#emotions are so so so hard. Feeling them. Not feeling them. Feeling too much. Feeling too little. Feeling wrong for feeling in general

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What you need to work on (it can hurt a little)

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you what you need to work on. I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

                     pick a card

Pile 1:

You need to find balance in your emotions, you need to know and figure out what is good for you, and what you want. And the moment you do know, make sure you do it, even if it hurts, even if you are scared of the outcome. You need to get a hold of your true wishes, your true beliefs and thoughts, and take the control you wish to have. Leave those insecurities, and those fears behind, get through them, and think about your true wish, even if it hurts.

It’s hard to look back at what you’ve been through, the happy moments, the sad and conflicting moments. It’s hard to realise that these good things must come to an end, and hurt is okay to have, you are allowed to feel and acknowledge that hurt, you need to accept it be able to work on it and grow through it.

Extended reading

Pile 2:

Be happy with the little things. You can’t be happy with little progress, because the greater goal hasn’t been accomplished. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sometimes have progress but it still makes you frustrated because it wasn’t the full thing that you wished for.

Learn to realise that little progress can and must be celebrated too, you’re allowed to be proud of yourself for the little things, even if you get disappointed by it. You need to learn to leave those disappointed thoughts behind, accept them and move on. You can be happy and relieved while being disappointed that you didn’t fully succeed. But those little things, those little things are worth celebrating, they can help you gain more confidence and believe as long as you let them, they can make you stronger.

Extended reading

Pile 3:

Don’t just sit around and do nothing while waiting for the luck of the draw. If you want to accomplish something, then go do it. The universe won’t bend for you, you must bend the universe yourself. Don’t think your success will come from nowhere, don’t think the journey to this success will be easy without any obstacles. Every journey has obstacles, and every journey has moments where you want to quit and not continue.

If you want something, go do it. Just because something small happened that you didn’t want to happen, which made you disappointed, it doesn’t mean you should give up. Do not give up and believe the whole universe is against you. Of course, not a single journey is the same, but that doesn’t mean your journey should come easy to you, nor does it mean it should come hard to you. Every journey also teaches you something, and maybe for you, this journey wants to teach you that you must work hard and continue even though certain moments suck.

Extended reading

Pile 4:

You are not better than anyone else, so please stop trying to act like you are. Even if you are not aware of the fact that you act like that, you do. Please watch your words because a lot of things happening around you are just a roll of the dice. If something good happens you’re lucky, and if something bad happens it was just something that would happen one way or another.

Being confident in your knowledge is good, but don’t make yourself believe you know so much, because you don’t. Don’t put your insecurities so far away that your way of coping becomes a burden for others. You can be insecure yet have knowledge, you don’t need to be over-confident with it. And even if you are not confident, don’t try to mask it off. You need to learn how to balance these things. You do not know how much you don’t know, and as you grow older and experience more and more you will realise that you will never know a lot; because there is too much out there to know for your knowledge to be ever considered a lot.

Extended reading

Pile 5:

Go for it, don’t wait around and be scared, do it. It is good that you think about possible dangers and the wish to do it correctly, but over-thinking is also something that exists, and it’s not good. Don’t sit and imagine everything, being able to control everything, if you want it to happen you must do it. Get a grasp of that wish, stand in confidence and become the person you’ve always wanted to become, do the thing you’ve always wanted.

You are insecure, and being insecure is okay, but just because you are insecure it doesn’t mean everything and everyone should handle you with care. Everyone should be treated the same, which includes you. Do you want to do this? Well, it’s a tough world, get ready for it. Don’t be scared and wait around doing nothing, do it or don’t, in the end, you’ll know what you want.

Extended reading

[pomegranatelifethis]

Porcelain Doll

**English is not my native language**

WARNING: THERE IS RAPE, I MARKED THAT, YOU CAN GO WITHOUT READING. DISTURBING ELEMENTS

(A Neglected!Reader x Batfam Story)

In the beginning, Wayne Manor echoed with her laughter. He was someone who filled every room he entered with his light. He made little jokes, tried to make everyone laugh with his cheerful laughter, and said good morning to everyone one by one every morning.

He enjoyed sneaking sugar into Tim's coffee and watching the surprised expression on his face. He would applaud Dick's cool moves while training, and try to provoke Jason by arguing about the books he was reading. Despite Damian's harsh demeanor, she would try to break through the wall between them and talk about things that would interest him—Titus or cats, for example.

As for Bruce... He would always look for an opportunity to call him "Dad", but every time the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he would sit quietly next to her, sometimes bringing her coffee with a small smile.

But nothing found a response.

At first he tried not to notice. "Maybe they're too busy," he thought. After all, they were all heroes. They lived in a city like Gotham and had responsibilities. So he decided to show himself more and make more effort.

But over time, everything became more and more obvious.

Every "I'm busy now" turned into an endless silence over time.

Every "we'll talk later" became promises that never happened again.

At one point, Dick stopped hearing his voice. Jason stopped laughing at his jokes. Even though Tim was exhausted before his eyes, he didn't even ask him once, "Are you okay?" he didn't ask. Damian didn't even seem to tolerate his presence.

But what hurt the most was Bruce.

When he tried to hug her, Bruce would just shake his head slightly and walk past her. Even when there was a problem, he always consulted others instead of listening to her thoughts. At some point, he just started to feel like a part of the wall—a shadow that existed but went unnoticed.

No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he laughed, no matter how much he talked... When he realized that it didn't make a difference to them, the light inside him began to fade.

And then, tragedy struck.

No one knew exactly what happened that night. Maybe he had an argument with someone, maybe he was in the middle of a fight. Maybe they didn't even realize someone had hurt him.

But as he left the house that night, the last spark of hope that still burned within him flickered and went out like a candle flame.

When he came back in the morning, he was still the same person—but also completely different.

After that moment, their conversations decreased. Their smiles disappeared.

When Tim looked at him for hours, he no longer made the same fun comments. When Jason made a joke, he didn't even react. No matter how hard Dick tried, he couldn't make him laugh. Even when Damian got angry, he didn't look up.

And Bruce… Even when he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

His eyes were empty, his soul seemed to be lost in a void. It was as if there were no emotions left inside him.

She was just a porcelain doll now. Cold, silent and numb.

And you know what was the worst?

No one remembered when it broke

Porcelain Doll

November 11 – The Day It Broke

Everything started out ordinary that day.

He woke up early in the morning and helped Alfred, who was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. At that moment, he heard Damian and Tim arguing in the living room and noticed Jason tinkering with his motorcycle in the garage. Bruce was in his study, studying the reports, his eyes narrowed with fatigue.

He tried to approach everyone, as always, preserving the endless energy and joy within him.

He interrupted Damian and Tim's argument, maybe if he made a joke the atmosphere would soften. But Damian glared at him.

“There is no place for unnecessary people here.”

These words hit him like a sharp knife, and for a moment he felt like he couldn't breathe. The smile that fell on his face faded, but he tried to recover. He had hoped Tim would at least defend him, but Tim just sighed and continued talking.

He didn't say anything. He felt like there was something extra there, but he still remained silent.

When he met Dick in the kitchen, he put a big smile on his face.

“Dick! Shall we do something today?”

But Dick's answer was just a smile. “Then, okay?”

When?

Later. Always later.

Everyone had a job. Everyone had a priority.

And he was never among those priorities.

But what hurt him the most was Bruce.

When evening came, he went to her study. Maybe he could at least talk to her for a few minutes. When he knocked on the door, Bruce's voice was heard from inside.

“I'm busy.”

He swallowed. But he didn't give up.

“Dad… Can we just talk for a minute? It won't take long, I promise.”

Silence.

Then he heard his chair creak slightly. Bruce's cold voice echoed again:

“I'm really busy right now. Please come back later.”

Later.

Again?

He walked away, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

That night, no one at the mansion noticed him leaving quietly.

No one knew he was walking alone through the dark streets of Gotham.

No one knew that he felt that it made no difference whether he existed or not in this world that no longer meant anything to him.

And no one found out what happened to him. But you will learn, let's find out what happened

That night, when he left the mansion, no one noticed anything. He silently closed the door and lost his steps in the dark streets. When Gotham's night darkness combined with the feeling of loneliness, everything became even deeper. The weather was cold and the wind was harsh, but the emptiness inside was colder.

A void inside him felt like nothing made any sense anymore. No one looked at him, no one understood what he felt. In this darkness, he didn't have to prove anything to anyone.

The streets embraced him like the dark corners of Gotham. He walked slowly, his steps so light that he could not even hear himself. But then, that darkness came closer to him, deepening the emptiness within him.

Suddenly, there was something he noticed with his eyes—figures blending into the shadows. They moved so fast that he couldn't quite understand what was happening. He didn't want to face them even for a moment with his eyes. But it was too late.

Suddenly, he felt a cold touch on his back. He tried to turn back, but someone grabbed his arms hard. It was done so suddenly and harshly that he was thrown off before he even had a chance to do anything. His face hit the ground and his arms and legs curled up. Everything was blurred, he felt a cold, but painful warmth enveloping his body.

For a few minutes he tried to understand what was happening. The fear inside him only prevented him from hearing the voices. Hands continued to wrap around his body. Everything became blurry for a moment.

When the voices stopped, his joy, which once shone like the light within him, was replaced by deep silence. There was nothing left in his mind. The darkness that night was a breaking point.

He stepped aside, emotionally frozen, despite not being aware of his own body and his hands shaking. That night, he broke in a way that no one else saw anymore. And it would never be the same again.

Telling what happened that night would make every word knot in his mouth. It was a reflection of the break, the pain, the lost joy. But there was something, no longer felt—losing oneself, not belonging to anyone or anything. It all ended with the person he once knew.

And that night, among the cold walls on the west side, no one ever understood what happened to him.

Flashback – The Night It Broke

The streets were dark.

Gotham was always dangerous, but he didn't care at the moment. There was such a big void inside him… He couldn't even feel what was dangerous anymore. His feet dragged him unconsciously from one street to another.

He was cold. But this coldness had penetrated not only his body but also his soul.

At one point, he realized someone was calling out to him. At first he didn't care. But then the steps became heavier. His eyes blurred.

When someone grabbed his arm, he instinctively pulled back. But the streets were silent, there was no escape.

When the touches became harder, he realized that moment.

Something inside him was screaming. He was thinking about the voice that echoed in the Batcave a few hours ago. That short answer Bruce gave him, Damian's disdainful look...

They didn't even know he was here.

And they wouldn't know.

He resisted. But he was tired, very tired.

He felt the hardness of the cold wall on his back. His breathing became irregular. Words didn't come out of his mouth. A pair of hands, then another...

**Those who are uncomfortable with the detailed scene should not read it, maybe I will remove it from the scene**

Without wasting any time, he slid your panties down your legs and forced his big dick into your dry, unprepared hole. it hurt. . It hurt so bad. You screamed and beat him, you raised your hands and tried to beat him with pathetic tears in your eyes, but it didn't work. nothing happened. He was so strong, so big, so muscular, and so desperate that he couldn't give up his relentless and unstrategic attacks. When your screams dried up, big tears flowed from your face. When you gave up and surrendered to the intruder, snot was running down your face. and god listened. He made a few more rough, sloppy thrusts, pushing the tip of his leaking dick towards your cervix, and the man was whining on top of you - filling your pussy with an overwhelming amount of sticky cum.

**Scene ended**

At that moment, his mind fell silent.

Everything fell silent.

The Next Morning – Return Home

When he returned, the moonlight illuminated the garden of the mansion.

He was disheveled, but no one noticed. His hair was disheveled, but no one looked. His face was expressionless, but no one questioned it.

Nobody asked anything.

And he didn't say anything either.

He just went into the bathroom. The water should have been hot, but his skin was numb. It was dirty. He was in a mess. No matter how much he rubbed it, no matter how long he stayed under water, it wouldn't go away.

He knew.

But he still didn't come out of the bathroom for hours.

That day, the last remaining humanity within him broke.

And it didn't belong to anyone anymore. Not to the Batfamily, not to Bruce, not to himself.

[seaninfl]

For years, I've shared a bed with my father. This morning was no different. As the sunlight crept through the curtains, I felt his strong, warm body against mine. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, and I could sense his arousal growing as mine did too.

It was a typical morning for us, but this time, something felt different. Our eyes met, and I could see the lust and desire in his deep blue eyes. Without any words, we both knew what was going to happen next.

My father leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was slow and passionate, filled with a mixture of love and desire. As our tongues intertwined, I could feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh.

"I want you so badly," he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "I need to feel your tight ass wrapped around my cock."

I bit my lip in anticipation. "Yes, Daddy. Take me."

He flipped me onto my stomach, my face buried in the pillow. His hands roamed my body, touching and squeezing every inch of my skin. I could feel his rough hands against my ass cheeks, spreading them apart.

"You're such a good boy for Daddy, aren't you?" he growled, his voice low and filled with lust.

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned into the pillow. "I'm your good boy."

Dad leaned down and ran his tongue along the curve of my ass, making me squirm with pleasure. He then teased my hole with the tip of his tongue, causing me to shiver with desire.

"You want this cock, don't you?" he asked, sliding two fingers into my tight hole.

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned, pushing back against his fingers. "I need your cock inside me."

He chuckled darkly. "Well, if my little slut needs his daddy's cock, then I'll give it to him."

Dad positioned his hard cock at the entrance of my hole, slowly pushing inside me. I let out a loud moan as I felt him fill me up.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

He began to fuck me with long, deep strokes, each one causing me to cry out with pleasure. As he pounded into me, he continued to whisper filthy words into my ear.

"You're such a good little whore for Daddy, aren't you?" he growled, his voice dripping with lust.

"Yes, Daddy," I moaned, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm your little whore."

Dad reached around and began to stroke my hard cock in time with his thrusts. The feeling of his cock pounding into my ass combined with the sensation of his hand tugging at my dick sent me over the edge.

"I'm gonna cum, Daddy," I cried out, my voice filled with pleasure.

"Cum for me, baby," he growled, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Cum all over Daddy's cock."

I let out a loud moan as I felt my orgasm wash over me. Dad continued to fuck me hard and fast, not stopping until he too reached the point of no return.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his cock throbbing inside me as he released his load deep within my ass. "You're such a good little slut for Daddy."

He collapsed on top of me, his breath hot against my neck. We lay there together, our bodies slick with sweat as we both tried to catch our breaths.

"I love you, Daddy," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too, baby," he replied, kissing the back of my neck gently. "I always will."

As we lay there together, I couldn't help but think about how much our relationship had changed over the years. From father and son to lovers, we had found a new way to express our love for one another. And as we held each other tightly, I knew that no matter what, we would always be there for each other, through thick and thin.

[bunji-enthusiast]

thought of another request !! (Obviously platonic, love being used in a more parental manner bc yk,, found family)

so, doey is one of the few toys you managed to save and bring back home. He unfortunately has a anxiety meltdown from being outside for the first time in years and reader having to comfort him, talking to him softly and holding him in their lap while he just sobs bc it's so much at once,,

They're like "shh, it's okay, i know, love, i know.."

Idk if that would make sense for a one shot 🙏

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫

Sypnosis [Being outside for the first time in years can take a special toll on a person, especially if that someone is Doey in particular.]

Character [Doey]

Note || I believe I understand what you mean, correct me if I don’t lol.

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet. The toys, having found their way to your home after months of struggling for survival, were finally beginning to settle in. The factory was far behind them now, the haunting memories of the place slowly fading into the recesses of their minds. The Safe Haven was a place where they could breathe again, feel safe. You, having escaped the nightmarish grip of the factory, had taken it upon yourself to provide for them, to help them heal. You had promised yourself that no matter the cost, you would make sure they were never subjected to the horrors of the factory again.

But even in the safety of this new home, some wounds never healed. You watched as Doey, the plump dough creature, sat at the corner of the living room, his normally playful demeanor replaced by something more distant, more uncertain. His eyes—holes in his head, just faint shadows in the dim light—seemed lost, unfocused. He was far from the carefree toy who had led the Safe Haven group with bravery and kindness. No, this was a side of Doey you had never seen before, and it was clear that something was wrong.

You walked over to him, kneeling down so that you could meet his gaze. He flinched slightly at your approach, and you noticed the subtle trembling in his yellow and orange arms. You had seen toys face the horrors of the factory, but nothing quite like this. Doey had always been strong, calm, a beacon of hope for the others.

But today, that strength had crumbled.

"Doey," you said gently, your voice low and calm, "hey, what’s going on? Talk to me."

Doey's mouth, that simple line of dough, quivered slightly as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could barely hold it together, his usual bubbly nature drowned under the weight of something far more sinister.

“I... I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” Doey muttered, his voice thick with emotion. It wasn’t like him to sound so fragile, but you recognized the desperation in his tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve always tried... But it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just going to fall apart.”

You frowned, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. The warmth of your touch seemed to help, though Doey flinched at first. He wasn’t used to being touched like this, not in such a vulnerable state. You could see his struggle, the fear of being broken, of losing himself to the horrors of his past.

"Hey," you said, your voice steady despite the situation, "it's okay. You're safe now. We're all safe."

"But I don’t feel safe," Doey whispered, his eyes downcast, avoiding yours. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I see them. The factory. The screams. The things I did... the things I couldn’t stop. And now I can’t stop feeling like I’m just one bad thing away from falling apart. What if I’m just a... a toy? A toy made to be broken? What if I’m not strong enough to lead them, to keep everyone safe?"

You could feel the weight of his words, the burden he was carrying. Doey wasn’t just a toy to you. He was a friend, a confidant. His strength was a shield, not just for himself, but for all the toys in the once Safe Haven. And now that shield was cracking.

You knew that the other toys were counting on him, but even they didn’t know the full depth of the struggle he was going through. Doey was made up of the memories and personalities of three children—Kevin, Jack, and Matthew. Each piece of him brought its own light, its own shadow. And while Matthew's kindness and gentle spirit were a dominant force within him, there was also the fiery temper of Kevin, and the deep yearning for something lost within Jack. It made Doey... complicated.

"Doey, listen to me," you said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone in this. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going. And we’re all here to help you. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Doey's right arm—yellow and thick—shuddered as he reached up, his hand going to his face, his body folding in on itself as though he could hide from the world. A soft sob escaped him, and your heart ached. You had seen him lead, seen him face danger with a brave face, but this... this was something entirely different. The weight of the factory’s horrors, the responsibility of being a leader, had taken its toll.

"Doey, it's okay to feel broken," you said, your voice trembling just slightly now. "We all have our broken pieces. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still be whole. You’re not just a toy. You’re not just the past. You’re Doey. You’re the one who stood up for all of us. You showed us what it means to keep fighting. And we’re not going to let you fall now.”

Doey looked up at you, his doughy face streaked with tears—tears made of the very clay he was formed from. You could see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of what might happen next. The anger bubbling up from deep within, the fiery Kevin side of him, just waiting to lash out.

But you didn’t let him retreat. Instead, you gently cupped his face in your hands, the warmth of your palms pressing against his cool, doughy skin. “Doey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. We’re all here.”

A long moment passed, where Doey simply breathed, shuddering in your hold, trying to steady himself. Slowly, his trembling ceased, his body slowly relaxing into your touch. There was still an undercurrent of fear within him, but you could feel him starting to regain control.

“I... I don’t know if I can lead anymore,” Doey said quietly, his voice still uncertain. “But I... I don’t want to let anyone down.”

You smiled softly, your hand brushing his long orange arm. "You don’t have to lead alone, Doey. We’re all here for each other. Here—it’s not just you. It’s all of us, together."

His yellow and orange arms hung limply at his sides for a moment before he slowly, carefully, wrapped them around you, his stubby red legs shaking beneath him. His embrace wasn’t strong, but it was filled with a sense of quiet gratitude. He was fragile, yes, but he wasn’t alone.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You’d be there to help him, just like he had helped so many others before.

"Thank you," Doey whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I’ll try. I’ll try to be strong. For them. For you."

And as the two of you sat there in the quiet of the room, surrounded by the other toys, you knew that, despite everything, Doey would find his way. Because sometimes, strength wasn’t about never breaking—it was about finding the courage to put the pieces back together when everything felt like it was falling apart. And you’d be there to help him do just that.

[halfmoonaria]

change of plans

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara was going to take care of it—end things for good—but nothing went the way she planned.

word count: 9.6k

warnings: dark themes, murder intent, violence, strong language, intrusive thoughts, implied stalking.

Tara didn't think she was a jealous person.

She was sure of it, actually.

Jealousy wasn't something she dealt with, at least not in the same way other people did. She told herself she wasn't the type to stew over what someone else had or waste time feeling resentful.

But looking back, there were moments—small, fleeting ones—that didn't quite fit the version of herself she liked to believe in.

When she was little, the first spark of that unfamiliar emotion would hit when someone snatched a toy out of her hands. It wasn't sadness or disappointment—it was sharper, hotter, and before she even realized what she was doing, she'd yank the toy back, sometimes with enough force to send the other kid stumbling.

She didn't mean to hurt them, not really, but the instinct to make things fair—or at least fair by her standards—was too strong to ignore.

Her teachers called it "trouble controlling her temper." Her mom called it a "phase." But it kept happening.

There was the time in first grade when another girl in her class got to play the fairy princess during dress-up. Tara had been stuck with the frog costume.

She'd sulked in the corner, watching the other girl twirl around in sparkly wings, until something inside her snapped. The girl didn't see it coming when Tara stomped up, grabbed the glittery wand, and broke it clean in two.

She didn't even regret it until she was sitting in the principal's office with her mom glaring at her from across the room.

By the time she was nine, Tara had lost count of how many times she'd been dragged to the teacher's office. Sometimes it was for yanking a classmate's hair after they showed off a new toy she didn't have. Other times, it was for shoving someone too hard during recess when she thought they were bragging about something they shouldn't have.

Her teachers always asked the same question: "Why did you do it, Tara?"

She never had a good answer.

Her mom tried everything—calming techniques, time-outs, grounding her from TV or playdates—but none of it worked.

The truth was, Tara didn't know why it bothered her so much when someone else got what she wanted. All she knew was that the feeling burned in her chest, hot and heavy, until she had to do something to let it out.

She couldn't pinpoint what the feeling was, not even as she got older—when she was supposed to be able to handle her emotions better, to control the bursts of anger and the bubbling rage that seemed to come out of nowhere.

It wasn't jealousy though. She was sure of that.

Jealousy felt petty, childish, like something people dealt with in middle school when they saw someone else wearing the same pair of shoes but in a better color. Tara wasn't petty, and she definitely wasn't childish. At least, that's what she told herself every time the heat rose to her face, her fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms, and her vision blurred with that same fiery haze she'd felt since kindergarten.

It didn't make sense to call it jealousy. Jealousy implied weakness, didn't it? Like you couldn't be happy for someone else because you wanted what they had. Tara didn't think she wanted what anyone else had—she just hated the idea that they had it at all.

She didn't think it was anywhere close to jealousy—not until Chad broke up with her.

At first, all she felt was heartbreak, raw and overwhelming, the kind of sadness that made her chest feel hollow and heavy all at once. There was anger too, bubbling beneath the surface, but she pushed it down, unwilling to let him see that part of her. Tara told herself that staying calm was the only way to keep control of the situation, even as she listened to him try to explain himself.

He had said he didn't feel the same anymore, that something between them had changed. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but he no longer felt the love they once had. His voice had been quiet, hesitant, as if he didn't want to hurt her more than he already was. He told her it wasn't her fault, that she'd been a great girlfriend and that he still cared about her.

The words sounded like they should've been comforting, but they weren't. They only made her feel worse. Love didn't just disappear, did it? And if it did, what did that say about her? She couldn't wrap her head around how everything could change so quickly, how something that had seemed so solid could slip through her fingers without warning.

For days after the breakup, she replayed his words in her mind, searching for some clue, some sign she might have missed. The sadness lingered, a constant ache she couldn't shake, and when the anger flared, she shoved it back down where it belonged. It wouldn't change anything, and it wouldn't bring him back.

At first, she thought heartbreak was all she'd have to contend with. But then, as the days stretched into weeks, another feeling began to creep in—something darker, sharper, and impossible to ignore.

That dark, sharper, and impossible-to-ignore feeling had only grown worse. In fact, it had become unbearable when she saw Chad a few weeks later.

With you.

She hadn't been prepared for it. In hindsight, maybe she should've been. They had gone to the same school—it had only been a matter of time before she ran into him again. But Tara hadn't expected him to look so... fine. Like nothing had happened. Like breaking up with her hadn't fazed him in the slightest. And she especially hadn't expected to see him with someone else.

You had been standing next to him near the lockers, your body slightly turned toward his as you spoke. She hadn't been able to hear what you were saying, but whatever it had been, it had made him laugh. That same, familiar laugh that had once been hers to hear.

Her chest had tightened, the weight of it pressing down on her like a physical force. It had been the first time she had seen him since the breakup, and heartbreak hadn't been what she had felt then. No, it had been something else entirely. It had been hot and all-consuming, curling its way through her like wildfire.

Her gaze had locked on the way you had reached out, your fingers briefly brushing his arm as you spoke. It had been such a casual, effortless gesture, but to Tara, it had felt deliberate. She had clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she had struggled to steady her breathing.

She hadn't wanted to look at you. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge the way your presence, your closeness to Chad, had made her feel. But she hadn't been able to tear her eyes away.

It hadn't been fair. Chad wasn't supposed to move on so quickly. He wasn't supposed to look this happy, not when she had still been trying to piece herself back together. And you—God, you hadn't been supposed to be so... perfect. So at ease, standing there with him like you had belonged.

Tara's stomach had churned, a bitter taste rising in her throat. The feeling bubbling inside her had been almost painfully familiar, a twisted echo of the jealousy she had felt as a child.

She could still remember the heat of it, the way it had burned through her tiny body when someone had gotten the last cookie in class or taken the swing she had wanted on the playground.

Back then, her jealousy had been wild and unrestrained, often spilling out as anger—pushing, hitting, shouting until someone had intervened.

But this hadn't been the same. She wasn't a kid anymore, and she had known better than to lash out. And yet, the anger had simmered beneath the surface, waiting for her to slip, to let it spill over.

Her jaw had tightened as she had forced herself to look away, her fists clenching at her sides. Chad hadn't been hers anymore, she had reminded herself, no matter how much she had wanted him to be.

She hadn't had the right to feel this way, to be so consumed by jealousy over someone who had clearly moved on.

But knowing that hadn't made it stop. The jealousy had still been there, sharp and unrelenting, twisting inside her like a knife.

It had dug in deeper with every passing day, lodging itself in a part of her she didn't know how to reach, let alone remove.

It didn't help that Tara knew exactly who you were. Of course she did—everyone in Woodsboro seemed to know everyone.

The town was too small for anyone to go unnoticed, their business too easily whispered about or pieced together.

She had known who you were since kindergarten, though, in moments like these, it felt like a cruel twist of fate that you hadn't been one of the kids she'd shoved in a fit of childish rage.

Maybe if you had been, she wouldn't feel so powerless now. She could have at least claimed to have gotten her frustration out once, a long time ago. But no. You had been one of the few to escape her younger wrath, and somehow that made this worse.

It wasn't just that, though. Tara couldn't think about you without hearing her mother's voice in the back of her mind, muttering something about how she wished Tara were "more like you."

Her mother said things like that about plenty of kids, especially when Tara landed herself in trouble at school. But the way she spoke about you had always felt different—like she meant it.

You were polite, diligent, the kind of kid parents liked to hold up as an example. Tara had hated it back then, hearing those comparisons tossed her way whenever she acted out. Now, remembering it made her blood boil.

You weren't a stranger to her. Not really. How could you be when Wes had spent all of middle school hopelessly infatuated with you? His crush had been embarrassingly obvious, even to people who weren't paying attention.

Tara remembered the way he'd stumble through his sentences whenever you so much as glanced in his direction. How he'd linger near your locker as though working up the courage to say something, only to turn red and scurry off when Amber caught him at it.

Amber had loved teasing him for it. She'd nudge his arm and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, calling him love-struck and pitiful. And Tara? She'd roll her eyes and laugh right along with her.

She hadn't understood the appeal back then. Sure, you were nice. Polite, from what people said. But to Tara, you'd just been another person in the hallways, someone she could name but not care much about. Wes's hopeless pining had been little more than background noise to her.

But now... now that memory left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Not that she'd ever had a real problem with you. If anything, she'd been indifferent toward you all these years. You were nice, she supposed. Everyone said so, and it wasn't hard to believe.

You dressed well enough to stand out without trying too hard, cared enough about your grades to keep them respectable, and generally managed to avoid any kind of trouble. There wasn't much about you that people could complain about.

Tara hadn't spoken to you much. Maybe a couple of times, when group projects forced you together or when politeness demanded it. But it had never gone beyond that, never lingered in a way that mattered. You were a passing presence, just one of the many faces she'd seen over the years, easily forgotten once you were out of sight.

At least, that was how it used to be.

Now, it felt like you were everywhere. And worse, you weren't just a face in the crowd anymore. You were always laughing, always smiling, always looking so damn perfect. And you weren't alone. You were with Chad. His arm slung around your shoulders like you were his.

And that, Tara couldn't ignore.

You were with her Chad. Her boyfriend.

Or at least, that's what her mind insisted on calling him, despite the breakup. Despite everything. He was still hers. He had to be. There was no way he wasn't, not when she could still feel the ghost of his hand in hers, not when her chest tightened every time she thought about him laughing at something you said. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.

You didn't belong under his arm like that. You didn't belong anywhere near him.

Tara's jaw clenched as the image burned itself deeper into her memory: the way his arm had draped over your shoulders so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't. It couldn't be. That spot was hers—had been hers for so long that seeing anyone else there made her stomach twist with something jagged and unbearable.

And it didn't help that you didn't even look good there. Not to her, anyway. You didn't fit the way she did. You didn't mold into his side like you belonged there, not like she had. Chad was tall, broad-shouldered, and Tara had always thought they looked balanced together. She'd fit neatly under his arm, a perfect complement to his size and presence. You? You just looked... wrong.

At least, that's what she told herself as her eyes lingered on you for too long, darting between the way you smiled at him and the way he smiled back at you.

Her chest tightened further, the edges of her jealousy sharpening with every second.

She tried to tell herself not to care. Really, she did. She told herself that it didn't matter anymore, that Chad wasn't hers, that this—whatever this was—wasn't her business. He had every right to move on. She even tried repeating it in her head, like some kind of mantra: It’s over, it’s over, it’s over.

But it didn't work. It never worked.

It wasn't just the jealousy, though that was certainly the loudest emotion screaming in her chest. It was the helplessness that came with it. The same helplessness she'd felt back in kindergarten, when that dark, fiery feeling had bubbled up inside her and she hadn't known what to do with it. Back then, she'd pushed people, shoved them, let her rage and frustration spill out in any way it could.

Now? Now she was older. Supposedly more mature. She was supposed to be able to handle her emotions, wasn't she? But standing there, watching Chad lean into you, laugh at something you said like it was the funniest thing in the world, Tara felt that same fiery frustration rise in her chest.

She didn't shove people anymore—didn't let that dark feeling spill out like she used to—but that didn't mean it wasn't still there, simmering just below the surface. And now, as she stood frozen in the hallway, all of it—every last ounce of it—was directed at you.

Because you didn't belong there.

You didn't belong with Chad.

You didn't belong in the picture she still couldn't stop replaying in her head: you laughing at something he said, him pulling you closer, the two of you looking... happy.

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, hard enough to taste blood. She told herself to turn away, to stop looking, to let it go. But it was impossible. Just like it had been when she was five years old, that feeling burned too brightly, clawed at her too viciously to ignore.

And now, as she stared at you from across the hallway, she realized she didn't know how to make it stop.

She couldn't stop seeing it—couldn't stop feeling it. You and him. It was burned into her mind, an image so vivid it felt like it had been seared there with a branding iron. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there. You and Chad. Laughing together. Holding hands. Kissing.

Tara's hands clenched into fists at her sides. She hated it. She hated you.

She hated the way you were always smiling, like you didn't have a care in the world. She hated the way you stood so close to him every day, the way his arm so casually rested on your shoulders. She hated the way you looked at him, and the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in the room. Like you were perfect.

You weren't even that cute. That's what she tried to tell herself, over and over again. You weren't anything special. There were plenty of other girls in Woodsboro prettier than you, smarter than you, more interesting than you.

But it was a lie.

Because you were beautiful.

You were effortlessly beautiful in a way that made Tara's stomach churn. She hated the fact that she couldn't use your looks as an excuse. She hated how good you looked with Chad, how perfect you seemed together, how easy it was to see why he'd chosen you.

And that made her hatred burn even brighter.

Most nights, she couldn't sleep. The second her head hit the pillow, her mind would start spinning, and the thoughts would creep in—dark, ugly thoughts that wrapped around her like a vice. She could see it so clearly, almost like it was happening right in front of her.

You touching him in places she was supposed to touch. You undressing him, his hands roaming over your body instead of hers. You kissing him, making him moan, sitting on top of him—doing all the things she was supposed to do.

It made her blood boil. It made her want to scream.

The images were relentless, vivid and visceral, and every one of them felt like a knife twisting deeper into her chest. Sometimes, the anger was so sharp it made her want to claw at her own skin, like she could rip the feeling out of herself if she just tried hard enough.

But no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they always came back. They stayed with her, haunting her like a ghost she couldn't escape.

And every time, the hatred burned hotter.

It wasn't fair. You weren't supposed to have him. You weren't supposed to be in his arms, weren't supposed to hear his laugh up close, weren't supposed to know what his lips felt like. You didn't deserve any of it. You didn't deserve him.

He was hers. He'd always been hers.

But now, he wasn't.

And it was all because of you.

And this wasn't like any other time. Not even close.

Tara had always known her temper was a problem. She'd been told that enough times growing up—by her teachers, by her mom, by anyone who'd had the misfortune of crossing her when she was angry. But this? This was different.

She'd never felt this way before.

She'd tried everything to stop it, to keep herself from unraveling. Everything her mom had suggested back when she'd first started noticing how intense Tara's outbursts could be. Taking deep breaths, counting to ten, picturing a happy place—none of it worked. It never had.

And when her mom's suggestions fell flat, Tara had turned to the internet, searching desperately for anything that might help. Techniques to control anger, ways to keep herself calm, tips to avoid losing her temper. She'd read every article she could find, watched every video, tried every trick. Not because she cared about managing her emotions—no, she just wanted to avoid her mom forcing her into some anger management program or therapy session she'd be stuck in for months.

But now? Now, she couldn't even pretend to have control. Nothing worked. Nothing.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her skin prickled with heat, and the jealousy burned so hot and sharp that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams. It wasn't just anger anymore. It was something else entirely, something darker and more consuming.

Tara felt insane.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to push it down or ignore it, the feeling wouldn't go away. It wrapped around her like a second skin, suffocating and unbearable, until there was only one thought left in her mind:

She had to get rid of you.

It wasn't even a question anymore. It was a fact, plain and simple. There was no other way to fix this, no other way to make the feelings stop. You had to go.

At first, Tara thought about spreading a rumor or two. Nothing big, just enough to make you and Chad fight. Enough to plant a seed of doubt, to tear apart whatever connection you had with him. It sounded perfect at first—until she realized how easily it could blow up in her face.

Chad would figure it out eventually. He'd find out Tara was behind it, and then she'd lose any chance of getting him back.

She thought about telling you to leave, to move away, to go anywhere but here. But that was ridiculous. You'd never listen.

She thought about kidnapping you.

The thought came and went so quickly it almost startled her. For a split second, her mind flickered to the idea of forcing you out of the picture entirely, taking control in a way that left no room for argument.

But no. That was insane.

...Wasn't it?

Tara clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to hurt. She was spiraling. She knew it. But she couldn't stop.

Nothing else would work. Nothing except you being gone.

She didn't know how, she didn't know when, but Tara knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You couldn't stay.

You didn't belong here. You didn't belong with Chad. You didn't belong anywhere near him, near her, near this town.

You didn't belong anywhere.

And Tara? Tara was going to make sure of it.

She toyed with possibilities. But none of them seemed right.

Kidnapping you crossed her mind more than once though. Briefly.

But it was stupid, insane.

Because what would she do when she had you?

Just keep you there?

It seemed suiting, but it wouldn't work out.

But she couldn't help thinking it—if only because she was running out of options.

And then, the thought hit her. It came out of nowhere, sharp and sudden, like a knife to the gut.

She could kill you.

At first, the thought had hit her like a slap to the face, sharp and jarring in its absurdity. It had seemed insane. Because it was insane. What kind of person even thought something like that, let alone seriously considered it?

But as the days dragged on, the idea didn't fade. If anything, it took root. The more Tara thought about it, the less insane it seemed. Her anger, that relentless, boiling rage, started to simmer. It didn't disappear entirely—not even close—but it

lessened.

For the first time in weeks, she could breathe.

The idea itself was enough at first. She didn't need to act on it. Just thinking about it was enough to bring her some semblance of peace. She let the fantasy play out in her mind like a sick little movie: you, out of the picture, gone forever. It didn't matter how or when—just that it happened.

And for a few days, she was happy with just that. She let herself exist in that space, in the calm that came with imagining a world where you didn't exist. A weekend of relative peace, of daydreams that made her anger feel manageable.

But then Monday came.

And Tara saw you again.

You were standing in the hallway, smiling up at Chad like he was the only person in the world. His arm was slung casually around your shoulders, his head tilted toward yours in that stupid, familiar way that made Tara's stomach twist.

It was like being set on fire all over again.

Her chest burned, her vision blurred, and that fleeting peace she'd found over the weekend vanished in an instant. The rage came roaring back, hotter and more vicious than ever, tearing through her like a wildfire.

Because the thought of you being gone wasn't enough anymore. Not when you were right there, so close, so perfect, so fucking smug without even trying.

Tara's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms until they left crescent-shaped indents. Her jaw tightened, her teeth grinding as she stared at you, as she watched you.

You didn't belong there. You didn't belong under his arm. You didn't belong anywhere near him.

And now? Now, Tara knew what she had to do.

It wasn't a matter of if anymore. It was a matter of when.

Because just thinking about it wasn't enough. Not anymore.

She was going to kill you.

And she was going to feel better for it.

___

Tara had everything prepared.

The thought of it had consumed her, growing like a rock inside her chest, feeding off her every waking moment until it was impossible to ignore.

And now, it was time.

She had spent days balancing on the edge of dread and longing, torn between the weight of what she was about to do and the twisted satisfaction she knew it would bring. It wasn't something she wanted—not really. But it was something she had to do. The only way to end the torment that had been eating away at her since the moment she saw you with him.

So Tara had done her research, gathering every scrap of information she could. She watched you closely—closer than ever. She had listened, observed, bided her time until the perfect opportunity revealed itself.

And it had.

It had been math class on Monday afternoon, and Tara had been lucky enough to snag a seat directly behind you and your friends. Normally, she would've tuned out your conversation entirely, drowning it in her thoughts. But this time, she had leaned in, careful to catch every word.

You'd been talking about the upcoming math test, about how you'd be studying for it Wednesday afternoon. Alone.

Your parents were going to be at some lame work conference, and they'd decided to take your younger brother along to make a trip out of it. You'd rolled your eyes as you explained how stupid it all sounded, but Tara hadn't cared about your opinion.

All she cared about was the opening.

You'd be home. Alone.

It was perfect.

Tara's pencil had hovered over her notebook as she pretended to take notes, but her mind wasn't on algebra. It was spinning with possibilities, with plans, with the kind of clarity that had eluded her for weeks.

When the bell rang and you left the room with your friends, Tara sat frozen in her seat for a moment, her fists clenched around the edge of her desk. The pounding in her chest felt louder than the shuffle of students leaving the classroom, louder than the voices in the hallway.

Because now, it wasn't just an idea.

It was a plan.

Wednesday. After school. It would be done.

And finally, finally, she would feel better.

Wednesday came, and Tara felt something she hadn't in weeks. Happiness.

It wasn't the fleeting, muted kind that came and went without leaving a trace. No, this was sharp, visceral, alive. She could feel it buzzing beneath her skin, coiling around her chest like a warm, electric current.

She didn't remember the last time she'd woken up this excited. It was like every nerve in her body had been lit aflame, pushing her through the motions of her morning routine with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in so long.

Because today was the day.

Every second that ticked by brought her closer to it. To you. To the end of the endless cycle of rage and jealousy that had consumed her. She could picture it already—vivid, perfect, satisfying.

You'd be scared, of course. How could you not be? She imagined the way your eyes would widen, the way you'd stammer out a pathetic plea. You'd try to push her off, scramble for an escape, but it wouldn't work.

It wouldn't work because you were weak. You weren't like her. You didn't know what it meant to fight, to claw your way through something until you got what you wanted. You'd crumble like paper.

And then you'd be gone.

She could see the aftermath so clearly it almost felt real. Chad, walking through the school corridors alone, his shoulders slumped with the weight of grief. His face twisted in pain as he thought about you.

And then—then he'd come back to her. He had to. It was inevitable, wasn't it? He'd remember how good things were with her, how much better they could be now that you were out of the picture. He'd pull himself to her, broken but needing her to put him back together.

It was all Tara could think about.

The entire day felt like a blur, her mind too preoccupied to focus on anything else. Teachers droned on and on about tests and essays, classmates chatted about meaningless things, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered except what was waiting for her after school.

And yet, the anger was still there.

It simmered beneath the surface, coiled tight in her chest, a constant reminder that nothing was done yet. You were still there, still laughing and smiling and making her blood boil with every second that passed.

In English class, she caught sight of you leaning over Chad's desk, your voice low as you explained something to him. Grammar, maybe. Whatever it was, Tara didn't care.

What she cared about was the way he was looking at you. That stupid, soft smile, the same one he used to give her.

It made her stomach turn.

You didn’t even know what you were doing, she thought bitterly, her fists clenching beneath her desk. You didn't know him. You didn't know how to help him, not like she did. You weren't supposed to be there, leaning over his shoulder, pointing at his textbook like you had any idea what you were doing.

Tara's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding together as she stared at the two of you.

But it was fine. It wouldn't matter soon enough.

By the time the final bell rang, she was practically buzzing with anticipation, her hands trembling as she shoved her books into her bag.

Because today was the day.

And by the time it was over, you'd be gone. Forever.

By the time last period rolled around, Tara could barely contain herself. She was bouncing her leg under the desk, the rapid up-and-down movement making the surface wobble slightly. It wasn't stress, though. Not even close.

It was excitement.

Because in just a few hours, everything would be different. You'd be gone.

She'd spent the entire day anticipating this moment, and now that it was so close, she could hardly breathe. Her chest felt tight, but not in the way it used to when the anger consumed her. This was something else—something electric, like a firework waiting to explode.

When the bell finally rang for the last time that day, Tara practically shot out of her seat. Her heart was pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she sprinted to her locker, dodging through the crowded hallway like her life depended on it.

She grabbed her things in a flurry, barely paying attention to what she was stuffing into her bag. The details didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting out of there as quickly as possible.

The walk home was a blur. She couldn't even remember the route she took, but she knew it was fast because she'd gotten there in record time. She practically burst through the door of the apartment, slamming it shut behind her with a force that rattled the frame.

The space was empty, just as she'd hoped. Sam wasn't home, probably still at the café down the street where she worked long shifts most afternoons.

Tara didn't waste any time. She stormed into her room, yanking her bag off her shoulder and dumping its contents onto the bed. Books, hair ties, pens, and random scraps of paper spilled out in a messy heap. She didn't bother organizing any of it, her focus locked on what came next.

She started packing what she'd need instead.

First came the basics: a pair of gloves she'd swiped from the closet, a small hand towel, and a few cleaning supplies she'd found under the sink. Just in case.

Then there was the book. She'd borrowed it from the library earlier that day, an afterthought at the time, but now it served a purpose. If anyone asked what she'd been doing when you turned up dead, she'd have an alibi.

And then there was the knife.

Tara headed to the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she opened the drawer where Sam kept the cutlery. She stared at the knives for a moment, her breathing shallow as she considered her options.

Finally, she picked one.

It wasn't the largest or the sharpest, but it felt solid in her grip. Familiar, almost.

She held it for a moment, staring down at the blade as it caught the light. Her reflection stared back at her, warped and fragmented in the metal, but she didn't flinch.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself before tucking the knife into her bag.

This was it.

She was ready.

Tara zipped her bag shut and slung it over her shoulder, not even sparing a second thought for the knife or the other incriminating items inside. Evidence of what was about to happen was tucked away in plain sight, but the thought didn't concern her. Why would it? She wasn't going to get caught.

She paused in the doorway of the apartment, pulling out her phone to double-check the address one last time. It was burned into her memory by now, but a quick glance wouldn't hurt. She'd found it easily enough a week ago, scouring the school directory that had been left out in the counselor's office during one of her "mandatory check-ins." Your address had been listed next to your emergency contacts, all neatly typed out.

Perfect.

Satisfied, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and stepped out into the hallway. The stairwell echoed with her footsteps as she made her way down, each step slow and deliberate. She wasn't in a rush. Not yet.

The walk to your house wasn't short, but it wasn't unbearably long either. Just far enough to give her plenty of time to think, to imagine, to savor the anticipation building in her chest like a drug.

Tara was thrilled.

Not just because of what she was about to do, but because of how clever she'd been about it. The idea had struck her like lightning, and the more she thought about it, the more genius it seemed. She wasn't just solving a problem—she was removing it, erasing it entirely.

As she walked, her thoughts grew darker, more vivid. She pictured you in front of her, on your knees, crying and begging her to stop. But she wouldn't stop. She'd pin you down with a strength you couldn't fight against, her hands steady, her resolve unshakable.

Her gaze flicked down to her white Converse, and she pictured them splattered with red. Blood staining the canvas, dripping onto the pavement, marking every step she took.

She imagined your blood on her hands, warm and slick, streaked across her fingers like war paint. She pictured your face as she hovered over you, the way your eyes would widen with fear, the way your mouth would open to scream—only to be silenced.

The image sent a thrill through her, a jolt of satisfaction that made her grin.

To anyone else, these thoughts would be horrifying. Disturbing. Insane.

But to Tara, they were... liberating.

She couldn't wait.

Tara had dreamt about this moment. Every detail had been mapped out in her mind, as vivid and meticulous as if it had already happened. She hadn't missed a single thing while planning it.

She knew exactly how it would go.

You'd answer the door, your steps light as they always seemed to be. When the door swung open, you'd greet her with that confused little smile, the one that would tug at the corner of your lips as you tried to figure out what she was doing there.

She could already imagine the polite mask you'd pull on, hiding the confusion behind your soft smile as you asked—probably in that gentle, saccharine voice Chad loved so much—what she was doing at your house.

And Tara would match your politeness, feigning a warm, almost apologetic smile as she began to speak. She'd tell you that you'd left the classroom before the teacher had a chance to hand you a paper—a makeup assignment for the math test you were apparently struggling with. She'd tell you how she'd volunteered to bring it to you, mentioning offhandedly that your house was "on the way" to hers.

It wasn't.

But you were probably stupid enough to believe it.

Tara could almost see the way you'd nod, your suspicion melting away as you stepped aside to let her in. And that's when she'd set her plan into motion.

She'd unzip her bag slowly, her movements deliberate, casual, as if she really were pulling out a sheet of paper. She'd even keep talking, her voice calm, explaining how the assignment wasn't that difficult, just a review of material you should already know.

But when her hand came out of the bag, it wouldn't be holding any paper.

It would be holding the knife.

The image was so clear in her mind, so vivid that it felt real. She could see the shock on your face, the way your smile would drop, the way your eyes would widen. She'd let you stand there, frozen and clueless, for just a moment before she lunged.

The first stab would be quick, precise. She'd aim for your stomach, the blade plunging in before you had a chance to react. And as you stumbled back, clutching at the wound, she'd step inside, closing the door behind her with her free hand.

It wouldn't stop there. It couldn't.

She'd keep going, stabbing again and again, her movements frenzied but deliberate, each strike fueled by the rage that had been festering inside her for weeks.

By the time you hit the floor, Tara would already be kneeling over you, her knife rising and falling with a terrifying rhythm.

She'd finish it. Completely.

Tara found herself smirking at the thought, her steps quickening as she neared your street. The plan played out in her head like a movie she'd already watched a hundred times, each scene perfectly clear, perfectly executed.

The thought of it all—the fear in your eyes, the blood on her hands, the peace that would finally follow—was almost enough to make her laugh.

By the time she reached your street, her smirk had settled into something more fixed, more certain. The weight of the knife in her bag wasn't something she second-guessed. There was no hesitation in her steps, no flicker of doubt in her mind. She had played this moment over so many times that it felt inevitable, like she was simply walking through a prewritten script.

And then she saw your house.

That perfect, suburban home—one of those places that looked like it had been plucked from a family sitcom. The kind of house where nothing bad was ever supposed to happen. The driveway was empty, just like it was supposed to be. No parents home. No witnesses. But that didn't matter.

What mattered was that you had all of this.

Tara felt her stomach twist in something that wasn't quite anger, wasn't quite jealousy, but a poisonous mix of both. The house itself was nice—not a mansion, but big enough that she knew you had space that was yours. No sharing. No constantly moving from one place to another. You had stability. The porch light was already on despite the sun still clinging to the sky, because you had parents who actually cared if you got home in the dark.

Parents who were probably normal.

Not like hers.

And it wasn't just the house. It was everything. The car parked on the curb—the one that she knew was yours and not some shared family vehicle. The way your front yard was neatly kept, the way there was a welcome mat in front of the door, the way it all screamed a life she never had.

It made her hate you even more.

But that hate only made her more certain. Because soon, none of it would matter. Your perfect house, your caring parents, your stupid little car—they would all be meaningless.

Soon, the only thing you'd have was a gravestone with your name carved into it.

And that made her happy.

Tara forced herself to relax as she walked up the front steps, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She let out a slow breath, schooling her expression into something neutral. She wasn't just about to commit murder—no, she was just a classmate doing a favor, dropping off an assignment.

The thought almost made her laugh.

She reached the front door, lifting a fist and knocking twice against the wood.

The house was quiet. Peaceful.

But soon, Tara imagined, it would be fuller.

Fuller with screams.

And then—she heard it.

A soft, thoughtless hum from the other side of the door. Light, airy, clueless.

Her hands twitched at her sides, damp with sweat before she even realized it. A sick, twisted heat pooled in her stomach, curling around her ribs like a vice, because for the first time all day, something foreign crawled up her spine.

Nerves.

Real, undeniable, nerves.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

No. No. That wasn't right. She had waited for this.

She had planned, dreamed, prepared for this exact moment. She was supposed to feel good. Excited.

Not like this.

Not like her body had turned against her.

Tara's jaw tightened, anger sparking white-hot beneath her skin, because that was your fault, too.

Of course, it was.

You were the one who made her feel this way. You were the reason her mind had been tangled in knots for weeks, the reason she couldn't breathe without choking on the thought of you, the reason everything felt so wrong.

And that was why she was here.

She sucked in a sharp breath, planting her feet firmly on the doorstep, pushing the shaking from her hands, the sweat from her palms.

Because it didn't matter.

It didn't matter that her heart was hammering against her ribs. It didn't matter that her mind was racing.

All that mattered was that you were coming.

And then—

A quiet shuffle of footsteps.

Closer.

Tara's stomach twisted.

Another step.

And another.

The shadow of movement from behind the glass.

And then—

The door clicked as the lock turned.

The handle shifted.

And Tara stopped breathing.

The door swung open.

And there you were.

Tara didn't know what she had expected. She had run through this moment in her head too many times to count, had pictured every detail—the way you'd react, the way she'd feel, the way it would finally happen. But none of those versions had prepared her for the real thing.

Because the real thing was you—standing there, so normal, so alive in a way that made something tighten in her chest.

You hadn't even looked to see who it was before your lips curled into a soft, polite smile, like answering the door and finding someone waiting for you was just another part of your evening. Like she was just another part of your evening.

And Tara—

Tara froze.

Her grip tightened around the strap of her bag, fingers stiff, nails pressing into her palm. The weight of it suddenly felt too heavy, dragging her down, pinning her in place.

You weren't looking at her yet, not fully, but she could see the moment it registered. The way your eyes flickered, widening just a little before settling, before you adjusted.

Tara swallowed hard, throat dry.

She hadn't planned for this—for the way time seemed to slow, for the way her pulse slammed against her ribs, not in anger but in something else, something unreadable. She had prepared for every possible scenario, had thought through every single step. She knew exactly what she had to do.

So why the fuck wasn't she doing it?

Why was she standing there, frozen, when this was exactly what she had been waiting for?

Her stomach twisted, a sick, sudden nausea creeping in.

She had to say something.

She had to move.

But she just stood there, staring.

It was like her body had short-circuited, her mind blanking out in a way it never did. She had pictured this moment a hundred times, had mapped it out in her head with a precision so sharp it felt real—but now? Now, standing in front of you, with your stupid soft smile and your wide, expectant eyes, everything felt wrong.

She was supposed to have control.

She was supposed to speak first.

But before she could force a single word out of her mouth—

"Oh my God, Tara!"

Your voice hit her like a slap to the face.

Not just because of the voice—bright, warm, too friendly for what this moment was meant to be—but because of how you said her name.

Wrong.

You stretched out the A like it belonged there, like you had never even considered the right way to say it.

Tara's stomach twisted, her nose scrunching slightly before she could stop it.

She hated when people did that.

It wasn't even complicated. It wasn't hard.

Tara. Short. Sharp. Simple.

Why the fuck would it be anything else?

But then—before she could even say anything, before she could snap at you the way she wanted to—you noticed.

Not in the way most people did.

You didn't fumble over yourself, didn't look nervous, didn't react like someone who had just made a mistake in front of the wrong person.

No.

You just... realized.

"Oh—sorry. It's Tara, right?"

And this time, you said it right.

Tara felt something hot crawl up her spine.

You didn't wait for her to correct you.

You didn’t need her to tell you you were wrong.

You figured it out on your own.

And yet, you still smiled.

"I'm sorry, I totally suck at names," you added, your voice easy, a small, amused sigh slipping through a quiet giggle.

A giggle.

Like this was nothing.

Like you weren't standing in your doorway, staring at someone who had come here to kill you.

Tara's grip on her bag tightened.

You weren't nervous.

Not even a little.

Why weren't you nervous?

You were supposed to be. Yet she was the one that was.

Tara didn't know what the fuck was happening to her.

This wasn't right.

She was supposed to be in control. She was supposed to be sharp, precise, already halfway inside your house by now, setting her plan into motion.

But instead, she stood there.

Frozen.

Silent.

She couldn't speak.

Her body acted before her mind caught up, lips pressing together in something barely resembling a smile. Thin. Tense. Fake.

"It's fine," she mumbled, her voice lower than she intended.

It wasn't fine.

Nothing about this was fine.

And yet, you still didn't ask her what she was doing here.

You didn't look suspicious. You didn't hesitate. You didn't ask.

Tara could feel something bubbling in her chest, frustration twisting in with something else, something hotter, sharper.

Why weren't you asking?

Why weren't you wary?

Why weren't you treating her like a stranger who had no reason to be on your doorstep?

But before she could dwell on it for too long, your face lit up even more—

And you started talking.

"I've actually been wanting to speak to you for a while."

Your voice was too warm. Too light.

Tara's jaw clenched.

"This whole thing with Chad..."

You trailed off, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear, tilting your head ever so slightly as your eyes flicked to her face—

Waiting.

Waiting to see if she reacted to his name.

And fuck, she did.

She hated that she did.

But you didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe you did, but you didn't care.

You just continued, words spilling out like you had been holding them in for too long.

"I wanted to ask if you guys were fine before... yeah, you know."

Tara didn't need you to finish that sentence.

She knew exactly what you meant.

Before you.

Before Chad moved on.

Before you ruined everything.

Her nails dug into the strap of her bag.

And still, you didn't stop talking.

"I know we're not friends and barely know each other," you admitted, still looking at her with that same softness. That genuine fucking softness that made her stomach twist in ways it shouldn't.

"But you're really nice," you went on.

Tara almost laughed at that.

Nice.

You thought she was nice.

And then—

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable or, you know... secretly hate me."

The way you said it was almost casual, like it was just a thought, something light, something small—

But Tara felt her heartbeat slam against her ribs.

You didn't know.

You had no idea.

And for the first time since she got here, she felt a flicker of something close to panic.

You didn't hate her.

You weren't afraid of her.

You thought she was nice.

What the fuck was she supposed to do with that?

Tara tried to reason with herself.

If she just did it now, everything would be fine.

If she just said what she planned to say, if she reached for her bag, if she pulled out the knife instead—

It would be over.

It would be done.

You would be nothing but a mess on the floor, and Chad would be devastated, and he would come crawling back, and everything would go back to how it was supposed to be.

So why wasn't she moving?

Her fingers twitched against the strap of her bag, but her body stayed rooted to the spot.

She wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

She had dreamed about this moment.

Had imagined the way you'd look at her—terrified, confused, realizing too late what was about to happen.

She had longed for it.

And yet—

She couldn't.

For some stupid, inexplicable reason, she couldn't.

Something in her wouldn't let her.

What the fuck was she even thinking earlier?

Why did she think this would be easy?

Why did she think she could just walk up here and do it like it was nothing?

Her head felt too full, a war raging behind her eyes, pushing, pulling, twisting.

She wasn't supposed to hesitate.

She wasn't supposed to second-guess herself.

She was supposed to kill you.

So why was it suddenly feeling impossible?

You studied her face as she stood there, silent.

To you, it probably looked like she was still hurt over Chad.

Like she was standing here, struggling to find the right words, caught up in old feelings she hadn't moved past yet.

And when she didn't answer, you didn't take it the way you should have.

You didn't question why she was just standing there.

You didn't wonder why she was looking at you like that, like something wasn't clicking in her head.

Instead—you invited her in.

You stepped back, opening the door a little wider, glancing at her with the same warm expression you had greeted her with.

"Do you want to come inside?"

Tara blinked.

For a second, she thought she misheard you.

But you weren't kidding.

You were actually letting her in.

You, the person she had been planning to kill, were offering to welcome her into your home.

You didn't even know her.

And when she didn't immediately respond, you just smiled a little and added, "Only if you want to."

That was it.

No hesitation. No suspicion. No fear.

Why weren't you scared of her?

Why weren't you acting like someone who was about to die?

Her fingers clenched tighter around the strap of her bag.

She should leave.

She should end this.

She should do what she came here to do.

And yet—

Almost without thinking, she found herself nodding.

Slowly, stiffly.

And then she was stepping inside.

Her body was acting on its own, ignoring the part of her mind still screaming at her to just fucking do it already.

She heard you close the door behind her.

She stood there, fists tightening at her sides, eyes flickering around your house—your nice, warm, safe house that made her sick.

And then you were talking again, so casually, so easily.

"I'm trying to study for the math test, but it's not going really well."

You let out a small, light laugh, like this was nothing.

Like she was just a friend stopping by instead of a fucking killer in your home.

Tara didn't know why she followed you.

Why her feet carried her further inside instead of turning around and doing what she was supposed to do.

She barely processed the way you walked ahead of her, leading her through the house like she belonged there.

Like she wasn't holding a knife in her bag.

Like she wasn't planning to use it.

Her fingers curled tighter around the strap, knuckles aching from the pressure, but she still didn't stop.

She stepped past the entryway, eyes flickering over everything she could see—the framed artwork on the walls, the coat rack near the door, the way the house smelled warm, lived in. There was something painfully normal about all of it. Too normal. It made her stomach turn.

And then her gaze landed on it.

The photo sitting neatly on the shelf above the couch.

She didn't mean to stop. Didn't mean to let her focus linger. But she did.

It was you.

Your family.

Your mom, your dad, your little brother.

All of you smiling, arms wrapped around each other like you had never known anything but happiness.

Her throat burned.

Her chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around her ribs and squeezed.

She didn't know why.

She didn't fucking know why.

All she knew was that she hated that picture.

Hated the way you had that.

Hated the way she couldn't even imagine a photo like that of her own family.

Most definitely not framed in the living room.

Her mouth pressed into a hard line, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag.

The weight of the knife sat heavy inside, like it was taunting her.

She should reach for it.

She should pull it out and remind herself why she was here.

But her body still wouldn't move.

And that made her furious.

Why the fuck was she just standing here?

Why wasn't she doing anything?

It would be so easy.

A few steps. A flick of her wrist.

Blood against the perfect little life you had.

A stain.

A reminder that nothing was ever really safe.

So why couldn't she do it?

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else—until your voice cut through the haze.

"Tara?"

She blinked.

Snapped back to the moment.

You were looking at her now, head slightly tilted, waiting for her to follow you further inside.

She forced her jaw to unclench, tearing her eyes away from the photo and moving again.

She followed you into the living room.

And that was when she saw the mess of notes and open notebooks spread out across the coffee table.

Pens scattered. Pages half-filled with numbers and formulas. Homework left abandoned mid-thought.

She stared.

She didn't even know why.

Maybe it was because it was so normal.

Like you had no idea what was standing right in front of you.

Like she wasn't supposed to be anything other than some classmate stopping by with an assignment.

Her fingers twitched against the strap of her bag.

Maybe if she just—

Your voice cut through the silence again, still light, still unbothered.

"You can sit down if you want."

You motioned toward the couch, as if this was just normal.

As if she wasn't standing in your house, her heart hammering, her mind completely unraveling.

Tara swallowed hard, forcing her feet forward.

One step.

Then another.

She made it halfway across the room before stopping again, her breath catching somewhere in her throat.

She shouldn't be here.

She shouldn't be doing this.

She should just grab the knife, should just do what she fucking came here to do.

But she couldn't.

And she didn’t know why.

[yara0546]

Hey can you do 7dream love languages? 🧡

Nct dream | Their Love Language with You

Pairing: nct dream x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, relationship.

Note : English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Mark

Mark isn’t the best with expressing emotions, but when he realizes how much words mean to you, he makes an effort.

You sigh, looking out the window of your shared apartment. “Sometimes… I just wonder if I’m enough.”

Mark’s eyes widen, setting down his guitar. “What? What are you talking about? Of course, you are.”

You hesitate. “You don’t say it often. I know you care, but I just—”

Mark gently grabs your hands. “Hey. Listen to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it. You make my days better, you’re my safe place. I love you, and I’ll remind you as many times as you need, okay?”

Your heart flutters at his sincerity. “Okay.”

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ll say it every day if it makes you feel secure. Because you’re more than enough for me.”

Renjun

Renjun doesn’t always say how much he loves you—he shows it.

One evening, you come home exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Renjun, I—”

Before you can finish, he gently pushes you toward the couch. “Shh, just sit. I got this.”

You blink as he brings over a tray of hot soup, tea, and your favorite snacks. “You cooked?”

He nods, his ears turning red. “You’ve been working too hard. I don’t like seeing you so tired.”

You smile, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He huffs, but his lips twitch into a smile. “Just eat. And don’t think of anything else, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

Jeno

Jeno isn’t overly affectionate in public, but with you, he’s all about physical touch.

You sigh, rubbing your temples after a long day. Jeno notices immediately, pulling you into his arms. “Rough day?”

You nod against his chest. “Yeah.”

Instead of saying anything, he just holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His warmth melts away your stress.

“You always know what I need,” you mumble.

He chuckles, resting his chin on your head. “That’s ‘cause I know you better than anyone.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself relax in his embrace. With Jeno, actions speak louder than words.

Haechan

Haechan believes love is best shown through time spent together.

“Let’s go out!” he announces one evening.

You glance up from your book. “Haechan, it’s late.”

“So? We can go get late-night snacks. Just you and me.”

You hesitate, but the sparkle in his eyes convinces you. Soon, you’re walking down the quiet streets, hand in hand.

Haechan grins, swinging your arms. “I just wanna be with you, you know?”

You smile. “Even if it’s just for snacks?”

“Especially if it’s for snacks,” he teases before his expression softens. “Nah, I just… love spending time with you. Doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

Your heart swells with warmth. “Me too.”

Jaemin

Jaemin’s love language is a mix of touch and words.

One evening, you’re sitting beside him, feeling insecure. “Do you think I’m… good enough?”

Jaemin frowns and immediately pulls you into his lap. “What? Who put that thought in your head?”

You shrug. “I just… feel that way sometimes.”

He cups your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re perfect to me. And if anyone ever makes you doubt that, tell me so I can fight them.”

You giggle, but your heart flutters at his sincerity. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Only for you,” he says, pressing kisses to your forehead. “I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it.”

Chenle

For Chenle, love is shown through thoughtful gifts.

“Open it,” he says, handing you a beautifully wrapped box.

You blink in surprise. “But… it’s not a special occasion.”

He shrugs. “Who cares? I saw it and thought of you.”

You open the box to find a necklace with a charm shaped like something meaningful between you two. Tears prick your eyes. “Chenle… this is perfect.”

He grins. “Well, duh. I have good taste.”

You hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

He laughs but hugs you back. “I just want you to have little things that remind you of me.”

Jisung

Jisung is shy about affection, but he shows his love through time spent together and subtle touches.

One afternoon, he drags you to the practice room. “I want to teach you a dance.”

You pout. “But I’m terrible at dancing.”

He grins. “I’ll help you.”

As he guides you through the steps, his hands linger on your waist, keeping you steady. “See? You’re doing great.”

You laugh. “Only because you won’t let me fall.”

“Of course not,” he says softly, holding your hand tighter. “I’d never let you fall.”

Your heart skips a beat. Maybe dancing with Jisung isn’t so bad after all.

[callmeizukunotdeku]

In his time with the League, Damian learned to live with a lot but love very little.

He was surrounded by opulence--that was a power play, a demonstration, more than anything. It was Ra's' way of showing that he had power.

The problem, of course, was how easily power can breed envy and just how much can be taken away by someone with nothing to lose.

From a very young age, his mother taught him to think--to look inside and establish what he cared for--what he would fight for and what he was willing to give up.

Growing up in the League meant that he could love very little and know it was all safe. In case of emergency, whether that be a coup, assassination attempt, what have you, he could take very little with him.

Growing up, Damian loved his mother, her stories, and his sketchbook.

He never strayed too far from either so that, should worst come to worst, he wouldn't have to leave either behind.

Richard had done all he could to unteach that lesson along with many others he learned with the League.

That, of course, had made it all that much harder to leave.

He had to close himself off, teach himself, again, to think--what did he really care about?

What was he willing to leave behind?

He got distracted with thoughts of when did Richard become someone I could leave? and ended up leaving with less than he should have.

The first few days at Tim's were spent in space. Tim didn't neglect him--the two of them ate together, lived together, but Tim still had his classes and Damian's admission to a local school hadn't gone through yet, so, while he spent nights patrolling with Tim, he spent his days alone.

Either he slept or he drew. Sleep, though the easier option to chose, did not come as easy as it used to. Drawing was an outlet to him, a way to filter his emotions into something tangible--prove to himself that they were real--but he didn't want to see the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or hide from them, but his thoughts were not welcome guests in his head, which, of course, made sleeping all the more difficult.

He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath, and drift.

He'd drift and he'd think about how, in moving in with Tim, he learned the difference between living near someone and living with someone.

He learned the difference between patrolling next to someone and patrolling with someone.

It helped him see himself more clearly, but it also helped him see Tim.

He'd always known Tim was a unique fighter. When they were still enemies, it was his unpredictability that made him hard to defeat. Damian could see, now, how that unpredictability was the result of estrangement. Tim was not close enough to Bruce to be trained by him.

He had patrolled once, against orders, and then been sent to be trained by a foreign hand.

Damian could see a part of himself in the way Tim fought. Their styles were dissimilar, but muscle memory was hard to unlearn and it was clear to any educated watcher that the two of them did not fight like Bats.

Still, as Damian patrolled more and more with Tim, they learned to fight together. They did not use the same styles, but then, having different styles meant that they had different strengths and weaknesses, all the better for covering each other's blind spots.

Damian grew to understand Tim in a way he hadn't fully let himself before. As he understood, he began to relax--let himself expand into his room, finish unpacking.

Now, Richard and Tim both had different rules, but one thing the two of them agreed upon was that no one was to enter Damian's room without his permission.

It seemed silly to him--the idea that the space he took up was his even when he had no formal claim to it. What was more, however, was the fact that, once he had finished decorating, he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

He wanted Tim to see his new room--truly, he did--and if Tim entered and exited when he pleased, he could just...come in and Damian could mention that the room was fully decorated and see how Tim reacted.

Instead, he had to invite Tim--invite his judgment. It left him more vulnerable than he would have preferred, but he trusted Tim, so, before patrol, one night, he asked, "Timothy? Can I show you something?"

"Of course, Dami. What is it?"

"My room. I finished decorating."

Tim smiled, "Lead the way."

He did, showing Tim the little things he'd added to make his room his--a declaration of his intent to stay, as much for Tim as it was for himself.

Tim followed Damian around the room, adding small complements here and there before stopping. "You kept this?"

He was holding the photo.

"Of course," Damian said, "It was a good day."

Tim smiled at the photo before putting it down.

Damian furrowed his brow, "I...forget--why weren't you in the photograph?"

Tim gave him a curious look, "Because I was the one taking the photo."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[cvnt4him]

Shoyou breaking up w you before you both graduate.

Shoyou has such a hard time breaking up with you. He truly loved you so much but he had to follow his heart. He couldn't hold onto you, he felt as if that if he made you wait for him; wait until he was finally ready to put down roots then he'd be asking you to save yourself for longer than he even knew. It was wrong in his eyes, he loves you so much but it isn't fair to you. It isn't fair to hold you down like this.

“ I can't hold on to you...not like this....I love you, too much for this..”

You both cry in each other's arms, foreheads leaning against one another. You both sniffle and try to hold back your sobs. The way he spoke gently to you, it was so soothing yet so heartbreaking. That was the last time you'd seen him.

A couple of years past, you and a few other former kurasuno affiliates sat inside the bleachers waiting for the game to end everyone on the edge of their seats with the heated game going on. However there was a particular reason you were squeamish...shoyou hinata. He was playing. You watched him move with quicker than you remember jumping higher than ever. He was more attractive than you could even bear.

His tanned skin sweating and reddened slightly, that stupid smile he had on his face that he got when he was eager...goodness. you bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together. It's been so long since you last seen him, since you two had last spoken. You were nervous...what would he say when he actually seen you?,

After the game ends everyone says their hellos and stuff. You were so nervous fidgeting as you groan lowly to yourself. There was no way you could face your ex boyfriend, not like this. It was too......much for you to handle..

Just as you were about to call this whole thing quits and walk away you hear a familiar voice shout to you..

“...hey.”

You stop in your tracks seemingly unable to move. You knew exactly who it was, emotions were filling you. Such a mix of them making your stomach churn. You gulp down hardly before slowly turning to face him.

Your eyes met with those vibrant gleaming orange eyes. So wide and full of neverending potential. He was absolutely gorgeous, even more up close. You could see his skin glisten with sweat and small strands of his ginger hair sticking to his forehead. He offered you a small smile slightly opening his arms to you, letting you do what you will with that.

What else could you do than run into his toned arms. Tears well in your eyes as you laugh inhaling his newly distinct scent inside your nostrils. He wrapped his arms around you tightly chuckling above you. He had gotten a bit taller than you and way more muscular than you'd remembered.

As you both pulled apart clearing your throats from the small laughter you shared, you couldn't help but admire him closely now. He was so ethereal, and goodness that smile....

You seen the way he died you up and down slowly biting his lip lighting as he did so. S small amused scoff leaving him. You felt so jittery underneath his gaze like this.

“ you look good.”

His voice was deeper than you remembered as well...sending vibrations right through your body. You stammered on your words trying to find what to say as what he says goes straight to your head, making your face warm up a bit.

“ yeah...uhm, yes well so do you. you really uh tanned up a bit, huh. suits you.”

He chuckled lowly at your words, rubbing the back of his slightly sweatened neck sighing as he speaks to you.

“ yeah well uh, you're not actually the first person to notice that. not the first person to say that either. alot of uh soccer moms seem to love the tan.”

He laughs at the end of his sentence, you can't help but to laugh along with him. Sighing shakily as you stare at him. You feel as if it's wrong to do so, you hate how much you want him badly but gosh he's so sexy.

You both just look at each other for a moment staring deeply into each other's eyes. You see the way he slowly nibbles at his lip.

Before you knew it you were making out in the bathroom trying to be as quietly as you could considering all of the people that were outside. His hot breaths fanning your face as he struggles to get your clothes off with his slippery hands. He groans lowly as you begin to nip at his neck, his hands wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him.

“ god, I want you so fuckin’ badly.”

Shoyou groaned above you, sitting you up on the counter as he cranes your head up to his so he can kiss you once more. He lets his tongue find it's way inside of your mouth. Your tongues swirling around each others spit slipping at the corners of your mouths.

Once he gets your shirt off her quick to attack your chest kissing sloppily over your pushed up boobs, hands going to your back to quickly remove your back his hands coming up to replace it, gently squeezing and groping the meaty flesh. He groans and moves his kisses and small sucked down to your bare chest, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth.

You hold him close by his head tangling your fingers through his ginger locs, small curls forming around your fingers and you scratch lightly at his scalp humming with a small laugh laced in. You kiss his head lightly as your breathing changes, you pant lightly and lowly a small mewl leaving your lips as he continued leaving hickeys and sucking harshly.

A small knock at the door causes you to tense in his hands, a light gasp leaving you as you pull at his hair slightly. He groans and continues as if he's even more needy than before. Pulling you impossibly closer to him.

A voice speaks slightly muffled due to the barrier you couldn't exactly make out what the male said due to shoyous excessive moaning.

“ shoyou.. there's, there's someone at the door...”

A small grunt leaves his mouth as a response you don't know what to do, you sigh beneath his touch jittery and nervous due to the person

After a while it appears he'd left, but by then shoyou was already burying his face inside of your cunt. Inhaling deeply at the smell of you he missed so much, a small whine leaving him as he kissed your clothed cunt sloppily.

He pulled away swiftly to remove the barrier, pulling your pants and panties down at once. Delving his tongue inside immediately without hesitation groaning at the taste of you on his tongue eyes slightly rolling as he struggles to keep his composure.

He licks and sucks up everything you give him trying to maintain eye contact with you as be makes out with your cunny having his thumb rub circles on your clit slowly. As he pulls away momentarily from you a line of your arousal and his spit connects him to your cunt making you shudder at how he looks at you.

Hes so pussy drunk he can't help but to push his face back into your sweet folds tongue flicking and swirling around your clit as he fingers you slowly. There were murmurs outside of the door causing you slight concern, maybe you were being too loud or maybe he was slurping too loudly. There were so many things clouding your head, however with your orgasm coming fastly and crashing down on you all you could do was grab shoyou by his hair and try and pull him away from you.

He kept licking up everything you gave him sighing in your pussy as he rubs your thighs soothingly. He pulls away from you finally licking up everything left on his face before making eye contact with you once more. He smirks and scoffs lowly before pulling your clothes up and riding to his feet.

You catch your breath, yet feeling a bit more breathless as you look into his eyes. Full of determination and a hint of cockiness. He pulls you into a slow kiss letting you taste the flavours of yourself on his tongue.

You sigh shakily before pushing him away lying your head in his shoulder as you continue to level your breathing. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your head making you laugh lightly.

“ I miss this. I miss you.”

He rubbed your shoulder softly looking at himself in the mirror facing the music of his previous decisions. Shoyou didn't know what he wanted but he knew he couldn't let you go. Not again.

“ you were right....before, that is.”

He hums looking down at you, you dust yourself off before jumping off of the counter turning to wash your hands and encouraging him to do the same. You two stand side by side as you both dry your hands, he looks at you wondering whatever it is that you mean .

“ I was holding you back. I still might...you're meant for greatness. I would only get in the way of that.”

He scoffed annoyed at your response. Shoyou didn't care about any of that, sure he knew some of his fans would be upset upon hearing he would be in a relationship but he doesn't care. He truly does love you and he always has. There was no way in hell be would pass up getting to follow his passion and being with you.

“ y/n I love you. more than I do anything else in this world. I can handle a little hate from some people, especially if it means I can be with you and do what I love.”

You sigh. This was a lot. You didn't want to take him away from the world or from what he loves. It would make you feel bad, not just about yourself but for him. At first you didn't get it, but now you understand. All too well unfortunately. You can't hold him back like this, not again. He'd be better off following his dreams and focusing on them rather than having to worry about you and manage himself and his goals.

You turn to him tears welling in your eyes once more, you give a wobbly smile to him one that he knew couldn't mean anything good. He sighed shakily accepting what he knew was to come. As fun as this was you both knew it wouldn't work. You loved each other too much; cared for each other too much. So much so that it held you both back.

Just as you were about to speak, about to apologize he simply pulls you into a hug. It was tight and comforting exactly what you both needed. His breathing changed as if he were trying to hold back his emotions. You kissed his cheek before letting him go telling him he should wait few before leaving after you. He agrees.

As you walked out of that bathroom you ran into a couple of people saying your goodbyes and giving your hugs to everyone and leaving.

Weeks pass and just as you thought you could get over whatever you needed to get over in order to focus on yourself. You scroll on social media to find everyone talking about ‘japanese volleyball player shoyou hinata, better known as 'ninja shoyou' from the black jackals seen leaving bathroom after another woman.’ there was a clear video showing you walking out of the bathroom fixing yourself up and saying goob ye to people and then shoyou walking out about a couple of minutes later.

Fuck

[nightscythe]

the primarchs as dom/sub

sorry if this has been done before, I just couldn't get it out of my head. based this on my more dark view of the lore/universe and how I write them. there is a secret third (sixth?) option, vanilla.

nsfw, 18+ below the cut. mostly pre-heresy

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the lion: dom. top of the charts. in his everyone is there to serve him, and you are no different. into all that humiliation and degradation, thoroughly enjoys the way you writhe under him and beg him so desperately. he'll hold your face towards him and ask you if you really deserve him in that way. makes you beg until you're crying. he just looks at you lovingly and finally gives you what you want, not before he makes it agonisingly slow for you. will still please you just to prove a point and he's surprisingly good at it, especially with his huge hands and his tongue. loves you deep down, but truly believes its his place to be above you and telling you what to do. gets you to clean him up afterwards and maybe lets you lay with him.

fulgrim: switch. it's too easy to say he's into everything, but I do believe he would try everything at least once, and is happy to indulge anything he likes. sometimes that's putting a collar on you and admiring his view as he tells you step by step what you'll be doing next. sometimes it's being held down to the bed with the softest of ribbons as you pour hot wax over his chest. he wants to explore what there is to offer and if you're open to it, so is he. so that does mean odd things as well, unexpected little kinks and treats along the way. admires the marks left on both your skin and his, as long as its not permanent.

perturabo: soft dom. doesn't like giving up his control to you, but doesn't reach the hard limits of dominating you fully. his touch is soft and his words and commanding, but only because he is usually like that. probably prefers to not treat you like another one of his men behind closed doors... but still doesn't want you telling him what to do. most probably tried it once and hated it (secretly didn't mind it but he struggles with actually acting submissive, as much as he wanted to be babied some more). there's not many kind words, just pulling your hair where he wants you, grunting as a return of satisfaction, pushing your face into the mattress but giving you enough room to breathe. its a personality thing, really.

the khan: soft dom. he would explore with you, try many things to understand what they are and how they feel, but ultimately he wants to take care of you. the natural result of that is someone who's stroking your cheek and hushing away the tears as you choke on his cock for the seventh minute straight. calls you his baby (or like, something equivalent) as he watches you use him to get yourself off, whimpering and moaning his name, something which genuinely warms him. can make any day better for you, loves to whisper to you how much he cares for you, loves to make you forget anything bad happened with those hands and fingers of his. tucks you in afterwards, protects you with his whole being. aww.

leman: vanilla. my most controversial take. my feeling is he craves connection and someone who understands him, and he's a passionate lover. that isn't to say he wouldn't try being dominant or submissive (probably the latter less so) but his preference is vanilla. something pure filled with emotions. he's so caught up in the moment that he doesn't have time to stop and thinking about telling you to what to do and how to do it. he just goes with whatever happens. maybe externally he puts on a gruff and domineering persona but actually, that doesn't matter to him. he just wants to see you happy and whatever that takes he will do - so he'd happily try any of the kink stuff you wanted. just don't expect him to want to be called daddy/master/etc or submit to you.

dorn: switch. thought about him being vanilla but I don't think he would be. its an interesting world to explore. he's perceptive to whatever you need, but understands that one person has to take a submissive role, and one person a dominant role. maybe that goes to extremes sometimes and he's telling you to call him sir, or he's presenting himself to you tied up (because you may have enjoyed that), but mostly its just the soft things. likes it either way and lets you take control most of the time. only thing he's precious about is giving head, he will always do that in the most submissive way, like he's feasting on nectar from the gods, blessed with each move of his tongue. an interesting experience, to say the least.

curze: soft dom. thinks it is his place to be in control but isn't precious about it like some of his brothers. not as gentle or as caring as he could be during sex but he certainly takes the lead and has something to show about it. wraps his fingers around your neck, holds your hands down against the bed so you can't move, leaves bite after bite over your neck and chest until you're covered in a reminder that you are his. in the same vein, quite possessive, and his more dominant tendencies seem to come out of that is threatened. would probably overstimulate you to let out his frustrations and remind you again that you are his. greedy is the word. wants all of you, to himself, forever and ever. kinks is a different story, but is holding your head underwater until you cum a really dominant thing..?

sanguinius: sub. sorry but like, the first ever thing I thought about with him was calling him a good boy. a very soft lover in general, he lets you take control and thrives off being told how well he is doing, that he's the one who makes you feel this good. isn't afraid to whimper for you, lay down all his strength just so you can tie his pretty arms to the frame of a bed and stroke him over and over again until he begs for it. endures it all just so he can see you ride him. lets you push him around test him. oh, he loves it when you tease him. cockwarming. rubbing him through his clothes. whispering to him that he needs to wait, but doing everything in your power to make him cum there and then? would do absolutely anything for you.

ferrus: soft dom. a bit vanilla at first, with actions and feelings not being his strongest selling point. a man of practicalities seeks to understand everything about you and learn your interests. but of course strength and perfection is key to him. everything he does is dominant. it starts with seeking you out, pushing you against the wall, lips ghosting your ear as you feel how much he needs you. the smirk when he feels how wet you are from just... the thought of him. every movement is precise, and equally intense. you feel all of him, and he makes sure you understand that he is in control here. making up with him in this manner may result in more dominant, hot tempered moments, telling you exactly what he's going to do, and you're going to like.

angron: vanilla. maybe a bit controversial as well. was thinking soft dom but then changed my mind, he's just naturally imposing and domineering but not dominant. when he had the capability to understand love and relationships in that way, I feel it was very personal to him. he wanted to feel the truth, not arbitrary words of praise or command. so therefore it does not steer in a particularly dominant or submission direction for either of you, it's a moment of you being truly together. probably the least kinky as well imo. as time progresses it becomes more feral, more of an untamed desire, which is still unmatched to either side. personality wise he is probably more dominant though so take that as you will.

guilliman: soft sub. but like close to vanilla. he doesn't need to be told what to do or pushed around, but just a little guidance. someone to kneel beside him, stroke him slowly, maybe play around with him to test his limits, really learn to understand him. very eager to please you especially when he's between your legs looking up at you with his eyes wet and eyes devious. just tell him he did well, you enjoyed it. makes him come back for more. almost a bit timid, afraid he may hurt you in some way, shy as well. of course by the time he is resurrected he's just baby boy™ but also a regent so the second he has some time away from, you know, being the regent, he just wants forget everything else going on and get lost in you.

mortarion: dom. how could he be anything else? at first its just letting out his frustrations but then it's something more. primal. there's no maybes with him, no suggestions. he tells you what to do and you do it. sometimes he would be a bit softer, but its rare and usually when he's tired or his mind is elsewhere. he's in control of everything, he tells you when you can cum, he tells you when you can move, and god forbid you don't listen to him. if he hasn't given you permission well... its a week of edging and desperation for you. likes seeing you helpless before him. but when it's all finished and his needs are dealt with, he's got his arms around you and he won't let go. a weird way of registering his feelings.

magnus: switch. thought about this one too long. sometimes he'd love to be cared for, have his hair stroked as you praise him. other times, he's got you up against a wall and using all that size to his advantage. kind of like exploring what their is to offer, but his preferences do not lean towards dom or sub individually, maybe just a very small amount towards sub because he feels utterly useless without being told just how well he is doing. doesn't mean he's not smug about it when he finds you alone thinking about it. that's when his more dominant side comes out. if we are talking about demon form though it's definitely dom all the time.

horus: soft dom. it's not that he can't be fully dominant. he can. but why do it when he can be taken care of with soft kisses and making you happy too? hence the soft bit. likes to watch with his hand in your hair as you suck him off. tells you to take a little more of him and softly encourages you, never forces you. it's like a subtle hint, one you will get, or he'll just add a touch more dominance for show. discovers the daddy kink by accident and is fascinated with it. show daddy what a good girl you've been. holds your hands down as he's behind you. praises you gently and rewards you for small things during the day. probably loves going down on you as well as a reward for bigger things. but he'd never take it too far, he just enjoys the simpler things.

lorgar: sub. so eager to please. wants to be rewarded. he'd be on his knees for days if you'd let him, begging, wanting a small taste. even just your scent makes him hard. would wait for your command to do anything - touch himself, touch you, etcetc. whines and whimpers until you finally let him cum each time. at first its seems like he hates it but he does very much like it. any time you don't tell him what to do he looks lost and needs your guidance. based on this he would always let you be on top and especially likes it when he can look at you and worship you. every part of your body is divine to him. any time you're apart he's thinking of you and wondering when he will next get to hear your voice command him around. whipped.

vulkan: soft dom. super protective of you and isn't afraid to show it. has you take about your day as he goes down on you. tells you not to stop and looks to you curiously when you can't get your words out straight. is always so gentle though he could never reach the level of dominance like some of his brothers, its barely even soft dom - it's gentle, passionate, but every single one of his movements means something. tells you how well you are doing as you take his whole length and holds you close. likes hearing every sound you make and still asks permission to do everything, uttering things like may I? as his lips and tongue finds your body. really cautious of hurting you.

corax: dom. nothing soft about him. maybe to everyone else he looks like he would not value anything physical, but really, he's an absolute...menace? has you over his knee letting out his frustrations one spank at a time. likes it when you cry his name. rubs you through your clothes and laughs when you're an overstimulated mess on the floor. master/slave dynamic at some points. and it feels like it goes on and on for hours with him, he plays out fantasies in his head, has you on your knees then in his lap making you watch in the mirror as you cry and beg. but afterwards he would clean you up every time and fall asleep with you between his arms because he's quietly, and a lot less obviously, devoted to you too.

alpharius: soft sub. though he could be anything. i like to think one twin is soft sub and one is soft dom, which would technically make the single entity a switch. is it too late to change? considering I see him as a bit of a yandere it may be a bit of a surprise, but his darker side is outside the bedroom. inside, he is sweet and innocent, he's begging for praise and to be held. has you straddling his lap with your fingers in his mouth making him wait patiently for you to be ready to actually please him. handsy, touches you everywhere, barely contains himself around you. you'd get suspicious when he tells you to stop, throws you onto the mattress and takes you from behind... but hey, they don't know what each other are like. daydreams about you though. has a little notebook with hearts around your name but no one can see it.

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I know not everyone will agree but I hope I at least made you think!!

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 15

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension

Matt finishes up his shots, handing the jacket off to Chris before running a hand through his hair.

I take that as my cue, slipping my own jacket on. Just as I’m adjusting the sleeves, Matt starts walking toward me. My pulse skips slightly, but I force myself to act normal.

"Nice jacket" I say, my voice light, playful. I tug at the sleeve for emphasis. "We’re twinning."

He follows my motion, then looks back at his own. For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his expression, something almost unreadable, before he smirks. "Yeah, guess so."

I tilt my head, raising a brow. "Trying to be me now?"

Matt huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, this was all Chris. Maybe he wanted to show it was unisex or something, I don’t know." His tone is easygoing, dismissive, like the whole thing didn’t really matter.

Something in me sinks slightly. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe some kind of confirmation that there was a meaning behind it. That it wasn’t just a coincidence. That he had chosen it intentionally. But I nod, forcing myself to brush it off, not wanting to read too much into it.

Before I can say anything else, Nick, who had clearly been listening, steps in. "Okay, well, since you two are basically in matching outfits, you should get some pictures together."

I blink, glancing at Matt, who looks just as thrown off by the suggestion. He hesitates for a split second, then shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Chris, already looking back at photos, gives an approving nod. "Yeah, that could be cool. Matt stand behind Y/n."

I swallow, suddenly more aware of the way my jacket feels against my skin, the way Matt's standing just close enough for our sleeves to almost touch. I nod, stepping forward, trying to ignore the way my heart is beating.

We start taking photos, the fading sun casting a golden hour glow over everything. We take turns, everyone gets their solo shots, duo shots in turns between the boys then some of just Chris, Matt and Nick together. There’s small moments, genuine laughter caught between shots.

At one point, Chris calls me over, gesturing for me to stand beside him. "Let’s get some together" he says, adjusting his hoodie. It would be nice for both of us to have photos together, considering how hard we've worked on this.

By the time we’re done, the sky is a deep navy blue. We huddle around, flicking through the photos. The excitement is evident, everyone’s happy with how they turned out.

Chris straightens up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright" he announces, a grin stretching across his face. "I say we celebrate."

Nick smirks. "You just want an excuse to go drinking."

Chris shrugs. "Yeah, and?"

We all laugh, the energy still buzzing in the air as we gather our things. The beach is still calm and quiet with the sounds of distant music playing from the bars lining the shore. We make our way up to the strip and walk into a lively sports bar.

Chris makes his way over to the bar and orders a round of drinks, effortlessly charming the bartender as he waits. Meanwhile, the rest of us find a table near the open air area, where there's a light breeze.

I decide to make my way to the bar, stepping up beside Chris. “I’ll help you carry them” I offer, reaching for a couple of glasses.

He flashes me a grateful smile. “Thanks” he says, passing two drinks to me. “Man, I’m so happy with how everything turned out. The photos, the jackets, everything.”

I smirk, nudging him playfully. “Even Matt’s jacket?”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, don’t act clueless. His is basically identical to mine, my initial, my favorite number. You trying to make us twins or something?” I tease, though there’s an edge of curiosity in my tone.

Chris looks at me for a moment, confused. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he says, “I didn’t do that.”

My head snaps towards Chris. “What?”

“I didn’t pick Matt’s design” Chris explains, grabbing the last drink. “He sat with me when I was placing the order back in Vegas. I had already filled in everyone else’s details, but he got to choose his own.”

The words hit me like a slow motion realization, the pieces falling into place one by one.

Matt chose it himself.

The same initial. The same number. On purpose. And he played it off.

I swallow, my fingers tightening slightly around the glasses in my hand. My heart thumping in my chest. Chris is still talking, but his voice fades into the background as my mind races. I don’t even know how to feel, shocked? Conflicted? Something deeper?

Chris finally glances over at me, noticing the shift in my expression. “You good?”

I snap back to reality, forcing a small smile. “Yeah,” I lie. “Just.. taking the whole night in.”

Chris doesn’t question it, just shrugs before nodding toward the table. “Come on, let’s bring these over.”

I follow, but my mind is elsewhere.

Matt did it on purpose.

And I have no idea what that means.

As we set the drinks down on our table, I sneak a glance across at Matt. He’s leaned back in his chair, talking to Nate about something. My His jacket rests against the chair beside him, the initial and number staring back at me like some kind of silent confession.

I try my best to brush it off and we fall into easy conversation within the group. Chris and Nate get another round of drinks, sliding them across the table. The energy between us is nice, everyone is buzzing after a successful shoot and the anticipation of whatever the night might bring.

Chris grins as he leans back in his chair. “I mean, tell me that wasn’t one of the cleanest shoots we’ve ever done. No arguments, no disasters.. kinda feels wrong.”

Nate laughs. “It’s because I was there. Everything runs smoother when I’m around.”

Matt snorts, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, okay, let’s not rewrite history. Weren’t you the one who knocked over a whole light stand last time and blamed it on the wind?”

Nate places a hand on his chest, replying in defense. “It was the wind. A strong gust. Nature conspired against me.”

Chris shakes his head. “The only thing working against you is your own coordination.”

I laugh, settling back in my chair as the teasing continues. It’s easy like this, the kind of comfort that only comes from knowing each other for so long.

Nick pulled up some of the photos on his phone. He slides it across the table, and everyone leans in to look.

“Oh, this one’s sick” Matt says, tapping the screen. “But I feel like Y/n should’ve gotten the solo shot standing on the rocks instead of me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting I would’ve done it better?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mmm, not exactly. Just saying your balance is probably better, considering I nearly fell to my death up there.”

“You tripped once.”

“And it was a near death experience.”

Nick laughs. “Guy swayed a little and saw his life flash before his eyes.”

“I felt myself falling, kid” Matt insists, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t expect you guys to understand.”

I roll my eyes, reaching over to take the phone from him. “Anyway, let’s look at other pictures before this turns into the Matt Survival Story.”

The night continues like that, joking and teasing. The drinks kept coming, round after round, and at some point, I stopped keeping track. The buzz in my head was fun, my limbs loose, and the laughter around the table made me feel nice.

Chris, clearly feeling it too, leaned forward suddenly, eyes wide with a drunken revelation. “You know what sounds unreal right now?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten us.”

“Churro’s.” Chris declared, as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “Like, really good, proper churros. There’s gotta be a spot somewhere on this strip.”

Nick laughed, swirling the last bit of his drink in his glass before setting it down with a clink. “That actually doesn’t sound like the worst idea. Wanna walk and see what’s around?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah.”

Nate stretched, already pushing himself up from his chair. “Might as well. I could go for something sweet.”

I expected Matt to get up too, but he stayed seated, nursing his drink with an unreadable expression.

Nick glanced between us before shrugging. “You guys staying?”

Matt barely looked up. “Yeah, we’re good here.”

Chris wiggled his eyebrows at us like he knew something we didn’t before nudging Nate to move. “Alright, suit yourselves. Don’t get too bored without us.”

With that, the three of them wandered off, their voices carrying over the music and street noise before fading into the night.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling as I swirled my straw in my drink. The silence between Matt and I stretched, but for once, it wasn’t awkward. It was.. easy.

“You’re holding up well” he commented, nodding toward my glass. “Thought you’d be slurring by now.”

I smirked, tilting my head. “So you underestimated me?”

“Never” he said smoothly, a small grin forming on his lips. “I just figured you’d be the responsible one tonight.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m on vacation. Responsibility is not in my vocabulary right now.”

Matt raised his glass slightly, as if to toast to that. “Fair enough.”

We both took a sip, the air between us charged with this weird tension, a different tension to normal, something neither of us seemed in a rush to address. 

Matt set his drink down, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on the table. His eyes, a little lazy from the alcohol, flickered with something unreadable.

“So, if responsibility isn’t in your vocabulary right now” he smirked, “what is?”

I smirked, continuing to swirl my straw in my glass. “Recklessness, maybe. Spontaneity.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Spontaneity, huh? That’s a dangerous game.”

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I like a little danger.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah?” He leaned in slightly. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

I took a sip of my drink, letting the ice clink together. “And here I was, thinking I was predictable.”

He shook his head, studying me like he was trying to figure me out. “Not even close.”

Before I could respond, Nick’s voice cut through the moment, his energy a stark contrast to our quiet exchange.

“Guys!” he said, slightly breathless, plopping down into a chair, “we just found something way better than this place.”

Chris and Nate sat down beside him, both grinning.

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Better how?”

Nick leaned forward, excitement clear in his face. “There’s a bar at the end of the street with a full on drag show happening. It looks insane.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically. “We’re talking full performances, outfits, the whole thing. You guys down?”

I glanced at Matt, whose lips twitched into an amused smirk.

“Well” he said, looking at me, “since you’re in your spontaneity era…”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t even like using the term era”

Nick grinned, slapping the table. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get out of here.”

Matt lingered at my side, as we stumbled down the strip and into bar. The place is alive, bright neon lights, a shimmering backdrop behind the stage, and a drag queen in a sequined bodysuit commanding the crowd. She’s scanning the room, mic in hand, looking for her next victims to drag onstage.

Before I even have a chance to process what’s happening, Nick’s hand clasps around mine.

“Oh no” I start, shaking my head, but it’s too late.

“You know we have to do this.” he grins, practically dragging me toward the stage.

Chris, Nate, and Matt cheer from the table, egging us on like we have a choice in the matter. I laugh, half in protest, but I already know what’s about to happen.

Nick’s been dying to perform Alter Ego ever since we watched Crystal Envy and Lexi Love lip sync to it on Drag Race. And now, here we are, center stage, spotlights on us.

The beat drops, and suddenly, Nick transforms. He throws himself into the performance, rapping along flawlessly, hyping up the crowd, while I do my best to keep up, dancing and laughing through the whole thing. The drag queen is eating it up, hyping us both as if we were seasoned performers.

By the time the song ends, we’re completely breathless, and for once I’m not embarrassed by all of the attention. The drag queen dramatically bows to us, then gestures to the bartender.

“Now that is how you commit to the bit” she says into the mic. “Drinks are on the house for these two.”

We walk back to our table, joining back with the others when a tray of free shots is handed to us.

Chris whistles from the table. “I mean, if free drinks are involved, I might have to hit the stage next.”

Matt shakes his head, chuckling as I sit down.

“You really went for it” he says, impressed.

I grab a shot from the tray, still catching my breath. “What can I say? Spontaneity, remember?”

He raises his glass, smirking. “Guess you weren’t lying.”

I clink my glass against his before throwing back the shot, the burn of alcohol mixing with the rush of the night so far.

The warmth of the alcohol spreads through my body all at once, a delayed hit that makes my head spin slightly. The mix of adrenaline from the performance and the lingering buzz leaves me feeling lightheaded. My skin is still damp with sweat, a mix from dancing under the lights and the Hawaiian heat. 

I set my empty shot glass down and push back from the table. “I need some air” I mumble, mostly to myself, but Matt’s eyes flick toward me for a second before I turn away.

Stepping outside, the slight breeze feels cool against my overheated skin. I exhale, running a hand through my hair, trying to steady the rush in my head. So much has happened in just the past 24 hours. Getting my locket back, the jacket, the way he looked at me earlier, the teasing, the tension. 

It was a very different side of Matt that I wasn’t used to. 

I lean against the side of the building, staring down at my heels, my thoughts spinning faster than they should. Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe Matt isn’t just Matt, the frustrating, teasing, sometimes unbearable guy in our group.

Maybe he’s the guy who went out of his way to do something meaningful for me. The guy who gets jealous when I give someone else my attention. The guy who’s been watching me just as much as I’ve been watching him.

And maybe he likes me. And maybe I like him too.

I heard the sound of the side door to the bar swinging open behind me, catching my attention. I turn to see Matt walking toward me.

“You good?” His voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

I glance at him standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me. The concern in his eyes is subtle, but it’s there.

“Yeah” I say, offering a small smile. “Just a bit warm. And very drunk.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. “Yeah, no shit. You and Nick just put on a whole damn concert in there.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s been waiting for that moment.”

Matt smirks but then tilts his head slightly, considering me. “You wanna go for a walk on the beach or something? Might make you feel better.”

I hesitate for a second, but something about the way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to say no.

“Yeah” I say. “That sounds nice.”

We head down toward the sand, the noise from the strip fading as the waves take over and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Matt walks beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, but there’s an ease to his posture. “So” he starts, a teasing lilt creeping back into his voice, “you gonna add karaoke connoisseur to your resume after that performance?”

I roll my eyes but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. Gonna start touring next week.”

He grins. “I’d buy tickets.”

I nudge him playfully. “You’d probably take the piss out of me the whole time.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, biting back a smirk. “Or maybe I’d just sit front row and admire the view.”

I feel my stomach flip at his words, and suddenly the air between us feels differen again. Even more intense. My steps slow just slightly, and he matches my pace.

“You’re such a flirt” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

Matt smirks. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I shake my head, trying not to smile, but I know he sees right through me. The alcohol has made me bold, but maybe it’s not just the drinks. Maybe it’s him.

We keep walking, the conversation flowing like we never hated each other. Playful. Teasing.

I laugh at something he says, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins, nudging me lightly with his shoulder. “And yet, you love it.”

I roll my eyes but don’t deny it. Before I can think of a comeback, my heel suddenly sinks too deep into the sand, throwing me off balance. I stumble to the side, my hands instinctively reaching out.

Matt reacts fast, catching me before I fall to the ground. One arm wraps firmly around my waist, steadying me, while the other grips my hand. The warmth of his touch against me sends a jolt through me, and I realize just how close we are, his face only inches from mine, his breath grazing over my cheek.

“Damn” he laughs, holding me upright. “You good?”

I grip his forearm, steadying myself. “Yeah, just, heels and sand? Not a great mix" I say, trying to play it cool. "And to think you were suggesting that I should’ve been up on the rocks earlier.”

Matt smirks, but instead of saying anything witty back, he suddenly crouches down in front of me.

I blink. “What are you-”

“Relax” he murmurs, fingers already working at the straps of my heels. “You’re gonna break an ankle trying to walk in these out here We don't need any more ankle problems.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the way he carefully unbuckles each strap, sliding the shoes off my feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world, has my brain rewiring itself.

Once he’s done, he stands, holding my heels in one hand. “There. Now you won’t have an excuse to fall into my arms again.”

I cross my arms, scoffing at him. “I didn’t mean to fall into your arms.”

Matt tilts his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He grins. “And yet, you’re still walking with me.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too much, but I know he sees it. He always does. I bump my shoulder against his playfully. “You know, you don’t have to carry my shoes. I am capable of holding things.”

He smirks. “Yeah, but then what excuse would I have to be a gentleman?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, so you’re a gentleman now?”

Matt raises an eyebrow, stopping in his tracks.

“I mean” he says, looking down at me, “I did just save you from eating sand. That’s got to count for something.”

I glance up at him, my heart racing, but I play it cool. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe I let myself fall on purpose.” I say sarcastically.

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “Oh yeah? You wanted me to catch you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sturniolo.”

“Oh, so we’re using last names now?” He steps closer to me. “Careful, that’s dangerously close to flirting.”

 “Please, if I was flirting, you’d know it.”

“Would I?”

I exhale, feeling my stomach flip. He’s so damn cocky, but I can’t even pretend I don’t love it.

I tilt my chin up defiantly, a slow grin spreading across my lips. “Mhm.”

My heart is racing. I can feel the alcohol in my veins, but this, this moment, is all me. No liquid courage, no overthinking. Just me and him.

I step closer, tilting my head slightly, my body moving on instinct. My mind is made up. I want to close the distance. I want him.

I lean in.

But just as my lips are about to brush his, Matt turns his head.

“We should head back.” His voice is quiet, almost strained.

I freeze.

The rejection slaps me across the face. I pull back quickly, my face heating in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

I swallow hard, forcing a nod. “Yeah.. yeah, okay.”

Matt shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something I can’t quite read. Guilt? Hesitation?

I don’t wait to figure it out. I turn on my heel and start walking back toward the bar, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

My stomach twists uncomfortably. How did I get it so wrong? The way he looked at me, the way he held my waist, the way he played into everything, was it just in my head?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that I just made a move.. and Matt Sturniolo didn’t want me back.

a/n : i would run into the ocean and never return if i got rejected like that

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART SEVENTEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: sae-byeok has been ignoring you for a couple of days and you have to find a way to confront her.

wc. 3.6k

warnings: none

(nowhere girl masterlist)

During those two weeks you didn’t face, Sae-byeok had a lot of time to—think. Properly think. Not just about the outside worries of the world like her all consuming debts, but about who she is. At first, she used to immediately kill the idea of exploring her sexuality. She didn’t have time for such things, it’s not of her. But ever since you abruptly barged your way into her life, she keeps getting pulled back down to face this idea.

Sae-byeok didn’t care about love either. She was content being by herself and the idea of having to bear another person’s responsibilities is too much. But with you it was so easy. Too easy. She has seamlessly embraced you so many times now and has held your hand—all like it was a natural instinct.

She’s getting new feelings and emotions she can’t pinpoint nor has a clue how to act upon them.

Sae-byeok bites the inside of her cheek. She’s looking at you now after days of trying not to, and the answer became clearer.

She thinks you’re a wonderful person. The brightest thing in her shitty life. She likes how much more kinder and wiser you are than her about life, yet still have a form of resilience even if you act upon them recklessly. The fact that you chose to leave your comfortable world behind to find more meaning in yourself in a country that’s against you—it inspired her to think about herself in that aspect. The world was also against her, but she didn’t willingly leave everything she loved behind like you did. However, you both did it for the freedom. But you aren’t naive for leaving—you are an optimist…meanwhile she’s on the other end of that coin. A pessimist.

Today you both came back to the apartment around the same time, you were ar work at the gallery whilst she pickpocketed. Because Sae-byeok lost her most stable job ever and she isn’t sure what will happen once you leave for the summer—she’s tirelessly going from city to city almost everyday trying to collect as much as she can from people’s pocket. Life is becoming uncertain again. It’s scarier now that she has Cheol to take care of. She’s terrified the closer the date of your departure creeps up.

But what scares her the most is what will happen when you come back. You could potentially meet new, more interesting and stable people meaning you’ll forget all about her. Sae-byeok turns bitter just thinking about it.

That’s why she refuses to speak to you. Because realistically, you won’t come back knocking on the apartment door and you’ll just be a lingering ghost trapped in her mind forever. A faint memory.

It was hard at first, avoiding you. Especially since you come to her so bright and full of optimism. She learned to just reply to you with a head shake and walk away. It pained her at first, seeing the obvious hurt in your eyes and your lower lip twitch but one day you’ll thank her. And she will come out of this without a broken heart.

In the kitchen, Sae-byeok is waiting for the water on the pot to boil for her instant ramen. Her phones currently in her room charging—the only form of entertainment she has is watching you.

You, of course, were sitting on the couch with your legs in a crisscross position while you jot down things in your tiny notebook. She was curious to know what possibly you could be writing down. Maybe you were writing a list of items you need for your Italy trip—or spilling your feelings like a journal. Either way, you are deeply concentrated on writing something down. It must be important.

But after a while, your neck and wrist need a break. So, you stretch your limbs and in the process of that your head tilts to where Sae-byeok is standing looking at you. Your face lit up when you caught her because it’s been days since you two made eye contact.

However, her expression hardens and she swiftly spins back around to check up on the boiling water. She concentrates on the feeling she gets in her chest—the rapid thump of her heart. That was something new. And it only took you to look at her for her heart to react this way.

She mentally curses at herself when she hears you shuffling. You had to be making your way to the kitchen. It was hard to avoid you when you keep trying your best to approach her.

“Hey,” she hears that soft voice creeping behind her. Sae-byeok stiffens when you stand next to her. “I was thinking what if I bring back pastries back from Italy. Seeing as you worked at a bakery I think it would be nice to get you sweets. Do you know any Italian sweets?”

Sae-byeok nods no and silently pours the boiling water into the ramen cup.

“Okay, well see if you can find something that peaks your interest. I’m making a list and I want you fill at least half of it.”

There you go again—being the wonderful selfless person, she thinks.

Sae-byeok knows she doesn’t deserve even a quarter of your kindness. You can do so much better than this, she’s sure of it. She’s just waiting for the day you realize that your life could be so much more fulfilling if she wasn’t in the picture.

Sae-byeok just darts to her room with the ramen cup in hand. Dealing with the guilt of giving you the cold shoulder was hard, but she knows she’ll have a harder time dealing with the grief of you forgetting about her.

It’ll be better this way. You both will come out less hurt in the end.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

The thrift shop felt like it was part of a ghost town. Only you, Ji-yeong, and a singular visible employee are situated within these four walls currently. Although most of the clothing and shoe racks were filled to the brim, you could only afford to come for the one thing you need. A suitcase. And Ji-yeong swore by this place.

“Ah, well this isn’t much. Not like last time.” Ji-yeong pouts, crossing her arms and looks disappointed at the fact that there’s only three suitcases in the entire shop. “But that’s what we get for shopping last minute right before June.”

You reach over to inspect each of the suitcases. However, most have huge stains on the inner lining and one doesn’t even have a zipper attached.

“I guess these are the ones people didn’t want.” you sigh and roll them back to their previous spot in the corner of the shop. “I probably have to break the bank a little and buy one in a market.”

She scoffs. “Nonsense. Let’s come on a Monday morning that’s the day they get the best stock out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Shopping obviously.” she chips and scrolls through the endless rack of women’s tops. You send her a look. “What? I need new clothes for the warmer weather and it seems like you do too.”

“I can’t.” you say. It’s true—although it wasn’t the original plan at first. If you didn’t insist on paying Sae-byeok’s rent this month you would’ve been able to get new clothes for your trip. But you’re not going to cry over it.

Sae-byeok. Even just thinking about her makes your chest pang. You couldn’t deny the crush you have on her anymore—not after she confessed something so personal to you.

Now, you think about what more she could be hiding from the world. Her smile. You wish to see her smile sincerely and not in the sly manner like she usually does. A genuine one. It would be nice if you could be the one to make Kang Sae-byeok crack a smile. But that won’t happen in a while because she has been avoiding you for the past week or so.

It’s eating you alive not knowing the reason as to why that is. Or could you possibly just be paranoid? You think you might’ve scared her in some way shape or form. But one can only assume so much before losing your mind. And you know you’re starting to turn crazy.

Sae-byeok has always been a wildcard. A candle in the wind especially when it comes to being vulnerable. And she’s been so vulnerable with you in the past but flipped the switch after her confession. It’s all so confusing.

You didn’t notice you were spacing out until Ji-yeong shoves a shirt in your face. You blink back to reality.

“What do you think?” she asks you. “It’s a basic plain shirt but I think the color is nice. And it’s only two bucks—score!”

“Yeah. Pink looks nice on you.” you hum. Ji-yeong grins and tosses the shirt over her shoulders to keep on searching. “Hey, Ji-yeong.” you say after more thinking.

“Hm?”

“I think, Sae-byeok is avoiding me.”

She pauses shuffling through the racks and turns to look at you with a hardened expression.

“What makes you say that?”

“When was the last time you saw her speak to me this week?”

She winces. “Shit. When you put it like that—it definitely seems like she is. Do you know if you’ve done anything to upset her? I know that’s a hard question to answer since she pretty much gets upset about many things.”

You press your lips into a thin line and think back to Sae-byeok’s confession. “No. Everything’s been normal.” you somewhat lie.

“The only way to find out is to directly ask her.” Ji-yeong advises. “She’s so stubborn I’m certain that she will hold a grudge against someone to the grave. But if you just cut the bullshit and ask her—boom! There’s a ninety percent chance she will tell you—not in the nicest way of course.”

Confrontation. You’re very familiar with it but it’ll be hard for you to confront Sae-byeok amidst the revelation of your feelings for her. You could choke up or even worse accidentally stare straight at her plump lips. It’s already happened once or twice it’s a shocker she hasn’t caught you in the act.

“This top just screams Italy.” she gasps, pulling out a white eyelet tank and measuring it on your upper body.

“I told you I can’t spend money.” you frown. It was hard for you to decline such a pretty item of clothing though.

Ji-yeong wriggles her eyebrows. “I’ll buy it for you, silly. You gave me this beautiful necklace—this will be my gift to you.” she pulls the necklace out from her shirt.

“Thanks.” you mutter with a shy smile. “I’m glad you’re actually wearing it.”

“I’m not one to wear jewelry but I like that this one isn’t heavy. I don’t even feel it most of the time.”

Ji-yeong spends another hour or so browsing through the thrift shop. You just trail behind her to be her judge but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the stone faced girl. If her best friend agrees with you, then she’s certainly avoiding you. And you will do something about it.

The sun was threatening to fall into the depths of the night by the time you and Ji-yeong make it back to the apartment. The days were getting hotter now that summer was approaching, you could barely walk without feeling heat exhaustion. It might just be you though because Ji-yeong merrily enters the apartment with a new bag of clothes.

Her outburst broke Sae-byeok’s trance from the phone call she was in. She was currently sitting on the couch, posture slumped and currently eyeing her roommate while avoiding eyeing you. She blinks back to stare at the floor and waits for the person on the other end of the call to speak. Your jaw clenches slightly—it was so obvious now.

“Oh, here before I forget—or before I purposefully keep it for myself.” she snorts and tosses you the white tank from her bag. She leans to reach the shell of your ear. “Good luck and remember—confrontation.” she whispers and whisks away to her room.

You stand there, staggered and with a shirt on hand. The hardest part might actually be walking over to the couch rather than the talking. Her presence seems more intense than usual—like any tiny thing someone does or says will receive a major outburst from her.

But if Ji-yeong is right, she will tell you the truth. So, you suck it up and plop down on the couch leaving a great amount of room in between you and Sae-byeok.

She’s still looks unfazed by you and doesn’t shift her eyes anywhere other than the ground. It might be nothing but it still makes your chest tighten. What made you feel more hurt was the fact that you don’t know what you’ve done to get the silent treatment from her.

“If you haven’t found her why bother call me? You’re wasting my minutes.” Sae-byeok retorts on the phone. Her voice was loud and demanding, it made your muscles tense. “I know it’s—I’m getting there…Just call me when you get actual information next time. Fucker.” she mutters the last part after hanging the call.

“Is everything alright?” you ask right after.

Sae-byeok went poker face on you the second you spoke. But you caught the way she faintly bit the corner of her bottom lip. She perhaps was contemplating something before she stood up from the couch. This is the part where you know too well—where she runs and hides.

You get off the couch as well and walk around her tall stature to prevent her from secluding in her room. Her eyes went round for a brief second, like she wasn’t expecting you to stop her.

“You’re avoiding me. Why?” you say, demand in your tone.

Sae-byeok’s dilated eyes turn malevolent and she straightens her shoulders. When she finally looks at you that’s when her expression turns even colder. “What are you talking about?” she scoffs.

She bumps past your shoulders to her room. It left you so bewildered—her sudden change. Your jaw went slack.

Then she reappears back from her room with her coat that she aggressively throws on, her way to the entrance door. It leaves you appalled.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” she responds coolly.

“Out? Just like that?” you ask and she slams the door behind her as a response.

You were the ten percent.

“Did you guys fight?” Cheol’s voice appears briefly after you stood there to process what just happened.

Your nostrils flare up but you try to remain calm in front of Cheol who slips out of the room timidly.

“She looks mad…and she always leaves the house when she’s mad.” he murmurs before yawning.

“No, we didn’t fight…But I’ll go talk to her.” you state. It was hard not to choke up and you aren’t sure if Cheol is buying your lie with the odd look he is giving you.

“Okay...” he says, unsurely.

“Don’t worry we’ll be back soon, okay?”

When Cheol reluctantly goes back into his rooms the tears you held back were start to brim your eyes. You didn’t want to talk to her anymore in fear of ending up more hurt. However, you still rummage through your basket of clothes to find your light weight jacket. A small part of you has hope and that might just be enough to confront her.

So, you run after her. When you step outside the complex, you could barely make out Sae-byeok’s stature in the shadows of the young night. She is already two blocks ahead and is about to make a corner turn. You did a lot of running this year, but you never expect to run after this girl.

You feel an immense adrenaline rush when you finally see her after running like your life depended on it. However, she kept up her fast pace.

“S…Sae-byeok!” you are barely to say across the other end of the block.

After hearing your faint cry she stops dead in her tracks but doesn’t make a move to turn around to look at you. Your adrenaline sparks even higher when you sprint closer to her.

Now that she was at arms reach, you yank her by her arm.

“What the fuck!” she hisses when you pull her to the direction of a alleyway corner. However, she doesn’t fight back.

You pin her to the back to the alleyway and take a couple steps backwards to properly catch your breath.

“What is wrong with you?” she snarls, her voice is shaking. It could be mistaken for anger but there was a hint of concern that seeps through her aggressive tone.

When you finally blink your eyes open, you straighten yourself up to face her fully. The alleyway was dark. The shadows cover Sae-byeok’s freckles and you could barely see her sharp eyes and grimacing lips.

All the anger, hurt, and sadness you were feeling whisks away. Now, you were full of determination because she has no choice but to face you. You don’t feel your body movements, however your mind is blurry with thoughts of her.

You grab her by her collar pull her closer to clumsily crash her lips into yours. It was a quick impulsive kiss that ended as soon as it started. You know Sae-byeok isn’t a person who trusts someone by their words, she needs to see their actions. Even if it jeopardizes everything, it was the only way you were able to express it to her.

Her glistening eyes search yours the moment you pull away. You couldn’t possibly tell what she was feeling, but your actions must’ve flustered her by the flush that crept her face.

“I’m sorry.” you breathe, releasing your grip from her. The pull you had on her jacket exposed the lengthy scar on her neck she quickly tries masking with her hair. “But you won’t even listen to me I didn’t know what else to do to make you…”

Sae-byeok remains speechless by your earnest action. Her mouth opens and closes like a fish above water trying to search for the words needed to be spoken but ultimately flounders. To you, it was a sign to bury away your feelings deeply.

“Are you going to say anything?” you ask, your voice oozing with desperation. But she keeps on being quiet. “Fine, if—if you don’t feel the same way I’ll get over it…But if I knew you’d act weird like this then I promise you I would’ve never done what I just did!”

Sae-byeok was never a woman of words. You know that.

She doesn’t say anything at all when she reaches to cup the sides of your face to kiss you again. Now that you both know this affection is mutual, the second time is more gentle and lasting. This new sensation of intimacy was still so new to both of you, so you gave each other time to savor and test out this long felt kiss through feathery movements of each other’s lips and hesitant touches.

By the time you both pull away, both your arms are all over each others. Her hands gripping your waist, while yours were entangled in her short raven hair. Your faces were still inches away from each others as you both catch your breaths. Goosebumps trail Sae-byeok’s arms when your fingers absentmindedly traces the scar on her neck.

“Why were you avoiding me?” you ask, your eyes sparkly with tears.

“I’m…” is all she was able to say.

You push her away, causing her back to get pushed against the wall once more, and you wipe your tears. What was worse was the fact that you could still feel the ghost of her lips on yours.

“Wh—What did I do…?” you press further, still aggressively wiping off crystals of tears. When all the teardrops were gone you look into her guilty eyes. “Tell me, Sae-byeok!”

Her lower lip trembles and she faces down to her shoes. It was faint but you could hear her muffle to hold back sobs.

You reach to tuck the strands of hair on the sides of her face and gently make her face you. Her red eyes make your heart clench. “This isn’t just about me is it?” you whisper to her. “Tell me what’s wrong? Please.”

“I’m sorry.” she croaks. She tries to regain her composure by straightening herself up but you could still hear her sniffling. “I’m…just scared.”

You sigh and lean back against the wall beside her. It might be easier for her to talk if you weren’t directly looking at her.

“Scared of what?”

“You leaving.” she replies. You gulp. “Because you can. And you don’t have to burden yourself with me or my shitty life again because you have the opportunity to—to do great things in life. I don’t.”

“And you thought avoiding me would…hurt less.” you finish.

She barely just nods. And you just wonder how many more people in her life have left her in the past for her to want to cope this way.

“That won’t ever happen—“

“How do you know?” she cuts off, trembling. “People change.”

You go to take her hand and wait for her to look at you. “I know because what I feel for you won’t change after one stupid trip.” you say and watch the way her bites her bottom lip. “Sae-byeok, you’re so brave—and just…the love you have for Cheol and your mom it’s so beautiful. I get why you put on a hard front but I know you deeply care for your people. I see it everyday. Every sacrifice you’ve made was for love. And tomorrow, you will wake up at five in the morning like you always do because of love. Not many people in this world can do that, but you do. That’s why I really—truly like you…”

Sae-byeok immediately goes to wrap her arms around you. Her breathing relaxes through your touch.

“I really like you too.” she mutters shyly. “And I’m sorry again for avoiding you.”

“I forgive you. But please never do this again.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

“I solemnly promise.”

When the hug is mutually broken, the intense and high emotions is long subdued. Leaving you two to awkwardly stand there and reflect on this moment. When you and Sae-byeok make eye contact after this awkward pause, neither of you glance away. Instead, you share a small moment of laughter—also sharing blush cheeks and racing hearts.

“So…” you mumble.

“So…” she repeats, continuing to smile bashfully at you.

“Does this mean you are also a lesbian?”

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts @wlvlurvsfimmia

[dr-solomon]

silicon diamonds

(🔞) w: dom!yeonjun × f!reader, inexperienced reader, tying up(with a tie>), color thing, pussy eating (&slapping), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, cursing, praising, creampie, unprotected sex

You thought about what you wanted over and over again until you sat on your knees on his bed.

The feeling that crushed your stomach when he said he wanted to tie you up in the middle of a conversation, when he was tempted by a detail of yours, didn't leave you until this moment. You expected to repent and step back - because you saw a madness in Yeonjun's eyes that he couldn't hide - but in your body there is only a cruel desire. Wanting him to see you vulnerable, wanting to drive him crazy, wanting him to satisfy you in a way that makes you lose your balance on your hands and knees...

After learning that you had never tried this before, he spent some time on it and told you something about colors, but it was distracting to see his hand grasping his tie.

He untied it easily as he stepped towards you and you could hear your heart beating in your ears.

“I'm not gonna tie you to the bed, you might not like it- and to tell me if you don't like it. If it's too much just say it and I'll untie you immediately."

His voice was gentle and low, as if he had long dreamed of seeing you in his bed and now that he had it he was having a hard time controlling all that desire.

You nodded and when he leaned towards you, you reached for his lips but he didn't kiss you. Helped you turn around, placing his hands on your waist. His palms touched your shoulder for a split second and slid down, making sure he didn't put your arms at a wrong angle, then grabbed your wrists and pressed them together.

You thought you could breathe now that he couldn't see your face.

Body trembled more and more as you let him to restrict your range of motion, a foreign and new sensation.

He tied the soft but thick black fabric around your wrists with such gentle care that it felt more like he was freeing you than leaving you vulnerable. But the feeling lasted until Yeonjun pushed you to your knees.

With a silent moan you fell onto your cheek, he gripped your hips and lifted them up a little more, capturing that moment when you looked perfect. More perfect than he'd ever imagined.

You sighed as you felt his fingers dig into your skin, closed your eyes and swallowed all the intense emotions that filled your throat, realized that he was taking his time to watch you and to imprint your image in his mind in the most permanent way.

The surface of his fingernails scratched your skin softly as he slowly peeled your panties off your legs. His hands left you for a second as he slowly positioned himself behind you on the bed.

Your hips contracted as his thumb traced a line between your lips with a ghostly touch, you heard a low growl from him and you knew it was only cause of your wetness. He mumbled something you could barely hear about you being really excited.

“Do you like to try new things?” feeling his hot whisper directly against your pussy cause of the position of his face made you close your eyes.

“Not usually.”

Yeonjun laughed quietly at your answer, but even so, hearing that you wanted him fed his erection.

His warm hands grasped your thighs and spread them apart, first licking the length of your lips, then pressing his tongue between them and that... His firm grip on your thighs was the only thing keeping you balanced.

It became a problem that he would not let you taste his mouth first while he tasted you making quiet wet sounds.

He swirled his tongue around, pressing against your clit and making your breathing rise in time to his movements.

Your lower body began to tremble slowly under his hands as your brow furrowed in heavy pleasure.

The wet sounds of his mouth and the pictures in your mind of what he looked like right now made you drip a little on the sheets.

Face flushed with need and a little embarrassment, you were glad he didn't see it.

You pressed your forehead against the bed and a sharp gasp escaped your mouth as he pressed the tip of his teeth against your sensitive flesh and began to move his head slowly up and down.

His grip on your hips tightened as you pressed your hips against his mouth, you heard a low moan before he opened his mouth wide and pressed back against you.

“Ah- Yeonjun...” with tears in your eyes, panting, you started saying his name stupidly. “Yeonjun... Y-yeonjun....”.

Voice was getting higher and higher pitched and Yeonjun was eating you like his life depended on it.

Tears and the little drool from your open mouth and of course your juices were sweetly soiling his bed. You believed he should have warned you earlier that he would tie you up and eat you until you cried.

You gave up when his thumb touched your pussy to work just below his lips. You squirted deliciously as he continued to aggressively shake his mouth. You cried until the last drop and he didn't stop until the last drop.

You let the orgasm loosen and shake your body as you pressed your head to the bed, and it made your body fall to the sheets.

You could hear him breathing.

Pulling your legs towards you, he brushed your hair out of your face to see the tears still streaming from your eyes.

Even if your vision was blurred, you could see that the sight of you made his eyes sparkle. He adored every inch of your face and your crying was clearly having an effect on him.

“Was it that good?” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips and his eyes never leaving you as he shifted your body a little further on the bed.

“I...” you started quietly, but couldn't continue when his hand settled between your legs.

He cupped your pussy nicely, which continued to throb, and he growled as he looked down there for a bit.

“So perfect...”

You swallowed, your thighs closing around his hand as his eyes found your face again. He slid his middle and ring finger inside you slowly and it shook your whole body, making you gasp.

He pushed almost up to his knuckles and leaned into your face as he pressed hard inside you. He wasn't smiling but you could see a sneer there as you stared at his face.

“It's your first time being fingered, isn't it?” he curled his fingers inside you nicely and started pumping. Your body shuddered and turned sideways, his gaze making you embarrassed and adding to the pink of your face.

You shook your head with a whimper and squirmed, trying to get away from him a little. “N-no...”

You saw a blurry image of him raising his eyebrows.

“Don't count the times you touch yourself.” he said, leaning into your ear as he started to move his fingertips deeper: “I don't think you can count anyway.”

You closed your eyes tightly as a small smile of him shot straight to your stomach. He was mocking your inexperience and it only made you drip more.

“Y-yeon...”

“Too sensitive?” he poked your clit with his thumb, making you flinched slightly. He liked the sound of your cry so much that he teasingly squeezed your clit between his index and thumb.

Your legs instantly closed and your body turned sideways more from the sensitivity and move away from him on the bed, causing his fingers to slip out of you, and it was a mistake to think that this would allow you to breathe a little.

It didn't take him long to grab you around the waist and pull you back to him.

“Where are you going with that wetness?”

“S-slow- Please...”

“Okay, okay...Just open up."

You slowly moved your trembling legs, but as soon as you opened them, he slapped your pussy and took the loudest sound of the night from you. “Ah!”

He worshipped with his eyes the state he had gotten you into, your body looking too delicious writhing on his bed.

“Color?”

He whispered after his smile slowly faded, one hand resting on your shoulder. He was staring hungrily at everything you did, the way you licked your lips, the way you took a deep breath, the way your lips trembled as you tried to pull yourself together to answer him.

“Green.” you mumbled without opening your eyes, but when his hand on your shoulder squeezed there momentarily, you had an idea of what your wanting to continue was doing to him.

He moved off of you a little and helped you sit up and took one of your hands, checking that the knot was still thigh around your wrists.

“Is it good?” then he leaned down to your face and wanted to hear it from you. His hand slowly combed your hair back and for a second you looked at each other's mouth as your noses brushed each other. Your eyes traveled between his mouth and his eyes as you nodded at him.

He put one hand on your waist and slid it softly over your hips, stroking. “Want to kiss?” he whispered, staring intently at your slowly parted lips.

“I- Yes...”

You couldn't tell if he was smiling or not, but you could tell he liked the way you answered him.

His other hand slipped from the hollow of your neck to cup your cheek and murmured as your lips were almost touching. “Then you should try harder.”

A hoarse gasp escaped your mouth, he catched the momentary flicker of your pupils.

“Are you gonna be good for me?”

You nodded quickly, your fingered pussy making itself known with need.

“Sweet.” he smiled slightly, his thumb slipped over your lower lip and he took his hands off you.

He didn't even bother to take his pants off completely. He just pulled them down for just enough room and sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs wide.

You moved towards him on your knees on the sheets to reconnect, but it was difficult with your hands tied behind your back.

He wrapped his arms around you, making you stand between his legs and turn around. You shivered as your hips rubbed against his hardness.

“Relax.” he pressed the tip between your thighs. “Can you fuck yourself nicely on top of me?” he murmured, watching your juice sliding over the surface of his shaft.

“Yes...”

“Show me.”

Slowly you started to lower your hips and he helped you, holding his cock until you took it completely.

Your back tensed with satisfaction, heard both of you moaning. Yours a little breathy and his a little growly.

You sighed as his hands gathered your hair and let it fall down your back, you slowly began to move your hips on him. He pressed his hands into the sheets and spread his legs wider, began to watch you. He clearly enjoyed the little sounds you made as you played needily in his lap.

“Faster.” he muttered under his breath and you swallowed, it was hard to keep your balance with your hands tied behind you. You were a mess in his lap.

When you paused for a moment, he put one hand on your waist, then he gasped as you started to jump with all your strength. His hand tightened around your waist, moving with you as you sat up and down on him.

“Good... Good girl...”

His thick voice sent goosebumps down your spine, you felt his hand grabbing your bound wrists as you continued to bounce eagerly.

“Fuck, fuck...” he felt out of control as he pulled you to him, making you jump faster and faster.

“You have no idea how pretty you look right now-”

His words made you wet his cock even more, couldn't hide how devastated you are.

His hand balled into a fist in the tight knot of the tie. The fact that he could move your body in his hands at will continued to make your head spin. But the pain was starting to show in your wrists. “Y-yeonjun”

He bit his lower lip, watching your hips swallow him eagerly, slightly loosened his grip.

“A little more.” ran his thumb over your skin, which looked sensitive and a little pink. “I know you can do it.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to his chest, you felt his hips moving to meet yours as you continued to roll your hips against him in a warmer position.

“Ah...”

He watched your mouth slowly opened. “You liked my lap....” whispered as your breath sounds mingled together. “You ride me so sweetly...” his warm lips touched your ear. “Just to cum all over my cock,” looked down at your hips again, squeezing your waist. “So fucking perfect...”

“Y-yeonjun...”

Your responsiveness gave him an overwhelming pleasure, something crazy that made him want to cum deep inside you.

“Feels so good?”

“Fuck- Yes-”

As your orgasm nears, you started to go harder and messier against him.

“Ah- That's my girl...”

You could feel it against your skin how Yeonjun's body was contracting. Tears came back to make your cheeks shine.

“Yes, yes, yes...” Yeonjun held you tight. “Yes, baby-”

The room filled and filled with the obscene sound of your bodies slamming together.

Your second orgasm came almost with a scream, making Yeonjun followed immediately after with a curse, fill you completely.

You couldn't even open your eyes as all the pleasure made your body boneless. As the orgasm turned into a sweet dizziness, you felt Yeonjun untie your wrists, sighed as your arms fell freely to your sides. Without breaking your position, you let Yeonjun throw himself backwards onto the bed and pull you down on top of him.

He enjoyed the warm pressure of your back against his chest as much as you did.

You blurredly saw the little lights through the window moving on the wall, each time climbing a little higher and disappearing... You couldn't stop thinking about how the intense moments before would affect your relationship, but for now, listening to the sound of his breathing was somehow soothing.

His hands soon found your wrists, grasping them gently and slowly stroking them with his thumbs. You let his always warm hands comfort you, giving yourself to his touch, lifting your head a little to see the view.

“You're such a good girl.”

He murmured into your hair, your eyes closed, unable to resist his voice and praise, which sounded even lower and thicker post orgasm.

“Then... can I kiss you now?”

His hands on your wrists slowly stopped, you felt him take a deep breath. Of course he wanted that sweet pink mouth of yours against his but...whispered in your ear: “I'm still inside of you.”

You felt your body suddenly become even more sensitive when he said that.

“...You are.”

His hand slid over your stomach, his warm palm warming your whole body just by being there.

“Color?”

And if someone told him you'd be the end of him, he'd believe it.

“Green.”

©dr-solomon 2025

[shaunamilfman]

Shauna Shipman NSFW Alphabet

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!r note: minors dni

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

your ass isn’t going anywhere. she’s picked the position she wants to lie in, and you will be there until she decides you're done. she can be very sweet and caring, but she’s not great at the emotional part of it (anything to do with actually communicating her feelings), so she just grabs on for a while and hopes it suffices. holds you tight, runs her fingers through your hair, traces shapes on your back, the works. won’t talk unless pressed most of the time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

her thighs. she used to resent how toned they were from all of those years she was forced to play soccer–just another thing she could grumble about underneath her breath when she was mad at Jackie–but she’s grown to love them. loves the way she can use them to wrap around your hips and keep you where she wants you, whether that’s in bed or just cuddling; it doesn’t matter. Shauna also loves the way your head looks between her thighs and the way they squeeze around you.

She likes your hands, always has. Shuana enjoys how capable they are. likes to watch the way your fingers wrap around handles or tap absently against things when you’re bored. of course, she likes them the most between her legs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

she loves when you’re messy, especially when you’re covered in her. sometimes she grabs a fistful of your hair just so she can better rub herself over your face. she’s not even trying to get herself off. you’re just too clean. shauna loves when you pop your head up after eating her out just so she can smear herself all over your face better. dragging her thumb along your lips so all you can do is taste her. she likes to make you sit there, just dripping with her as she recovers. she worked hard to get you so messy. she’s going to enjoy it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t think Shauna Shipman is familiar with the concept of shame when it comes to things that get her off unless it involves Jackie. 

she has far too many thoughts about threesomes and refuses to acknowledge any of them. thinking about them means considering the implications of what having the two of you mouthing at her skin is, and Shauna Shipman is not about to do that.

if there was anything other than that, it would just be so ridiculously violent that she knew she couldn’t actually do it without serious injury, but she usually just finds a way to modify it before she springs it on you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

slept with Jeff so she’s not completely inexperienced, but it’s not like she knows much about women. she’s very well versed in getting herself off and figures it can’t be all that different. pretends to know a lot more than she does and would not react well if you mentioned that fact.

knows what she wants and gets it. she texts you for a hookup, and you say you’re busy? shauna shipman has sent three attachments. all of which are enticing enough to get you into the car. it’s overkill, truly. one would’ve been enough, but she’s thorough.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Shauna likes to ride. your face, your fingers. it doesn’t matter. Shauna wants to be on top.

she loves to sit on your face. there’s just something about being able to look down at your face buried between her thighs as she fucks your face that gets her going like nothing else, especially with how prone and vulnerable you look beneath her. you can’t pin her hips down as easily as you can when she’s on her back, and she enjoys knowing she’s the only one that gets to decide when you get air.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

shauna’s not that goofy in general, but especially during sex. sometimes you may catch a smile or two and an occasional laugh during slow, early morning sex, but that’s few and far between. she has a goal in mind, and any laughter makes her feel like you’re not taking her seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

shaves her legs fairly often just to keep Jackie off her back. everywhere else just gets shaved when she remembers to. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

romance doesn’t always have as much of a place in sex for Shauna as other emotions do (jealousy, anger, possession). it’s not to say that she’s not romantic in the moment. in fact, it’s some of the only times she properly communicates, babbling confessions about anything and everything in the bluntest way possible as her nails scratch down your skin.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

constantly. all the time. shauna’s cunt hates to see her hand coming. doesn’t like to take her time like she might’ve if you were the one stimulating her. masturbating is only ever to soothe an itch for Shauna, quick and dirty until her thighs clamp around her hand and she can go back to her business. washes off and goes back to whatever she was doing like nothing happened.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

so possessive. she won’t admit it, but as angry and jealous as she gets when she sees someone come up to you, she also gets turned on. she already knows how the night’s going to end, your head between her thighs in the cramped quarters of her back seat as you struggle to get a hand between her legs to get your fingers inside.

wants to bring a knife into it. she thinks a lot about holding a knife to your throat as she makes you do whatever she wants. has a recurring fantasy of making you back up into the wall and plead with her not to kill you. it always ends with her pressing it against the delicate skin of your neck and slowly making you slide down to your knees.

likes to bite, which is obvious. if she’s close enough to sink her teeth in, she will. bites you hard enough that you bleed a few times, and though it was honestly an accident, she can’t deny how much it turned her on to watch.

it goes without saying, but she wants to chase you down and catch you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

any place but a bed, for the novelty but also for the risk. fantasizes about someone walking in on the two of you and seeing that you're hers. those fantasies always involve you on your knees, her thighs pressed so tightly to your ears that you don’t even notice anyone else coming into the room because you’re so focused on getting her off. she doesn’t like to acknowledge the fact that it’s usually Jackie who walks in.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

jealousy, anger, obsession (either way), and attention. she thrives on intensity, on knowing you want her just as much as she wants you. needs you to match her freak. fighting is nothing but foreplay, angry words spit in your direction that she wants you to take out on her.

the better question is what doesn’t get her going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

as much as she somewhat enjoys her jealousy, you can’t ever bring up someone else while you’re hooking up. she does, often referencing whatever girl stood too close to you and pissed her off, but you can’t ever or she’s done. she also doesn’t like to be made to feel lesser than you for any reason.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

shauna definitely has a preference to receive rather than give when it comes to oral. she likes to watch you between her thighs, brushing your hair out of the way so she can really see your mouth work. there’s something about the way you’re entirely focused on her when you’re going down on her that nothing else can match. the way you can’t really look at her, can’t talk to her, can’t do anything but make her come.

she can give. she’s good at it even. shauna would prefer to use her fingers, just because of how much she likes to watch. she needs to be able to use her mouth to leave little marks everywhere to stake her claim. what she doesn’t want is to see you try to cover them up the next day. that’s just not allowed.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough 90% of the time. she’s always got something to prove (mostly to herself). she’s got you on your knees in the backseat of her car before you’ve even realized that she wasn’t taking you home first.

she indulges in slow, loving sex when the mood strikes her, but that’s nothing she would really enjoy all the time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

shauna shipman invented quickies. wants you anywhere and everywhere she can have you. she gets turned on at the drop of a hat and isn’t shy about telling you about it. 

she does enjoy getting to take her time with you, though. likes to grind against your thigh and enjoy your wandering hands as you make out until she’s so worked up she’s desperate for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

goes without saying. half of the time she barely thinks things through before she’s going for them. that’s just who she is, and she’s not planning on changing.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

doesn’t last long. she’s so easy. she can go forever and ever, though. loves to be overstimulated. she’ll have tears running down her face and still want more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

shauna shipman’s vibrator is her best friend. they know each other intimately. when it finally dies on her and she has to buy a new one, she briefly considers holding it a funeral before deciding that would be dumb as shit. threatens to replace you with the vibrator whenever you’re teasing her.

she doesn’t have all that much experience with other toys, but she’s definitely not averse to using them. likely to bring up the idea first if she thinks you’ll be at all amenable.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

shauna’s not that big into teasing just because she’s too impatient to really commit to it. she’s only teasing herself when she’s teasing you. does enjoy watching you squirm a little, though.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

she’s not that loud. more of a gasps and sighs kind of girl, but has been known to get loud if the vibes are right. if you turn her down for sex for reasons she doesn’t consider “valid” (busy or engaging in a hobby), trust that she’ll be shouting her pleasure from the rooftops when she stalks off into the room to grab her trust vibrator.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

secret love for sleep morning sex, but she’ll never ever admit it. she’ll roll her eyes and groan, but it doesn't stop her from murmuring your name in breathy little sighs as she lazily rolls her hips up.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

boxers wearer shauna shipman my beloved. buys bras and underwear almost solely based on practicality and what’s comfortable but has a few racier things shoved in the bottom of her drawer to bring out to manipulate you into forgiving her crimes. someone’s got to remind you why you put up with so much shit.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

ridiculously high. if she’s not doing it, she’s probably thinking about it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if anything, Shauna feels more energized after sex, but if you keep her in bed long enough, she’ll grumble her way to sleep. she really enjoys feeling you pressed up against her afterward, even if the two of you are so hot that your combined body heat just makes her sweatier.

[itsnesss]

I don't know if you take requests, but since I like your writing language very much, I would love you to write something like this. It seems like something like the reader saying she wants to get pregnant while making love after noticing Hwan Jun Ho's interest in children would be nice.

𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | intimacy (implicit/not overly graphic), emotional vulnerability, discussions of parenthood

word count | 1.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the dimly lit room. Outside, the city continues its course, indifferent, but here, within these four walls, everything feels different. There are no rushes, no worries. It’s just the two of you, trapped in a moment that seems suspended in time.

You feel the weight of his body over yours, his warmth surrounding you, the brush of his skin against yours in a slow, deliberate dance. Every touch, every kiss, every shared breath carries the weight of everything you’ve built together. It’s not just desire, not just need—it’s something deeper, something more meaningful. Something that goes beyond the fleeting passion of a single night.

Your fingers trace down his back, following the contours of his muscles with a light, almost reverent touch. You know that Junho isn’t a man who allows himself to be vulnerable easily, but here, with you, he lets all his walls down. The way he holds you, how he brushes his nose against yours before kissing you again, how he intertwines his fingers with yours as he moves above you—it tells you more than any words ever could.

And then, like a whisper among your thoughts, like a truth that has been waiting to be spoken, the words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

"I want to have a child with you."

Junho tenses slightly but doesn’t stop. His gaze meets yours in the dim light, and in his eyes, there’s more than just surprise. There’s curiosity, tenderness… something you can’t quite decipher.

"Really?" His voice is low, almost a murmur against your skin, as if he doesn’t want to break the atmosphere surrounding you.

You take a breath, feeling your chest rise against his. There’s no doubt in you. It’s something you’ve been feeling for a long time, but only now have you found the words to express it.

"Yes," you answer firmly. "I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve seen you with children… how you look at them, how you care about them without even realizing it."

He blinks, surprised, but says nothing. You know he’s listening, that he’s processing what you’ve just said.

"When you see a child on the street, you always pause a second longer than necessary," you continue. "When we’re at the park, your attention always drifts toward them. And when you talk about your brother…"

You hesitate because you know mentioning his brother touches a sensitive part of him. But it’s part of what makes him who he is. Part of what has led you to realize what you truly want.

"I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it," you add softly. "But if you ever wanted to… if you ever desired it, I’d want it to be with you."

Junho exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm, unsteady, and his hands tighten around your waist.

"I wasn’t expecting to hear something like that tonight," he admits with a low chuckle—not one of mockery, but of disbelief. As if he finds it hard to believe this is real.

"I didn’t plan it," you respond, smiling too. "I just… felt it."

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. His fingers trace slow circles on your skin, as if memorizing every detail of you. Then, without saying anything else, he kisses you. It’s a different kiss than before: deeper, more meaningful, more devoted.

And in that kiss, you find your answer.

Time seems to dissolve as you remain wrapped in each other’s warmth. Junho never stops touching you, holding you with the same delicacy one would hold something fragile, precious. Every movement of his carries a new purpose, as if your words have shifted something inside him. As if something has settled in his heart.

His face is partially hidden in the curve of your neck when he murmurs, his voice husky, "I never thought of myself as a father."

You slide your hands into his hair, running your fingers through his dark strands with tenderness.

"And now?"

He sighs, his lips brushing against your collarbone before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

"I don’t know," he admits. "But if it ever happens… I can’t imagine anyone but you."

Your heart pounds at his words. It’s not an absolute statement, not an immediate promise, but you understand. Junho isn’t someone who rushes into things. He needs time to process, to internalize. But the fact that he hasn’t rejected the idea, that he’s considering it, means more than you can express in this moment.

"That’s enough for me," you whisper.

He gives a small, lopsided smile, and with one last kiss to your forehead, he lets your bodies find that shared rhythm again, allowing the moment to envelop you completely.

Later, when sleep begins to claim you and Junho still holds you in his embrace, you break the silence once more.

"If we had a child… what name would you like to give them?"

You feel his chest shake with a low, drowsy chuckle.

"Are we already picking names?"

"I’m just curious."

He stays quiet for a moment, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.

"If it’s a girl… I’d like her to have a strong name. Something that makes her stand out."

"And if it’s a boy?"

Junho falls silent, and for a moment, you think he has fallen asleep. But then, his voice comes in a whisper, as if he’s testing the sound of the idea in his own mind.

"Maybe something in honor of my brother."

Your chest tightens with a mix of emotion and tenderness. You don’t push him to say more—you don’t want to force him to keep talking if he doesn’t want to. Instead, you snuggle closer against him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you.

And as sleep finally pulls you under, a soft smile graces your lips. Because even though the future is still uncertain, even though Junho needs time to process everything you talked about tonight, there is one thing you know with absolute certainty:

If that moment ever comes… he would be an incredible father.

And there’s no one else in the world you’d rather share that future with.

[bloomzone]

can u please make a how to improve urself ^^ also I love ur acc so much and u bring me so much peace at mind ^^

Thank you so much for appreciating my account! Your support truly means a lot to me, and I’m so glad my content brings you peace >⁠.⁠<. so first Self-improvement doesn’t have to be overwhelming. No pressure just small thoughtful steps. You don’t have to change everything at once ofc Take your time and choose one category each month to work on. Remember, it’s all about progress, not perfection. You’re on your own journey and every little step counts. And u can create other categories that align with ur needs !

before we start here's 5 questions to ask urself before starting this journey

1. Why do I want to improve myself?

What is my true motivation for making a change?

2. What areas of my life do I want to focus on?

Which specific aspects of my life do I want to improve first?

3. What are my strengths, and how can I use them?

How can I leverage my strengths to make this journey easier?

4. What are my current obstacles or limiting beliefs?

What challenges or beliefs might be holding me back from improvement?

5. Am I ready to be patient and consistent?

Am I prepared to stay consistent and trust the process, even when it's hard?

1. Emotional Regulation

Emotional regulation is about controlling your emotions and responding to situations in a calm, rational way, even when you’re stressed or angry.

How to improve:

Identify triggers: Start by recognizing what sets off your emotional responses. Is it a person, a situation, or something in your environment?

Pause before reacting: When you feel your emotions rising, take a deep breath or count to 10 before reacting.

Practice mindfulness: Engage in regular mindfulness activities like meditation or deep breathing exercises to help you stay present and manage emotions.

Express emotions healthily: Instead of bottling up feelings, learn how to express them through journaling or talking to someone you trust.

2. Building Consistency

Consistency is key to turning any habit into something sustainable. Whether it’s exercise, work, or personal development, consistency helps you progress.

How to improve:

Start small: Begin with manageable goals. For example, if you’re trying to work out, aim for just 10-15 minutes a day.

Create routines: Build habits by attaching them to something you already do. For example after brushing ur teeth do a quick stretch ect ..

Track progress: Use a habit tracker or journal to monitor your consistency and reward yourself for sticking with it.

Don’t be too hard on yourself: If you miss a day or slip up, don’t give up entirely. Get back on track the next day without guilt.you will be disciplined

3. Self-Awareness

Self-awareness is the ability to understand your thoughts, emotions, behaviors, and how they affect others. It’s essential for personal growth and development.

How to improve:

Daily reflection: Spend 5 minutes each day thinking about how you felt and acted. What went well? What could you improve?

Ask for feedback: Don’t be afraid to ask close friends or family how they perceive you, and listen to their feedback with an open mind.

Practice mindfulness: Regularly engage in activities that help you stay present, like meditation or journaling. This helps you observe your thoughts without judgment.

Notice patterns: Pay attention to recurring thoughts or behaviors that might need to change. Are you always reacting negatively in certain situations? What triggers it? It's soooo normal !

4. Setting Boundaries

Setting healthy boundaries is about knowing when to say no and protecting your energy they are essential to maintaining your mental health and relationships.

How to improve:

Identify your limits: Think about situations or behaviors that drain you emotionally or physically. These are your boundaries.

Communicate clearly: When you feel your boundaries are being crossed, calmly assert yourself. You don’t have to be rude, just firm and clear.

Learn to say no: Saying no isn’t selfish; it’s necessary for your well-being. Practice politely declining things that don’t serve your best interests.

Protect your time: Be mindful of how you spend your time. If something or someone consistently takes more than they give, it’s okay to step back.

5. Productivity Without Burnout

Being productive doesn’t mean being busy all the time. It’s about working smarter, not harder, and allowing yourself rest to avoid burnout.

How to improve:

Prioritize your tasks: Use the Eisenhower Matrix (urgent vs. important) to decide which tasks need your attention now and which can wait.

Break tasks into chunks: Divide big tasks into smaller, more manageable steps. This makes them feel less overwhelming and easier to tackle.

Take breaks: Use techniques like the Pomodoro Technique—work for 25 minutes, then take a 5-minute break. It helps keep your mind fresh.

Don’t multitask: Focus on one task at a time for better efficiency and mental clarity.

6. Self-Care & Rest

Self-care is essential for maintaining both mental and physical health it’s about honoring your body and mind’s need for rest and nourishment.

How to improve:

Sleep: Aim for 7 to 9 hours of sleep every night. Sleep is critical for physical health, mental clarity, and emotional balance. (It's not easy to have a full 8h or 9h of sleep but at least u need to wake up next day feeling good !)

Take mental health days: Don’t hesitate to take a break when you need it. Mental rest is just as important as physical rest to also avoid burnout

Nourish your body: Eat balanced meals with whole foods. Drink plenty of water to stay hydrated. Your body will thank you for it. Cuz drinking water help to avoid headaches

Have fun: Engage in activities you love, whether it’s reading, cooking, painting, or just relaxing with a good movie...

7. Improving Social Skills

Good social skills can help you build relationships, collaborate, and feel more connected. Being social doesn’t mean u HAVE to be extravored but it means knowing how to connect with others.

How to improve:

Active listening: Practice listening more than you speak. Show interest in what others say by making eye contact, nodding, and responding thoughtfully.

Be genuinely curious: Ask open-ended questions that encourage conversation. Show a genuine interest in others' experiences and perspectives.

Be authentic: Don’t try to fit into a mold. Let people see the real you and be honest about your thoughts and feelings.

Practice empathy: Put yourself in others’ shoes. Understand their emotions and reactions to build stronger connections.

8. Resilience

Resilience is your ability to bounce back from challenges, disappointments, or failures. It’s not about avoiding hardship, but about navigating through it with strength and grace.

How to improve:

Change your perspective: Instead of seeing challenges as obstacles, view them as opportunities for growth. What can you learn from this?

Develop a support system: Surround yourself with supportive people who encourage you during tough times.

Practice self-compassion: Be kind to yourself when things go wrong. Understand that setbacks are a natural part of the journey.

Keep going, no matter what: Sometimes, the best thing you can do is keep moving forward, even if it’s just one small step at a time.

9. Time Management & Planning

Time management it’s being intentional with how you use your time and energy.

How to improve:

Use a planner or digital tool: Write down your tasks, appointments, and goals for the week. This will help you stay organized and on track.

Set specific, realistic goals: Don’t overestimate what you can do. Be realistic about what can be achieved within a day or week.

Eliminate distractions: Find ways to stay focused by limiting distractions—turn off notifications, create a quiet workspace, or use website blockers.

Evaluate your progress: At the end of each week, review what you’ve accomplished and adjust your schedule accordingly it will keep u motivated

10. Financial Management (Simple Basics)

You don’t need to be an expert to improve your financial habits. It’s about getting into the practice of managing your money wisely.

How to improve:

Track your spending: Write down where your money goes each month. Understanding your spending habits is the first step to managing your finances.

Set a budget: Allocate a certain amount for savings, bills, and personal expenses each month. Stick to it.

Save a little at a time: Even if you can only save a small amount, start. Create a savings habit so that it becomes second nature.

Avoid impulse purchases: Before buying something, ask yourself if it’s necessary. Give yourself time to think before making a purchase.

this glow up list can also help u !! [click here]

@bloomzone