#every time I sit at the pc my stomach talks to me

[ane-doodles]

I have commissions, sketches and prompts that I want to draw... but my tummy hurts... noooooooo

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑼𝒔

How I headcanon the LADS Men gaming with us. All four of them just enjoy being around you. [Requested by: Anon]

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

he'd be a watcher at the start ; being more of a physical sport kind of person (which is why he's so good at snowboarding)

you'd ask him to play one of your favorite games with you and he'd opt to sit with you while you play instead

gets curious overtime as he watches you progress

"your main quest is to head to the dungeon what are you doing here?" "I have to complete this side quest in order to level up my character before going to the dungeon otherwise I'll die"

"you said this can be multi-player?" he asks after a while

somehow ends up speed running all the missions surpassing you even though you'd been playing longer.

would buy his own controller or PC set up using the excuse of "not wanting to over-use your equipment”

when youre gaming for too long or he has a long day he lays on you with his face buried in your neck or your titties

wants you to sit on his lap or between his legs while you play

helps you calm down when you're about to rage

massages your hands when they get tired

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

immediately begging to have a turn or play together

incredibly skilled with his hands so handling a controller and multi-tasking on a keyboard is nothing to him

texts and calls you to come over for gaming nights or afternoons

sets up a game room for the two of you complete with multiple TVs so you each can have your own and if you're a PC player 2 full set-ups for you and him

A DIRTY DOG ... I know y'all seen him playing kitty cards that mf is about as slick as sandpaper ... that cheat combo? he's using it. that hacker mod? he's using it.

definitely whines and pouts when you beat him, but gloats and dances when he wins

would definitely try and talk you into becoming online gamers/streamers

when you play on a console he likes when you straddle him backwards and lay flat on your stomach so he can use your ass like a pillow to rest his hands on.

rages with you ... no questions asked

ends up knowing your games better than you

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

S Tier player ... but very humble

plays YOUR favorite game one time and beats it an hour later

that level you're stuck on? hand him the controller or let him take over the keys he'll have you past the level in no time

only started playing because you asked him to

you either play together or he sits with you when you're playing or he wants you to sit with him while he plays (as long as you're in the same room he's happy)

makes bets that if he wins he can use your kitchen (this is actually canon in a tender moments)

the type to play online under a pseudonym, but gain a huge following in the process

plays both PC and Console with you, but prefers console so he can sit between your legs while you two play

massages you & helps calm you when you're about to rage

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

will gladly play any game with you

S Tier player .... he's so good it seems like he's cheating when he's not

gets matching consoles and PC set ups with you

secretly plays ahead so he can help you beat levels

prefers PC over console, but will play both

"don't worry maybe you'll beat me next time" instigates every time he beats you in a game

once he finds out you enjoy gaming he's having an entire entertainment wing built for you

likes to have you sit in his lap while you play

gets you every game you want even gets you early access to buy it before the release date

eggs you on when you start gamer raging

the type to sit behind you and cage you in his arms when you ask him to beat a level for you

[offworldlamb-writes]

Day 13 of #fictober24!

That's not the point is today's prompt, so have more of my Stardew Valley fanfic The View From the Farm.

This is also chapter 3 now because it's convenient.

Some mild swearing, but it's mostly Sebastian dealing with feelings of exclusion as he talks to Abigail.

xxx

This farmer was a ghost. Sebastian heard plenty about her from everyone, even Demetrius, but other than the Flower Dance he hadn't even seen her and it felt weird. She was everyone's new best friend, bringing deliveries and doling out gifts every day, and the longer it went on the more he had to ask: why was she avoiding him?

There was no denying how uncomfortable it was making him. She'd been here a while already and apparently everyone and their mother had already met her-- literally, Sam was saying how much his mum appreciated all the help she was getting from the farmer while his dad was away, and his own mum kept harping on about how much work was getting done on the farmhouse. But he hadn't seen her once outside of the flower dance, not even up by the lake (apparently spelunking was a hobby of hers, if all the fancy rocks she brought to the museum were any indication) and anytime she was brought up these days he couldn't help being just a little bit confused. How could someone so popular be completely invisible at the same time?

Bringing it up with Abigail didn't help either. She came to join him up by the house and they walked to the lake together, and the moment the new farmer was brought up and how she'd been buying a lot of stock from Abby's dad Sebastian started grumbling, which only made Abigail laugh. "She hasn't said anything to me," was his main complaint, which was quickly shot down.

"How is anyone supposed to talk to you when you're in your room all day? That's not healthy, you realise that right?" she teased, stopping occasionally to pick up some pebbles from the side of the path. "Surprised your mum lets you do that."

"She doesn't 'let' me do shit. She brings it up every day," he replied with a sour expression, and huffed as he patted down his pockets. "And why do I have to explain this every time: I'm not just sitting there, I'm working. My PC is where I work, alright?"

"Yeah but you're not working twenty-four-seven. You should come out more-- maybe set up a table for Solarion down at the Stardrop."

"I don't want to play around other people," was his grimaced response, coupled with a short, sharp shake of his head. The people down at the Stardrop were exactly the kind of people he didn't want to be around when it came to his hobbies, especially if they were getting sloppy drunk. Last thing he needed was missing pieces.

Already holding a handful of pebbles by the time they arrived at the water's edge Abigail scoffed at his answer. "Then stop complaining that no one talks to you! Just get out of the house a little more-- or next time your mum's doing work at the farm go up with her." Picking out a pebble and taking a minute to line up the shot she had it skipping elegantly across the water with only a quick flick of the wrist, and celebrated with a fist pump when it landed on the little island in the middle of the lake.

The spike of nausea that struck him at the thought of turning up uninvited with Robin pinched at his stomach, making him recoil an inch or so and pull his hand away from Abigail's before he'd grabbed a pebble for himself. Responding with a very dry 'No' had her in peels of laughter, ruining her second skipping attempt and causing a big plunk just a few feet out. "What's the big deal? You don't talk to anyone anyway!" she pointed out instead, but that just made him scowl.

"Yeah but she's talking to everyone. Everyone except me. I've had enough of being left out." Despite his frustration he kept his arm steady as he skipped his first pebble, and watched it go off to the left of the island before disappearing after its last skip.

"Then you have to start joining in! That's the only way that's going to change!" she warned him, raising her arm to throw her next stone but quickly rethinking as she groaned and rolled her eyes. "And then you're going to be invited to everything and everyone's going to ask you to help out-- you think the flower dance is bad just wait 'til people think you're free to help with every other event we have here. Dad only just stopped asking me to host the stand at the Spirit's Eve festival: I threatened to stop helping mum with the decorations."

He wrinkled his nose. "Yeah I'm not helping out with those. I already get mum on my case complaining about all the shit she makes for them-- I helped with the lu-au stage last year and that sucked."

"That's not the point I was trying to get across," Abigail chuckled, throwing the last pebble she had in her hand before going to scour for more. "You want people to talk to you, you gotta make yourself available to talk. And you gotta put up with people as you do it."

No one person was worth that kind of effort. He was fine with the people already in his life, and if the farmer was as social as everyone made her out to be then he was better off not knowing them. But holy shit did it hurt to hear everyone go on and on. It was like school all over again, hearing about all the fantastic things Maru made in class and all the clubs she was excelling in. At least his mum made an effort to be enthusiastic about his achievements, but seeing her and Demetrius get so excited together for Maru meant it never really felt like it balanced out.

A small part of him wanted to meet the farmer just to feel included in this weird whirlwind of excitement she'd brought to the valley, and try and understand exactly what it was that had everyone so enamoured with her. But when he spotted a mysterious figure leaving the house as he walked home, dressed in bright yellow rain boots that glowed against the dirt brown track, he found himself hanging back on the trail just out of sight. He just... didn't want to go through it. The awkward greeting and introduction, the small talk, attempts at finding common ground before giving up and hurrying off with a cheerful goodbye. It always came across so forced, and he'd rather avoid it altogether if he could.

Fetching his cigarettes from his pocket (with the lighter tucked into the box now for safe keeping) he went to the bench in the ridge that looked down over the village, safely tucked away from the sun beneath the pine trees. Mum didn't like him smoking in the house but she'd been gracious enough to allow him an ashtray and a little bin out here, which he kept underneath to keep it safe, and with his phone in hand he sat and checked what he could with the limited wi-fi that made it up here from the house. This was his preferred method of socialisation: on his terms, when he wanted. There was a message from Sam asking about band practice tomorrow, and a couple of notifications from his job, but those were things he could sort out later.

Band practice was good. That was all the socialising he needed, and Sam's mum was nice without trying to make everything a big deal. She'd only just left but he fired off a quick message to Abby as well, in case she wanted to join, and once he was done with his smoke he dumped the contents in the bin and tucked it back under the bench. They were due another round of Solarian anyway-- why was he getting worked up about being left out? He had Sam and he had Abigail and they never let him down when he needed them, and in the valley that's all he needed. Two points of contact with the general public who could relate any interesting news back to him, which is exactly what they did with this farmer. The system was working exactly as intended and there was no need for change, and now that the coast was clear he headed back to the house with no problem.

[boy-under-the-sage-bush]

From what I know, I have no clue why this happening. I believe it’s due to her birthday being tomorrow and then the song we used to listen to together. I have no clue what will happen if I listen to the artist we both liked, I’m scared to, I’m already feeling the sensation in my stomach, it’s been happening a lot more lately, first it scared with when Mr S was around and that was simply because I didn’t want to get in trouble for my piercings but now it’s constant and never ending. I always feel like throwing up or crying, I can hardly breath in this school and it hurts every inch of my body. Maybe I should get more help but I just can’t, I don’t know who to turn to or how to get people to believe me. How am I meant to be an adult when I cannot even look a man in the eye?

Sometimes I wonder if I will actually leave this town, leave my home, leave everything behind… But I don’t think I can, I know this here, it’s peaceful and understandable. I wanna be able to support my mother, support my spending habits, support myself but I don’t have it in me to become a 9-5er, I cant let myself become one of those people, I need to become something, something that’ll make my family proud but I’m lazy and I don’t know what’s happening around me. I just sit here and stare at a pc screen, letting the world go by.

Hell sometimes I wonder if I’m actually meant to do anything with my life… sometimes I wonder if I’m even alive, everything around me makes me so nervous and sick, I feel like I’m alone in a world full of lonely people but in  a different way, the way you feel alone when you don’t know anyone at a party or the way you feel alone when you go to school and now of your friends are there, the kind of lonely that happens when your friend group don’t include you in the discussion but you’re still sitting with them. I feel the kind of lonely that makes life seem darker, more morbid, even sadder and crueller than what you woke up in. Is it really the life an 18yr old is meant to be living? Is it the kind of life that anyone should be living?

I read once that people with mental illness simply see the world for how it truly is, not how everyone wants to see it. I relate to that, everyone talks about how year 12 is the most important thing but how can it be when kids are literally trying to kill themselves in school bathrooms or kids are dropping out because teachers have given up on them. In what world is what we look like more important then if we want to kill ourselves or if we’re about to fail school? I wonder if they really care about the students they have, sometimes I look around at my classmates and think “How have we gotten this far?” I like to think that it’s because we all have at least one person who cares but looking around even closer at these kids… I don’t think they do, the eating disorders, the bullying, all the failing classes. No one cares about us, they just care about how we represent them has parents, teachers, and schools.

Everything about the kids I go to school with says that maybe I’m right, maybe I’m not meant to be someone, maybe I’m just meant to live in a cottage and be a hermit, someone people tell their kids “oh I don’t know what happened to him”, maybe I’m meant to die, someone who tried so hard that he burnt out, someone whose life was simply for the good times and not the long times, someone who is meant to be a memory and not someone in people’s lives. A sweet memory of an easier time.

I think about this often, just as often as I think of my best friend, a young man studying biology in the city, four hours away from me. He’s my best part: nice, helpful, intelligent, and friendly. Or I’m the bad parts of him; loud, standoffish, annoying, angry, obsessive. It doesn’t matter, we’re two parts of a puzzle that was maybe never meant to be complete.

[bakalterasia]

So, I’ve gotten two cockatiels about three weeks ago.

It was not planned on my part. They were a gift, something that I’ve vocalised thaf I would like in the distant future. Came home to two. Never had bords to be solely my responsibility before and my week was very hard. Uni was killing me, my personal life was killing me, I was sick… but there they were. Two lives, depending on me to step up.

I’m prefacing this. I think myself a shit bird-mom.

Their cage was too small, so I’ve ordered a bigger one. I’ve grumbled when I was doing so. I don’t have a job, all my savings were scraps I managed to put away. I was saving up for a gaming pc, something I’ve wanted since I was twelve. I told myself, “you can get money again, this is their home.”

I grumbled still. I didn’t want these birds but I did but I DIDN’T— I looked around the city, counting pennies and looking at shops to see if I can spare some money. I couldn’t find one big enough without reaching lower in my pocket. I was angry. I grumbled and came home and I’ve ordered that cage online and felt like shit, looking at them every day in that small cage until the bigger one arrived. I’ve put it together myself. I’ve never done anything like that. I was scared I would fuck it up and wouldn’t be able to afford another one. The legs didn’t want to fit and I wanted to cry so I called my fiance and laughed instead. He listened to me put it together. Ramble about shit to alleviate my anxiety. “Do you hear them, love? They are chirping so loud. They want their new home.” The birds did not know what I was doing. Only I knew and I hoped it would be enough.

Then they’ve gotten a new home. It was so empty. Depressing to even look at it. “We need more stuff for you.” I went and spent again, buying them several toys and new feeders, better food, treats, even some yellow foxtail millet to get friendly with them. They don’t like them. At all. Two weeks and they’ve never even looked at them. So little time, you say. Yet so long for me. I’m ancient compared to them, but I’m impatient. “Be my friend” I’ve begged, whispering as I held out the treat and watched them nibble on it yet flinch away when I moved a little. “Please, be my friend. Love me.”

I let them out in the room.

It’s a small room but it’s big for them and I’ve thought let them just stretch their wings. They’ve hurt their little noses. I’ve cursed at myself and cowered all the windows. “It’s dangerous out there” I’ve said as if they would understand. To them, I was the danger. Giant and stressed and locked together with them in this little room. They eventually went back into the cage to eat and sleep. I closed the door and cried. “I’ve just wanted to help you. Why can’t I do this right, I just wanted to give you something good.”

I’ve talked to a friend who has experience. Watched videos with tips, realized how many time I’ve fucked up and cried again. “You deserve so much better”. I whisper at them every night before going to sleep. “You could’ve had so much better than me.”

I was not angry anymore. I didn’t care about the money anymore. I only cared when I thought I could make their life better. It was all meaningless when I realized that I was probably hurting them. Scaring them. The guilt… it so tight in my stomach I can’t even look at them.

And then they’ve gotten sick. They were sitting low on the branches, quiet and sleepy. Digestive problems. I’m a med student but I don’t understand birds. I sat on my bed, looking at them and with my phone in hand ready to call the vet. I was scared again. Selfish again. “I’ll have to tell them how I fucked up. This is my fault. I’ve did everything wrong and now I have to confess it to the doctor and ask for help.” I was so ashamed of doing this all wrong. My hands were shaking when I called them.

The first vet talked to me for about two minutes. They were nice, but off. I’ve told them everything and they reassured me, told me that they must be stressed because of the new environment. Told me tips I’ve already started and told me they cannot take them because they might get too scared and we would do more harm than good. I’ve put down the phone. “I didn’t fuck up so bad, right? The vet said I’ve did good.” It felt liberating. It felt like comfort.

I was fine. My birds were not. I’ve looked at them, their little sick bodies, puffed up low in the cage, blinking slowly in broad daylight. It was not fine. Nothing was fine. I’ve called another vet. This one called me in, gave me medicine and explained to me how to administer it. They were nice to me, but this was not about me and they knew. They gave me meds. My birds got better in three days.

They are before the window now. I’ve dragged their cage to the light and warmth to give them something good. One of them looked at the trees outside and cried. So shrill and so insistent.

They want the outside. Away from the monster in the room. They want to go and be free like the rest of the birds who had been born free, raised free. Free from a prison they must despise.

Only I see the horrors on the other side of the glass. The cold, the weather, the lack of food, the predators.

How much they must hate me! I’m the one who stands between them and what they want. I’m the omnipotent, cold being who says “No. you will stay in my cage and I will protect you. I love you.”

My love is cold to them. Chains to them.

I look at them and I think.

“Whose cage am I sitting in?”

[sanguinescorpios]

stream sniper

dream x f!reader

summary | dream is on an important stream and too busy to give you attention. unfortunately for him, you’re feeling needy.

warnings | smut, thigh riding, voyeurism, dom!dream x sub!reader, edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial if you squint, this is filthy

word count | 2.8k

it started out innocent. you had been missing your boyfriend; between your school work and his editing, you rarely got to spend time together despite living in the same house.

you admit, you were a needy partner. you liked to be attached to clay’s hip at any chance you got, and he just let you. during recordings, during editing, even during streams; you were always there. it didn’t matter if he couldn’t really pay attention to you or if you had to sit on the couch behind his set up, you just enjoyed being in his presence.

this one, however, was slightly different than the average stream. you could count on one hand the amount of times clay had refused to let you be present for a stream and every time he had, it was a trainwreckstv stream.

it was fine, you always said, you understood. of course he wouldn’t want you there for a stream like that. he had to focus a lot harder on how and what he said on train’s podcast because the demographic and content was so drastically different from his own, and you would only distract him. it wasn’t personal. still, you couldn’t help but feel bitter about it. you missed him; final exams week had just ended and the idea of spending worry-free quality time with him was what got you through it. so you did what your totally logical brain told you to do: walk in anyways.

the door creaked as you opened it and you cringed internally. your sock-clad feet tread lightly as you moved forward into the room, praying your boyfriend wouldn’t notice your presence.

he did.

being a faceless creator, he didn’t even own a camera to accidentally have on, so you were safe on that front. the look on his face, however, told you that you were not so safe after all.

“i thought we agreed on you not being here for this stream?” he asked after tapping the mute keybind on his keyboard. he spun around in his chair with an abrupt kick from his heel, trying and failing to veil his annoyance.

“we did...but i missed you.”

he rolled his eyes, still ticked off but not so much that he was willing to turn you away. he missed you as well, he couldn’t deny it. not having you in his arms for so many hours was excruciating, though he tried not to think so dramatically. clay waved you over to him, the corners of his lips curling up at your attire.

“is that my shirt?” he asked, and you nodded. placing his large hands firmly on your hips, clay kept you close to him while he took a closer look at the oversized red t-shirt. it hung loosely on you, two sizes too big and ending mid-way down your thighs. clay couldn’t help but notice your lack of pants, too.

swooping his head down, he pressed a kiss to your exposed thigh. you brought your hands up to your face, heating up by the second, and giggled.

“no pants, hm?”

you gave him another non-verbal response, bashfully shaking your head while looking down at him through your fingers. he tsked you before pressing another kiss against your skin, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“naughty girl,” he remarked after a few more kisses.

“aren’t you on a stream right now?”

clay glanced behind himself at his monitor, watching as the grown men on the screen argued with each other over some nonsensical issue. returning his gaze to you, he shrugged.

“yeah, but it was getting pretty boring.”

without a warning, clay clumsily pulled you into his lap and spun the two of you back around in his chair. after giving you one more kiss, he placed his headphones back on his head and returned to the conversation on his computer.

“yo, dream, you’ve been pretty quiet, man,” train noted, just in time.

“yeah my cat was acting weird, so i was gone for a minute.” clay placed a hand on your thigh and squeezed, a stupid grin on his face. this was gonna be one hell of a night.

***

you hated to say it, but you regretted crashing the stream. the conversation was painfully boring and dragging on, but there was no way you could leave now with the hold clay had on you. one hand lay around your middle and the other was firmly gripping your thigh. with his calloused fingers rubbing circles into the crease between your leg and your torso and his confident voice rumbling in your ear, you weren’t sure if you’d make it to the end of the stream. maybe he was teasing you, or maybe you were just needy. either way, you were gonna need a little more attention than this.

you stretched your neck in order to meet clay’s gaze, hoping he’d see the desperation in your eyes. instead, he gave you a soft smile and a kiss on the nose before turning back to the screen. he expected you to turn back as well so when you didn’t, he took notice.

reaching to mute himself, he gave you a concerned look.

“you alright, baby?” he asked and you shook your head no, “what’s up?”

“need you,” you admitted, barely concealing the whine that threatened to escape your throat.

clay’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, making it feel like the air had just been sucked out of the room. he was thinking, debating what to do next as he bounced you on his leg. the pace was punishingly slow and you grit your teeth to hold yourself together. 

“i’m a little busy, pretty girl,” he began as you let out a whine, “you’ll have to take care of yourself for now.”

you weren’t sure what that meant until you followed his gaze down. oh. oh. he wants you to...use him. okay. you raised yourself off his lap and he gave you a confused look, but it disappeared as soon as he saw you slipping out of your panties and was replaced by a smug smile. 

climbing back onto his leg, facing him this time, you let out a puff of air. fuck, he felt good. your already dripping center pressed against clay’s jean-clad thigh, the rough fabric intensifying any amount of friction you could manage. you wanted to move so badly, but clay’s tight hold on your hips kept you stationary. you looked up at him with big eyes, silently asked for permission. finally, he nodded.

you immediately began rutting your hips against his thigh, resting your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. fuck, you thought as you felt the sturdiness of him underneath you, his shoulders. small mewls and whimpers escaped you as you increased your pace, chasing a high that you weren’t sure you could reach on your own.

train had clay talking about his sudden success, which was a fan-favorite topic as everyone either hated or loved him for it. the only catch was that, being the nature of train’s podcast, the focus was less on the money and more on the, well, you know.

“think about it, dream. there are people out there fucking themselves to the sound-to the thought of you. isn’t that crazy?” you heard train ask, though it was muffled by clay’s headset. 

clay looked down at his lap, on which you were grinding your bare clit like a bitch in heat, and then back up to his monitor.

“not really.”

you nearly moaned at his words, but hid it by sucking a bruise into clay’s neck. clay hissed at the feeling and tried to push you off, but you were unrelenting. you swirled your tongue around the section of his skin to soothe the pain. pulling back to admire your work, you were met with a now aggravated clay.

“y-yeah i’m alright man,” he started, glaring down at you, “my cat just scratched me.”

you rolled your eyes. great excuse, asshole.

you began to lean back down towards his already bruising neck, but were instead met with a strong hand gripping your jaw, turning you to face your now dually frustrated boyfriend. something had shifted, the air felt thicker and clay felt sharper, all softness void from his demeanor. the look in his eyes was made of steel and flickering between your own gaze and your mouth, brows furrowed and tongue dipping between his lips to swipe across them. the little voice in your head was screaming “danger”, but danger didn’t look so bad in that moment. danger looked good, danger looked worth the risk. danger looked like getting the best fuck of your life. 

ignited by the heat building in your core and the near-paralyzing look clay was giving you, you continued your previous actions. rutting your hips against clay’s thigh with fervor, you smiled proudly at him. the roughness of his jeans sent shivers through your body, you had to be soaking him and you were only getting wetter by the second.

your chin raised, a smug smile plastered to your features, and that challenging glint in your eye - you were such a fucking brat and clay lived to put you in your place. his hold on your jaw tightened before sliding down to rest on your throat, squeezing until your eyelids began to flutter and your thrusts grew sloppier. the knot in his stomach twisted tighter at the sight. fuck, clay thought, you were something else. something that needed to be taught a lesson.

clay muted again, taking advantage of the ad break to pull down his sweatpants and pull out his cock. he pumped it a few times, precum leaking from the tip and sliding down his length. your stomach flipped at the sight, never not taken back by his size. clay grabbed you by your hips and spun you around so that you were facing his pc, facing everyone on the call that you had nearly forgotten he was still on. then, he began to tease his tip at your entrance. 

“this what you wanted, pretty girl? wanted me to treat you like a slut? wanted me to fuck you with everyone on the call?”

you moaned at the feeling of him circling the place you needed him most. the heat was still heavy on you from your previous actions and your body was no less frenzied than before, you wanted your release more than anything. knowing that all of those people were there didn’t help your crazed state. you felt dirty and you liked it.

“sit.”

you lifted yourself over him without a second thought, slick and sensitive from the buildup of your long-awaited orgasm. a moan slipped past your lips at the stretch, feeling every inch of him against your walls as he bottomed out. instinctively, you let your head fall against clay’s shoulder, overwhelmed by how full you felt. god, he felt so good. when you went to move, clay’s strong hands gripped your hips and held you in place.

you whimpered against his neck, trying and failing to get some sort of friction going. when that didn’t work, you opted to clench around him, but clay simply tsk-ed you.

“you’ve been naughty, baby,” he started, “now you’ll sit here like a good girl and keep me warm until the stream’s over.”

what? you thought to yourself, the panic setting in. he can’t be serious!

“no, no, no, no, i’ll be good!” you begged. you’d been practically edging yourself for what felt like hours now, you needed him to let you release.

“i know you will, baby. now sit still for daddy, okay?”

time passed immeasurably slow. your mind was racing with thoughts, trying to focus on anything but clay’s cock throbbing inside of you. you tried your hardest not to squeeze him too often, despite how much relief it brought you. clay was feeling the heat too, your warm, velvety walls gripped him impossibly tight and he was beginning to regret choosing this punishment. you needed the lesson, but god was he suffering for it.

when the stream finally came to an end, the first thing clay did was thrust up into you. you yelped, gripping his arm in surprise at the sudden movement. he started up a steady pace, pounding up into you and rubbing harshly at your clit. the feeling was intense, especially after how long you’d been teased and forced to wait, and you found yourself moaning wildly because of it, unable to control your noises as he spun you around in his lap once again.

“had to-make me-punish you-during a stream, huh?” he taunted between harsh thrusts, grabbing you by your hair and forcing you to look at him. “had to choose today to be a little slut?”

you let out a near-pornographic noise, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit your most sensitive spot.

“i asked you a question.”

“i’m sorry, daddy. i - ah! - i won’t do it again!” you wailed, head falling back as you felt your release fastly approaching.

clay grunted and forced you to look at him again, pushing his thumb into your mouth and letting you drool around it.

“look at me when you fucking speak,” he ordered.

he picked up the pace in frustration, wanting you to apologize appropriately. you distracted him, you should know how much he hates that. you should also know how much he demands your eye contact, getting fucked or not.

you coerce your eyes open and look at him, not concerned about how absolutely wrecked you must look right now. mascara running down your cheeks with tears from over and under stimulation, eyeliner smudged around your blown out eyes, lips red and sore from kissing on his neck, you were a mess. a hot one, if you asked clay.

“i’m sorry, daddy. i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you continued to babble around his finger as his thrusts somehow grew harder and harder, the pace excruciatingly pleasurable. you were going to cum, you knew that much, but you needed permission.

“gonna cum, daddy!” you warned, feeling the burning knot in the pit of your stomach begging to unravel.

“cum for me, baby. make daddy proud.”

and make daddy proud you did, cumming hard around clay’s cock and feeling yourself spray his stomach with your juices. did you just? oh my god, you did. the embarrassment only made you feel hotter as clay continued to fuck your hole past your orgasm. you whined from the overstimulation, but he couldn’t have cared less.

clay’s moans went from low grunts to higher, breathy gasps, the closer he got the lighter his noises became. his brows were furrowed tightly and his eyes were blown out, the darkest shade of green you think you’d ever seen. the muscles in his arm pulsed as he gripped your waist tighter, completely using you as his own personal fuck toy. he was almost there, you could feel it in the way he gave his all but couldn’t keep up the organized pace he had before. you needed him to cum, not just because you were close to being worked up all over again from the stimulation, but because you wanted to make him feel good. in that moment, making him cum felt like your life purpose, your only purpose. you didn’t just want him to cum, you needed it.

“please give me your cum daddy, wanna feel it inside me,” you begged, taking matters into your own hands, “need you to make me yours.”

at that, clay groaned out a loud string of profanities and came inside of you. he painted your insides, you could feel him everywhere. you sighed at the feeling, warm and full and satisfied. clay let his head fall into the crook of your neck as he breathed through his cool down, pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulder and mumbling praises and ‘i love you’s’. it took a moment for either of you to actually speak, just relishing in the moment and enjoying each others company.

“you gonna move anytime soon, bud?” you finally asked with a giggle. clay simply shook his head and buried it farther into your neck, humming out a ‘no’.

“wanna make sure it stays in for a while.”

you giggled again at his confession, pressing a kiss to the side of his head and ruffling his hair.

“okay baby,” you paused and pouted, “i’m sorry for interrupting your stream.”

clay sat back and gave you a soft smile, pressing his finger to your lips and turning your frown upside down, literally. he shook his head and gave you a sweet kiss, pressing his own lips tenderly to yours.

“don’t apologize, it was worth it.” a cheeky smile spread across his face and you rolled your eyes, the endearing air around you severed by your boyfriend’s childishness. you loved it, though you’d never tell him.

“you think anyone was suspicious of us?” you inquired, hoping to god no one had picked up on your quiet moans while the stream was still going.

“nah,’ clay lied.

[hopefully-hellbound]

plssssss do a sequel where demon reader gets revenge on Bailey 😭

i made the reader fallen angel instead of a demon because it made more sense, but yay my first request!

part 1 this refers to is here

M!Bailey x ng!FallenAngel!PC (gn pronouns but has a penis)

After the events of part one, reader wants their angel transformation back. Only one way to do that, and that's expensive.

noncon, corruption, bondage, degradation, drug mention, daddy issues, parental figure but not incest, switch pc, angst Bailey, mentions of prostitution

Bailey made a mistake when he ate those chocolates.

They laid around his office for a while, and one night he just fell weak to temptations, having just a few while he worked late night on paperwork.

He woke up nude and tied up.

He needed a few minutes to realize that this isnt college anymore and he’s now in some actual shit, snapping himself awake as he immediately tried to get his restraints loose. They wouldnt budge though, a thick leather whip holding his wrists securely above his head. Bailey knew that whip.

“What the-“

“Remy let me borrow it.”

A blank voice replies to him, and Bailey’s eyes snap to the source of the sound. There you are, sitting by the window, sunlight reflecting in your dull eyes. You didn’t smile much since the incident before Valentine’s. Bailey kept telling himself that he liked you now better, quiet and avoiding him. That light of yours snuffed out.

Only that it wasn’t, and you were just plotting, how to get back at the man who took your halo, who was the reason your wings now fell dark and torn, every day a feeling of dread overcoming your poor little body. Not for long though.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, brat.” Bailey snarls at you, and you finally look away from the orphans playing outside, at your caretaker.

“You know, Remy really wanted to get in on the action,” you say, getting up to move closer to the bed he’s tied up on. “Wanted to whip you and make you cry like a little girl, he said.”

“Good fucking luck with that.”

“I said no, I wanted this to be just you and me.”

“What are you talking about?? Let me go now or you’ll fucking regret it.”

“Like how you regretted raping me?”

Silence falls between the two of you, you just stare at each other. Bailey’s the one who breaks eye contact first, almost uncomfortable.

“I do what I want with my merchandise and I didn’t regret a thing. Do you understand in what shit you are the second i get out you little-“

“I don’t think you understand what this is, Bailey.”

You cut him off and straddle him, and he’s so surprised for a second he actually doesn’t move, your thighs squishy above his toned stomach. He’s not a bad looking man, you guess, you just wish the circumstances were different. You just wish he was different.

“Yeah? And what is this, then?”

You grind down hard on his crotch, your little hands moving to generously grope his chest as if he were a woman, and yet there is still no more life in your eyes than it was before.

“An extortion.”

Bailey bites so hard down on his lip that it bleeds, but he’s determined not to let out any sounds. He grits his teeth and glares at the camera you hold in his face, and while you think he’s beautiful like this, so feral, you move the view down, where your dick’s nestled nicely deep in his ass.

“We’ve been at this for a while, Bailey. Still refusing?”

“I-If you think I will pay you 10k, you’re fucking wrong.”

His voice shivers a little, and you find it so cute, you want to kiss him but he would probably bite your tongue off at this stage. You pull out almost all the way, only to thrust back inside violently, Bailey inhaling sharply through his nose, but managing to keep it inside.

“Oh. Isn’t it a fair deal, though? Paying for what you took?”

Jordan can restore you, make you pure again – but he needs to be paid for it, and your time before falling too far to be saved is running out.

“I took whats mine you filthy- ah~!”

The look of absolute shame and horror on his face when he moans is picture worthy; good thing you got it on tape. It’s the first time since this has started that your expression changes and you smile, rolling your hips to see if you really found that good spot in him.

“What was that, sir, hm? Was that you moaning on your kid’s cock?”

“... you're not my-“

You silence him with another thrust right into his prostate, and his deeply red face makes it all worth it.

“Not your kid? But dad, you raised me. I don’t have anyone that isn’t you that would take care of me.”

He wants to resist, you know he does, but he now risks moaning again if he opens his mouth, so he just glares at you with such absolute hatred in his eyes. You set the camera down so it’s looking at the two of you, and you lean over, hands next to his head supporting your weight so that you can look down on him.

“You gotta pay back what you stole, dad. Or everyone will know you were overpowered by a child. Maybe you are getting weak in your old age.”

Every time you say that word it’s like you drive the knife of shame deeper in his chest, much like how you thrust your cock inside of him now almost violently. Your hands look bizarre, ridiculously small on his strong thighs but you force them open anyway; Bailey spread like a whore, taking you. His own cock stands thick and erect itself, and you think you would prefer riding that over what you’re doing right now, but maybe some other time. After all, your ass doesn’t matter to Jordan.

“Pretty... you’re so pretty, dad, moaning like a bitch for me.”

Shame and rage are engraved in ever pore of his body right now, and you’re reveling in them.

“Come on, do it louder. Let everyone hear how you failed.”

Your tiny hands wrap around his neck and you squeeze, you strangle him while the pace of your thrusts grows increasingly faster, you’re nearing your finish, almost there-

Bailey’s almost passed out when you finish, your seed dripping out of his hole the second you pull out. He pants out something about revenge but you pay him no mind, you just lean closer and kiss his cheek, same sweet kiss you would give him as a child if he would let his guard down and you’d manage to come that close to his face before he’d yell at you.

“I should leave you.” you whisper, tracing your fingers tenderly up his throbbing, still erect dick. He still hasn’t finished. “Leave you here and let everyone who wants to take a turn with you. All the people you’ve screwed in this town, bet they’d pay good money for it.” he’s still catching his breath, but his teary eyes turn to you, full of disbelief.

Maybe he didn’t think you had it in you. Maybe this was the last thing he’d ever expect from you, and maybe the reality of what happened has really just set in right now.

You smile.

“But i won’t, dad, because that’s not what good people do. And even if you are a jealous little cunt, you’re not gonna ruin this for me.”

Because you’re still a good person.

You’ll get your halo back and you’ll fix what he’s done and you’ll be good again, you’ll be what he always hated you for being.

You look back, at your caretaker’s twitching cock, precum dripping down it as Bailey struggles again.

“Will you give me the money or will I have to earn it by selling you? I know either of us wouldn’t want that~”

With a strained voice, Bailey tells you where his safe is, and you reward him with another kiss, on his neck this time.

“That’s a good boy~”, you purr, excited now that you will finally get to start over again. But you glance at his dick again and your hole throbs, clenches around nothing, and before either of you knows it, you’re straddling him again. “Here’s your reward.... dad~”

You sink down on his cock, and Bailey is too tired to even protest.

But just you wait when he gets free again, just you wait.

Bailey tells himself that he hates you even more now for what you’ve done to him, but you both know that he can lie all he wants, it’s not gonna change the fact that for the first time ever, he feels a speck of respect for you.

[yuzukult]

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan​ , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

[plsimsuchasimp]

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text. 

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile. 

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention? 

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal. 

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched. 

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once. 

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow. 

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you? 

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was. 

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out. 

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone? 

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?” 

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!” 

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

[takenbyheartstrings]

Burden | corpse x reader

Summary: You and Corpse get into a nasty fight, which ends in broken hearts.

Pairing: Corpse x Fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fluff

Authors Note: cried, laughed and cried again during this lmao. i just wanna give him a hug 🥺

requests are open!! <3

You groaned loudly, you and Corpse were in a heated fight, his symptoms started to flare, but he didn’t care, and neither did you.

You groaned loudly, your frustration bubbling, “Babe! I don’t care that you don’t wanna take pictures with me, I don’t fucking care that we can’t go outside, I don’t fucking care if I can’t show you off, because I love you.”

“Y/N YOU’RE NOT GETTING IT,” Corpse sighs, “Every fucking day I feel like I’m a burden to you. I feel like you can do so much better than me. BECAUSE YOU CAN. I FEEL LIKE I’M A FUCKING BURDEN.”

“I DON’T WANT BETTER THAN YOU. THERE IS NO BETTER THAN YOU AND YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN.” Pools of clear, salty water filled your eyes.

Corpse groaned, matching your frustration, “I’m just worried that I can’t give you the life you want, and I want you to have better. No, fuck that I need you to have better.”

“What does that mean for us then. I want you and you want me to have better than you.”

“I STILL WANT YOU Y/N, but I can’t fucking live with the fact that I couldn’t give you want you need. That I never can.”

You were in shock and you knew what was coming for the two of you, you just didn’t want to believe it at all and it was so fucked up and terrible and you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without this man. Your anxiety wouldn’t be able to handle that you weren’t with him anymore. Your breath became heavy, as you felt a weight on your heart. Your stomach shrunk and you felt so constricted by yourself. You shook your head at him, from the opposite side of the bed as both of you were on either side.

“We’re over, we’re done. Live a better life without me in it, y/n. As long as you’re happy, I won’t regret it.” Tears ran down the boy’s skin.

You weren’t angry anymore, you were anxious, you were in sobs, “Fine,” Corpse face fell when the word came out of your mouth.

You turned around and opened the closet that held the both of your clothes. Taking off Corpe’s sweater that you were currently wearing, throwing it at him, taking all your clothes out of the closet, opening a duffle bag shoving everything inside of it. Putting on another shirt to cover up the bra that covered your chest. You couldn’t believe he would end things with you. After all you guys have been through.

You convinced him to move out to L.A. when most of your friends had made the same exact transition. You got him to open up to you without even trying in the first two weeks of knowing him. You were the first person he showed his face before he showed the rest of your friends. He said I love you first and was okay with it when you were hesitant about saying it back, even though you said it three days later without even knowing you had. You were both sat in bed and he said “You said it back.” “Said what back?” “I love you. You said it, this morning when you hung up the phone.”.

After throwing the duffle bag over your shoulder, you looked at him once more, “I’ll be back tomorrow to get the rest of my things, my PC, my set up, all of it. You can keep the TV, you can keep everything else, I just need my set up.”

“Done. See you tomorrow.” Corpse sighed, taking a seat on what had been a shared bed, was now his. He couldn’t believe he was sleeping in the king bed the two of you had bought because you were one of the biggest bed hog’s he had ever met. You walked out and he looked down at the f/c coloured bed sheets you had convinced him to let you put on, even though he preferred the black ones, but you let him have the wall behind the two of you black and helped him painted the room. As well as painting the walls of his gaming room black too.

You got into your little Honda Civic, as you drove for around 15 minutes finally reaching Rae’s house. You told yourself you wouldn’t break down in front of her, but you knew that you would. You got out of your car, and closed the door as you walked up to Rae’s front door. Knocking on it, she didn’t answer at first but you looked down at the clock on your phone, noticing that it was 12:00am. Although she might’ve been sleeping, she could’ve been streaming.

So you knocked again, and she opened the door, her bedroom room was lit up from what you could see, and she was streaming. She noticed the duffle bag and let you in, placing a finger to her lips telling you to whisper. Running back to her stream room.

“Well guys! I’m getting tired so, I’m gonna end it here, goodnight!” She said cheerily. Before shutting off her PC and ending the stream walking back out into her living room to see you sitting on the couch. You were in sobs.

“He ended it, Rae, he ended things with me and I can’t br-breath.” You said taking a deep breath as she sat down next to you pulling you close to her. “How am I supposed to go and get my things tomorrow, I can’t even think about him without crying and picturing his smile and hearing his laugh and crying. What hurts even worse is the fact that he didn’t even want to end it, he ended it because he said I could do better. When I can’t get better than him.”

“What makes him say that?” She asks.

“He thinks he’s holding me back. He thinks because he doesn’t show his face online, he doesn’t want to leave the house, he thinks he’s holding me back and he’s not because that’s not what people do when they love eachother, when people love eachother, they walk through life together. They experience things together. We loved eachother.”

“Y/n, it’s gonna be okay, you just need to talk to him, you both clearly still want to be together, so you just need to tell him what you told me - he’s loosing his mind if he’s letting you out of all the people go. So when you go pick up your things, talk to him.”

You nodded, “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll just talk to him.”

Well, talking to him was harder than you thought. You texted him five minutes before you got there to give him a heads up. You walked upto the front door the next morning, seeing a yellow post-it note on the front door.

Pick up your things, text me when you leave.

You sighed, calling Rae, “Rae, can you come help me get my stuff, Corpse isn’t here,,, he left.”

“On my way.” She sighs.

With the two of you getting your set up, it didn’t take long before it was dismantled and in both of your cars. Your pc, mic and monitor and your now broken desk chair in your car, and your desk in Raes.

Gone <3

Was what you texted Corpse after you left. You thought the little heart was cute, but you knew it wasn’t needed and so did you. You didn’t set your stuff up at Rae’s knowing it would only be temporary. You told your fans you were visiting your parents and wouldn’t be streaming for a little bit. Though they knew something was up, you hadn’t responded to any of Corpse’s tweets or hadn’t commented on the fact that he posted another hand pic, usually a cute remark like “that’s one sexy hand ^-^” or something like that would be in the comments.

Every night that week without him, you cried yourself to sleep, every night the next week, you did the same, and the week after that, you did it again. It had been almost a month since you guys had ended things and you still cried. You would keep crying. Corpse knew you were staying with Rae, and made sure to ask her if you were okay. Short answer, Rae told him every time: No.

It was raining one night, fit the mood, as you sat in bed on your laptop watching streams of him play, missing his laugh and his voice. You frequently went back to the stream where he couldn’t do admin swipe, because that was the hardest he had laughed on camera. The hardest he had ever laughed was when you two had fallen off of the bed, when you had surprised him with a kiss. A heavy thump echoed through the house as the both of you fell into a fit of laughter, you had calmed down, but he was still going - couldn’t look at you without bursting into a laughing fit - he tried to stop the laughter, because it was making his stomach hurt like 30,000 knifes, but he couldn’t. That admin swipe didn’t even come close. But it was close enough for you as you cried watching them. You opened your camera roll to which you found lots of photos of him. You cried.

You got up out of Rae’s guest bed. She was streaming so you just shot her a text careful not to give your location away. She shot you a simple text back as you left the house in your little black honda civic, you looked at the little plastic bag he had set up for your gum wrappers and used gum.

Tears ran down your face as the rain followed. You sighed getting out of the car standing in the rain contemplating if you should go and knock on the door or not. You knew he wouldn’t be doing okay. Or maybe he was, but you just knew him too well to know he wouldn’t be hurting.

“Fuck it.” You muttered under your breath.

You walked up to the front door, knocking on it furiously as the porch light turned on. He opened the door. You looked at his face, his eyes were bloodshot red like yours, and you could hear tiny sniffles coming from his nose. You could see the couch behind him had been pulled out into the bed, but there was nobody staying over. He couldn’t sleep in the bed the two of you shared. But you knew you had to give the sappy ass speech because you were both hurting.

“When I started streaming in 2015, I didn’t think it would be like this. Y’know. I knew I’d be meeting people left and right, but I didn’t know I would meet you. Until I did. Then we started to talk outside of the group and streams and, everything else. Then you opened up to me about everything you possibly could and we knew each other for two months. But that felt like years. Then you asked me to come to San Fransisco and thank god i said yes. Then we went on two dates on your balcony and they were perfect, and thennnn you asked me to be your girlfriend and of course I said yes. One year later, I convince you to move to L.A. with me, you say yes. We move here, buy a house, everything was perfect. Two years later, I’m sitting in bed for one month, crying over you, because we both want each other, you just wanna give me better. But that’s not how it works. How it works is we go through life together and I’m fine waiting for you, because I can’t live without you. I can’t function without you and people who love eachother go through life together and we loved eachother. I still love you.” By the end of it, your words were unintelligible to anyone but him.

He just looked at you, the same tears running down his face as you, he sighs of relief, “Thank fuck. I tried to call you everyday, but I couldn’t. Not after I was a coward like that. It was so fucking shitty of me to do that to you - I just wanted you to have better. I needed you to have better.” He cried as you pulled him close, your foreheads touching.

“It’s okay,” You said hugging his head.

“Please take me back, please.” He choked.

Your foreheads touched, “Of course I’ll take you back, I need you back.”

Your soft lips pressed onto his as you both smiled against it. You could taste the salty water between your lips. Although Corpse’s eyes were now dried. He smiled down at you pulling you back into a hug. Rae texted you as you heard the familiar ding of your phone.

Pulling away from Corpse and pulling your phone out, a screenshot of both you and Corpse’s bitmoji’s showed up on Rae’s snap maps. A message sat underneath it.

this you? 🤭

You chuckled showing Corpse as he let out a laugh with you.

yeah SDFJHDKFSJDNG spending the night here :)

i knew you guys could get through this! see you tomorrow, come pick up your shit 😐

SDJFKDJF all jokes aside - thank you so much Rae, i wouldn’t have been okay without you. i hope i wasn’t a burden on you.

of course you weren’t! now remember, i’ll see you tomorrow 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

So that night, you lay in your bed with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. God, it felt nice to say that again. It was warm and soft and you liked the way his chest fell up and down as you lay on it. His strong arms around you. Careful never to let you go again.

People don’t believe in soulmates, but you knew you had found yours, as when you thought he was asleep, he intertwined your fingers together, as you both fell asleep entangled in between each other.

[lavenderjacobs]

fluff alphabet - Sapnap

➳ wc; 2,1K (she’s a long one lol)  ➳ pronouns; gender neutral<3 ➳ song reccomendation; heart eyes - coin

A=Attractive (What do they find most attractive in a partner?)

nick’s an ass guy and you can’t convince me otherwise. he’s also just loves your thighs and your stomach. he loves how soft your skin is, and how good you smell. whenever he’s sad he just rests his head on your stomach while you tangle you fingers in his hair. 

B=Best memory (Their favourite memory of you)

he cherishes your first kiss so much. he just has such a soft spot for that memory. the moment he finally found out you felt the same about him, the moment he finally found out what your lips against his felt like. it’s just something he had looked forward to for forever, and to him, it was perfect. 

C=Cuddles  (What type of cuddles do they like?)

sapnap is a WHORE for cuddles. if it where up to him, you two would just lay in bed all day, tangled in each other’s arms. after a long day, he just wants to hold his favourite person and fall asleep with them, so he just wraps his arms around your waist while he uses your chest as a pillow. but if he’s in a chatty mood, he’ll just talk your ears off, ranting about something he finds interesting, while you’re all snuggled up in the crook between his neck and shoulder. 

D=Dirty mind (Do they have a dirty mind?)

I mean, come on. it’s sapnap. we all know he does. he gets *excited* very easily, which can sometimes get in the way when you two are just trying to cuddle. he just has such a soft spot for your body and has to have his way with you once certain ideas have entered his mind. 

E=Effort (How much effort do they put in the relationship?)

nick would definitely try his best. honestly you don't care if his plans actually turn out the way he intented them to, it's the thought that counts. and nick knows that. but theres just something about you that makes him want to spoil you and treat you like a princess. so prepare yourself for fancy dates, him making you your favorite food, all that type of stuff.

F=First date (What was your first date together)

arcade date arcade date arcade date. sap is super competitive and I feel like he would thrive in an arcade. he would play it off like he was just trying to proof how good he was at the arcade games. but he'd just love to see how hard you would be trying to beat him. obviously he'd let you win a lot, and when he collected enough tickets, he would get you the biggest prize he could find.

G=Gentle (How gentle are they with you?)

it....depends???? lmao. nick CAN be super gentle with you, he’s pretty protective of you and would never want you to get hurt, so he’s definitely very careful not to do anything to hurt you. but sometimes his instinct just kinda takes over and well, he can get pretty rough. 

H=Hands (Do they have nice hands?)

hmmm nick has like,,very manly hands,, if you know what i mean. i dont know, they're just so rough but yet so pretty??? and they're like really big compared to yours so when he holds ur hand, yours looks so tiny in his. and omg he won't shut up about it. "LOOK AT YOUR HANDS THEY'RE SO SMALL🥺"

I=Impression (What was their first impression?)

he just thought you were so ~cool~. like he immediately knew he wanted to be your friend. he was just so in awe of how funny, chill and charismatic you were. and it literally took two days for him to develop a crush on you. his friends would notice this right away and tease him about it so much omg.

J=Jealousy (Do they get jealous often? If so what do they do?)

YUP. nick gets jealous so easy yup yup yup. jealousy, protectiveness, possessiveness, you name it. you two would often get in fights about this, but most of the time you would just think it’s cute how riled up he gets. he doesn’t get mad at you (because you’re his precious little baby and can do no wrong in his eyes :D) but god help the souls of whoever tries to flirt with you, because they’ve got a hell of a storm coming.

K=Kisses (What type of kisses do they like/give?)

god nick’s such a passionate kisser. or at least he can be lol. he loves the way your face fits into his hands, and how soft your lips are. so he definitely is a fan of just some wholesome passionate kisses. but damn this man gets sloppy when he wants to. his lips constantly trails off to your jaw, neck and collar bones.

L=Love  (Do they show their love?)

i feel like his love language would be like a mix between words of affection and physical touch??? he’s definitely very verbal with his love for you. he doesn’t shy away from saying i love you or letting you know how much he appreciates you in any other way.

M=Memory: (Their favourite memory in general?)

there are certain moments where nick just sits back, watches, and realizes how amazing his life is. and how grateful he is to have you. for example, you were playing minecraft on his pc, and your house kept getting blown up by creepers, he found it adorable how mad you got every time. he just watched you play, while sitting on his bed. after a while, you looked over at him, and caught him staring. “what?” you asked after letting out a soft chuckle. he felt like he was gonna explode from how much he loved you. 

N=Nickname  (What nicknames do they call you?)  

i’m getting very strong “baby” and “doll” vibes from nick. he loves baby-ing you and smothering you with other loving nicknames. just any petnames that show how much he loves you he’s all for. he would also love calling you “pretty” or “beautiful” for obvious reasons. 

O=Over  (What happened the one time you ‘broke up’?)

nick HATES fighting with you, but once you two get into an argument he can get pretty carried away. he’s definitely the type to let his emotions get the upper hand on him. raising his voice a lot, stuff like that. but the second you leave to get some space he just breaks down. sliding down the wall and resting his face in his hands, just letting all the emotions out. he never meant to hurt you. when you came back to him, ready to be enclosed in his arms again, he had a hard time letting you back in. he just felt like he didn’t deserve you after he treated you like this. it took some convincing, but once you broke down his walls again, it was like he gave you all the love in his body. just smothering you with “i’m sorry”s and kisses. 

P=Parents (What would they be like as a parent?)

dilfnap dilfnap dilfnap  omg he’d be such a good dad. like just very caring and loving, but also strict and stern when he needs to be. he’d constantly be telling stories to the kids about the absurd adventures him and his friends would get into, and omg the dad jokes he’d make. idk maybe it’s my daddy issues but dad sapnap lives in my mind rent free. 

Q=Quirk (Something special about them)

he loves holding your hand. especially in public. if you’re in a crowded space, he just holds onto you very tightly as not to lose you. or if you two are just going on a walk together, his hands would just feel so warm and soft around yours. and omg he loves it when his hands are in his pockets, and you put your hands in there with him, and intertwine your fingers with his. hmmm he gets so soft when you do that.

R=Romantic (How romantic are they?)

i- uh- I MEAN HE WOULD TRY he really would, and again, that’s all that matters. I feel like he would be the type to try to prepare a whole surprise dinner, he would cook all the food himself, he would set the table all cute, with candles and shit, but just completely ruin the surprise by accidentally giving it all away by saying something or just behaving very obviously suspicious. 

S=Sad (What are they like when they’re sad?)

he just gets really quiet. he would never want to bother you or be a pain in the ass by complaining to you. but obviously you notice when something is wrong with ur bby boy. a sentence like “are you okay?” or “what’s wrong?” would immediately send him over the edge, burying his face in your chest, trying his best to supress his sobs. but he eventually calms down, and once he does, he’s able to just rant to you about whatever is bothering him.

T=Together (What are they like when you’re together?)

i feel like it would really depend on his mood, like he could be either SUPER chill, just wanting to savour the time you two had together. or he could be really hyper, constantly talking, wanting to do all kinds of activities with you. he’d be the literal definition of :D

U=Understanding (How understanding and empathetic are they?)

very. i just get such empathetic vibes from him. he’s such a good listener and he’ll just listen to you talk whenever you have something to be upset about. he never invalidates your feelings and omg he’d give the best advice. 

V=Value (What do they value most about the relationship?)

he loves that he can 100% be his self around you. there’s no part of his personality that he feels like he has to hide, or tone down, whenever he’s with you. you also aspire him to be his best self, he just wants to be the best boyfriend in the world. all his friends have noticed this too, you bring out the best in him.

W=Wedding (Would they want marriage? If so what would they like?)

eh. if you’re a person who really values marriage, he’d 100% do it for you. but it’s not like he HAS to. he gets a bit scared by the idea of this whole big event, where everything is about you two, he would way rather celebrate the love you two have in the comfort of your own home, just the two of you. the one thing he would love about a wedding, would be seeing you all dolled up, walking down the aisle, omg he’d be the proudest man ever to be able to call you his.

X=X-Ray (How well can they read you?)

the SECOND you start to feel sad or depressed in any way, nick notices immediately. he knows you better than anybody else, and he knows exactly what to do to cheer you up. it’s like his superpower. if you’re feeling anxious he’ll just wrap his arms around you really tightly, holding on to you until you calm down. and when you’re sad, and in need for something to cheer you up, he’ll take you outside for a walk in the park, or he’ll just sit in bed with you, watching your favourite show. 

Y=Yuck (What they would never want in a partner)

he hates when you flirt with his friend, even when you’re very obviously joking. his jealous ass can’t deal with that lmao. he also gets super pissed when his friends make flirtatious jokes towards you, they know how much it gets on his nerves and that’s really the only reason they do it. but omg he gets so pissed when it happens. 

Zzz (How do they sleep around you?)

nick would be the cutest sleeper ever omg. he doesn’t like to admit it, but he loves being little spoon. he loves resting his head on your chest, while you play with his hair, patiently waiting for him to fall asleep. 

[struggling-with-time]

Don’t turn green on me now. [Corpse x reader]

Paring: Corpse husband x Female!reader

Summary: “Corpse husband x fem reader where the reader is best friends with Ethan and they been spending a lot of time together because he knows about her crush . And one day while steaming corpse get jealous and make a mean comment to her and she gets off . And Ethan spills that they just friends and she likes corpse . And corpse feel bad so he goes to her house and they make up and kiss” Requested by anon

“How would you be able to write a somewhat angsty jealous corpse fic?? Thank you!” requested by anon

Warnings: Fluff, angst, jealousy

Words: 1.4K

A/N: I answered two request in this. Open for requests

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ethan has been staying at your place for the last week, and before that you two saw each other more than 3 times every week. You were currently setting up your streaming equipment in your bedroom, and Ethan is setting his up around your dinning table. You’re still surprised you both managed to reassemble a greenscreen you found for Ethan on eBay a couple of years back for when he was visiting. You had managed to throw the instructions out last time, and now you had a fun video of Ethan reassembling it to the best of his limited abilities, it wasn’t that it was hard. It was more, everything looked the same, but everything only fit correctly in one place.

You walk into the kitchen and help Ethan look over the makeshift streaming studio. The kitchen did have a small echo, but it was easier than dragging the dining table into the living room. The two of you did that once. But you weren’t strong enough to push it back after Ethan had left for home again, so it sat in your living room for 5 weeks straight, until you asked your neighbour for help. Refusing to admit to Ethan that you couldn’t do it yourself.

“Everything looks fine and stable as far as I can see.” You comment to him. Ethan agrees and feels proud of being able to assemble the greenscreen alone. He takes a quick glance at the clock on your kitchen wall.

“Oh shoot, we’re late, the other started 10 minutes ago.” Ethan notices, and rushes to turn everything on, knowing he still had another 5 minute before he was able to start streaming, because he needed to tweak all the settings on his pc and camera so they would be compatible with the greenscreen and echo.

You rush into your bedroom and drop down in your chair, quickly joining the discord call and greeting the others, and excusing your tardiness. Ethan joins a few minutes later.

“There you two finally are! We’ve been waiting on you two, we were starting to think you we’re doing other things, if you know what I mean.” Mark comments, earning a groan in response from the two of you. Everyone knew you were just friends, and that you had a not to hide-able crush on the deep voiced Corpse.

You completely ignore him and choose to greet said crush instead. “How has your day been Corpse? Killed any of these in among us yet today?”

He chuckles as a response, you can feel the butterflies in your stomach, making you feel like a small schoolgirl with a schoolgirl crush on the hot senior.

“It’s been good Y/N, how about yours?” He responds, both of your stream chats eating it up raw.

“We’ve been good too!” Ethan tells, “we even filled a pretty damn good video if I dare say so myself.”

“Ethan sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t think YouTube allows that much swearing in that short an amount of time.” You say in the most serious tone possible, failing badly.

“Swearing what were you two doing?” Sean teases at the two of you. You both just laugh it off, and the game finally starts.

Corpse can feel his jaw clench at the thought of you and Ethan- no. He was not allowing his mind to wander such places. I mean you wouldn’t stay up late on phone calls, telling him you just needed to scrape a small amount more together before you could visit him. Corpse gets distracted by all the good night long talks you’ve had over the phone, that he doesn’t realise he has been killed, and they’re now trying to find his killer.  

“Huh? What’s going on?” He asks.

“You’re dead Corpse. You can’t talk!” You tease him, man he loves when you tease him.

“Oh.” You giggle at him, one of the sweetest sounds in his ears, if anyone ever were to ask him.

He doesn’t talk for the rest of the game. Just observes and does his tasks to help them win. But eventually defeat comes across the screen.

You tease Ethan about being the first one to die, and he counters with, he could just come into your room and kill you there instead. Suddenly when your giggle filled his ear this time, it didn’t sit right with him. You shouldn’t laugh with Ethan.

The next round comes down to him, you and Ethan. Ethan killed right in front of Corpse, and self-reported and is now throwing the fault at Corpse.

“I’m telling Y/N, he killed Mark right in front of me!” Ethan lies right through his teeth at his best friend.

“Baby, Y/N I didn’t kill Mark, Ethan vented into electrical and did it right in front of me.” Corpse counters with the truth.

“Okay! Okay it’s obviously one of you two. 10 seconds, fuck. Okay I’m sorry Corpse, but I just believe Ethan, we did shield together!” You say as you vote for Corpse, and defeat flashes across your own screen.

You lean back in your chair. The stream can hear ethan burst through your door, to taunt you. Live on stream.

Corpse huff once and tells you. “I should have known. You always choose Ethan over me. Thanks for having me.” The thank you dripping in sarcasm as he closes off his stream and shuts down discord.

You sit dumbfounded and mutter your own goodbye to your own stream, as you don’t know how to process what just happened. Ethan is looking as dumbfounded as you.

You try to reach out to Corpse, essentially closing down without his presence in your life. Ethan tries to help, but it only seems to push Corpse further away from you. Leaving Ethan to pack his bags alone and take a cab home. Leaving you alone.

2 weeks have now passed since you last heard from Corpse, and you need to get back on your feet. Sure he has been part of you life everyday for the last 8 or so months, and, you aren’t really able to fall asleep without talking on the phone with him. But you needed to move on and get going.

When the 3rd week rolls around a knock sounds at your door. You know it’s not Ethan, knowing he’s in a completely different state until the week after. You hesitantly open the door, to reveal a Corpse looking like a deer caught in the spotlight.

“C-Corpse?” You reach out to touch his chin. He leans into the touch.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I overreacted, and then I got scared I pushed you away too far to be able to reach out, and you said you have always wanted a big romantic gesture. So here goes my big romantic gesture.” He stands back up. “Y/N L/N I am so in love with you, your smile brightens up even the darkest days. Your laugh cuts through even the darkest thought, and how can I forget the eyes that shine so bright I couldn’t imagine never having to see them again. Y/N will you let be your boyfriend?”

You grab him by his collar and pulls him down to you, as you crash your lips together. He melts into it after a second. And you slowly pull apart again.

“Yes! Yes, you big dufus! Never ever do that again though.” You smile up at him.

“Never.” He promises as he crashes the two of you together again.

[january31st]

I show up to the party just to leave (Venable x reader)

Summary: After a long time of not seeing each other, your brother invites you to his birthday party.

A/N: Title from Amoeba by Clairo. Her new album is like salt on an open wound, but in the softest way possible, and I love it :'). This has been in the drafts for a month and it was supposed to be a quick one to get me out of a slump :/ oops i guess (also i have no idea what this is or how we got here)

The reader doesn’t know about the whole selling their souls to the devil thing

Warnings: Drug addiction, overdose and hospital mentions. 

Masterlist

~1800 words

The brightness inside Kineros was somehow even worse than outside in the California heat. Its whiteness and clean, modern look took you by surprise, given that your brother’s room back home used to be a mountain of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes, his PC setup the only thing you could look at without getting a headache. 

“This.... is insane Jeff” you said as you took your sunglasses off, squinting very hard.

“I told you! I don’t know what’s so hard to believe about it. The whole multi-million company thing wasn’t convincing enough to make you believe this place is nice?” He said as he led you around to his office.

“Well, I’m just saying that coming from you I expected more of a nerd bunker than a sci-fi spaceship”

“Are your standards really that low Y/N?” he said with his hand on his chest, pretending to be deeply offended.

“Yeah, in the beginning you bragged for months about your Van”

“Oh but you can’t say that a company on the move isn’t cool”

“Sure” you said, shifting your attention to the woman in purple sitting behind the desk.

“Hi, you must be Ms.Venable! I’m Y/N, Jeff’s sister.” You said with your hand stretched out in front of you.

She looked from you to Jeff, and then at your hand, considering whether she should take it or not. Slowly, with the help of her cane, she stood up and shook it.

“And I hear you would be joining us to prepare for tomorrow, although I’ve told Mr. Pfister I have it handled.” She said, shooting your brother a menacing look, but you were too distracted by the feeling of her gloved hand still in yours. Had someone turned off the AC?

“I know Ms. Venable, I just had to show her the place before the party so she would believe it is nice. And by having her help get things ready she would know we didn’t mess things around to make it look better than it is” He said, and when you managed to shift your gaze away from her you noticed how Jeff looked. Someone finally taught him respect?

“If I had met Ms.Venable before, maybe I wouldn’t doubt how nice it is.”

“If you hadn’t left home for so long, maybe you would know more about the company”

“If you didn’t have so much blow up your nose all the time back then, maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to run away!” 

“Awww family reunions are so cute” You turned to the circle door on the left side of the room to see your brother’s work partner leaning against it and looking at you two with a pout.

“Oh… hey Mutt” 

“How is my favourite Pfister doing? I can’t believe how long it has been since I’ve seen you bro!” He said giving you a hug you did not expect.

“Hey! What the hell? Your favourite Pfister? Really? Stop flirting with my sister, asshole” said Jeff.

“I’m not! But it’s true, your sister is the best. Back then before we even dreamt of Kineros, the three of us would have so much fun!” Mutt answered, his arm still around your shoulders.

“Yeah I guess, before you two started your bullshit in between the lines” you said, scratching at your nose.

“Oh, speaking of flirting, how is that girlfriend of yours doing?” Jeff asked.

“Girlfriend? What… Ah. Yeah, well- she..” You laughed “ I swear I can’t make this shit up. Has it been that long since we spoke really?” The topic was making you even more uncomfortable, and you noticed that Ms. Venable was looking at you with an almost curious look? Was it? She was hard to read.

“Well, would you believe it, she fell in love with your dear coke instead.” Jeff looked at you as if he had just broken your favourite toy.

“Yea she just dumped me a while back and hit the streets. I tried to look for her, but she was just gone. I have no clue if she’s even alive.”

“Shit Y/N I’m sorry” Jeff said.

“Are you? Or are you still sniffing lines like a mad man?” 

“Technically not lines no.” He said, smiling at Mutt knowingly.

You took his arm from your shoulders. “So you’re telling me that if I punch your ass right now it wouldn’t be snowing in here?”

When he didn’t answer with anything other than laughter you went on “It’s not funny! None of this is funny Jeff! Not now, and not that time I had to take your ODing ass to the ER! And not on all those times you were in withdrawal!”

He only laughed more, and said “It would be hell if that happened again!”

“Jeff! Have you-”

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but the last of the decorations for tomorrow are just arriving.” said Ms. Venable. And despite her low voice, all three of you went silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You worry too much”

“What?” You asked through the pen you were chewing at, with your back still turned to her from the top of the chair, as you exchanged the regular lightbulb with a colorful one from the box you were holding.

She didn’t repeat herself for a while, as if she regretted saying anything in the first place. The past hour or so you had barely exchanged more than a couple words, her impassive looks making you assume she just didn’t like you.

“You worry too much about him.” She said, her voice loud and clear this time.

You stepped down from the chair placing the white bulb on the box she was holding with one hand. Thinking about your brother now made something clench on your stomach. To hide how hard it was to find an answer for her, you went to write a check on the lighting part of your to-do list.

“How could I not?” You asked.

“I must admit his lifestyle is… interesting. But it seems to have worked to bring this company to where it is today.” She said.

“I know he’s your boss, but you don’t have to doll-up how things are around here. And don’t give him more credit than he deserves, he is cocky enough about it.” after a pause you added “I know that if it were up to him, he would still be assembling robots amidst his dirty socks. It doesn’t take much to realise who’s behind everything that isn’t necessarily robots here.”

You reached for the box she was holding to go put it away, and noticed she was standing as still as a statue. Grabbing it from her with the ghost of a friendly smile on your face you went on, since she didn’t seem to know how to answer you this time.

“He used to say it helped him think and work better. And maybe it does but as his sister I can’t just ignore it and pretend I’m okay with it. He never takes things that matter seriously.”

“Before we got here I- for some stupid reason- actually thought he stopped it. He isn’t like he was before. Something has changed about him.”

“It has.” She said. “I think his dedication to the job put him in his tracks somewhat. Whatever his tracks are” She added with a smirk.

Giggling at that, you said, holding the checklist for her to see “Now that we´re done, how about we go get a snack and talk about something that doesn’t involve dumb and dumber or their tragic hairstyles?”

Fighting back a smile, she guided you somewhere you could eat, and said “I’m glad you don’t have a bowl cut too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first hour or so Jeff introduced you to random people at the party, none of them getting much of your attention at all. Fancy and famous people, and though it was hard to believe seeing your brother around them- their nice suits next to his striped shirt, jeans and hoodie- you didn’t feel astonished at all. You felt crushed by everyone around you and took every opportunity to avoid dull conversation.

Some of them were surprised to meet you, to see how his casualty wasn’t a trait you shared, and given that you knew this would be a somewhat big party you did, in fact, dress up to the occasion. You decided to wear a nice blazer over a silk lingerie type shirt, straight legged pants and heels, hair slicked back and makeup dark and bold. Anywhere else you would look out of place, but here you managed to melt into the rest of the well dressed crowd. Thankfully that worked to your advantage so you could be away from the center of attention.

On the quick calls you did have, your brother never failed to gloat about his life and how great things were, and a part of you hoped blindlessly that it would mean he left his bad habits behind. Though now as you stood under the coloured lights it was more than obvious that he wouldn’t change, and all the bad memories from his addiction came back to you at once. Overwhelmed by your thoughts and the ambient itself, you made your way to the outside of the building unaware of the tic-toc of a cane following you.

“Where are you going?” her voice pulled you back to reality.

“I don’t know. Just away from this” you said, hand waving in the air. Then you took a second to look at her, as formally dressed as the day before, lilac suit and all, only her expression had changed. Though you knew she would never admit it, her face was contorted in a plea, almost begging for you to stay.

“I thought he changed. I really did. Like a foolish fucking child.”You blurted out.

“You don’t have to leave like this.” She stated, sounding disinterested despite herself.

“I do. I really do.”

“I never come to these events… I hate these people just as much as you do.” You narrowed your eyes at her, waiting for the rest of it, and when it didn’t come you asked “What made you come this time?”

After a long pause she said “I was surprised to meet you. I would never believe your brother had someone as… prudent and sensible in his life.” Another pause. “I’m trying to say don’t leave m-” She stopped herself.

“Then take me somewhere” You said without thinking, looking straight into those brown eyes as they seemed to soften. And for the first time her face twisted into what was definitely, unmistakably, a smile, and all you could do was smile right back.

“Come along then”

[necros-writing-stuff]

But what if PC did manage to save Bailey, Eden, and Whitney? (Maybe they found his gun/knife/etc or somethin) How would he feel waking up in the hospital to them sleeping in a chair nearby? I simp for these 3 and seeing them hurt, hurts me.

Writing angst hurts so bad man, I love when the LI hurts the PC, but when the LI gets hurt or others are added to the equation I want to cry.

Under cut for mentions of violence and length

Bailey

Was working hard all day, half asleep as they make some soup before bed. They take a quick toilet break, not being there to notice someone sneaking in and drugging it.

They're sat in their office, reviewing what they've been up to when you waltz in, pyjamas covering your body.

Let's you come sit in their lap while they finish up, knowing you'll want to stay in their bed due to nightmares you've been having.

They really shouldn't indulge you so much, but they can't really help it.

When your stomach rumbles they let you taste the soup, only for you to spit it straight out.

"That's drugged. Someone tried to give me that when I worked at the stripclub, Bailey, I promise," you turn to them, alert and panicked but they can only smile a little, the haze settling in properly.

Cursing, you run to their bedroom, pulling the handgun out from under the pillow and sitting back in their lap, grabbing for their phone and asking them to unlock it.

Constantly checking their temperature and lucidity as you do so.

It takes a little, but you manage to get it open and go straight to a contact you'd heard them speaking to regularly, asking them to send someone over to guard them and that there was a possibility people might try to break in.

The next morning, Bailey finds you still awake, sat next to their bed with the gun in hand, eyes trained on the door until their shuffling draws you eyes. Looking over Baikey is a private doctor they trust.

"Oh thank fuck, you okay?" You sit next to them, placing the gun down and grasping their cheeks, much to the annoyance of the Doc, who steps back a little.

Confused they'll ask what happened, immediately getting angry and jumping out of bed despite both of you telling them to lay down.

You'll have to convince them to slow down as they spends the rest of the day ordering their people to start asking questions, but ultimately they just let you follow them around worrying all day.

Needs to be working immediately because they don't want to show weakness.

Starts painting the windows shut in the orphanage so it's harder for people to sneak in.

Never ever leaves their food alone again.

Is very impressed you managed to remember the name of the person who works for them, thankful that you were so quick thinking.

Theres no telling who could have drugged them, hospital staff, police, Quinn. Good job on sticking to the inner circle.

When you come home the next day, you find a box on your bed. It's full of new, expensive clothes and you know it's from Bailey. A thank you for looking out for them.

Eden

Panic starts to encompass them as they fall to the ground, surrounded by hunters they'd threatened weeks ago.

Where were you, were you safe? They can hurt them, but not you.

Drifting out of consciousness a little as they hear a gunshot and a scream.

You stand at the door, Eden's forgotten rifle in hand after shooting one of the intruders in the foot. You shoot again, aiming for another when they start to scatter, not anticipating another person to be here, let alone armed.

You're silently thanking Eden for teaching you how to shoot, as you advance down the stairs, shooting into the trees hoping you hit another one of the fuckers you'd seen beating your spouse.

You can still hear them yelling as you run over to Eden's collapsed body, seeing them struggling to open their eyes.

You grab the water bottle they strap to their belt, dripping it over them and lightly slapping at their cheek, looking up and around every few seconds to check noone was sneaking up on you.

It takes a few minutes, but Eden starts being cohesive again, working with you as you get them up and bring them inside, locking the door behind you after ensuring you fetch anything that could be used as a weapon from outside.

You get the salve you made and start treating wounds, gently talking the entire time to remind Eden that it was you, they're safe, it's all okay.

Eden is just glad you aren't hurt, wrapping their arms around your waist and pressing their face into your chest, breathing in your scent.

So clingy for the next little while.

"I shouldn't have let my guard down, what if they'd been here to hurt you-"

"Eden for gods sake I'm alright, let me help you now okay? What if you have a concussion?"

Let's you fiddle with them to help calm you down. They feel fine, just come here.

Wants to cuddle, kissing you every so often.

"We should start building a perimeter tomorrow," they'll suggest, and you agree, eager to give them something that'll bring back their sense of control.

You can tell its hard for Eden, to have been beaten like that. You let them be more controlling for a little while so they can get their confidence back.

"And I'm proud of you. You can really shoot well," they'll mumble into your neck as they drift off, a little unsure of themselves. They aren't really sure how to praise others, how to show affection that isn't physical.

Makes you breakfast and gives you a massage the next day, a silent thank you for saving them.

Might also use their wood-carving skills to carve you a little figurine of you holding the rifle, letting you put it above the hearth to remember your brave moment.

Whitney

The good mood is interrupted, when the teens in tracksuits grab at you, separating you from Whitney and trying to subdue both of you.

You're not sure how many times you see Whitney get hit before you manage to rip your mouth free of whatever keeps it covered, drawing in a full breath as you scream "FIRE!" at the top of your lungs.

You'd read somewhere it was more affective than 'help' or 'rape', and sure enough, some adults run over to the alley and begin yelling at and chasing after the delinquents who run.

You fall to your knees and hold Whitney close as someone calls an ambulance, asking if anyone knows their parents so they can go tell them what happened. No one does, and you can't unlock their phone, so you just stay with them when the ambulance comes, trying to cover them with your body so people couldn't see how badly hurt they were.

With no way to contact the family, you're asked to accompany Whitney to the hospital, staying over night so the police can take a statement about what happened and so that Whit can have someone take them home the next day.

When they wake up, you're resting with your head on the hospital bed, right next to their hand, which they use to pet you till you wake up.

Whitney tries not to cry when you throw yourself over them and tell them how thankful you are that they're okay.

It's been a long time since anyones been so openly concerned. Since anyone has given a shit about how Whitney was doing. Most of the time people just wanted to be friends with them for the social perks.

Leans on you when they walk, limping along. This is after they've spent half an hour stumbling alone on their own, finally giving in and letting you hold them up.

At school, Whitney is a little quieter while they recover. River glances over to them in class, seeing them rest their head on the desk while you play with their hair. They're being quiet, and everyone can see the wounds, so they let you be.

Feels a little lost without you around for a bit, using you as a safety blanket. Walks home alone one night and end up flinching at every shadow.

Never actually says "Thank you." Just gets more and more kind, stops tieing you up on Mer Street, pulls you away from dogs trying to get at you, is slightly more gentle when you fuck.

Might get you a personalised lighter one day. Just in case noone believes you next time you need to yell fire.

[charlies-gillespie]

it’s okay not to be okay | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader is having a bad mental health day so Charlie tries to do what he can to help her

length: short to medium

rating: PG

warnings: mentions of anxiety, an anxiety attack, some angsty content (but also some fluffy content)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

authors note: may is mental health month. i wanted to write a little something to maybe help someone understand what they can do if someone they know is having a bad day or struggling with their mental health. and if you’re struggling, please know that it’s okay not to be okay and to please ask for help if you need it

Your alarm screams at you to wake up. You sigh, rolling over and turning it over. Once it’s off, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You think about the day ahead and lose motivation the more you lay and think about your day.

You have virtual interviews with all day with your boyfriend and Julie and the Phantoms co-star, Charlie Gillespie. He’s supposed to be here any minute. The thought of him knocking on the door sends your anxiety skyrocketing. Interviews are not your strong suit. You try to avoid them as often as you can, or you get someone you’re comfortable with to do them with you. Today, even the thought of doing an interview makes your hands shake.

It’s about eight in the morning and you can already tell that it’s going to be a rough day. You can’t even get out of bed this morning and you’re already feeling unmotivated. All you’ve done is turn off your alarm and your hands are sweaty.

There’s a buzz that comes from the table that makes you jump. You see Charlie’s contact pop up on your phone and you grab the device. You answer it, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on your chest. “Hey,” you sigh.

“Hi,” Charlie says. “I just pulled up to your house. Is everything ready to go for interviews today?”

With a nod, you say, “Yeah. I turned my stream room into a little studio. My streaming gear has turned into interview gear.”

Charlie says, “I’m on my way in. Can you come open the door? I have breakfast for us before our first interview in a little bit.”

You swallow and say, “Yeah. I’m on my way down now.”

The line goes dead. You push yourself to get up out of bed. You rub your face and walk down the stairs. Your first interview is in about 30 minutes and you’re nowhere near ready.

When you open the door, you see Charlie standing at your door with his laptop in one hand and a bag full of iHop food for breakfast. He looks you up and down in your pajamas and says, “We have a Pop Buzz interview in less than 30 minutes and you’re not ready?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, not being able to make eye contact with Charlie. “Sorry.”

Your boyfriend walks inside and he says, “Let’s go get you dressed, eh?”

You close the door and say, “But you brought over breakfast to eat before the first interview.”

Charlie puts the iHop bag down on the coffee table in the living room, as well as his laptop, before he says, “We can heat it up after the first interview is done. One thing at a time, Y/N.”

He laces his fingers with yours and walks you upstairs. You blink as you walk with him, slightly confused. You walk into your bedroom and walk to your closet. Charlie sits on your bed, looking at you as you raid your closet for something you can wear.

In the end, you find a Sunset Curve t-shirt and sweatpants because you don’t feel like getting dressed up. The t-shirt is white with black writing and it cut to look like a crop top. The sweats are black and loose on your body. You’re pretty sure you stole these from Charlie because they’re huge on you. You tie your hair up into a messy bun and turn toward Charlie.

“Look at you,” your boyfriend says. “You look very comfortable and very cute in my sweatpants.”

You say, “So these are your sweatpants.”

Charlie laughs and kisses the side of your head before saying, “I was looking for those all over my apartment. You can keep them though. You look cute in them.”

The two of you head downstairs. You walk into your streaming room. Charlie follows you inside. He’s been in here before but he’s never learned how to use any of this stuff.

You sit in your gaming chair and Charlie pulls up another chair to sit beside you.

“Zoom?” you ask, turning on your PC.

He nods and pulls out his phone. “The code was sent to our emails,” Charlie says. You log into your work email and find the code. The interview starts in five minutes. Your heart races and your hands shake as you type on your computer.

After getting Zoom up on your PC, you stare at the mouse hovering above the “join with video” button. Quickly, you turn to Charlie and say, “I can’t.”

Charlie looks at you and asks, “You can’t what?”

You can feel your breathing speed up as you say, “The interview. Charlie, I can’t.”

He realizes what’s going on and he takes your hands in his. “Y/N,” he says softly. “You can do it. It’s just having a conversation, okay? You can have conversations. Don’t think of it like an interview and think of it as a conversation. I’ll be right here and you can hold my hand during the whole thing. You know Owen, Jer, Madi, Sav, and Sacha will all be on the screen in front of you. You’ll do amazing.”

With some reassurance from Charlie, you nod but stay quiet. He gives you a reassuring smile before he takes over, clicking the button to join the call. You scoot your chair closer to Charlie. “Where am I looking, by the way,” he asks.

You point at the little camera in front of the ring light that you have on. You and Charlie join the Zoom. Owen says, “Look who showed up thirty seconds before the interview starts.”

Charlie quickly hushes his best friend and the interview starts. Throughout the whole thing, you’re rubbing your hands on your sweats and constantly looking over at Charlie. The interviewer thinks it’s cute that you keep looking at Charlie, but the interviewer doesn’t know it’s because you’re right on the verge of another anxiety attack. The smile on your face is very obviously fake but no one questions it. Charlie does most of the talking.

As soon as everyone says their goodbyes after the interview, Charlie quickly presses the “leave meeting” button. As soon as you’ve both left the meeting, you exhale the breath you’ve been holding in for most of the interview.

Concerned, your boyfriend asks, “How are you doing?”

“I hate it,” you admit. “But it’s part of my job.”

He stands up and says, “You did really good. I know how anxious these interviews are for you but you did it, Y/N. I’m so proud.”

A little smile forms on your face and you ask, “Can we heat up the iHop now?”

Charlie laughs and nods. You stand up and take his hand.

***

After several more anxiety inducing interviews later, you finally get about two hours off. You find yourself curled up on the couch with your chin on your knees. You have no idea why these interviews are so anxiety inducing today. You love acting, you usually love talking to people about acting and singing. You have to push yourself through every interview, you don’t look as good as you probably should for these interviews.

Your boyfriend finds you on the couch but your mind is so busy, you don’t notice him as he sits beside you. “Baby,” Charlie says, trying to get your attention. “Hey, Y/N.” You look over at him and he brushes something away from your cheek. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Confused, you say, “I’m not crying.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “Your cheeks are wet. Talk to me.” He rests a hand on your knee and looks at you.

With a sigh, you say, “I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated that I have days where I have to push myself to do things. I’m frustrated that doing my job gives me anxiety. When I have these days, I contemplate why I’m an actress when talking about my job, while part of my job, gives me anxiety.”

He listens to every word that you say before he begins to talk.

“Y/N, baby, you’re an actress because it’s what you love to do,” Charlie tells you. “It’s the same reason you’re a singer. You love to do it. You’ll have these days sometimes, and that’s okay, but Y/N, I know you. You are the strongest person I know. Whatever’s going today, you’ll get through it. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

This is the man that you fell in love with. This is the man that you hope to marry one day. He doesn’t run when you’re having a bad day. Charlie is the person you go to when you’re having one of these days and he’ll come over to help you through it.

You scoot closer to Charlie and rest your head on his shoulder. You close your eyes and you say, “I don’t deserve you, Charlie.”

Charlie kisses the side of your head and says, “You deserve the world. After these last two interviews today, you and I are having a movie night in bed with lots of cuddles and kisses.”

“Cuddles and kisses?” you repeat, looking up at Charlie.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he says, “Lots and lots of cuddles and kisses.”

You press your forehead to Charlie’s cheek, closing your eyes. Charlie wraps his arms around your curled up body.

The day gets just a little bit easier after Charlie promises kisses and cuddles after the interviews are over. You love and appreciate that Charlie doesn’t run from the relationship when you’re sad or anxious. He embraces it and helps you through the rough days.

That night, after all the interviews are over for the day, you do lay in bed and you watch The Space Between Us on Netflix while cuddled up with Charlie. You’ve been like this for a few hours now and a thought has been on your mind.

“Charlie,” you say, looking up at your boyfriend.

He looks down at you and asks, “What’s up? Need something?”

You move until you’re on your stomach against Charlie’s side. You say, “I don’t want you to go.”

Your boyfriend says, “If you want me to stay the night then I will. I don’t have any plans tonight.”

“No, I mean I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you in the morning,” you say. “I want to fall asleep beside you every night and wake up beside you every morning.”

Charlie pushes a piece of hair out of your face and he asks, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

You say, “I don’t want to call you to come over when I’m having a bad day when you could already be here. I have half a closet and half a bed that aren’t being used, plus lots of room on my bathroom counter.”

He laughs and says, “Yes, baby. I’ll move in with you. I wouldn’t mind falling asleep with you in my arms or waking up to your cute face every morning.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips and you say, “Good, because I would love it if I could fall asleep in your arms every night. Starting tonight.”

“Starting tonight,” Charlie assures you. You smile and snuggle up to your boyfriend. He securely wraps his arms around your shoulders and you close your eyes, feeling at home and safe in Charlie’s arms.

[unbridgeabledistances]

prompt: domestic gallavich/being intimate in a nonsexualway bc there’s like 3 weeks til the next episode 😐

your wish is my command, anon!<3 i decided to tie this into next ep bc i simply cannot HANDLE mickey’s outfit/big gay metamorphosis & i needed to create the scene that inspired it so i wrote this

a one-shot bridging 11x06 and 11x07 in which ian and mickey talk about “gay friends,” ripped jeans, and do a bit of processing along the way

tw for brief mention of homophobia/abuse (bc terry lol)

--

“How come we don’t have any, like, gay friends?”

Ian looked up from where he was laying on the ground, breathing heavily after a series of push-ups, a nightly routine that he was trying to keep intact even though he and Mickey were practically driving the entire circumference of Chicago every day to make weed deliveries from dawn til dusk, leaving them both exhausted. It had been a week since all the shit with Terry, and a month or so since he and Mickey had started the security gig; while months ago their evenings would be spent sitting side by side on the bed in a brittle silence while Ian read or scratched in his notebook and Mickey played games on his phone blasting at full volume in the pajamas he’d been wearing all day, these days the evenings in their bedroom were softer and warmer— like they were settling into the space together, like they were both on the same team instead of constantly clashing and butting heads while trapped in a too-small space. These days, after having dinner in the clamor of the crowded kitchen, he and Mickey would head upstairs and change out of their uniforms, and Ian would work out while Mickey mostly just lounged on the bed, sometimes making commentary and watching him bob up and down with a pensive smirk or scrolling through his phone.

But tonight, Mickey was quiet— his eyes flickered to the curves and edges of Ian’s torso every now and then as Ian broke a sweat, but otherwise he wasn’t playfully poking and prodding like usual.

Mickey had been a lot quieter in general this week, after all the stuff with Terry— Ian knew seeing the source of all of Mickey’s trauma in a wheelchair immobile from the neck down, the most vulnerable Terry could have been, felt worse than someone repeatedly twisting a knife in Mickey’s abdomen. But beyond the initial shock and the almost-murder and lugging him up the stairs, having Terry in a wheelchair twenty feet away did something deeper to Mickey. This whole situation shifted something solid that had been lodged in the pit of Mickey’s stomach for years— Ian could see it, and he fucking hated it. He hated Mickey’s glassy contemplative eyes as he looked out the car window while they drove to a new dropoff location, lost in his head when he thought Ian wasn’t looking. He hated the tightly wound tension between Mickey’s shoulder blades as he slept, curled into himself and twisted in the comforter, facing away from Ian on the other side of the bed. He hated the tight smiles Mickey gave him as he made some offhand joke about Terry when they could hear him cursing and shrieking through the open front windows, smiles that were trying to prove something outwardly but showed the barbed pain stinging at Mickey’s insides. Ian poured out what he could in soft touches, in skims of fingertips at the breakfast table and in an arm over Mickey’s waist while they slept; but he could only give as much as Mickey would take, and for most of the week Mickey had shut everyone out with iron walls.

Ian couldn’t imagine what was stirring in Mickey’s mind; he’d seen some of Mickey’s trauma firsthand, sure, and some of the stories about Terry came slipping through the cracks when Mickey’s guard was down— mostly on those late nights when they both couldn’t sleep and Mickey whispered into the crook of Ian’s neck as they were curled into each other, cradled in the dark silence of their bedroom. But Ian knew there was deeper shit that he hadn’t heard about, and he could see the constant fear of Mickey’s adolescence hanging heavy around his neck all these years later. But Mickey didn’t need anyone to push his walls down— Ian knew he’d open up when he was ready.

Which is why this random question, the most direct statement Mickey had really made to him all week, caught Ian off guard. He sat up, folding his arms over his legs and staring up at where Mickey was slouching on the bed, propped up by a pillow he’d shoved between his back and the wall. “Gay friends?” he asked, more than a little confused.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Yeah, gay friends, y’know. Like all your youth center queers that came to the wedding or whatever.” He suddenly looked down and picked at a fraying thread on his shirt sleeve, not meeting Ian’s eyes.

Ian raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was random, sure, but Mickey wouldn’t have brought it up if something wasn’t weighing on him, bubbling up after all the events of this week.

“I don’t know— I guess since the pandemic and stuff, I haven’t really kept in touch with Geneva or any of those guys who came to our wedding. We only really talked after I got out of prison because of all the Gay Jesus publicity bullshit, but after you got out I wasn’t really thinking about that as much.”

Mickey blew out a breath, so quietly Ian barely noticed it. Ian stood, wiping his sweaty forehead and plopping down on the bed next to Mickey, folding his legs so their knees were almost touching— but still giving him space, still letting him breathe.

“Why’re you asking?”

“Don’t know, really. Just thinkin’.” Mickey picked at his shirt sleeve again, then flickered his gaze up to meet Ian’s eyes, two clear pools of glassy blue. “Thinkin’ about what life could’ve been like. If I wasn’t scared shitless of who I was for so long.”

Ian felt something twist in his gut, the same queasy pang of pain that always resurfaced whenever he saw Mickey like this, whenever he was reminded of all the unspeakable agony that Terry had put him through.

“It’s fucked up that you didn’t get to be who you were for so long, Mick,” he breathed, knowing that statement didn’t cover the amount of things that were fucked up about this situation.

Mickey ran his teeth over his bottom lip, like he was concentrating. “Yeah.”

Ian let them sit there for a second. It seemed like Mickey wanted to say more, but something in him was frozen solid. After a moment, Ian tried to break the tension.

“Hey, for the record, I’ve had lots of gay friends and you aren’t missing much. There’s lots of PC bullshit that’s important but took me fucking forever to learn— and even then, I never really felt like I totally belonged.” He gently nudged Mickey’s ribcage. “I guess that’s why I forgot about everyone, between work and getting to be with you all the time— I’d rather eat pizza in the mall food court with you than go to some boujee fucking café with the youth center people any day.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upwards slightly. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.” His fingers went slack around the threads on his shirtsleeve he’d been picking at. “You don’t… miss it though? Bein’ around people who’re like us?”

Ian paused for a moment, imagining the youth center crew in the same room as Mickey— it would be fucking comical, like people speaking two different languages, like astronauts trying to communicate with aliens on Mars through gestures and confused looks. But that was just because Mickey didn’t know how to speak that language— he’d been kept shrouded in an abusive household with daily death threats for years, and then stowed away in prison where he didn’t have the chance to go to fucking brunches and clubs and education events like Ian could. Ian got the chance to learn all that shit— it wasn’t Mickey’s fault that he never did, and if it was anyone’s, it was all Terry’s.

Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s face— he looked vulnerable and split open, like he was drifting away in all the possibilities of what could have been. When he answered, Ian spoke softly, carefully.

“I mean… I guess I do. There were nice parts of going out with people, or even those after-parties back when I used to work at the club. There’s something nice about being with your people, where you can make jokes about stuff or talk about deep shit and everyone’s on the same page. It’s hard to find that around here.” Ian tentatively crawled his hand over the blanket, letting it rest on Mickey’s knee. “S’there anything else going on?”

Mickey raised his thumb to his mouth, biting at a hangnail contemplatively. “Dunno, man. Just thinking. How it might be nice, to have friends like us. I used to be scared of hangin’ with other queers, but I think that was just some deep bullshit with Terry.” He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes. “It’d be nice to stop… hating that part of myself, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, reaching to intertwine his fingers with Mickey’s and tracing a pattern with the thumb that was free from their grasp on Mickey’s inner thigh, a soft touch of validation that Ian hoped would soak into Mickey’s skin.

“I think so too.” Ian watched the corner of Mickey’s mouth curve upwards. “I can definitely hit up some of the people I used to hang with, and see if they wanna get coffee or something? With the two of us? Only if you want.”

Mickey nodded— then chuckled a breathy laugh, like he was relieved. “Fuck it. Yeah.”

Ian couldn’t help it; Mickey looked so fucking sweet and so relieved that he had to press a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey squirmed underneath him, bristling like a cat that didn’t want to be pet like he did with most of Ian’s soft touches— but Ian just grinned and doubled down, pressing another slower peck onto Mickey’s temple. Mickey blew out a slow breath.

“Don’t know what I’d fuckin’ wear to a brunch with a bunch of Northside do-gooder gays,” he said after a moment, his voice wavering so slightly that no one except Ian would have noticed.

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, giving Mickey’s hand a quick pulse of a squeeze. “Mickey, are you kidding? Wear whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need to change yourself, that’s kind of the whole point.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Guess it is.” Mickey was quiet for a moment, but still chewing on his bottom lip, like he was building the courage to say something more. Ian could tell— he let the comfortable silence hang between them, knowing that Mickey would break it when he was ready.

“D’you think it’d be stupid if I, like, tried to… jazz up my look a bit?” He darted his eyes nervously to Ian’s face, down to their clasped hands, and then back to the covers again. “Like, uh— I don’t know. Maybe wore some shit that didn’t have holes in it. With patterns, or whatever.”

Ian felt his face split into a grin. Patterns, or whatever— god, he loved his dumbass husband so fucking much. He pressed another kiss to Mickey’s cheek— this time Mickey didn’t flinch away, his only resistance a forced roll of his eyes.

“Mick, I don’t think that’s stupid at all. I think you should dress however makes you feel good.”

“’Kay.” Mickey pursed his lips, like he was still hesitant. Ian rubbed his thumb over the back of Mickey’s hand, their fingers still clasped and hanging limply in Mickey’s lap. The silence was hanging again, and Ian could still feel the tight waves of anxiety bouncing off of Mickey. He took in a breath.

“I could… help you, y’know. If you wanted to dress a certain way. At the very least I could gas you up and tell you how hot you look.” Ian paused, smirking and running his eyes over Mickey’s torso. “But I could also help you pick shit out, or whatever. We could order some stuff online.”

Mickey looked up at him, his eyes oddly relieved and open in a way they hadn’t been in days. “Yeah?”

Ian softly smiled. “Yeah. Only if you want to. You’re you, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I love the way you look— hell, it drives me crazy, Mick. But— if you feel like you aren’t dressing the way that makes you feel the best, or like you’re putting on an act for other people and you don’t want to anymore— then we can figure this out.”

This time it was Mickey that initiated affection, lifting their clasped hands and pressing a quick ghost of a kiss to Ian’s wrist. Ian smiled in acknowledgement, then playfully raised his eyebrows. “You wanna look online now? I’m done working out and more than happy to help you gay up your look.”

Mickey unclasped their hands, playfully shoving Ian squarely in the chest. “Fuck you.” Then, in an uncharacteristic move from the way Mickey had been flinching away from his touches all week, Mickey leaned in closer to Ian’s chest, nestling his back on Ian’s sternum and reaching for his phone that was discarded on the blanket beside him. “Alright, hot stuff. Where’re we fucking shopping?”

Ian grinned and snapped the waistband of Mickey’s sweatpants playfully, shuffling underneath him and getting comfortable.

“’Kay, let me think. I used to order a bunch of shirts and stuff from Primark when I was going out with the youth center people. They have good denim, too.”

Mickey’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth again while he listened. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the phone’s keyboard— then, in an automatic movement, he quickly shoved his phone into Ian’s hand, cheerfully wriggling back into Ian’s chest. Ian smirked and unlocked the phone, happy to take the reins— online shopping for fashion was clearly lightyears out of Mickey’s comfort zone.

Ian navigated over to the Primark homepage, plastered with torsos of toned models wearing striped button ups and ripped jeans. His thumb pressed down onto the “denim” tab, and he started to slowly scroll through the rows of options, holding the phone so Mickey could see.

“I don’t know what you really want, but they’ve got pretty cheap pants and shit that’re good quality…” Ian let his voice trail off, speaking softly to where Mickey was lying on his chest in a voice that he knew was tickling the shell of Mickey’s ear. Mickey almost seemed… nervous, or at the very least paralyzed by the wealth of options. He raised his thumb to his mouth, anxiously biting the hangnail again.

“I guess those ripped ones don’t look too bad.”

Ian clicked on the picture Mickey was referring to. They were black jeans, a dark wash and skinny cut, with patches ripped on both knees. Ian felt something well in his chest, probably an overreaction to a pair of jeans— but these jeans were perfect for Mickey. They weren’t too much, weren’t overly fashionable, but they still felt more clean-cut than the baggy pants Mickey usually threw on. These jeans were badass, and totally aligned with Mickey’s don’t-fuck-with-me vibe, but they were deliberate. Stylish. Like they were saying here the fuck I am.

“Yeah?” Ian knew Mickey could tell he was smiling from his voice.

Mickey smirked, craning his neck and turning to look up at Ian. “Yeah. Think I can pull ‘em off?”

Ian pressed his lips together. “Fuck yeah. You’re gonna look so good.”

Mickey just gave a satisfied smile, and nestled back against Ian’s chest again. “Let’s get ‘em, then.”