoulder a squeeze, “Perfect, okay I gotta run. I’ll see you later then, good luck with today, you’re gonna kill it.” 

You sent him one last smile before he walked off, jogging to catch up with Emily. 

—

Spencer had told you to come over around 7. This gave you enough time to go home and nap before taking a shower. Feeling refreshed, you texted Spencer saying you were on your way. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at Spencer's apartment. You stopped at a convenience store on your way, picking up some snacks and drinks for the night. 

Knocking on his door you could hear the faint sound of music, muffled through the thick wood. After about a minute he opened the door. 

“Hey, Y/N” Spencer said, letting you walk in, his hand brushing the small of your back as he ushered you in. “Nice shirt.” He noted, seeing it was one of his.

You noticed his apartment was particularly clean, the usual few cups and empty bowls scattered around his kitchen were nowhere to be found, tucked away in their respective cabinets. You set your bag down on a barstool, pulling another one out to sit on. 

“Did you clean today?” You asked, peering around the room. “Is that a candle I smell? You hate candles.” 

Spencer blushed, fiddling with a strap of your bag to avoid eye contact. “Well, yeah. I don’t like candles but you do.” 

You smiled, wondering how you got so lucky to have such a thoughtful friend. 

“What?” He asked, feeling your gaze on the side of his face. 

“You are just the sweetest,” You gushed, standing up and throwing your arms around his shoulders, “Thank you Spence.” 

He settled his hands around your hips, pulling you in a little closer as he gently rubbed circles on your side. You could have stayed like this forever, and you would have if another knock on the door hadn’t interrupted you. 

“One sec.” Spencer said, untangling himself from you to get the door. He returned a few minutes later holding a large bag you recognized as being from your ramen place. “Let's eat.”

You settled on the couch, ramen bowls in hand as Spencer grabbed your drinks and turned on the tv, putting on a random episode of some show that was inevitably going to be ignored. 

—

The remnants of your dinner were on the coffee table, your legs swung over Spencers as you joked and laughed, Spencer telling a story from college. 

“Okay I have another idea,” He explained, getting up from the couch and walking to the kitchen. “It’s totally up to you but I did stop and get some things that might help you destress a little.” 

He walked back into the living room, his hands behind his back. “I got your favorite wine but! I also got some edibles. I think either would be great.” 

“I have to drive home Spence, I can’t” You frowned, wishing you could stay and have fun with Spencer. 

“Just stay the night, easy.” Spencer responded, like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“I don’t have any clothes”

“You aren’t filming tomorrow, you can wear something of mine,” He countered, “Plus I probably have something of yours around here with how much you’re over.” 

You contemplated it for a minute before you thought fuck it, you deserve to unwind tonight. “Okay, I’ll stay, hand over those edibles.” 

Spencer laughed before opening the package and handing it to you to pick your poison. You grabbed two gummies and popped them in your mouth before handing the package back to Spencer, eyeing him as he grabbed one for himself. 

“Now the night’s getting started.” you laughed, excited to feel the high and giggle with your best friend. 

—

“You remember when you buzzed your hair?” You asked, Spencer’s head laying on your lap. 

“I do.” 

“You ever gonna do that again?” 

“Not sure.” 

“You shouldn’t” You replied, giggling a little as you twirled one of his curls around your finger. “I like your curls, I think they’re really cute.” 

He laughed a little, adjusting his glasses to look up at you. 

“I like your beard too, it’s at a good length, I like the scruff.” You scratched his cheek before patting it lovingly. 

He noticed you were much more touchy tonight. Of course, part of this was the effects of the edible floating around your mind, and he loved it. You were his favorite person and wanted nothing more than to spend everyday like this. 

Alex’s words came to mind as he thought about you. “One sided my ass, she’s totally into you, has been forever”. Maybe it was the edible talking but he decided he had to know.

“You’re my best friend, and nothing can change that.” He began, sitting up and scooting next to you. 

“Awe Spency,” You cooed, grabbing his hand in your own, “You’re my best friend too.” 

“But I’m not sure that’s really what I want.” He looked down at your interlocked fingers.

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 

“I just can’t keep doing this.” Spencer said, removing his hand from yours and adjusting his position to look at you more directly. 

“What?”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Question...? Act III - “Situations, circumstances, miscommunications…”

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Reader Summary - After years of back and forth, years of unknowns, a lifetime of questions, it's time for answers.

Question...? Mini Series List | Steve Rogers Masterlist

10 Years Earlier...

“Can I ask you a question?”

Steve jolts at the sound of your voice coming from the other side of his locker door. “Jeez, you scared the hell out of me.”

He slams the locker shut to find you standing there with an odd expression. You ask again, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your expression, “Sorry… so can I?”

He nods, “Sure.”

“You can’t get mad.”

“I won’t get mad,” Steve promises. “Seriously, what’s up with you, you’re all -”

“Bucky and I kissed,” you blurt.  

Thoughts race through Steve’s head, and yet, there’s not a single adequate response he can say to finding that out. Words fall out of his mouth without a thought, “That wasn’t a question.”

“Are you mad?” you hedge. You see Steve’s eyes examine your face, trail down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. There’s a blank look on his face as his lips purse. “You’re upset.”

“That you kissed Bucky?” he repeats. 

Once again, he realizes that there’s a million other words to accurately describe his tumult. Then again, he’s not sure what he feels. He’s not sure what he’s entitled or allowed to feel. Technically, you were just friends. You were all friends.

You and him. Him and Bucky. You and Bucky.

Was he allowed to feel a tinge of anger? A murmur of heartbreak? A healthy dose of envy? 

“Lower your voice!” you hiss. 

He didn’t even realize the volume of his words, but as he looks around the hallway, he can tell there’s a few people sparing second and third glances at the two of you. “Why? You had no problem kissing him. Why do you care if anyone knows?”

“It was a stupid game of truth or dare! You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” 

“I’m making a big deal of nothing? You kissed my best friend!” 

“He’s my best friend too!” 

“Bucky knows how I-” His brain finally catches up to his mouth to stop the rest of his sentence. ‘Bucky knows how I feel about you.’ He definitely can't admit that. Not now. Not after you and Bucky kissed. 

“Bucky knows how you what?”

“Bucky knows how I feel about the two of you getting drunk and doing stupid things at parties.” 

“I’m sorry. We talked about it this morning-” 

In that moment his brain finally catches up, putting the rest of the puzzle together as the pieces fall into place. That's why he walked by himself to school this morning. That's why you and Bucky, both chronically late, were already at school by the time Steve made it to his locker. “That’s why you two left early, why you walked to school together without me.” 

“Yes,” you morosely reply. “And it didn’t mean anything to either of us. We were just drunk and playing the game. Nothing is gonna change.” 

He rolls his eyes like he clearly doesn't believe you. He knew this song and dance. He'd seen it a dozen times over. Maybe not with you and Bucky, but plenty of times in the hallways of high school. It always started out small. A kiss. A date.

And he couldn't think of anything worse than watching you and Bucky fall in love.

There would be nothing worse than watching Bucky get to take you on a date. Watching Bucky get to hold your hand. Bucky getting to dance with you. And then that classic bitter ending of any high school romance.

In that moment, one way or another, Steve is certain he's about to lose at least one best friend.

“Nothing?” 

“No. We’re all friends. We’re all just friends…." In his own whirlwind of emotions, Steve misses the hopeful look in your eye as you stare at him. "Right?” 

“Right." The words are bitter on his tongue. He knows it. He knows that you know it too. "We’re all just friends.” 

"Who's still friends?" Bucky abruptly asks, suddenly appearing behind Steve. 

Steve jolts at the sound of Bucky's voice from behind him. He turns around, glaring at Bucky, “Will everyone quit doing that?” 

“What’s with him?” Bucky doesn’t even need your reply to know exactly what was on Steve’s mind this morning. Bucky groans, shooting you a disapproving look, “You told him.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to lie to him."

Bucky rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head at you, “And I told you that I would tell him!” 

Steve's never felt more of an outsider as he does watching you and Bucky bicker back and forth about who reserved the right to tell him about his best friends kissing at a party that Steve was stupid enough to leave you and Bucky at alone.

He mentally curses himself. He should've insisted that he walked you home. He should've told Bucky to sober up before he walked you home. Even as mad as he is in the moment, he knows a completely sober Bucky never would've knowingly kissed the girl he liked. 

Even with this knowledge, there's a very big part of Steve that feels the compulsive urge to strangle Bucky. He settles for a demanding huff, “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?” 

“Sorry,” you and Bucky simultaneously reply.  

Just as he's about to demand the whole recounting of events, the school bell above rings out through the hallway. You sigh, gripping your textbooks in your hand, “I have to go. I can’t be late again or I’ll get detention.” 

Steve nods once, muttering a flippant, “See ya.” 

Bucky winces. “Steve?” 

Steve slams his locker door shut. He tosses Bucky an agitated look, “What?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes as he debates the ethics of beating Bucky with his heavy textbook. "You’re sorry?” 

“It was a stupid game, that’s it. We literally just pecked. I swear.” 

“Is that supposed to make it better? You still kissed the girl that you knew I liked!” 

“I know, I know, and I really am sorry. It was a shitty thing I did, but you can’t blame her for it. She has no idea how you feel. Mostly because you won’t tell her.” 

Steve tosses up his free arm. “So now it’s my fault that I don’t want to ruin our entire friend group?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky backtracks. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

Bucky takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he was the one in the wrong here, that Steve had every right to be upset with him, “I’m sorry, Steve, but I promise you, she’s yours through and through.” 

Steve sarcastically slaps his forehead, “Oh, you’re right, I forget, you usually kiss the best friend of the guy you like. Silly me!” 

“Do you know what she said to me the second I pulled away?” 

Steve takes a long moment. He does his best to shove that image out of his head. He'd spent four years of high school watching Bucky have his pick of girl. He watched him go on date after date. Have kiss after kiss. And the picture of you and Bucky, kissing, touching, was taunting him in the empty school hallway. “What?” 

Bucky sighs, swallowing all his pride as he admits, “She said, and I quote, I can’t do this to Steve... And then she wiped her mouth.”

Steve's eyes widen, a laugh bubbling from his lips, “She wiped her mouth?” 

“Right in front of everyone," Bucky affirms. "Was real good for my ego.” 

Steve offers Bucky a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you for telling me that.” 

“You should just be honest. Tell her how you feel.” 

"What if it ruins everything?"

"And what if it doesn't?" 

Question...? Mini Series List Inspired By Taylor Swift Steve Rogers Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[starboyyoongi]

heated. ateez au

⭑ summary: your team only had one rule and that was to never kidnap a civilian. wooyoung, jongho, mingi, and yunho find themselves narrowly escaping death after you find out that they broke said rule.

or, in which things take a turn for the worse when four men kidnap a civilian and they have to face the consequences.

⭑ pairing: ateez (ot8) x black female!reader

⭑ warnings/tags: cursing, gang au, reader is leader/boss of the gang, kidnapping, angst, mentions of murder, gets funny and crack-ish towards the end, ???? to crush, mingi acts as san’s wingman

⭑ notes: i worked on this in my notes app on and off for like a week or so. i did proofread this, but there may still be mistakes don’t kill me please. feel free to leave your thoughts and enjoy! xx

TO SAY THAT you were going to be pissed was an understatement.

what would usually be a noisy car ride back home was now eerily quiet. no one had uttered a word since they had gotten in the car and started the dreaded hour long drive. you often praised the boys for their kind hearted nature despite their jobs and how intense could be at times. they were the water to your fire; the yin to your yang. years of friendship, loyalty, and working with together proved that.

maybe that’s why tonight they had done what was the unthinkable and kept telling themselves that it would be okay. they hoped that the soft spot you had for all of them would override any anger that you may have towards them. it was total bullshit of course, but for the next hour they chose to believe it.

san was completely unaware of the heavy tension in the car. after all, his hands were tied and he had been ordered to stay quiet. his head was swimming with a million and one thoughts. how did he go from handing out bags full of books to customers to being sandwiched between two men who hadn’t said anything past “be quiet” to him? san wanted to kick and scream, do anything that could possibly get him out of this situation, but he couldn’t.

he was terrified to say the least.

san took a look around the car. aside from the two men he was in between, there were two more upfront. one was driving and the other was in the passenger seat. he didn’t know either of their names, but he supposed that it wasn’t important. there was a good chance that he was going to die soon anyways. out of his peripheral vision, he could see the man on his right’s jaw clench and unclench every couple of seconds. that couldn’t mean anything good. san gulped a little before turning his attention to the man seated on the other side of him.

unlike the man on the right, he seemed to be lost in thought. he kept alternating between picking at his fingers and running them through his already messy black hair. the car slowly came to a stop just as the light changed from yellow to red. the man in the driver’s seat was the first to break the silence.

“she’s going to fucking kill us.”

“thanks for stating the obvious, yunho,” the man in the passenger seat said in a sarcastic tone. “anything else you wanna mention? maybe tell us how she’s going to skin us alive?”

“or shoot us in the head instead” the man to san’s left chimed in.

yunho let out a frustrated sigh as the light turned green. as the four men began to converse with one another, san couldn’t help but feel awkward. it’s like he was invisible to them. which sort of made sense seeing as how he didn’t know the four of them and vice versa. plus, he had been kidnapped for fuck sakes. of course they were going to ignore his presence.

san watched as the four men bickered with one another and threw out insults every now and then, eventually figuring out who was who. mingi was on his right, wooyoung was on his left, yunho was the one who was driving, and jongho was in the passenger seat.

the four men’s looks didn’t go unnoticed by san either. all of them were very attractive to say the least and san couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing in a gang. mingi alone looked like he was straight out of an issue of vogue.

with a jawline like that he can make some lucky brand millions. shit, all four of them can if they wanted to, san thought to himself.

“what excuse are we going to come up with anyways? you guys got any ideas?” wooyoung asked, cutting through san’s thoughts.

upon hearing his question, the others fell silent.

truth be told, none of them had really thought that far. as dumb as it sounded, they were kind of banking on years of friendship to get them through this mess. but deep down they knew that it wasn’t going to work.

kidnapping civilians wasn’t you guys’s thing—at all. and everyone on the team knew that. it was always advised against and avoided as much as possible. kidnapping civilians meant that you guys had an extra person (or people) to be responsible for which also meant that there was going to be more problems for everyone involved which also meant that shit was most likely going to go south.

and they knew this. all four of them knew this yet they still decided to take san with them and shove him into their car.

in other words, they were fucked.

“so, um,” san awkwardly cleared his throat as he began to speak. “when are you guys going to let me go? i’d like it if you guys would let me go back home in one piece, please.”

“we can’t.” jongho answered immediately as he met san’s curious gaze in the rear view mirror.

san furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not understanding what jongho had said. “what do you mean that you can’t? you just said that you’re going to get in trouble for taking– i mean, kidnapping me. wouldn’t letting me go make things easier?”

“contrary to what you may think, that would actually fuck things up even more,” mingi said. “if we let you go now there’s a chance that you’re going to go to the police and tell them everything and we can’t have that happening.”

“i won’t go to the police. i promise.”

“you were a witness to a violent shoot out, kidnapped by the four of us, and you know what all of us look like.”

san opened his mouth to rebuttal, but mingi held his hand up as he continued, “you’re also an employee where this entire thing took place. even if you don’t go to the police, they’re going to come to you and there’s no guarantee that you’re going to say quiet.”

“if you’re saying that i’m going to crack under pressure or something then i won’t” san said almost a little too confidently.

mingi rolled his eyes and sighed. “the police in seoul don’t give a shit about whether or not you won’t crack under pressure. they’re going to make you talk whether you like it or not.”

at that, san hummed in response.

mingi was right. he’s never had a brush with the law before, but he knew enough to know there was some truth to what mingi was saying. the police in seoul were known for being ruthless and corrupt. even if san did decide to stay quiet, he knew that it wouldn’t do him any favors. someone was bound to get whatever answer they wanted out of him by any means necessary.

“so… what? you’re just going to drive around with me or something?” san asked to no one in particular.

“no,” yunho said as he came to another stop light. he took a slight pause before he continued. “we’re taking you to our boss.”

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

as soon as san stepped through the elevator doors, he heard someone lowly whistle. he looked forward to see a somewhat short, pink haired man staring at him and the others with a disappointed look on his face.

“you guys are fucked,” he chuckled. his gaze lingered on san for a few seconds longer before he turned on his heel and began walking towards the kitchen. “so, so fucked.”

mingi loudly sighed and mumbled something under his breath that san couldn’t quite catch. he was too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was standing in someone’s very expensive and very well furnished penthouse.

he’d never felt so poor in his entire life.

as wooyoung pushed him along to the living room, san couldn’t help but feel like he was in some magazine. from the floors to the carefully placed art pieces on the walls to the giant television that sat on the wall, everything felt so rich and so opulent. he’d never seen anything like it.

once they had reached the massive living space, wooyoung pushed san onto one of the two couches and told him to wait. san opened his mouth to say something, but wooyoung was already wandering off somewhere else.

meanwhile in the kitchen, yunho was telling his pink haired friend how everything in the last two hours had went down. by the time he was finished, the man was staring at him in disbelief. he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i don’t know, yunho… i don’t think that she’s going to let this slide. on top of that, you brought him to her house of all places” hongjoong said with a raise of his eyebrow.

“i know,” yunho groaned. “but i didn’t know where else to take him. plus i figured that she should see him for herself.”

“why? so she can kill him, too?”

yunho gave his friend a pointed look. “she’s not going to kill him. or us. i think.”

“you think? yeah, you guys are definitely fucked. do you prefer cremation or open casket?”

“oh, fuck you.”

hongjoong laughed as he took a swig of his drink then said, “i know you want to, babe. what time should i be over at yours?”

“you cheeky son of a bitch” yunho laughed as he took a sip of his own drink.

hongjoong smiled as if to say ‘that’s me’ before he started to do a sweep over of the place. just as he was about to focus his attention back on yunho, he spotted a familiar figure entering the room. he cleared his throat and placed his drink on the counter before raising his voice a little to say,

“hey, boss.”

at those words, the room came to a halt. all eyes were on you as you made eye contact with a visibly tense and frightened san. nervously, he stood up and slightly bowed his head towards you. he had no idea what he was supposed to do, but if you were truly the boss like yunho said you were then he was going to act accordingly. after all, you were standing between death and him living to see another day.

you held eye contact with san for what seemed like forever before gesturing for yunho, wooyoung, jongho, and mingi to come forward. you walked over to the couch opposite from the one san had been occupying and sat down. you leaned back and rested one of your arms on the back of the couch. the casualness of your form was a stark contrast to the obvious anger that was radiating off of your body.

all four men stood in front of you and it was clear from how they were avoiding making eye contact that something was wrong. san, much like hongjoong, looked on in curiosity. he didn’t know any of these men personally, but how they acted in the car an hour ago was a far cry to how they were acting now. they looked scared, terrified even, and you hadn’t even said anything to them yet.

“what happened?” you asked, an eerily calmness to your voice.

“we ran into an… issue so to speak during our mission,” yunho answered. “we weren’t exactly sure what to do seeing as how there’s a chance that san might go to the police. so we brought him here.”

“an issue? what was the issue? because to me, it seems like the issue is still present.”

yunho opened his mouth to respond, but jongho beat him to it and began to explain what happened just a few hours earlier. it was evident to everyone, jongho included, that you were not pleased with what you were hearing. the tick of your jaw and the angry look on your face was more than enough to make jongho falter in his words a few times and make everyone in the room tense up. when you looked to wooyoung and mingi for answers, all you got was silence in return. neither of them wanted to say anything out of fear of further angering you.

your eyes flickered between the four men and san. you let out a deep sigh and shook your head before you started to laugh. it was the type of laugh that completely void of any humor—one that they (and anyone who crossed you) had heard one too many times to count.

“i asked you to do one fucking thing. and not only do you go against my orders, you also have the audacity to bring this shit to my doorstep,” there was an edge to your voice as you spoke. “and what, you expected me to pat you on the back and say that it’s okay? that you did a good job? do you have any idea what you four have done?”

“boss, we didn’t mean to cause any problems on purpose. please, if you allow us to—” wooyoung’s words were cut off almost instantly.

since he was standing only a few feet away from you, it took you all of five seconds to walk towards him and wrap your hand around his throat in a tight grip. wooyoung’s hands immediately flew up to grab your arm, but he made no move to remove your hand. your head tilted to the side as you watched him start to struggle to breathe. your grip tightened as you brought your face close to his and continued to speak.

“do you really think that i give a fuck about what you have to say to me right now? huh?”

“n-no, boss. i’m sorry.”

“i should put a bullet right in between your fucking eyes. all five of you.”

“b-boss, please,” wooyoung choked out. “we didn’t mean to c-cause any harm. he didn’t deserve to get h-hurt.”

you let out a breathy laugh and squeezed his neck even tighter. “whatever fate he was going to face would have been ten times better than what he’s about to face right now. did you really think that bringing him here was going to go well?”

this time, you glanced at the other three who were anxiously watching the scene unfold in front of them. this was not how they had expected things to go. they knew that you would be angry, but this was beyond that; you were furious.

“yeosang.”

at the sound of his name being called, the long haired man quietly walked towards you and placed a gun in your now open palm. without hesitation, you held it right up to the side of wooyoung’s head. his eyes widened and he gripped your arm tightly, almost as if he was trying to get you to not pull the trigger.

from the corner of your eye, you could see mingi step forward, mouth opened and ready to speak. but with one look from you, he froze in his steps. hongjoong, jongho, and yunho on the other hand continued to look on in fear. in all their years of working with you they’d never seen you this angry before. the boys had their fair share of fuck ups, sure, but it’s never gotten to this point before.

this type of energy was usually reserved for those who crossed you—not for them and especially not for wooyoung.

although no one said it out loud, they were all wondering the same thing: were you really going to kill wooyoung over a mistake like this?

fuck it, hongjoong thought to himself before he finally spoke up. “this is too far, boss. i don’t think that you should do this.”

you gritted your teeth before replying, “i didn’t ask for your opinion, kim. keep your fucking mouth shut.”

“no,” hongjoong said with a slight raise of his voice. “you’re about to make a mistake. i know that they fucked up, but would you really go as far as killing wooyoung? one of your own?”

hongjoong’s question hung in the air as the room fell silent once more. everyone waited with baited breath for your response.

to the others, it didn’t seem like you’d be backing down. your incredibly tight grip around wooyoung’s throat never loosened and your gun remained in the same place, finger lightly pressed against the trigger. it felt like any second now that their friend’s blood and brains were going to decorate your floors and walls.

but that’s when wooyoung saw it.

he saw the way your body tensed up immediately at hongjoong’s words and how the look on your face began to falter. he saw how the look in your eyes changed from pure anger to regret or something awfully close to it. and he definitely saw how you were contemplating hongjoong’s words and perhaps your actions, too altogether.

and even though he could hardly breathe and tears were forming in his eyes at the thought of being so close to death, wooyoung knew.

and you knew that he knew.

you held his gaze for a few seconds longer before you released him from your grip. wooyoung immediately fell to floor coughing and trying to take in deep breaths. hongjoong immediately rushed over to make sure that he was okay as mingi, yunho, and jongho breathed out a sigh of relief. mingi glanced over at san who had been watching the entire time from a mere few feet away.

he stood there frozen in place, eyes never leaving your form and mingi suddenly found himself feeling bad for the man. in just two hours, his life had been turned completely upside down and he almost witnessed someone dying in front of him. mingi then briefly wondered what his fate was going to be. he secretly hoped that he would live to see another day.

just as he began to move towards san, you grabbed him by his wrist and stopped him.

in a low tone, you said, “i’ll arrange for seonghwa to take san home. the four of you are going to stay here tonight. we’re not done yet.”

you let his wrist go then stepped past him and muttered something in yeosang’s ear. he nodded before you placed the gun back in his hand and disappeared down the hallway, presumably back to your room.

mingi let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding before he made his way over to san.

“hey,” he said, snapping san out of his thoughts. “it looks like you can go home now. someone is going to come and get you.”

san blinked incredulously. “someone’s taking me home? i can go home?”

mingi nodded in response.

relieved, san blew out a breath and rubbed his hands over his face. seeing that they were still bound together, mingi began to untie the rope. it took no longer than ten seconds to do so since the knot wasn’t tied too tightly.

“so,” san said as he rubbed at his wrists. “does this mean that she won’t kill me? or is someone going to finish the job later on?”

mingi awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck, unsure of what to say. “i don’t know. if she didn’t kill wooyoung then… maybe she won’t kill you either.”

“good. it’d be a damn shame if i died before we could go on our date.”

mingi looked at san in disbelief. there’s no way that he heard that right.

did he?

“i’m sorry, what? what do you mean by dat–“

“i think that your boss is hot,” san said rather bluntly. “and even though she scares the fuck out of me and nearly killed someone, i have to admit that a part of me liked seeing her like that.”

“you liked seeing her… like that? you do know that you were her next target, right?”

“yeah, but now i’m not. which means that i can ask her out. do you know what places she likes going to by any chance?”

“you can’t afford them anyways so it makes no sense telling you. but, are you– you’re being serious right now? you want to date her? after all of that?”

“yes.”

“your positive? absolutely sure?”

“yes. of course i am.”

“jesus fucking christ…” mingi mumbled before he groaned out loud.

he did not get paid enough for this shit.

(that was a lie. he gets paid more than enough actually).

“san? let’s go!” mingi heard seonghwa call out from across the room. he briefly turned around to give the older man a smile, which he returned, before turning back to san.

san gave mingi a smile before he leaned in and said, “i’ll leave my number with seonghwa is it? yeah. text me her number and stuff when you get the chance to.”

“are you fucking stu–“ mingi began to ask, but his words fell on deaf ears as san walked away from him.

he watched as the two men exchanged a few words before they walked towards the elevator together. mingi couldn’t help but crack a smile. san was bold. way too bold for his own good, but he had to admit that it was impressive to see.

and in some weird way, he wanted to see how things would play out. a part of him felt like it was going to end horribly, but the other part of him felt like maybe some good could come out of the situation.

“good luck, san…” mingi mumbled to himself. “you’re gonna need it.”

⭑ ⭑ ⭑ ⭑

TWO WEEKS LATER

“i’ll see you tomorrow!” san called out to his coworker.

pushing through the bookstore’s double glass doors, san breathed in the crisp spring air. his shift was finally over and he couldn’t be any happier. as he fished his car keys out of his pocket, he went through his notifications that had piled up throughout the day.

as he swiped away a few emails and promotional offers from one of the many food apps that he had, his phone buzzed with a new text notification. he glanced at the message and tilted his head in confusion at the mysterious person’s number written in bold letters followed by a hey.

he hummed and opened the notification before he started to type out a response. a new message came in a few seconds later, this time with a number and a name attached.

04-xxxx-xxxx

hey

04-xxxx-xxxx

i still think that it’s a bad idea but my boss’s number is 01-xxxx-xxxx. oh and this is mingi btw

san

how do i know that you aren’t setting me up?

mingi

you already did that to yourself when you decided to crush on my boss of all people

good luck dummy

try not to die btw. i don’t get paid extra for cleaning up your remains

[minjeungsno1fan]

I’m having a Moment so here’s a list of random DRDT headcanons I have ^^

- David is autistic and the only people he doesn’t mask around are Teruko, Eden, and Xander.

- Min collects insect memorabilia like butterfly keychains. She shows Hu this collection sometimes.

- Xander has more piercings than just a tongue piercing, but they’re all hidden under their clothing or hair.

- Teruko surprisingly has no allergies. However, her being around people who do seems to make their allergies a million times worse.

- Veronika’s favourite movie is Paranoid Park (2007). Her least favourite movie is Human Centipede (2010).

- Charles is colourblind (tritanopia) and his safety glasses are specially made to also be colour-correcting glasses.

- Whit is almost always pestering Ace about helping him touch up his hair dye since his gray hair is showing. When they’re together, the hair dye will get brought up more than once.

- Levi has a huge collection of clothes that are not his size. Like, they’re closer to Eden’s size. He keeps them for his clients to look at and figure out their style.

- Rose loves to paint her family, but she rarely does it because she doesn’t want Richard Spurling to own something with their likeness on it.

- Eden can perfectly imitate a cuckoo clock because of how long she’s spent around them. She uses this ability for mischievous means more than she’d like to admit.

- Nico is actually slightly allergic to dogs. Being around one usually just gives them the sniffles and some teary eyes for a while, though. Nothing serious or deadly.

- Arei cannot braid her own hair. She has to ask someone else to do it for her and it’s always super embarrassing for her since she’s usually bullying these people but then she shows up and asks for help with her hair of all things.

- J is absolutely obsessed with punk music. She gets tickets to a ton of shows for free because she worked on the set and usually brings either Xander (who is just as big of a fan of it if not bigger) or Hu (who adores all kinds of music) with her. Or both of them.

- Hu cries when she laughs. She doesn’t even have to be laughing particularly hard, just a little giggling is enough to turn on the waterworks. It ends up worrying everyone around her who can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she goes to great lengths to assure them that she’s fine and for them not to worry about her.

- Arturo couldn’t leave his hair alone if his life was on the line. Curling it, cutting it, dying it, putting it up in weird styles, there is nothing he hasn’t done to it at some point. Currently he curls the front two strands that lie in front of his ears and straightens the rest because a celebrity he likes has natural hair like that.

- Ace’s nose twitches like a rabbit when he’s mad. He gets ridiculously angry at people who point it out or imply that it makes him cute in any way, which in turn makes his nose twitch more.

[adiluv-moved]

❥ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌. ˚⊹꒷

🎧୧・꒰summary—wc꒱ you're supposed to be his fan. not la signora's, not childe's, and definitely not il dottore's. 824 words.

💿୧・꒰warnings꒱ yandere character ꒰possessive behavior, petty scara꒱, idol/modern au, slightly suggestive at the end, reader is not traveler, lightly edited.

🎤୧・꒰adi moment꒱ inspired by these hcs! i don't think i'll be beating these scara lover allegations anytime soon, sadly... but anyway! scaramouche is honestly such a petty bastard imo, so i figured i'd mess around a bit with the idea! as always, hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི ⁎ᵕ ᴗ ᵕ⁎꒱ྀི১

as a disclaimer, i don’t support yandere behavior in real life! please don’t interpret this post as justification for any of scaramouche’s actions.

Perhaps it was selfish of Scaramouche to be so terribly possessive over you, though months of correspondence with you had simply robbed him of the ability to care. A rare find, in his eyes, a bright light in an ocean of monotones. Being in an idol group with a whopping eleven other members certainly guaranteed that the attention of fans was finely split, and so he didn’t exactly see it wrong to be a bit more protective over the one that had eyes for him alone. 

Or, at the very least, the one that should’ve had eyes for him alone.

Although practically drowning beneath the heaps of other memorabilia you’d come decked out in, the Il Dottore themed lanyard that hung from your phone case was ultimately unable to escape his piercing gaze. He’d always hated the cocky bastard, despised his overly pompous boasting and inflamed ego—but never before had those feelings burnt inside him with such soul-splitting intensity. No, he simply couldn’t help but fume atop the stage as the concert carried on, barely visible glares and the slightest shoves casted towards the senior member.

You weren’t exempt, either. 

Was this what you’d wanted? To try and tear him apart with such an intense bout of jealousy? Forcing him—watching him struggle to keep his composure in front of the millions of fans that were watching him?

It was a stroke of luck he’d decided to become an idol, since he would’ve already bit his tongue off if he had the opportunity to keep his mouth closed.

Over the several months you’d known Scaramouche, invitations backstage had become the norm between the both of you—rare moments of alone time together with your body perfectly slotted within his arms and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. 

Naturally, it was the absence of this that drove your heart wild. 

Even worse was when another fan was granted the honor, personally escorted behind the curtains by the star as fans hounded the duo. 

‘He’d never done that for you,’ came the tiny, jealous voice within your mind—fingers clamping shut into fists as you attempted to rationalize the scene in front of you. It was true, of course, that a bodyguard had always been the one to lead you to his dressing room, a slap in the face considering the way he held their hand in front of everybody. Why, oh why, is some… random person getting better treatment?

The both of you were already well aware that this scene would be blowing up come tomorrow, countless articles, tweets, and tiktoks posted by the insignificant pest he’d picked out. And while his cheeks were absolutely straining from the falsified polite smile he wore, seeing the dejected look on your face certainly alleviated some of the burden. 

It wasn’t as though you even had the right to be angry with him—it’d just be silly considering this little stunt of yours—but there was something so horribly satisfying about watching you seething, all the same. How sweet! That little pout pulling down your lips, the crinkles forming in-between your furrowed eyebrows. Exactly what he’d been hoping for, pulling a random member of the audience along with him, and he was glad you decided not to disappoint twice in one night.

Maybe, if you’d chosen any of the other Harbingers to pull such a stunt with, he might’ve found it amusing. But showing up to his concert, with tickets that he paid for on your behalf, with merch of Il Dottore? Hah. Inexcusable, really—though it was ‘cute’ you had the gall. 

He was certain he’d already gone off on tangents about the man before, certain that he’d already emphasized that only he was worthy of your adoration. Why, then, would you carry through with such a thinly veiled betrayal?

He would not share you with that man.

But no matter..! While the audacity you had to toy with him was commendable in its own right, you weren’t the only one that could play at that game. And Scaramouche? He plays to win. For the sake of proving this point, he’s more than willing to allow you to leave empty-handed tonight, push himself through the agony of being without your touch for a bit longer.

As expected, tickets to the Harbinger’s next concert arrive in your mailbox the day after their latest venue is announced—though the two extra items attached are much more novel. A letter, handwritten by the idol himself, chiding you for this little ‘slip-up’ in your loyalties…  and a Scaramouche themed lanyard, orders attached to dispose of your current one immediately.

He’ll be keeping his eyes on his favorite fan.

You’re lucky that he’s being so generous, but even you should know that he has his limits. If you continue to act out, a more… hands-on punishment will be necessary to remind you of exactly who your love and attention belongs to.

But frankly? He doesn’t think he’d mind. ♡

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

[ghostieeeee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: Possible spelling errors? :D

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

You've come to learn that in your current lifetime experience of schooling, high school is much like a jungle gym. The smooth concrete grounds were always littered with students, used at the disposal of others for leverage to fling themselves around; lockers were basically crashpads; and teachers did nothing but ignore the injured ones. Why would someone so simply walk from point A to B when they could find a million and one other ways to get there while having twice the fun?

Your answer would simply be because of safety regulations- or maybe it was just the fact that you couldn't deal with any form of confrontation from possible victims due to such annoying antics. Either way, it had proven that the irresponsibility of students and teachers alike had led the school to chaos, and you, for one, disliked it.

"Did you see the latest post on the muggie page?" Eunchae, probably the most social butterfly-like person within your very contained friend group blurted out, her eyes doe and her smile wide.

"Uh… no? I don't believe I did" Chaewon, the oldest of your bunch with the youngest patience replies, sharing a look of warning with Eunchae as the younger girl spins on her heel to walk backwards, causing her to become blind to her path.

"Wasn't it something about Soobin?" Inquires the taller of the group, Kazuha, also frequently labelled as the book worm for her love of most books.

"Yeah!" Eunchae snaps into grin, clicking her fingers into stretched finger guns,"apparently he's cheating to get ahead in maths"

You groan, rolling your eyes at your sister's poor habit of spreading rumours,"it's a photo, not a Wikipedia page. Where do these rumours even come from? They're almost always fake"

"Yeah, like, who would even believe that a hippopotamus broke into the school's bathroom?" Kazuha interjected, although her voice seemingly vanished after the word "believe" left her lips.

"There's pictures!"

"Eunchae, we don't need to see poorly edited pictures to believe anything," Chaewon almost huffs, having this been the third time today Eunchae has offered to show these so-called real photos. "Besides, it's all just for followers and attention. Remember Felix before he got expelled?"

"He got expelled because he threw a bucket of fish on someone-"

"Not just someone-" Eunchae interrupts Kazuha, holding out her hand,"it landed on the head teacher!"

"Even worse!" You whine,"Mrs Jang was there to stop Felix's madness, and it just so happened that she got caught in the crossfire of it all"

"None of that is the point!" Chaewon grumbles aloud, readjusting the books held between the muscles of her biceps and her ribs,"who cares about who got caught in the crossfire, who cares about the original target! All that matters is that his intentions were to gain in popularity, to ultimately gain followers for his bold and daring personality"

"God do I hate that boy…" Kazuha mumbles, eliciting what seemed to be a spell of silence over you four as you continue to walk in silence. What Felix had done won't be erasable, not to Kazuha and her dozen beloved books, at least, but you can at least try and forget the misery he put most students through.

You still remember the time you came back from gym class, only to find that your clothes had magically transformed into a tight crop top and a mini skirt. To say you were fuming was one thing, but to say your friends were ready to go on a rampage was another.

You release a content sigh however, upon the memory of Minji, Kim Minji, otherwise known as your secret girlfriend, who had been so quick to discreetly pull you aside and offer you the spare change of clothes she keeps for you. She always keeps a full outfit for you in the back of her own gym locker. You hadn't seen much point in the idea to begin with, but damn were you relieved when it actually came in handy.

Thinking back on it, you never did find your clothes again…

"Morning!" A familiar voice called out, so bright and bubbly with a coaxing of something else, something reluctant. It was the tender voice of the very person you were thinking about, Minji, and now she's standing only a few feet away, waving morning to those who pass her by with her signature smile.

On mornings like these, you'd walk past with your head down, minding your own business for the sake of your decision to keep your relationship with the school's "IT" girl private. However, something in you had you hooked on her smile today, and therefore had your eyes hooked on her as you walked past.

It was obvious Minji noticed, her eyes meeting and following yours till they no longer could. It was also obvious that it had made her morning all that much better- evident in the instant widening of her soft smile.

"Y/n, you have english first, right?" Eunchae was quick to unintentionally ruin the short moment, flinging her arm over your shoulder, her eyes boring into the side of your head as you quietly blush to yourself.

There was something different about Minji today… Maybe she was wearing a new soft toned shirt? Or maybe she did something new with her makeup? Either way, it had already devised its plan and plagued your mind with unanswered questions. Unanswered questions that needed to be solved.

"Y/n?"

"Huh?" You jolt back as a result of a small pinch to your forearm, your opposing hand rushing over to cover the new stinging sensation. You glare at Eunchae,"what?"

"You have english first, right?"

"Yes, I have english first. Why?"

Eunchae gives you a wicked grin, one you're sure could be fatal given the correct circumstance,"don't you have that new assignment, project thingy?"

"Shoot…" your eyes falter, neck growing limp as it sags slightly over your shoulders. "Why'd you remind me of that? I was having a decent morning, you know?"

"Oh? My bad?" She speaks with an insincere tone,"Just wanted to ask you who you'd pick to be your partner this time"

"Haha, funny joke munch"

"I told you to stop using that nickname years ago!" The slightly younger Hong whines, retracting her hand from your shoulder.

You roll your eyes,"Miss has never let us pick our partners, so there's no answer to that question"

"You need to have some hope," Chaewon speaks up, pushing her glasses up the thin bridge of her nose. It's been a while since Chaewon last wore glasses, so it was a welcoming sight to get used to.

"Yeah! And if your teacher does pair you with someone, I hope it'll be the boy from last time." Eunchae continues to grin, making stupid kissing faces with her lips impossibly puckered.

"Please no," you shudder out, remembering the laziness of his work ethic, but the proactive nature of his wanting to get to know you better. If it was a social experiment, you would've been somewhat alright with it- but it wasn't. "Let's just see if I can survive getting to class first"

"Why wouldn't you make it?" Truth be told, there were a thousand ways to answer that, a thousand possibilities of something happening. Possibly a fire drill; someone knocks you unconscious; maybe you'd be kidnapped; or the roof of the school gets ripped open and you could get abducted by aliens.

Maybe the last two examples were a little extreme… but never say never?

"Just look around us. Do you really think half of these people aren't secretly serial killers?"

"We're teenagers" Eunchae rolls her eyes,"were all serial killers in the making"

"But still, there's always a possibility"

"I'll see you guys later," Kazuha speaks, her tone almost making her sentence sound like a question more than anything else.

You, Eunchae, and Chaewon each respond with different farewells in unison, creating a mesh of jumbled words as your other friend heads into her class.

"Do you ever get the feeling that someone is secretly watching you?" Chaewon spurts out, causing you to raise an eyebrow at her inquiry.

"Yeah, all the time," you respond,"sometimes I swear Eunchae secretly watches me when I sleep"

"I don't do that," Eunchae almost snorts as she pinches your arm again, earning herself a slap in the process.

"Sounds like it most of the time…"

"We have paper thin walls!!"

"No we don't! You just have the need to know everything about me"

"Guys?" Chaewon interrupts. Albeit your little bickering session was entertaining, Chaewon genuinely couldn't shake the question off her mind.

"Sorry, sorry," you awkwardly laugh,"I've had the feeling once or twice- but like I said, it's almost always Eunchae," you shrug.

"And when it's not me?" Eunchae tilts her head in question, furrowing her eyebrows slightly.

"It's Kazuha waiting for me to fetch a book I offered to find for her"

"Eunchae?" Chaewon asks as you stop outside of your classroom door.

"I get people looking and staring at me all the time," your sister responds with a nonchalant tone, seeming far too careless about her explosive personality.

"Right…" Chaewon tugs a smile across her face, nodding slightly.

"Hey, it's okay. If anything happens, we're all just a phone call away. Right, sis?" You turn to see Eunchae enthusiastically nodding in agreement,"see?"

"Thanks guys" she shakes off the forced smile,"You should get inside your class" she nods to you.

"Yeah, I suppose so. I'll see you all at break, " you wave before turning. The last thing you hear is them saying goodbye before you're officially in the torture chamber of hell. The classroom.

Your designated seat was on the third row back, one depressing chair away from the love of your life- the window. The view is pretty nice up here too, so why must the teacher make you suffer this bad?

You lazily throw your bag against the metal leg of your desk before slumping into the paired chair. You could feel your back almost instantly grow sore at the uncomfortable furniture choice, but it's not like you could change that. Living with the suffering is your only option.

"Morning, everyone," a voice booms against the rest, threatening the bustling army of student voices into hushed whispers until they stop altogether. She coughs,"I'm not wasting any time here, you all know what's happening, so without further ado…" The woman pauses to grab a sheet of paper, her eyes hungrily scanning over the printed information.

"Yujin and Soyeon"

"Irene and Yiren"

"Hyunjin and Jeongwoo"

"Y/n and Haerin"

You gulp. Haerin? As in Kang Haerin? The Haerin that's friends with your girlfriend? That Haerin?

Were you really questioning what Haerin you had been partnered with? There's only one in your class, and as far as you know, the only other girl named Haerin in this school is two years below you. You were tempted to slap yourself, if only it wasn't for the attention it would place upon yourself.

Hesitantly, your eyes hoister upon the figure of your new partner for the next few weeks. She sat on the front row, closest to the door- she was basically completely across the room. You lean forward a tad, capturing what you could of her before someone else's head got in the way.

She looked half asleep in all honesty. You're not even sure if she's listening. Her half lidded eyes are barely focused on the teacher, and her smokey hoodie is drawn up to her mouth.

This was bad. The possible scenario of her finding out was at an all-time high, and you're not ready for that yet- you're not ready for any of that yet.

Your relationship is meant to be a secret, a rule imposed by you to keep your emotions in tact. Minji wasn't all too fond of the idea, but she accepted it nonetheless. It's been hurting you as much as it's been hurting her- but you'll both end up far worse if people knew.

The people in your school would ravage you for details on your personal life. Your privacy would be invaded by snotty teenagers- ultimately turning your life upside down. They'd ruin you for being a nobody if you're not good enough, if you don't match their standards. It doesn't help that their standards are themselves either. It's just one of the many perks of dating Minji.

Maybe you could swap partners…?

"Hey! That's not fair! You know we don't get along well together!" You look to your left, only to find the boy you sit next to on his feet as he thrashes his arms about.

"Mister Song, please remain as you were." The teacher attempts to calm the boy, speaking in her usual dismissive tone.

"I demand a partner swap! Uh- with this girl right here!" You yelp as he grabs your elbow, dragging you to your feet.

"Mister Song, leave the girl alone and report to the head teachers office immediately," Miss huffs out, clapping her hands aggressively out of annoyance.

The boy lets go of you, to which you quickly take your seat again, scooting slightly away as heat creeps to your face and your hands begin to subtly shake. "Whatever"

You breathe in deeply, taking in mouthfuls of air at a time to steady yourself as your brain scrambles to put itself back together. You find yourself counting each breath, starting from one and working your way up to ten within a short matter of time.

It didn't take too long- only until the teacher was done reading out the list- for you to have regained a decent enough composure to not be noticed by others. You had initially calmed down, but your nerves were still very much active, and it made you all that much more aware of your surroundings.

"Find your partners and don't forget to pick up a sheet." You look up as your teacher places a thin stack of paper at the front. Was that seriously your project? It was printed out onto a sheet of paper! You're not quite sure if she's just too lazy to inform the class verbally or if this was some ingenious idea to stop you from letting her words go in one ear and out the other- like they normally do.

You halt in your seat for a moment, your hand grasping a strap of your bag as you wait for everyone else to have gotten their own resources before you move. You had watched how several people passed the Isle two seats down from you, rushing about in a sloppy mess, and now it was your turn to go before everyone was sat back down.

Standing up, your chair's legs scrape against the wooden flooring, an unwelcoming sound to bask in. You're quick to tuck your chair back into the table, also tucking the chair of the boy that grabbed you earlier to get past as he left it in obstruction to your path.

Carefully squishing yourself between the fewer students at the front, you grab a sheet and make your way over to Haerin. You notice how her brown hair tangles itself slightly, how the ends of her hair nestles into the small creases of her hoodie. You also notice how her hands are fiddling with each other, her thumb gracing over her knuckles before rubbing small circles into her palm.

Everyone in the school knows of her, but no one actually knows her. No one has ever questioned her introverted state, neither have they ever really cared enough to find out. It's their loss, you suppose.

You gently clear your throat to get her attention, only now noticing how dry your airway has gotten. You wait as she slowly turns to you, only blinking at your existence beside her.

"W-we're partners for the English project… can… can I sit here?" You felt yourself vomit whatever confidence you had left to get those words out, especially as she keeps staring at you with a blank expression.

"Go ahead," she almost mumbles, keeping her eyes trained on you as you nervously take your seat beside her- almost sweating at the intensity of her stare. You swear she could read your mind.

"Thanks" you offer her a small smile in an attempt to smooth the rough granite between you two, but you don't get one back, causing your face to falter a bit.

Haerin hums, moving her target of focus to the sheet you brung over, her eyes quickly scanning the words as she nods along to a silent beat. "You'd think she'd at least send this via email or something," she grumbles, dragging the sheet closer to her for a better look.

"That way, the instructions wouldn't get so easily corrupted," you add, noting how paper is insufficient against most elements. No one likes a soaked piece of paper, but even so, at least that would be better than having it get burnt into basically nothing.

"My point exactly." Haerin glances back to you, her dark eyes pricking at your skin,"if we lose this paper, we lose our project"

You hold back a smile at her words, more so the particular word,"our." This was already a far better start than your previous project you had done last term.

“Would you want me to type it out and send it to you later?”

“I was kind of hoping we could do that now. I know it's not really a wise thing to do because of the deadline being next month…” Haerin pauses to look over the sheet again, her finger tracing from the set deadline to the paragraphs that explain the task, until the said appendage reaches the very base of the page. “But it would save us a lot of time in case something does happen”

Nodding in agreement, you lean to unzip your bag,”Do you have a laptop?” You ask, pulling your own device out and setting it on the desk.

“Yeah, I do. Can you make a document and share it with me? I’ll write down my email for you” She questions, pulling out a pen and pulling the lid off.

“For sure,” you agree.

The classroom was already back to its usual state of madness and pure insanity. It was almost as if they had reverted to their old, primitive ways with the caveman-like sounds they were producing. It was almost impossible to miss the paper balls being thrown across the room as a strange form of note passing.

“Do people not understand the meaning behind focus?” Haerin murmurs under a light breath, her hand almost straining as she logs back onto her laptop.

“Their brains are too underdeveloped to even understand the context of silence. What makes you think they can focus on anything other than not focusing?” You reply, looking at the brown haired girl with a small smile and a nervous heart. You could still feel the rampant of your heartbeat in your ears.Talking to new people was certainly not your speciality.

She sighs,”you’re not entirely wrong. Some can focus on other things like the females and their makeup and skin care routines… I can’t say much for the boys”

“Yeah… Hey, I sent you the document” You inform, having used the email she neatly wrote down on the paper your teacher had you grab on the way over.

“Thanks. If you can type out this-” she points to the bottom half of the paper, which is arguably shorter than the opposing top half “-then i'll do the rest”

“You sure? You have way more to type out” You look away from the sheet to find her looking at you with a questioning look “I’m just saying- it is a shared project afterall”

“I'm sure. I could probably be done before you anyway”

“That sounds like a challenge…”

Haerin tilts her head, her eyes reflecting the sparkle of the overhung lights,"Take it how you will”

Not even moments later, you were half done with your smaller section, though the distraction of students behind you was making your job a sufferable task. They were too loud. However, that wasn't the only present distraction. You hadn’t come to notice it, but the rapid clicking of Haerin’s manicured fingers had you half in a daze. It was clear she was completely focused on her task, possibly speeding ahead as you pause for a moment to look over at the sheet for a catch-up before resuming with your typing. It’s only been a few minutes anyway, it's not like-

“I’m done” Your hands freeze as you turn to evaluate her screen, and sure enough, every word, every letter, every piece of punctuation was present on the screen. How? What she wrote was near enough a thousand words- or so you were assuming. “How about you? Are you almost done too?”

“Uh… yeah, almost. I’m just on the final paragraph” You look away as the tips at either side of her mouth curl up in a soft smile. You take a second to take a deep breath, eyes readjusting to the word you left off on.

“Oh- Y/n?” You nod, keeping your eyes strictly trained on your keyboard “Would you mind coming to the coffee shop with me later? I’d like to start as soon as possible if that's okay with you and your schedule?”

“Sure” you breathe out, trying to release any nerves.

“Is after school okay? I’ll meet you outside your classroom last period”

“That's fine, I have biology last. It's the last room at the far end of the corridor ”

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

: Dating in a high school full of love thirsty teenagers was never really something you wanted. But of course, things change- and you learnt that in more ways than one. Kim Minji, one of the more popular students. Hong y/n, probably the most invisible person alive. They couldn't possibly be dating… or maybe they could be? You never know what goes on behind closed doors.

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

ᶜᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ✄-----------------------------------------

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: [𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍]

@jeindall777 @zuhasfavwife @thefckghost @everydayiloveyves @nasyu-kookies @justdelulumeh @feb14-kid

@ehcyps @imjeyjjey @winteresss @haechansbbg @urwyf3

@idkwhatim-doinghere101 @imahallucination11 @sserajeans @lesleepyyy @jennasluma @kaypanaq

@petruchiosstuff @pandafuriosa60 @haexrin07

[passivenovember]

Sharing again!

--

mirrorball

--

“You’re irate,” Robin says. 

And Steve can’t pretend that he knows the definition or that somewhere, past the churning noise of the party, and the wafting heat from the dancefloor, Steve has the slightest clue what to say other than, “Probably.”

Because in all the months he’s known her, if Robin says he’s irate then he probably is.

Steve wants to go home. He’s been over this scene for a while now, holding an empty red cup so no one asks him if he’s up for seconds and thirds. His eyes sting from the smoke. He’s never liked that about parties that don’t rage under his jurisdiction. 

If they were home right now, cutting the night away at Steve’s house, he’d tell them to take it outside. Not everyone’s a smoker. Not everyone wants to die early from nicotine poison, at least not from something as insignificant as second-hand smoke. 

But these are Tommy’s digs. And apparently, anything goes, here. People smoke and drink and fuck right out in the open, probably depositing colonies of lost children on the shag carpet underfoot, and Steve’s had enough. 

“This is really bothering you, huh?” Robin asks. 

“What are you talking about?”

On the other side of the room, past a string of holographic flowers cut from cellophane that dangles in Steve’s line of sight, Billy’s got a kaleidoscope of color dancing on his eyelashes and he’s standing really close to a guy with pretty hair.

That’s all Steve can clock about him.

His hair is nice. Long and brown and curly. 

And Steve’s been told a million times by his grandma that he’s got more to offer than a head of thick, Italian locks but with only a red cup and Robin’s fifty-cent words tethering him to this basement, Steve isn’t so sure. 

Robin knocks their shoulders together. “Billy,” She says. 

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s eyelashes. “Where?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Steve snaps. “I just don’t see him.”

As if on cue, Billy steps closer to the guy. Gets right in the crook of his neck 'cause either. He knows Steve is watching or he’s trapped in his own little world.

Steve can’t figure out which is worse. Serving as the gasoline that fuels Billy’s night and earning a front-row seat to whatever happens next or being locked out. Forgotten. 

A sliver of perfect, golden skin peek-a-boos between the hem of Billy’s slashed Metallica tank top and a pair of leather pants Steve’s never seen before. Not in this basement. Not in his entire life.

He knows instantly he wants to see them trapped around Billy’s thighs. And on his bedroom floor. And melting, coughing up smoke until they’re memory when brownie-locks tugs Billy closer by his belt loop.

Steve crumples his red cup. “Let’s go,” He says. 

Again, Steve’s legs don’t move. 

“You should talk to him,” Robin says. “You should do something before–”

“Billy’s not going to fuck him,” Steve tells the shag carpet. He looks at Robin, and peers into her red-rimmed, pitying green eyes, because. “Right?”

She’s probably worried.

She’s probably tearing her hair down from its edgy updo in fear that their very own ray of Californian sunshine is going home with a stranger tonight. 

Robin’s lips disappear between her teeth, “I don’t know,” She says honestly. 

Robin cherry-picks her words. It’s such a contrast to the way Steve bulldozes his way through grand statements and sweeping apologies. It’s comforting. He hangs on her every expression to know he’s not crazy. He tracks the way she stares past those goddamn cellophane flowers until her eyes get big.

Robin glances over, cheeks red as speeding firetrucks even in the shitty light of this shitty fucking basement.

“What?” Steve demands, and he stares at the horizon to find, that. 

Billy and his Motley Crue knockoff have disappeared.

Steve sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. 

“Steve,” Robin says. 

He can’t feel his toes. He knew this would happen. He should’ve told Billy he loved him when he had the chance, and now.

Robin rubs his knee. 

“Maybe they just. Got swallowed by the wallpaper, or something.” And Steve sounds almost believable. He almost believes it himself, you know? Because how could his entire sex life have gone up in smoke in the last thirty-six hours? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. He was inside Billy Hargrove thirty-eight hours ago, and now--

The room might as well be empty.

“This is such bullshit,” Steve shakes his head. “He better wear a condom.”

Robin snorts, “You really think Billy’s gonna top?” Her fingers snake around Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing at the knot of muscles in the side of his neck. “You can’t let it get to you, Harrington.”

Steve has to swallow the immediate desire to protect his shoddy, half-assed fortress of Cool Guy that has been falling apart, brick by brick, since the first time Billy sported hickeys on his neck in the shape of Steve’s mouth and told him that this meant nothing.

Steve wants to bury his face in his hands. 

He wants to pull his hair out by the root and scream and scream and never stop screaming until finally Billy admits that this is love.

That they’re in love with each other.

Whatever that looks like. Forgetting the condom, maybe.

Robin rocks their shoulders together. “Do you want another drink?”

Steve wants that, too. 

He hands his cup over, instead, “I’m going out for a smoke,” Steve mumbles, because even though Tommy’s parents have money and could replace it no-problem, he still pretends to respect the wallpaper he knows Mrs. Hagan chose special.

--

Billy only lets Eddie get his hands under his shirt because Steve’s watching. 

Only. Steve misses it, because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s too busy talking to Robin, and it’s fucked up that the cocktail of vodka and cheap dope has Billy jealous about that, too. 

Like it’s not enough that he's consumed by jealous hatred of Steve’s sweater for draping itself over him all day, but Billy’s gotta drag his favorite lesbian into this. 

Nothing is holy, anymore.

The angry, love-drunk, pissed-off part of himself whispers that Steve and Robin are going home with each other tonight, even though Billy knows that means hideous fleece pajamas and no grabby hands.

It doesn’t matter.

Eddie scrapes a nail over Billy’s nipple and Billy thinks he’s gotta get even. 

If Steve is going to sit on that fucking couch and uphold their agreement that this means nothing, Billy’s going to fuck this stranger.

Done deal.

So Steve looks away and Billy tugs Eddie’s hand to his waist to get his mind off the mole on Steve’s cheek. 

“Got a condom?” He slurs. He’s fucked up. Can’t even stand straight without the wall or this guy propping him up. 

Eddie detaches himself from Billy’s neck, and. “A condom?” He asks, not understanding.

Even in Tommy’s shitty basement, he’s got nice eyes. 

Big and brown and kind, like Steve’s, but. He’s not Steve. 

That could be good, right? Billy could work with that. “You don’t wanna fuck me?” He bitches. Hurt, maybe.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I do it’s just,” He catches Billy when he stumbles and puts him back on the wall like Billy’s mom used to do with loose paintings when Neil pushed her into them. “Shit, darlin’, you’re drunk.”

It’s kind of hilarious. 

Billy snorts. Knows if Steve heard him he’d say Billy’s cute, and Billy wants to go home. Not to Cherry Lane, but to Steve. He wants to live there forever, and Max could come, too.

“I am drunk,” Billy admits. He leans forward, wetting his mouth and grinning when this poor country idiot can’t help but zero in on the shine. “I’m real easy when I’m sloshed.”

“I don’t know–”

“C’mon, Harrington says I open up nice when I’m blackout.”

Eddie blinks at him. Straightens his spine, all noble, so he can stare down his button-snout at Billy to demand, “He fucks you when you can’t stop him?”

Like he knows Steve.

Like he knows them like Billy’s his mom and he needs to be rescued.

It pisses him off. Gets his dick to lay flat, for once, and Billy’s fucking tired. “Oh, like you were about to?” Eddies cheeks flare. Billy waddles forward. Says, “I don’t even know you. Stop acting like you know shit about shit because you don’t.” Because. “I love him,” Billy adds, “I’m in love with him because he deserves it.”

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe.”

“That him over there?” And Eddie jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. Steve’s watching them, cool as a fucking cucumber, and that does something to Billy. 

Makes him look at the situation from outside of it. 

Like, he just offered to fuck this guy, this random dude, and Steve doesn’t even care. And he’s not stupid. Likes to pretend he is, though, and that’s worse. He may be having a grand old time over there with Robs, lounging like a king on the same couch Tommy fucked Billy on last summer, but he knows.

He’s gotta know. 

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” He gasps. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault. 

He’s a nice guy. He’s been sweet all night, asking about music and movies and books and only touching when Billy begs him for it. 

Eddie’s baby browns get big. He says, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sugar, people act crazy when they’re in love.” He pushes the hair off Billy’s forehead, looking sweet and concerned, “Do you wanna go outside, maybe? Get some fresh air?”

Across the room, Steve isn’t even watching them, anymore. 

He’s lost interest.

Maybe he never had it in the first place. And it stings. 

Strangely, Billy doesn’t feel like drawing blood when Eddie leaks kindness. He offers his hand and Billy is too drunk to do anything other than take it.

--

Billy’s edges are sharp enough to cut. 

The truth, though, is that Steve likes it. Every drop of venom tastes like gin burning down his throat, hungry for more because it leads to Billy.

Truth is, Steve sees through it. He’s been close enough to that incendiary spirit on dark midnights to notice the fireflies that gather for warmth around the hearth of it all. And the reality that Billy would even let him get close enough for danger to  flash red against Steve’s skin in the first place--

Maybe that’s one of the things Steve likes most. Even if it hurts, sometimes, there will always be proof that Billy was there. And that for a moment, their edges had fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Maybe it’s just the beer talking, but Steve can’t let him go.

So Steve busts out of Tommy’s shitty basement, ready to tear springy brown curls from the scalp of that handsome, flirting stranger, when he steps into a puddle of rainwater, instead.

His skin is on fire. The shock of cold puts things into perspective, Steve’s chest opening like a summer tulip to the enormity of the universe.

There’s a calm spring mist, settling like diamonds across his skin. The Earth smells forgotten. Like for years and years, someone took the fabric of the city and rolled it up and stored it away, and now it’s free again. Resting, moth eaten and threadbare, against the backdrop of Steve’s shitty fucking night. Steve’s awful realization, that. 

He loves Billy. Earth-shattering.

And Billy’s going to fuck someone else. Apocalyptic. 

And even if Billy doesn’t make brownie-locks wear a condom, Steve will sit by his bedroom window all night just in case Billy decides that it means nothing, too. Just like them.

“Goddammit,” Steve hops out of the puddle a minute too late.

There’s water in his sock, squishing like fresh mud between his toes. He imagines being home. Warm and showered with a full belly, dozing in front of the fireplace. In Steve’s daydream, he’s naked from the waist down while Billy pushes and pulls his leg hair and calls him colonizer shit spawn for having a marble hearth in his living room. 

It doesn’t sting. Nothing hurts because in Steve’s fantasy, they belong to each other. Every impossible summit has been scaled and they’ve sidestepped waterlogged potholes to get to the truth. Their relationship means something. Everything.

Steve’s heart shudders, reality eclipsing the moon until everything's so bright he catches on fire. 

He stalks to the side-fence, peering into the watery darkness for a shock of American-made blue.

Billy’s car is nowhere to be found. 

And historic, champagne-pink revelations aside, Steve fishes around for his pack of smokes and refuses to admit that he’s out here to kill the guy who wants to get Billy’s mouth on him.

Steve would lose, probably. He’s fucked up. This probably isn’t healthy.

He wonders if Billy would plan his funeral. If he’d cry for him and swear off guys forever and visit Steve’s grave every morning with a hard on. 

Steve hopes so.

He’s embarrassed, to the very root of him. He needs a light.

So Steve bites the butt of his cigarette and pads around the yard, trying to find someone with a matchbox. The Earth is beautiful. Mrs. Hagan is an excellent gardener. All around, bushels of lilacs and marigolds are set to bloom. He studies the fullness of each blossom, eyes tracking the deep green of their clinging branches. 

It’s not even April yet and they’re thriving. That’s just the expert of Mrs. Hagan. She’s a smart girl, she knows how to nurture difficult saplings through hardships and winter months with careful hands, and--

Relationships are kind of like that, people have said.

Someone said that, once. Right?

Steve almost drops his cigarette. He yanks a handful of marigolds from the soil. They come up with their roots still attached.

That's gotta mean something. Bad poetry that feels like the ‘acknowledgements,’ page in one of those books his mom is always reading. Chicken Soup for the Soul. He imagines what Billy would say about this revelation after he’s chewed on it for a while.

Steve pets over the bleeding roots of his bouquet. He's never had gentle fingers. He tries to, with Billy and with everything else, but it always lands a little crooked. 

If Billy knew how hard Steve was trying, he’d probably call him an asshole. Chew on his thumbnail and ask how it is that Steve can read minds, all of a sudden, if Billy didn’t teach him. Because Billy taught him everything he knows, apparently. How to skateboard, how to bake pies from scratch, and how to fuck. 

Which flowers are his favorite.

--

Billy’s nails are sharp enough to pierce the skin. 

He’s never tried to do it on purpose, but he always manages, somehow. 

It’s raining. And Eddie’s hand is soft and warm and his fingertips are calloused just enough that when Billy nearly falls on his ass trying to side-step the tasteful rocks in Tommy’s side-yard, Eddie’s got traction to steady him.

“Nails are fucking sharp,” Eddie says. But he’s smiling.

There’s no shit, in that grin. He’s not aiming to eat Billy’s heart and soul or anything else. Nothing at all like Steve. Billy doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Not like I need to worry about keeping ‘em short,” Billy grins back, sighing in relief when Tommy’s parents had the good sense to invest in picnic furniture, “I’m not a top. I was, until Harrington--”

“I think if you say his name one more time he’ll appear,” Eddie teases, “Like Beetlejuice.”

Billy flops onto a sun lounger. “Think I’m gonna be sick,”

Overhead the stars vibrate, undulating until it feels like God is trying to hack and slash his way through the dark night sky to get at Hawkins. 

“Do you want me to run and grab--” Eddie pauses, staring around the yard with exaggerated care, “Harring--”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Told ya,” Eddie grins, “Beetlejuice.” 

And maybe it’s just the vodka talking, but Billy’s stomach is stuffed with butterfly hearts when this dumb, sweet, beautiful boy smiles at him.

Eddie perches at the base of the lounger. His boots plant themselves on the ground, nice and respectful, so if someone were to see them they might think Eddie was aiming to rescue Billy from alcohol poisoning right before he calls him a slur and takes off, cackling into the night.

He won’t, though. Eddie’s a nice person and even if he wasn’t, Billy knows when a guy’s caught.

Kid’s been watching him all night. Even now, Eddie peers through a curtain of springy curls, baby browns flitting all over Billy’s face and catching on the things Steve likes best about him, probably. His cum-gutter lashes and dick sucking lips--

“You eyes are really blue,” Eddie squints and slides closer, all, “Like, creepy blue.”

It’s written all over his face. Hook and line, blind with hope for things Billy could only ever give to Steve. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, full of wonder.

“Well fuck off, then,” Billy snaps. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby, and I’m just sitting, alright?” Eddie's silver-lined fingers rise to pat around his vest. Billy squares his jaw when he pulls away with an unsheathed cigarette. “I’m smoking,” Eddie tells him, “Just sittin’ down until I can get the cherry sparked.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Probably.”

“It’s annoying,” Billy shakes his head, staring out at the trees that line the Hagan’s side-yard, a hop and a skip to the neighbor's place. “You’re a good guy. Why are you so good?”

“’M not good,” Eddie admits softly. “You’re just. You’re fucking gorgeous, alright? And if you don’t wanna go home with me, I gotta keep you safe until the Prince can get to you.”

Billy’s eyes snap, heated, to Eddie’s grinning face. “This isn’t a fairytale,” He says. Because it isn’t.

But Eddie looks so hopeful. 

His eyes melt like chocolate kisses. 

“No, but it could be,” Eddie scoots a little bit closer, hand falling to rest on Billy’s knee, fingers slipping along leather. “Can I ask you something, gorgeous?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” Billy snaps. When Eddie grins again, Billy’s face warms. Hot as the sun. “Spit it out, Munson.”

“Why are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love--”

“Billy.”

He’s uncomfortable, like this. A bug under a microscope so he’s gotta show his stinger and scare kindness away.

But Eddie’s too dumb to notice.

A thousand words bubble and rise like champagne at the back of Billy’s throat, each one fizzing out before it can shuffle past his teeth. All of them will land like fists. Split skin and draw blood, so.

Billy shakes his head. Settles on, “He’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, but why him? I could be different than what you expected. I mean--”  Eddie’s fingers dance along Billy’s thigh. Touching but not quite, at the same time. Making his skin dance. “I already am, right?”

Billy shivers. 

“Yeah,” He admits. It burns like alcohol on open wounds to say out loud.

But the thing is-- 

“Steve’s different than you. Than everyone. He’s sweeter and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Event though it took forever to get there. He’s got layers. He’s not what you’d expect, because. He’s got this big fucking house, right? And it’s full of shit. Name-brand poptarts and every vinyl you could imagine and all his blankets are soft enough that they’re probably lost clouds, or something. And even when I’m with him, like. Even after we fuck and Steve gets what he wants from me, he always asks if I’m hungry. And he doesn’t believe it when I say that I’m full. That I’ve gotta jet. He cooks really good pasta. He sings. He’s got a good voice, and he puts my name in the song, sometimes. He lets me eat in bed and he plays with my hair while I fall asleep, and. That’s the biggest thing for me, you know?”

Eddie’s fingers wrap, like warm summer vines, around his own.

“I don’t sleep good anywhere. I get cagey, ‘cause of my old man. I’m always on alert. There was a while, last summer, where I slept with my shoes on. ‘S why I’m such a bitch all the time, I’m fucking exhausted, but with Steve,” Billy’s shaking. He’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. “Steve is my home town. He’s home, on a Saturday morning. I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”

Billy’s going to cry.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie doesn’t notice. And if he does notice, Eddie refuses to care. His eyes are intent on Billy’s face when Billy admits--

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, “It’s alright.”

“Vodka turns me into a chatty bitch. I’ve never told anybody that, before,”

Eddie’s thumb strokes soft over Billy’s palm. “The stuff about Steve, or--”

“Any of it,” Billy looks up, caught in waves of warm, sweet brown. He sniffs, suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “If you fuckin' yap to anybody about this, Munson--”

Eddie’s smile is like the setting sun. “Put your teeth away, baby, I’ll take it to my grave.”

Billy opens his mouth to say thank you. To admit that this night, for all the good and bad and embarrassing, has made everything feel easier. 

Eddie seems to hear it. To feel it in his bones.

He kisses the back of Billy’s hand, lips sliding warm and soft along Billy’s thumb, to the pad of each finger. 

Billy’s heart hammers, unsteadily in his chest, when those lips press lewd, against his palm.

“Eddie,” Billy mumbles, sounding frail even to his own ears. “Eddie, I--”

--

A bomb goes off. 

Steve thinks the sky might as well be full of mushroom clouds because war’s waged when brownie-locks takes all of Steve’s knuckles across the bridge of his nose.

Steve’s not left handed.

The punch, it’s. It’s awkward and more force than anything else, and it hurts like hell. Something’s probably broken.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, same time Billy’s new boyfriend says, “Shit,” and Billy puts both of his calloused, strong, stocky, perfect fists on Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve goes easy, because he deserves it. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. 

But. He’s seeing red, and he’s gotta know. “Billy--”

Billy looks like he wants to kill him, and he could. Steve would let it happen. He thinks about sinking to his knees right here, dropping the marigolds, begging to get his speech out before the light goes out in the sky forever.

Steve’s still got the unlit cigarette in his mouth. A bouquet in his hands. He takes it out. Drops the flowers. Steps closer and says, “Billy, did he kiss you?”

Because he has to know.

Billy stares at the marigold petals in fear. They're coiled snakes. They're the end of the world. “You’re drunk,” Billy says, same time his new boyfriend bolts upright and fucking cackles. 

“Harrington, huh?” Brownie-locks spits on the ground. It’s red. Steve tries not to feel proud. “Really are Beetlejuice, man.”

Steve ignores the boyfriend. He stares at Billy and tells the truth, “I am drunk. So are you.”

Billy doesn’t look at all like Steve imagined, now that his anger’s planted itself on brownie-lock’s face. 

Billy’s shaking. 

He’s got tears clinging to his lashes, and Steve knows everything’s his fault and he wants to die for that, but all the guilt in the world doesn’t stop him from turning on Billy’s new boyfriend and taking a step forward when brownie-locks says, “I wanted to fuck him until you came along.”

At least someone answers Steve’s question.

He feels a little bit like throwing up and a lot like going for round two. Turning this guy’s face to hamburger meat, but. 

Billy gets between them.

And he’s vibrating.

And no matter what they’re dealing with or how much they’re refusing to talk about, Steve never wants to be the reason Billy can’t hold still.

Regardless, Steve scoffs. “You’re seriously protecting this guy? From me?” 

He’s furious.

He’s so hurt and bleeding inside and angry--

“Go home, Steve,” Billy mutters. He’s not shaking anymore. He stands his ground, looking every bit like an avenging angel, and.

Steve loves him. He’s proud of him, but. “You don’t want me.” The words sound wrong. Garbled and stretched out.

The boyfriend stand ramrod straight all of a sudden, like, “Wait, that’s it?” And he looks so confused.

Hurt, even.

And that pisses Steve off, you know. Gets him feeling brave.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it,’” Steve paces forward, stopping only because Billy tacks a soft, warm hand to the center of his chest. “Are you really asking to get your dick knocked off, freak?”

Billy’s boyfriend laughs, “God, you’re so pretty and so, so fucking stupid.”

Steve knows. About the second part. So he rolls his neck and says, “Why are you still here?” Because--

Billy gets in front of him. He looks so beautiful, with moonlight painting his curls more bronze than gold. And his lashes are clumped together. “Why?” Steve asks again, because he has to know.

And suddenly it’s like everyone runs out of words.

They stare at him. Billy’s boyfriend rocks a little on each foot, eventually peering at the ground like there’s no place he’d rather be than nestled under it. "What's the with the flowers?" He asks.

The longer they ignore him, the more Steve’s set on digging the guy a hole in the ground. Burying him and leaving the marigolds there as a memory.

Steve’s losing his mind.

He’s going crazy, he--

“Why is this guy here with you, Billy?” Steve demands.

Billy stares at him, pretty pink mouth open. His palm is so warm on Steve’s chest, it’s like a sun spot. 

“Why do you want him here and not me?” Steve grabs that hand. Holds onto it, says, “Do you love him?” 

Billy bares his teeth. “Does it matter?”

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “Are you--of course. Of course it matters, you. You have to know, that--”

And he’s grateful to Billy’s boyfriend for not laughing at the way his voice, fucking. 

Cracks.

Bleeds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries again. “You’ve gotta know, right?”

And.

Apparently not.

Billy blinks at the stars, blue like the ocean set to spill. He takes his time. Gets his feet under him. Eventually, Billy bares his fangs and stares right through Steve’s skull. 

“Thought I meant nothing to you, Harrington,” Billy says.

And Steve dies.

He might as well not even exist. He might as well be a window. 

“Thought you just wanted me because I’m a warm place to slide into a night,” Billy rumbles, and. 

Steve. He’s never had teeth pulled when he could feel it. He’s never snapped a bone in half. He’s never seen God, either, but. 

He imagines it would all feel the same when he finally has the courage to say--

“I was just following your lead,” Steve’s so embarrassed. And ashamed. He can’t believe he made Billy feel like that, like a figment. 

It hurts worse than any pain he could conjure for himself, so.

"I. I mean, I picked marigolds for you, baby." Steve toes the edge of the cliff. “I love you," He tries, and. 

Falling feels a lot like flying, apparently.

Billy’s boyfriend disappears. Steve considers it a sign that even though Billy won’t look at him, he hasn’t pulled his hand away, yet.

[divorcingjimmatthews]

jim/jade/tabby post-escape scenario

i know they won't escape this season but what if they did. and they were poly about it

jade goes back to NY to sort out his financial business and get his life back in order

he hasn't seen jim and tabitha in a few months now, but he misses them like crazy, specially tabitha

he finally reaches out to ask how they're doing, tabitha says its hard dealing with the separation, etc.

the kids are specially struggling to adjust back to their normal lives, and she feels like she's losing control of the situation

jade asks if money would help. she tells him that actually, if he came for a visit it might really help ethan because he keeps asking about him and victor and everyone else from the town

jade shows up on tabitha's doorstep looking his best, and holding a bouquet of roses

jim is there when she opens the door

"i thought you said you had separated"

turns out, they didn't want to shake up the kids lives even further, so they agreed to keep living together for a couple of years until julie went off to college

apparently the separation really helped the friction between them decrease, so at least the constant arguments are no longer a problem in the household

but jim is still definitely not ready to watch someone else try to woo his ex-wife. he can't decide if it being jade makes it slightly less terrible or a million times worse

he grabs his coat off a hanger in the hallway and walks towards the door

tabitha: "where are you going?"

jim: "for a walk!"

he storms past jade, not caring that he's shoving him with his shoulder as he does so, and closes the door behind him

tabitha takes the flowers and shakes her head with a sigh. "he always does this!"

her accent comes through as she complains

jade can't stop staring at her. he missed her so much, and he realises that he never wants to be far from her again if he can help it

"i'm sorry. this was probably a terrible idea."

tabitha sighs again, but she smiles. she smiles, and it makes his heart swell three times its size

"i really missed you." he points at the roses. "just. ignore those. it just felt right, but, you know—i can be a fucking idiot sometimes, so..."

she just lets him talk. there's a fondness in her eyes.

"can you say something?"

"i... i don't know" she says with a shrug "i don't know. if you want an answer—i don't know"

"no, of course, i... i don't know what i expected. listen, i'll come back later, just text me when the kids are back from school, okay?"

tabitha nods, and he leaves. he runs into jim on his way out, who was just sitting in his car parked right around the corner. jade gets in the car

"look, i can't blame you for trying"

"she said 'i don't know'. what do you think that means?"

"i think it means that you might be in for one hell of a ride."

later, ethan is so happy to see jade, and julie pretends to be barely tolerating him but makes no efforts to leave the room

they all notice how tabitha looks happier with jade around, except for jade who has no frame of reference and assumes she must be just tolerating his presence after the confession

jade offers to take the whole family out for dinner, but julie is working hard to catch up with her studies to graduate with her friends so it's just them and ethan (because jim and tabitha promised julie that they wouldn't make her babysit ethan anymore)

the dinner —at the fanciest restaurant in town, which made jim roll his eyes but provided lots of fun and entertainment for ethan—goes surprisingly well, just like the afternoon went

jim takes ethan and leaves to refuel the car while jade takes care of the check (ethan loves it when his dad explains how cars and fuel work)

"i want this" tabitha says out of the blue while they wait for jim to come back

"what?"

"you wanted an answer. i don't want jim to move out. and i don't want you to leave either. i just want this. i want today, every day. is that crazy?"

"it's not crazy. it sounds—perfect, actually"

he sounds like he's about to tear up

they're standing next to each other outside the restaurant. they nod to each other, and her hand finds his own, and her fingers tentatively find their way to interlace with his

he actually does tear up when she does this, and starts apologising

"fuck—sorry, i..."

he needs to take deep breaths

and no, neither of them have the slightest idea of how they're going to bring this up to jim

[sopiloveshobi]

Back theory

Inspired by insanely buff Joon pictures that dropped today. Also I needed to make sure my friend can imagine what is like to feel a heavy, buff Joon on her 🤭 Love you Sam!

!Warnings: +18

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You took it out and saw a text message from the man you have been missing so much lately.

KNJ 8:45pm I can’t wait to get out of here. Another day where I felt useless as fuck. Honestly get me out of here already.

You chuckled reading the message. You received a message like that twice a week at least. He would moan about feeling useless and wanting to get out of his military service often. There were days when he felt proud to serve and when he achieved something, you would know about it the same evening. His free time was limited and so was his time off. Because of that last time you have seen him was few months ago and when you did it was only for a short amount of time. You had a coffee and a short walk around the park and then a meal together. There wasn’t enough of alone time. One on one time. Any sexy time. You have seen he has changed. Physically and mentally. Mentally he has been softer, there has been much more yearning going on, he was needy and he would occasionally send you a text or a picture with him admitting how much he misses you. Physically he has gotten bigger, bigger in general. At first you thought it was because he wasn’t dealing well with the fact that he was locked up there for a year and a half. He would just eat more than usual and skipped workouts. But you couldn’t have been more wrong, because he spent so much time exercising that all the weight he gained was already turned into muscle. At least that’s what you saw on the very last picture you found of him online. You weren’t doing it often but you knew you could find some of the more recent pictures of him floating around the web, because the fans just like you were yearning to Kim Namjoon. They were curious how was he doing and if he has changed at all.

KNJ 8:55pm I swear the day that I am out of here will be happiest day of my life. Second happiest. The first one was when you agreed to date me.

Another messaged popped on your phone. You smiled again. You were still thinking how to comfort him through the screen of a phone. What could you possibly say to him to make him feel better, less lonely, less like he should escape that place.

‘I miss you so much, when can I see you next?’ you responded to his text and locked your phone. You were in the middle of cooking yourself very late dinner. You were so busy all day and stayed at work longer than usually and completely forgot to eat. Your phone chimed again.

KNJ 9:01pm Soon angel, soon.

You didn’t know what kind of soon he had in mind. You didn’t want to know either. The days would only go by longer and as much as you would love to count them down, it was just easier not to. You have pulled the pasta out of the pot and strained it in the sink. The sauce was also ready and you poured it all over the pasta, grabbed glass of wine that has been your cooking companion since you got home. Tomorrow was Saturday and you were really looking forward to your weekly cleaning schedule. Religiously, every Saturday you would go around your entire flat and clean every nook and cranny. It was part of your routine that helped you feel grounded and in control. Because if you didn’t manage to ground yourself this way, you would be upset, ugly crying in your pillow all day missing Joon. It was difficult. It was worse than you thought it would be. When he announced that he will have to enlist, your heart broke into millions of pieces. You were unsure whether he would even continue your relationship in this scenario. Being away from him wasn’t unusual, but it felt more restraining. You knew you wouldn’t be able to be surprised by him coming from tour one day early, or fly you over to a random concert so you could watch from backstage and spend few hours together. But this felt different. It felt like he was further away than when he was on the other side of the world. You felt empty without him, because he was your home. You didn’t live together and there weren’t any recent mentions of this to change, yet still he was your comfort. Your home. And you were his. He very rarely would open up in front of you, but when he did, he made you realised how much he appreciated you, how much he loved you and how much of a safe zone you were for him.

You finished your pasta and your wine and were considering having another glass. But you decided against it, got up from your table and cleaned up after your dinner. Your phone buzzed again and you were hoping it was Joon but it was just a junk mail, about free vouchers you can claim. Since you already had your phone out you decided to snoop about the internet again and see if there was any newer pictures of your own boyfriend. How low have you stooped and how much have you been missing him to resort to looking him up. But you couldn’t find anything new. It was getting even later in the night and after a really long and tiring weekend you decided to get in bed and unplug. You have gotten ready for bed, brushed your teeth and completed your extended skin care routine, which you have always done on the weekends. You looked at the time and it was past 10 in the evening already. You turned all the lights in the apartment and got into your really cosy bed. You thought you might have trouble sleeping, but the second your head hit the pillow you felt like you’re floating and sailing away. Before you did actually fall asleep you sent a text to Namjoon: ‘Goodnight my love’. But you didn’t wait for an answer. You knew the answer might never come, at least not this evening. You put your phone away and closed your eyes. It was time for a sweet rest you felt like you deserved after the entire week of hustling.

The door lock clicked and a pair of heavy boots walked into the flat. The thumbing didn’t last very long and it got changed for a very quiet sliding noise. Quiet steps making their way to your bedroom. And you had no idea, sound asleep. Occasionally snoring and turning around. He walked into your bedroom and stood by the door. The moonlight poking through your unevenly closed curtains, straight at the bed, lighting your sleepy face. He would of sworn he could have looked at you like that for hours. But there was no time to waste. He slowly made his way around the bed towards the somewhat empty side of the bed. He slowly put his legs on top of the duvet and slowly put all of his weight on that side of the bed. You felt it but you only moved a little and turned around to face away. You were a heavy sleeper and at this very moment Joon wished you weren’t. He slowly got himself lower on the bed and moved towards your back. He put his hand on your side and the other slid behind your head, which you automatically lifted. Like it was natural, like it was a habit of yours. He put his chin as close to your ear as he could and whispered:

‘Angel, I’m home’ and he slowly glided his hand up and down the side of you. You didn’t budge. Nothing. Still sound asleep, sweetly unaware of the surprise waiting for you in your own bed. He repeated himself one more time but still nothing. It made him chuckle, it was so endearing that you were just so fast asleep and he was also amused by his own inability to wake you up. He decided kisses surely will be the way to go. He pressed his soft lips on the nook of your neck, and he kept peppering your cheek and neck with them until you finally started moving. You turned around, feeling another person around you and his smell surrounded you. You thought you were dreaming.

‘Joon?!’ you finally got your vision back after it has been blurry for a few seconds.

‘Yes angel, I told you I will see you soon’ his low raspy voice answered you and soon after you saw his gorgeous smile, his dimples on his face and his eyes turned into half moons.

‘Is this a dream?’ you asked him, not really fully believing your luck.

‘Not a dream, im off until Sunday and I will be staying with you until then if that’s okay’ he admitted and peppered another few kisses on your cheek. It was more than okay. You were in a little bit of a shock but once you managed to process the information you jumped on him. You lifted yourself slightly and crawled on top of him, wrapping both of your arms under his back and placing your head on his chest.

‘I’ve missed you so much’ you finally spoke, hearing his heart beating really fast in his chest. You looked up and locked your eyes with his. He smiled again and leaned his head down to reach your lips. And you reached back to him and his soft lips met yours. It started sweet and soft but it very quickly started turning fast. The both of you were yearning for each other for so long and the day has finally come. Neither of you would even come up for air, you would just take quick breaths in between the rushed kisses. You quickly felt him getting excited, as you were still laying on top of him and you were sure he could felt your excitement as well, through your very thin pj bottoms. You broke the kiss and got from him and from the bed.

‘Where are you..?’ he got really confused and instantly felt abandoned, missing you next to him.

‘I need to see you. I want the light on’ you answered, turning the corner light on. Still moody, not as obnoxious light as the top light would have been. You turned around and saw him laying in your bed, in his uniform. The expression on your face changed from excited to in awe. You couldn’t comprehend that he was there, he came home, he came to see you. He woke you up in the middle of the night to see you. You walked back to the bed and sat right next to him. He pulled himself up and was now half sitting with his back to the headboard, following your every move with his eyes.

‘Here I am’ he chuckled and made a funny ‘ta da’ like pose showing himself to you. And you giggled. He was so cute and so adorable yet so insanely hot.

‘Would you mind taking this jacket off? I need to check a theory’ you said with a cheeky smile on your face and he looked puzzled. A theory? Theory of what?

‘Theory of what exactly?’ he asked slowly unbuttoning his jacket. He took his time with it, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He knew it would drive you crazy, as much as he played such an innocent soul, he knew all the weapons he was carrying.

‘Back theory’ you answered with a smile, as your pupils grew wider and wider, whilst he was working on unbuttoning his jacket. And he finally did, dog tags fell out dangling around his neck on his black undershirt. You spotted them but then you also noticed how they are dangling in front of his now huge chest. He has definitely changed. He is bigger now. Stronger. And your brain couldn’t handle it. You squeezed your eyes closed and opened them again just to make sure you aren’t actually dreaming. He took the jacket off completely, uncovering his really broad shoulders and incredibly buffed arms.

‘Do you want me to..?’ he asked, knowing you will not be able to say no to him continuing stripping for you. The black ROKA t-shirt that was now very tight around his upper body, slowly started rolling up as he kept pulling at the top of it. And with one fast move he pulled it fast, through his head and it landed on the floor. His dog tags still around his neck, now in front of his naked huge chest.

‘FUCK’ you only managed to squeak out when you saw him dropping the shirt on the floor. He was insane. He looked insane. All those pictures you have seen of him recently didn’t give him his justice. He looked even bigger in person than on those photos. You put your hand over your opened mouth and shook your head.

You sat there, feeling your underwear getting wetter and wetter. You could call it an ocean at this point. He got up from the bed and walked all the way around it to get to you. He helped you stand up on the bed and he was still somehow taller than you, even when you were on top of the bed. You bit your lip staring deeply into his eyes and you saw he wasn’t smiling anymore. You have also spotted a tent in his camo trousers. He grabbed you and pulled you to himself and you felt his strong arms around you now. He slowly glided his hand from your knee through your thigh and slipped his hand into your bottoms. He didn’t have to look for it long and his fingers felt the ocean that was currently drowning your cunt.

‘Fuck. Youre so wet’ he whispered into your ear and pulled your bottoms completely down. You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, slowly pulling them down. And they fell down, stopping briefly at his perky ass but you helped them make their way down. He stood out of them and was now standing in front of you, only in his underwear with a very visible and feelable boner at your service.

He grabbed you, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. He turned away from the bed and pushed you to the wall. He nearly squeezed you at that wall. And started attacking your neck. Your wetness now coating his still hidden away but hard length. You wrapped your arms around him, and started exploring his back. It was rock hard, you could feel the muscles tensing whilst he was holding you and you enjoyed every second of it. You also moved your hands to his shoulders and arms to feel his soft skin and also all the places he grew. To remember it. To keep it in your closest memories. As he kept kissing your neck, he finally slowly put you down, on the floor this time, still pinning you to the wall. And he took both of your wrists into his hands and held them for a second above your head, kissed you aggressively and let go. He lowered himself on his knees and burrier himself in between your legs. Slowly moved on them onto his shoulder and held onto your other leg, slowly kissing your lower belly and reaching the sweet spot. He nudged your clit with his nose and started peppering the entire area with kisses, eventually stopping and slowly licking your folds. Very gently at first, almost like saying a polite hello to your body, acknowledging that he was gone from it for too long. But then he picked up his pace and started circulating around your clit, eventually adding a finger or two and sliding it inside you. You banged your head on the wall and moaned the second you felt his lips on your lower area. Your leg on his shoulder drove you mad but gave him more access. You put both of your hands on his head and let him explore. And be explored and took his time, like a thirsty adventurer who hasn’t been home in weeks. Like his life depended on it. And when he felt like he was finished and your knees started to shake and he was slowly pushing you into an orgasm he stopped.

He pulled himself out of you, smirked and slowly moved you from the wall to the bed. And he pushed you, delicately but he still pushed you on the bed and you fell on your front. He followed you right away and trapped you under the weight of his body. He laid his body on yours, pulled his hard length out of his underwear and aimed it right at your entrance. Slowly slid inside you, grabbing you into his arms and pushing into himself. He kept sliding until he got to your cervix. Balls deep inside you. But he didn’t move, he freezes there. He lets you adjust to him, and when he does he can hear your whimpers and moans. When he feels you relaxed around him he started moving his his hips and he started thrusting into you. And he didn’t take him time, he picked up his pace at the same time kissing your back, up your spine.

‘Joon…’ you whimpered, feeling his huge bulky body on top of yours, thrusting the life in and out of you.

‘Little bit longer angel’ he grunted into your back. He pulled out of you and entered again, really deep, reaching the deepest ends of you. And be picked up the pace again, now ramming into you. Wet skin sounds slapping fills the room, mixed with his grunts and your moaning. And he finally reaches forward with his arm and putting his fingers on top of your clit. That was when you couldn’t hold it anymore. You closed your eyes and pushed your ass higher up almost trying to escape him and your body got flooded with ecstasy. You kept moaning and whining and he wouldn’t stop. He kept going and then be pulled himself up and grabbed your hips and added another thrust or two before he reached his top and painted you inside. Painted you white and kept going for a few more minutes.

Your heavy breathing filled the room and he pulled out, slowly turned you around and placed you on the bed. He cleaned himself up with his black tshirt that was still on the floor and disappeared in the bathroom. He came back with warm towel and he wiped your legs and tummy with it.

After that he moved you slightly to the side and got into bed right next to you. His strong arm wrapped you around and you folded forward laying your head on his chest again.

‘Your back is ridiculously buffed Joonie’ you whispered slowly petting his chest with your palm.

‘There is nothing better to do in that shithole angel’ he murmured back ‘but i also liked the look of your back tonight angel’ he added and put his hand into yours and planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

‘I’m so happy you are here’ you added, you closed your eyes and wrapped yourself around him, dozed off back to sleep.