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spectral-phases · 2 days ago

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A non-comprehensive guide to my cooking headcanons for the Batfam

I'll add comic panels to support myself when I feel like I'm going very much against the grain of fanon and have to defend my position a little.

Alfred: Master of the craft, learned to cook from French chefs and has been a professional chef as a cover while serving as a spy. He can make you croissants and puff pastry from scratch, but the waffle iron (every waffle iron, yes even that brand new fancy one that is supposed to be so easy to use) was designed in hell to torment him specifically. This may be because even God himself is jealous of Alfred's ability to master a recipe after only reading it once (never refers to it again while working), or watching the video once and so he was given an Achilles heal by the divine. He has a cookbook and personal recipes written down, but very rarely looks at them. He is not the best teacher, and he did not care for children or anyone else in the kitchen, but Martha Wayne was not having any of that, especially for Jewish holidays, and to date, the way he handles kids in the kitchen is his best approximation of how Martha taught Bruce how to cook, but he lacks the requisite patience because he learned how to cook from French chefs (Gordon Ramsey without the soft kids mode, but he's never screaming or yelling or cussing people out because he's refined).

He is allowed to cook in the kitchen by himself

The kitchen is his domain and he maintains the right to supervise as needed, with some exceptions

Select people can assist him, but he prefers to do the cooking by himself as its the only thing he adds to the family that they enjoy that isn't cutting off years of his life like medical treatment or running the comms is. He's also stupid fucking fast at it and good at cleaning as he goes, and its hard to have someone else in his very regulated and honed system without mucking it up

Bruce: Contrary to popular belief, the man can cook. Unfortunately, he can only do so if there is a written recipe to follow and it is written in the way that makes sense to his brain. Will read the recipe ahead of time for prep, but will miraculously forget that there is a 3 hour resting period if it is not at the top with the prep time and cook time. Please do not ask him to cook anything after watching a video, it does not stick. Has no sense of what spices do what, so if the recipe says we're using 2 tablespoons of ground cloves, then that's what we're doing. With a good recipe, he can make any food from around the world no matter how complex, however, even something as simple as a tuna salad, ham and cheese, or a PB&J sandwich needs a written recipe with exact amounts and instructions for him to get it done or he will mess it up in ways not even the devil himself could imagine. Look, he has an eidetic memory, but his brain just does not compute that way and he's alway second guessing himself without a written recipe. The only thing he can make from scratch without a recipe are his mother's latkes, but that is, of course, rarely made because of all the emotions, but sometimes he goes through it because he remembers how she had him make them and it feels like she's still there with him, whispering in his ear.

He and Alfred have both agreed to tell anyone who asks that he's not allowed to cook by himself in the kitchen because he will find a way to use three pots and every bowl to make hot chocolate (he will, as a matter of fact), but it's really because when he was younger, he was making a pan sauce that the recipe simply said to “reduce” and managed to burn it so badly it ruined a pan Alfred had inherited from his grandmother and Bruce cannot stomach the possibility of doing that again

He winds up cooking for real these days only if Alfred is injured, but can sit in the kitchen to help supervise (“No, Master Bruce, you'll need a much bigger pot for that”) and explain vague steps in the recipes ("Coat the back of a spoon means that...")(Alexa or other virtual assistants do not help)

Dick: Despite what his kitchen cabinets may suggest, he makes phenomenal food. He's just putting all his emotional energy into keeping his people alive so if he's on his own then odds are he's having take-out, eating a mix of cereal/granola bars/trail-mix/cartons of protein shakes, or maybe a frozen meal prepped thing from the last time he had the wherewithal and time to do so and is thusly freezer burned to shit. If he is making food for other people? Amazing. Delicious. His repertoire is mainly dishes from Eastern Europe or Southwest Asia, but he has to know what the soul of the meal is if he's making something new. Rarely consults written recipes (unless they're online and have the whole novel of where the recipe came from and what it means and all the pictures of how it's supposed to look at various stages, and he will read that and the ingredient list only), prefers videos, but only from grandmas and grandpas or POC, not the rich white frat boys.

He cooks in any kitchen where Alfred is not and will not be present. You would be forgiven for thinking that he and Alfred could cook in the kitchen at the same time, especially since they can make the same dish with a reasonably similar flavor profile. The fact of the matter is, they both are very much type A personalities (even if Dick likes to pretend he's a type B) and if they are both present during the cooking process they will be at each other's throats constantly about their different methods, even if they are getting to the same destination in the end

Cass: Subsists mostly off of what she can find or what others feed her. She can cook a few simple dishes but they’re not mind blowing. She does make a phenomenal assistant, but she had zero working knowledge of what does what coming into the picture and has been gradually learning. Has learned how to work the waffle iron from Steph, and so is in charge of waffles for breakfast. Waffles has become her thing and everyone lets her have it. She can even make stuffed waffles these days.

Alfred is happy to leave all waffle breakfast adventures in the manor to Cass, she's very polite in the kitchen and doesn't make a huge mess, she'll even clean as she goes so it doesn't interfere with whatever else he is making

She is Alfred's favorite assistant (the rare times that he actually wants one) because she doesn't take his irritation personally because she can see how its meant to be directed at himself and will do exactly as he says

Jason: It's important you know I headcanon his paternal grandmother as Italian (so she cannot be Ma Gunn) and his step-mother as Latina going into this. He can fucking cook like no one's business. He can taste something and recreate it nearly flawlessly. However, he was taught by his nonna and mamita to measure with his heart, so he was presented with measuring cups once and broke out into hives. Only God knows how much of any one ingredient makes it into anything he makes, this includes cakes and breads. The only recipes he's interested in learning are strictly videos from the grandmas and grandpas or POC (Jason has a rule, the shittier the camera quality, the better the food will be, usually). He watched one popular white frat boy cooking video exactly once and was screaming about why they have to dirty approximately sixteen thousand little bowls to measure out each spice by themselves (and that wasn't nearly enough garlic!). He technically has recipes written down by hand from his nonna and mamita, and a few he wrote himself to try and help Alfred understand some meals, they're just hidden away in a drawer that he rarely references for cooking guidance over looking at their handwriting (The set from his family was in the box of stuff the neighbor saved for him that had his birth certificate in it, and he is forever grateful to still have that stuff. He thought for sure it was gone for good). Approximately 80% of all his meals are cooked by him or someone else, even if it's just a quick scrambled eggs and toast.

Jason and Alfred do not coexist happily in a kitchen together. However, they do coexist because Alfred asked him once why he was doing things “that way” as a child and he said his Nonna did it that way and that shut Alfred the fuck up immediately

Jason does not accept help in the kitchen from anyone unless he's making dumplings of any variety or tamales and then everyone's helping put them together

Tim: He only started learning how to cook at the age of 15, so he doesn't have a wide base of experience to draw from or pre-existing knowledge. Tim has a few staple dishes he has learned how to make. It's good, but not winning any awards. However, his hang up is he needs to know exactly how and why things work the way they work in a recipe before he can actually be trusted to cook it on his own. He likes recipes from food scientists, hobbyists or professionals, because they are more likely to explain all the things he needs to know before he can go ahead and cook something more complex. He measures everything in grams, and had to get a scale with 10ths of a gram for spices, once made coffee with lab equipment just for the science of it. Someone got him The Food Lab by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt and it was a game-changer. There is no deity out there that can explain to you the recipes he writes down himself, because their ever changing shorthand only make sense in his brain. Like Dick, Tim does not often have the wherewithal to make complex foods for himself, and so has a bunch of jars of sauces/curries/soups or vacuum sealed pre-seasoned meals ready to go in a sous vide or pot in the freezer to break out as needed. Often freezer-burned because of how little he is at his own place.

Tim is only allowed to cook in the manor's kitchen with supervision because he is likely to make disastrous experiments if left curious and unattended ("I know it's usually done this way, but…" is either going to lead to some delicious food, or an explosion. No way to know for sure unless you're there watching it happen live). What happens in his home kitchen is between him and God

He can make himself useful as an assistant if needed, but usually only for Dick because only he has the patience to put up with Tim in the kitchen

Damian: Has forced himself to learn to cook competently. Will not let himself be outdone by the others, but has learned from all of them. When he's older, he could whip up a Michelin star quality dinner with plating, but doesn't find it worth the effort unless he is trying to impress someone or prove he can. Opts for simple and nutritious meals on the rare occasion he is responsible for his own meals and has the time/desire to cook. Does he measure? Only exactly for baked goods, he will never admit it, but he has no idea how Jason can make baked goods without measuring. There are two things he knows how to make on his own as easy as breathing beyond eggs: Martha Wayne's latkes and Talia's karak chai.

Damian will only cook in the manor if it is more prudent to do so and everyone else there cannot (It's the middle of a blizzard and Bruce and Alfred are sick). Regardless, he is allowed to cook unsupervised in the manor when he's old enough for that to be reasonable.

Will help Alfred but complain the whole time, despite obviously enjoying the time spent with Alfred

Look, he's either helping someone else make something, or he's on his own. Does not care for assistants as he feels like he is constantly being judged.

Barbara: Can cook, will cook, and does cook. She uses slow-cookers and sous vide usually, because she needs something she can throw into a pot and then have to run away from for hours at a time at a moments notice without having to juggle it too. Otherwise it's a microwaved meal. Everything in her kitchen has been fit to accommodate her cooking in her wheelchair and when she's got the time and is really feeling up to it, she can cook a very amazing meal on the stove just for herself or anyone else she's having over.

Will only accept help in the kitchen from Cass or Steph because they are laid back enough to put up with

Steph: Can she cook? Yes. Does she love cooking? No. Cooking is a chore to her and it does not have the payoff she needs to engage with it more than absolutely necessary. She'll look through her pantry and declare that she doesn't have anything good because everything she has was bought when she had more ambition to cook than she currently possesses and then order door dash. The easiest way to get her to cook is to tell her that she's not allowed to. That said, she really loves to bake. She's not winning any awards for her presentation, but it tastes amazing.

Would rather clean dishes than help cook because she does not have the energy to put up with the way the others are while cooking

I haven't read much with Kate, Duke, Helena, or Harper in it, so I don't have anything for them.

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w1w2 · 11 hours ago

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Toxic till the end

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 10k

Synopsis: Is this a game or is this love? Y/N’s whirlwind romance with Sana blurs the lines between passion and control, forcing her to confront the cost of losing herself in the name of love.

Rosé - toxic till the end "His favourite game is chess, who would ever guess? Playing with the pieces in my chest"

Notes: I'm not super happy with this, BUT here you go.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Rain streaked down in cold rivulets, blurring the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood motionless on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched a delicate necklace. The silver chain, hung heavy with memories, each link a reminder of the bond she was desperately trying to break.

Her mind played the greatest hits of their time together: Sana’s radiant smile the day they met, the sound of her laughter echoing in Y/N’s ears like a melody she could never unlearn, and the countless whispered promises that once felt unshakable. But those tender moments were only half the story.

Closing her eyes, Y/N could almost hear the sharp edge of Sana’s voice during their fights, the manipulative way she twisted words to pull Y/N back when she tried to leave. Her fingers tightened around the necklace as the memory of their final argument surfaced. The moment Y/N knew she had to choose herself or lose everything that made her who she was.

The rain grew heavier, soaking through her coat and chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stared at the necklace dangling between her fingers. A relic of a relationship that had started with warmth and laughter but ended in chaos and heartbreak.

Y/N’s lips parted, her breath fogging in the cold night air as she whispered to herself: “How did we get here?”

Her mind wandered back to the beginning, to a night when fate or perhaps sheer misfortune, brought them together. It had been an ordinary evening, one she hadn’t thought much about at the time, but now it loomed in her memory like the first domino in a line that would inevitably topple.

The sun was nearly gone, leaving streaks of burnt orange and purple smeared across the horizon as Y/N’s car sputtered to a pitiful halt. The dashboard lights blinked angrily, and with a groan, she pulled over to the shoulder of the road.

“Great,” Y/N muttered, stepping out into the brisk evening air. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, barren except for the glow of distant streetlights and the occasional hum of passing cars. She popped the hood, peering uselessly at the engine as a wave of frustration bubbled up.

Just as she considered calling for help, her attention was drawn to a figure further down the road. A woman stood next to a vintage bike, pacing and waving her arms in what looked like an animated argument with herself. Her leather jacket gleamed faintly in the fading light, and her glossy hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling in soft waves around her face.

Before Y/N could decide what to do, the woman turned, spotted her, and waved with both hands like she was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter.

“Hey!” the stranger called out, her voice carrying easily over the stillness. “You don’t happen to have a toolkit, do you? Because my bike’s officially given up on life.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before walking toward her, chuckling under her breath. “Depends,” she called back. “You know anything about cars? Mine just gave up too.”

The woman’s laughter rang out like a melody. “So it’s not just me! Misery loves company, I guess.”

Up close, she was even more striking. Bright, almond-shaped eyes twinkled with mischief, and her wide, radiant smile could have melted ice. She stuck out a hand, unapologetically smudged with grease. “Sana,” she said with a grin that was equal parts charming and disarming.

“Y/N,” she replied, shaking her hand.

“Y/N,” Sana repeated, like she was testing the weight of the name on her tongue. “Nice to meet you. Terrible circumstances, though. You wouldn’t happen to have a magic wand in that car of yours, would you?”

“Unfortunately, no wand,” Y/N said, smirking. “But I do have some basic tools and a knack for pretending I know what I’m doing.”

“Good enough,” Sana said with a wink. “Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”

For the next hour, they worked side by side, troubleshooting their respective problems. Sana’s bike chain was hopelessly jammed, and Y/N’s engine refused to even pretend it wanted to cooperate. Despite the mounting evidence that neither vehicle would be salvaged anytime soon, they found themselves laughing through the frustration.

“So,” Sana asked, leaning against her bike with a crooked grin, “what brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just bad luck, I guess. My car decided to call it quits at the worst possible time.”

“Classic,” Sana said. “My bike’s just as dramatic. I swear, it waits for the exact moment when I’m miles from anywhere to throw a tantrum.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Well, at least we’re stranded together. Misery’s better with company.”

Sana’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her smile softening. “You know, you’re pretty good at this whole silver-lining thing. It’s kind of nice.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, feeling a faint blush rise to her cheeks. There was something about Sana. Her energy, her presence, was magnetic.

As they packed up their tools and prepared to call for a tow, Sana tilted her head, studying Y/N with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“What makes you say that?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

“Helping a complete stranger like me? That’s dangerous. Someone could take advantage of that.” Sana smirked, but there was something sharper, almost predatory, lurking beneath her playful tone.

Y/N chuckled nervously, brushing off the strange twist her words had taken. “Maybe, but I’d like to think the world needs a little more kindness.”

Sana’s smile widened, her teeth catching the dim light. “You keep that up, Y/N. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It should have been a red flag, but instead, it felt oddly exciting. There was something about Sana’s intensity, her unpredictability, that drew Y/N in, like a moth to a flame.

As Y/N watched the tow truck pull away with her car, she stared down at her phone, where Sana’s name glowed on the screen. A part of her knew this chance meeting would change everything.

And it did.

It started with Sana’s camera. Their first official date turned into an impromptu photo shoot after Sana pulled a small vintage camera from her bag, insisting that Y/N pose in front of a mural they’d stumbled upon. Y/N had felt awkward at first, laughing nervously as Sana barked playful instructions and crouched to find the perfect angle. But when Sana showed her the first photo, a candid shot of Y/N mid-laugh, framed perfectly against the mural’s vibrant colors, something inside her shifted.

“You have a gift,” Y/N had said, genuinely impressed.

Sana grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only when I have the right muse.”

Soon, weekends turned into photography adventures. Sana led Y/N through the city like a woman on a mission, chasing golden-hour light and wandering into alleys where broken windows and graffiti became their backdrop. Sana had an uncanny ability to find beauty in the unexpected, framing the world through her lens in ways that made even the mundane feel extraordinary.

“Just hold that pose,” Sana said one evening, crouching low with her camera to frame the shot. Y/N stood at the edge of a rooftop, the city skyline glowing behind her, the lights shimmering like a sea of stars. “Perfect. Now tilt your chin up—yeah, like that.”

Y/N laughed, feeling a mix of awkwardness and exhilaration. “Do I get a say in this, or am I just your mannequin?”

Sana lowered the camera, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “You’re not just a mannequin. You’re my masterpiece.”

The words hit Y/N like a jolt, warmth rushing to her cheeks. No one had ever looked at her the way Sana did, as if she were the only person in the world. Being Sana’s muse was intoxicating, like stepping into a spotlight that never dimmed. It wasn’t just the photos. It was the way Sana made her feel seen, adored, and wanted in ways she hadn’t known she craved.

The city became their playground. Laughter echoed under neon lights as Sana adjusted Y/N’s pose in the middle of a bustling street. They stole kisses in quiet parks, Sana’s camera dangling around her neck, the click of the shutter capturing moments Y/N thought would last forever.

But the camera wasn’t just an instrument of art, it was also a tool of control.

One afternoon, as they sprawled on a blanket in the park, Y/N scrolled through her phone while Sana tinkered with her camera settings. A notification popped up on Y/N’s screen, a message from a coworker, and Sana leaned over without warning.

“Who’s that?” she asked, her tone casual but her expression anything but.

“A friend,” Y/N said lightly, locking her phone. “We’re working on a project together.”

Sana’s eyes flickered with something Y/N couldn’t place. “Funny, I thought we were spending today together. Didn’t realize you had someone else waiting for your attention.”

The words landed like a sharp jab. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Sana’s fingers brushed against her cheek, her voice softening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I just… I don’t like sharing you.”

Y/N’s irritation melted under the weight of Sana’s gaze, and she found herself apologizing. “It’s nothing. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Still, a faint unease settled in Y/N’s chest, one she quickly brushed aside.

As the weeks went on, Sana’s possessiveness surfaced in subtler ways. Comments about Y/N’s schedule, questioning glances when Y/N mentioned spending time with friends. Over time, Y/N began canceling plans without even thinking about it, telling herself it was easier to avoid the tension.

“Work can wait,” Sana would say, pulling Y/N into her arms after another canceled meeting or skipped deadline. “You’re too important to me.”

And the truth was, Y/N loved it. She loved the way Sana’s attention enveloped her, the way it made her feel like she was all that mattered.

But there were moments Y/N couldn’t ignore, moments that lingered long after they ended. Like the evening at the diner.

The waiter had cracked a joke as he poured their coffee, something lighthearted and forgettable, but Y/N had laughed, really laughed, the kind that made her throw her head back. She didn’t notice the shift in Sana’s demeanor until the clink of her fork against the plate made her look up.

Sana’s expression was pleasant, her smile wide, but there was a tension in the set of her jaw that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

On the walk home, Sana was unusually quiet, her hand gripping Y/N’s just a little too tightly. “Do you think he was flirting with you?” she asked finally, her tone light but her words pointed.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t think so. I mean, it was just a joke.”

Sana stopped walking, turning to face her. “You didn’t have to laugh like that, though. It’s like you wanted him to think he had a chance.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped, her words catching in her throat. The idea that Sana was jealous, it should have bothered her, but instead, it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. She liked knowing that Sana cared enough to feel threatened, even if it meant enduring moments like this.

“You’re right,” Y/N said finally, squeezing Sana’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Sana’s smile returned, wide and genuine, her voice softening. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten with something she couldn’t quite name. “You won’t,” she promised, even as a quiet voice in the back of her mind wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like.

The whirlwind of their romance made everything else fade into the background. Y/N found herself skipping happy hours, turning down invitations, and canceling plans to spend more time with Sana. Her friends noticed the change before she did, but Y/N brushed it off, what was wrong with being in love?

Still, the cracks showed in quiet, undeniable ways. The first real fracture came one evening at a dinner she hadn’t expected Sana to attend.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, laughter bubbling up as Lia recounted a story about a disastrous first date. The restaurant buzzed with energy, warm lights reflecting off glasses of wine and scattered silverware. It had been too long since she’d had a night like this, just her and her friends, the way it used to be.

She’d almost forgotten how much she missed this, Lia’s quick wit, Nayeon’s playful teasing, and Jeongyeon’s dry, deadpan humor that always landed perfectly. The familiar rhythm of their banter wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, making her feel grounded in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

The comfort shattered when she caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance. Sana, dressed impeccably in a tailored coat and sleek boots, scanned the room with a look of calm confidence that set her apart from the bustling crowd.

Y/N blinked, startled. She hadn’t invited Sana, this was supposed to be a casual dinner with her friends, but there she was, striding toward their table as though she belonged there.

“Hey,” Sana said, leaning down to kiss Y/N on the cheek, her perfume subtly intoxicating. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

The table fell silent. Her friends exchanged glances, their conversation grinding to a halt as they absorbed the sudden intrusion.

“Uh, hi,” Y/N stammered, her confusion evident in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“I figured I’d stop by,” Sana said breezily, sliding into the empty chair beside Y/N. “I wanted to meet the people you’re always talking about.”

Y/N forced a smile, her mind racing. Sana had never expressed much interest in meeting her friends before, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned coming tonight.

As the group tried to recover, Nayeon took the lead, extending a polite hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Nayeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Sana said, shaking her hand briefly before retreating into a more closed posture. Her smile was polite but tight, her gaze flicking around the table as if assessing each person.

The conversation resumed in fits and starts, but the easy flow from earlier was gone. Sana offered clipped answers when asked about herself, her tone cool and detached. When Jeongyeon tried to include her in the group’s inside jokes, she only smiled faintly and took a sip of her wine.

The warmth and charm Y/N had fallen for were nowhere to be found.

“She’s just shy,” Y/N told herself, laughing nervously as the tension mounted. She caught Lia’s raised eyebrow from across the table and shot her a tight smile, silently pleading with her to drop it.

But the evening dragged on, the awkwardness thickening like fog. By the end of the night, Y/N’s cheeks ached from forcing a smile, and her friends’ goodbyes were unusually subdued.

Lia lingered as the others filed out, her brow furrowed with concern. “Y/N,” she said gently, pulling her aside. “Are you okay? Sana seemed… off.”

“She’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, her voice a little too sharp. “She’s just not good with new people.”

“I don’t know,” Lia said, her tone cautious but insistent. “She seemed dismissive. And honestly? A little controlling.”

Y/N felt a flare of defensiveness rise in her chest. “You don’t know her like I do,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “She’s amazing once you get to know her. You’re just being judgmental.”

Lia’s expression fell, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Y/N.”

“I don’t need you to,” Y/N said, her voice quieter but no less firm.

Lia nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay,” she said finally. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Y/N watched her walk away, guilt twisting in her gut, but it was quickly swallowed by frustration. Her friends didn’t understand. They didn’t see the side of Sana that Y/N knew, the one who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, who held her in the quiet moments and made her feel like the center of the universe.

As Y/N walked to her car, she realized Sana hadn’t even said goodbye to the group before leaving. It was as if Sana had slipped out when no one was paying attention, leaving Y/N to smooth over the evening’s tension alone. The uneasiness lingered, but she told herself it wasn’t important. Sana loved her, that was all that mattered.

Later that night, Y/N stormed into Sana's apartment, her heart pounding with unresolved tension. She didn’t bother knocking, her key turned easily in the lock, a symbol of the trust they’d built and the boundaries Y/N had allowed to blur.

The place was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a single floor lamp. The faint smell of lavender hung in the air, almost soothing if not for the storm raging in Y/N’s chest. She kicked off her shoes without care, the sound sharp against the quiet. In the corner, a chessboard sat on the coffee table, the pieces scattered as if abandoned mid-game.

Y/N gestured toward the board, her voice tight with frustration. “Is this what tonight was to you? Another game?”

Sana looked up from the couch, where she was curled with a book in her lap. Her expression was calm but guarded, her eyes narrowing slightly at Y/N’s tone. “What are you talking about?”

“You crashed my dinner, Sana.” Y/N’s voice cracked, her emotions bubbling to the surface. “And then you didn’t even try to get to know my friends, you left without saying goodbye. You were so cold.”

Sana sighed softly, closing the book and setting it on the armrest. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything,” she said, her voice low and soothing, as though trying to defuse a bomb. She rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. “I just… I wanted to be part of your world. I wanted to see the people you care about.”

Y/N hesitated, her anger faltering. “You could’ve told me,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to just show up.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Sana said, stepping closer. Her eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s arm. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just.. sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in your life. Like maybe you don’t really want me there, that's why I left.”

The words landed like a punch to Y/N’s gut. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself caught in the vulnerability of Sana’s expression, the slight tremble of her lips, the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.

“That’s not true,” Y/N said quickly, the anger evaporating under the weight of Sana’s emotions. “You know I want you in my life.”

Sana’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then why does it feel that way?” she asked, her voice soft but heavy with meaning.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to argue, to stand her ground, but the words didn’t come. Instead, guilt settled into the cracks of her resolve. Was I being too harsh? Did I really make her feel like she didn’t belong?

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said quietly, the fight leaving her entirely. “I should’ve made you feel more comfortable.”

Sana’s smile returned, soft and reassuring, as she stepped closer. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Y/N’s, her voice a whisper. “Thank you. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the tension seep out of her as Sana’s arms wrapped around her. The familiar warmth of her embrace made Y/N’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.

The argument about the dinner was smoothed over like so many others before it, with apologies and reassurances that felt genuine in the moment. Yet, something lingered. A quiet imbalance that Y/N couldn’t quite name but chose to ignore.

Sana had a way of making her forget, whether with her laugh, her touch, or the small, thoughtful gestures that reminded Y/N why she fell in love in the first place. But Sana also had a way of winning.

It became clearer one rainy afternoon when Sana pulled the chessboard into their world.

“Have you ever played chess?” Sana asked, setting the board between them on the coffee table. Rain pattered softly against the windows, a gentle rhythm that seemed to amplify the quiet intimacy of the room. The dim light from outside cast long shadows, blending the edges of the space into soft darkness.

“Not really,” Y/N admitted, sitting cross-legged on the floor and pulling a blanket over her lap. “I’ve always been more of a checkers person.”

Sana smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes as she began lining up the pieces with precise, deliberate movements. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the seriousness with which she approached even something as simple as setting up a game.

“That’s because checkers is easy,” Sana said, her voice tinged with playful condescension. “Chess, on the other hand… it’s a game of strategy, patience, and power.”

The way she said power sent a strange shiver down Y/N’s spine, though she quickly brushed it off, leaning forward to watch Sana finish setting up the board.

“This,” Sana said, holding up the queen between her fingers, “is the most important piece. She has the most power, the most freedom. She can move in any direction and dominate the board.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And the king?”

Sana rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smirk. “The king is useless. He can only move one square at a time. Honestly, the whole game is about protecting him while the queen does all the work.”

Y/N laughed, her shoulders relaxing as she tucked the blanket tighter around her legs. “Sounds about right.”

Sana leaned forward, placing the queen carefully in the center of the board, her movements slow and deliberate. “But the real fun is here.” She picked up a pawn, holding it delicately between her fingers as if it were more significant than it appeared.

“Pawns?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing.

Sana nodded, her smile sharpening. “Pawns are weak on their own, but they can be useful if you know how to play them. They’re the ones who set things in motion.” She twirled the piece between her fingers before placing it on the board with a soft click.

Then she looked directly at Y/N, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Think of it like a relationship. Someone has to be the queen, and someone has to be the pawn.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing despite the strange tension curling in her chest. “Let me guess, you’re the queen?”

“Obviously,” Sana said, her grin widening as she settled back into her seat.

Y/N shook her head, laughing lightly. But something about the way Sana said it, the confidence, the finality, lingered like a shadow in the corners of her mind.

They played for hours, Sana walking Y/N through each move with a mixture of patience and authority. “Good,” Sana said as Y/N moved her knight, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “You’re learning.”

When Y/N managed to capture her first pawn, she felt a rush of triumph that brought an uncontrollable grin to her face. “Look at that! I got you!”

But the feeling faded quickly when Sana countered with an unexpected strike, sweeping her queen across the board to take two of Y/N’s pieces in a single, calculated move.

Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

Sana leaned back, her satisfied smile returning as she crossed her arms. “It’s not just about winning,” she said, her tone measured but tinged with something darker. “It’s about making sure your opponent doesn’t even see the win coming.”

Y/N laughed, but the comment lingered in her mind longer than she expected.

Over time, the metaphor seeped into their lives in ways Y/N couldn’t ignore.

It started subtly. Sana’s phone buzzed one evening as they lounged on the couch, her head resting on Y/N’s shoulder. The vibration broke the soft quiet of the room, drawing Y/N’s attention. Sana shifted slightly, glancing at the screen with an unreadable expression before flipping the phone over and setting it face-down on the coffee table.

Y/N felt a pang of something, curiosity, jealousy, or maybe both. She told herself it was nothing, but the casual way Sana dismissed it gnawed at her.

“What was that?” Y/N asked lightly, keeping her tone breezy.

Sana shrugged, her voice calm. “Just a friend. It’s not important.”

The answer didn’t sit well, but Y/N forced a smile and let it drop. Still, the moment stayed with her.

In the days that followed, Y/N began noticing other things. The way Sana always seemed to know when she received a message, even when her phone was across the room. The way certain names that used to pop up in her contacts seemed to vanish without explanation. It was small, almost imperceptible, so easy to brush aside, but it left Y/N unsettled in a way she couldn’t shake.

One evening, while Sana was in the shower, Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her messages. She was looking for an old thread from a college friend she hadn’t spoken to in a while, but it was gone. Confused, she searched for the contact, only to find it missing entirely.

Her heart raced as she checked her blocked contacts. Her stomach dropped when she saw the name. It wasn’t just them, there were others, too. Friends she’d lost touch with, people she’d only recently realized had stopped reaching out.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen. Her mind raced, replaying moments that suddenly felt suspicious in retrospect. The way Sana had always known when she’d been messaging someone. The way she’d casually dismissed certain friends as “distractions.”

“Sana,” Y/N called, her voice sharp as she tried to steady herself.

Moments later, Sana appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her, her expression calm but wary. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N held up her phone, her grip tightening around it. “Did you block my contacts?”

Sana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look surprised. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I didn’t want them bothering you,” she said evenly. “You told me you don’t even talk to them anymore.”

“That’s not the point!” Y/N’s voice rose, her frustration spilling out. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”

Sana’s face softened, and she stepped forward, her voice low and soothing. “I wasn’t trying to control you,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I just… I’ve seen the way they look at you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone trying to take you away from me.”

Y/N’s breath caught. The words were wrong, but the vulnerability in Sana’s tone made them feel almost right.

“You can’t just do that without telling me,” Y/N said, though her voice lacked the conviction it had a moment ago.

“I’m sorry,” Sana said, her hand sliding down to take Y/N’s. “I’ll unblock them if it bothers you. I just… I get scared sometimes. Scared of you leaving me.”

The fear in Sana’s voice disarmed Y/N, her anger melting into something softer, something she hated to admit was there.

“Okay,” Y/N said quietly, her shoulders slumping. “Just… don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” Sana said, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her touch was warm, her grip firm but comforting. “Thank you. I just love you so much.”

Sana pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N’s face as if looking for reassurance. Then, before Y/N could say anything more, Sana leaned in, pressing her lips softly against hers. The kiss was tender, almost desperate, as if Sana were trying to seal her promise with the gesture.

Y/N let herself sink into the moment, the warmth of Sana’s touch and the softness of her lips momentarily eclipsing the unease still lingering in her chest.

Later that night, as Y/N lay in bed, the weight of the conversation pressed against her chest. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the way Sana had looked at her, the way she had seemed so genuine, so afraid.

She just loves me that much, Y/N told herself. Isn’t that what we all want?

But even as she drifted to sleep, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered, This doesn’t feel right.

But the control wasn’t one-sided.

Sana’s attention had become something Y/N craved, like a drug she couldn’t go without. It wasn’t just the grand gestures or whispered words of affection, it was the way Sana looked at her, as if Y/N were the only person in the world who mattered. But in the rare moments when that gaze faltered, when Sana’s attention drifted to something or someone else, Y/N felt a hollowness that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

One evening, the two of them lounged in the living room, a playlist of soft acoustic songs filling the air. Sana sat on the armchair across from Y/N, her legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a faint smile playing on her lips.

Y/N, sprawled across the couch, tried to focus on the book in her hands, but her eyes kept drifting back to Sana. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, the way her lips twitched with quiet amusement, and the glimmer of a name in the reflection of her glasses, it all stirred something uneasy in Y/N.

“Who are you talking to?” Y/N asked, her voice light and teasing. She tilted her head, feigning playful curiosity.

Sana glanced up, her smile faint but distant. “Just a friend.”

Y/N sat up, abandoning her book. She moved to the arm of the chair and leaned closer, resting her chin on Sana’s shoulder. The scent of Sana’s perfume, warm and familiar, wrapped around her like a tether.

“Maybe I should start calling my old friends, too,” Y/N said lightly, her tone carefully casual.

Sana’s fingers paused over the screen. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by something harder to read. “You don’t need them,” she said softly, but there was a firmness beneath her words that made Y/N’s chest tighten. “You have me.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, blinking. Sana looked up at her, her expression soft but resolute, as if the matter was already settled.

The comment stayed with Y/N long after the moment passed, lingering like the faint trace of perfume on her clothes. She told herself Sana was right, what did she need anyone else for? Still, the thought gnawed at her, leaving a small hollow space she couldn’t quite fill.

Later that week, Y/N found herself scrolling through her contacts, aimlessly flicking past names she hadn’t thought about in months. Her thumb hovered over one in particular, an old flame. They hadn’t spoken in years, but seeing the name felt like a thread tugging at some forgotten part of herself.

She hesitated. Memories of late-night conversations and stolen moments came rushing back, mingling with the weight of Sana’s words.

You don’t need them. You have me.

The thought settled over her like a blanket, heavy but reassuring. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she tapped the screen, blocking the number with a single decisive motion.

It’s only fair, she thought, her chest tightening. If Sana does it for me, why shouldn’t I do the same for her?

The logic felt sound, even comforting, but as she stared at the screen, a faint unease crept in. Y/N pushed it aside, telling herself that love was about compromise, about loyalty. Wasn’t it?

The days blurred into a cycle of quiet tension and fleeting moments of bliss. Y/N had learned to silence the voice in her head that questioned Sana’s behavior, telling herself that every couple had their struggles. And besides, when Sana was good, she was perfect, her laughter, her warmth, the way she made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.

But perfection came at a cost, one that Y/N wasn’t sure she could keep paying.

The breaking point came on a stormy evening when the truth they had been skirting around finally exploded.

Rain pounded against the windows as Y/N paced the living room, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. The dim light of the room flickered with each flash of lightning, shadows jumping across the walls like specters. The argument had started small, something about missed calls and unanswered texts, but had spiraled into something much bigger, something neither of them could control.

“You don’t trust me,” Y/N said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. Her words cut through the rhythmic drumming of the rain, sharp and raw. “You never have.”

Sana stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked unmovable, her silhouette stark against the storm outside. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was ice. “That’s not fair, and you know it,” she said coldly. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. Everything. And this is how you treat me?”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, hollow and brittle. It startled even her, the sound foreign in her own ears. “You’ve given me everything? Or taken everything?”

The words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating them both. For a moment, the only sound was the relentless rain, a distant roll of thunder punctuating the silence.

Sana’s shoulders slumped, her arms falling to her sides. Y/N thought she might leave the room, leave the conversation unfinished like so many others. But instead, Sana turned. Her expression softened, the coldness melting into something heartbreakingly vulnerable. Tears glistened in her eyes, catching the light of the storm outside.

“I just…” Sana’s voice cracked as she stepped closer. “I’m scared, okay? Scared of losing you.” Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers twisting nervously. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know how to live without you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her anger faltering under the weight of Sana’s words. “Sana—”

“Please,” Sana interrupted, her voice breaking as she reached out to grab Y/N’s hands. Her touch was warm despite the chill of the room. “Don’t go. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”

The rawness in Sana’s voice hit Y/N like a tidal wave, pulling at something deep and unspoken inside her. She wanted to hold on to her anger, to use it as a shield against the emotions threatening to drown her. But the sight of Sana, her tear-filled eyes, the trembling in her voice, made it impossible.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the conflicting emotions swirling in her chest. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to walk out the door and never look back. But another part, a darker, quieter part, thrived on the chaos.

The fights, the tears, the passionate makeups that followed, they made Y/N feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. There was something intoxicating about the intensity of it all, as if the turbulence was proof of how deeply they loved each other.

Toxic love is still love, she told herself, the thought echoing like a mantra in the storm.

When Y/N opened her eyes, Sana was staring at her, desperation etched into every line of her face. Y/N took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washed over Sana’s face, her grip on Y/N’s hands tightening as if to anchor herself. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her arms wrapped around Y/N like a lifeline, the storm outside forgotten in the stillness of the moment.

But Y/N wasn’t blameless.

The next morning, the tension lingered like a bruise, dull and aching but impossible to ignore. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of Sana’s movements as she made coffee. She hovered near the counter, her back to Y/N, the usual ease of her gestures replaced with something more hesitant.

Y/N sat at the table, her phone resting on the surface, though her eyes weren’t really focused on the screen. She could feel the weight of Sana’s presence, her tentative glances, the way her shoulders seemed to sag just slightly under the strain of the unresolved fight.

When Sana finally crossed the room and reached out to touch Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N pulled away instinctively, pretending to focus on a non-existent notification. The withdrawal was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Sana pause.

“Are we okay?” Sana asked softly, her voice laced with hesitation.

Y/N didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch long enough to sting. The delay was deliberate, calculated. She wanted Sana to feel the same uncertainty she had felt the night before.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said finally, her tone distant and measured.

Sana’s shoulders tensed, her hand falling back to her side. Her expression flickered, uncertainty, worry, and something else Y/N couldn’t quite name. For a brief moment, Y/N felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if she’d regained some of the power she so often felt slipping through her fingers.

But the feeling was fleeting, dissolving into a hollow ache as Sana stepped away without another word.

By evening, Sana had transformed the tension into something else entirely.

When Y/N walked into the apartment after work, she was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight flickering on every surface. The scent of her favorite dish wafted through the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background.

Sana stood in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, her smile soft but deliberate. She looked radiant, every detail meticulously arranged, from the careful curl of her hair to the delicate necklace Y/N had once said she loved.

“I just want us to be happy,” Sana said, handing Y/N a glass of wine as she gestured toward the table. It was set with care, the plates gleaming under the candlelight.

Y/N hesitated, the unease from the morning still gnawing at the edges of her mind. She wanted to argue, to confront Sana about the growing cracks in their relationship, but the effort felt monumental.

Sana’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Wait, before we eat, there’s something I want to give you.”

Y/N blinked, confused as Sana set her glass down and walked over to a small drawer. From it, she pulled out a small box, the kind that usually held jewelry. Her heart skipped as Sana returned, opening it to reveal a delicate necklace with a small pendant that sparkled in the candlelight.

“I saw this and thought of you,” Sana said, her voice soft and warm. She stepped closer, taking the necklace out of the box. “Let me.”

Y/N hesitated, the unease still there, but Sana’s expectant smile made it hard to refuse. She turned slightly, letting Sana clasp the necklace around her neck.

“There,” Sana said, stepping back to admire her work. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Y/N touched the pendant lightly, her chest tightening. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in her mouth.

“It’s for us,” Sana said, her tone carrying an undercurrent of something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled back in, the warmth of the moment smoothing over the jagged edges of her doubt.

Later, as Y/N lay in bed, the wine’s warmth still lingering in her veins, her thoughts drifted to their first meeting.

She remembered the way Sana had waved her down, her confidence magnetic even from a distance. At the time, it had felt serendipitous, like fate stepping in to bring them together. But now, with the clarity of hindsight, the memory was tinged with something darker.

The bike had seemed pristine, too pristine for a breakdown. The way Sana had leaned against it, casually frustrated, as if she’d been waiting for something or someone.

The pieces began to fall into place with chilling clarity. The perfect timing. The deliberate way Sana had drawn her in, weaving a story of chance and misfortune. Y/N’s mind filled in the gaps, connecting the dots she hadn’t dared to before.

She planned it.

The realization hit Y/N like a punch to the gut.

She stared at the ceiling, her breath catching in her throat. Anger surged through her at first, a sharp, white-hot wave of betrayal. But as it ebbed, it left something else in its wake.

A strange sense of inevitability settled over her, heavy but almost comforting. It was just another piece in the game Sana had been playing all along. A game she had been playing since the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a game Y/N didn’t want to stop playing.

She closed her eyes, the faint sound of Sana’s breathing beside her filling the quiet.

Toxic love is still love, she thought again, the mantra weaving itself into her dreams.

The dreams came in flashes. Y/N saw Sana’s smile from their first meeting, bright and full of promise. Then, the smile faded, replaced by the image of the chessboard, pieces scattered and mismatched. Somewhere in the haze, Y/N heard the mechanic’s voice, distant but clear “Looks like someone tampered with it.”

When she woke up, the early morning light spilling through the blinds. Her chest felt heavy, her mind tangled in memories and doubt. Y/N rubbed her temples, but the unease wouldn’t go away. She needed clarity, but instead, she found herself spiraling deeper into questions she didn’t want to answer.

But the answers came faster than she expected.

The fights came more frequently now, their once-perfect moments overshadowed by tension and unspoken resentment. It was during one of those fights, louder and crueler than any before, that Y/N finally walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Sana’s pleading voice echoing in her ears.

The dark clouds hung low, the occasional rumble of distant thunder reminding her that the storm hadn’t entirely passed. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as her breath came in short bursts.

The argument replayed in her mind, vivid and unrelenting.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she had said, her voice trembling but carrying a firmness that surprised even herself.

Sana’s eyes had widened, tears glistening like glass. “You don’t mean that,” she’d replied, her voice breaking on the words. “You love me.”

Y/N had hesitated, the pull in her chest begging her to reconsider, but the weight of the tension between them pressed her forward. Without another word, she had turned and walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind her cutting through the quiet like a gunshot.

Now, sitting in the driver’s seat, Y/N tried to steady her breathing. The streets were nearly deserted, the dark asphalt glistening from the rain, reflecting faint halos of streetlights. She pulled out of the parking lot, her fingers gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality.

The car’s engine hummed steadily at first, but as she drove down the dark, empty road, it sputtered and jerked. A guttural sound followed, like the car itself was protesting her escape. Then, with a final wheeze, the engine died completely.

“No, no, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, guiding the car to the side of the road. She turned the key in the ignition, hoping against hope, but the car refused to respond.

She slammed her hands against the wheel, the familiar sense of frustration and helplessness bubbling up. The adrenaline from the fight hadn’t fully faded, and now it mixed with the sharp sting of being stranded.

Stepping out into the damp night air, Y/N shivered as her shoes sank slightly into the wet gravel. The air smelled of rain and earth, heavy and oppressive. She popped the hood, staring at the mess of wires and metal with a sinking feeling.

“This might as well be hieroglyphics,” she muttered, rubbing her arms against the chill.

Resigned, she pulled out her phone and called for a tow truck. The wait felt eternal, the silence inside the car pressing down on her. The only sounds were the occasional car passing in the distance and the soft tick of her hazard lights. Y/N leaned her head back against the seat, the exhaustion from the day threatening to pull her under.

The next day, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear as the mechanic’s voice crackled through the line.

“Well, the good news is, it’s an easy fix,” he said, his tone light. “But it’s strange.. looks like someone deliberately tampered with your fuel line. Did you leave it parked somewhere sketchy?”

Y/N froze, her stomach flipping. “No,” she said slowly, her voice tight. “I… I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” the mechanic said thoughtfully. “Well, whoever did it didn’t want to completely ruin your car. Just enough to strand you, I’d guess.”

The call ended, but the words echoed in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whoever did it…

Her hands trembled as she set her phone down, her mind racing through the possibilities. Flashes of memory rose unbidden, moments that had seemed inconsequential at the time but now took on a sinister edge.

Sana’s insistence on “checking” the car before Y/N went on long drives. The way she had offered to take it for errands, always with a breezy smile and a casual “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It all lined up now in a way that made Y/N’s stomach twist painfully.

She wouldn’t, Y/N told herself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. But deep down, in the quietest parts of her mind, she knew the truth.

Y/N confronted Sana that evening.

The apartment felt colder than usual, the dim light from the single floor lamp casting sharp shadows across the walls. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but it did nothing to soothe the tension coiling in Y/N’s chest. The chessboard sat in its usual place, the queen perfectly upright while the pawns lay scattered, toppled like casualties of a battle they hadn’t agreed to fight.

Sana sat on the couch, a book open in her lap, her posture relaxed in a way that felt almost mocking. She looked up when Y/N entered, her expression calm but curious.

“Did you do it?” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Sana tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “Do what?”

Y/N stepped closer, her hands trembling at her sides. The anger simmering beneath her skin made her movements stiff, deliberate. “My car,” she said, her voice louder now, more forceful. “The fuel line. Did you tamper with it?”

For a moment, Sana’s face was blank, unreadable. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, she sighed, closing her book with deliberate care and setting it on the armrest. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of regret.

Y/N’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. The confirmation felt like a physical blow, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Why?” she whispered, the single word laced with disbelief.

Sana stood, her movements measured, as if trying not to startle Y/N. She stepped closer, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Because I needed you to stay. You were leaving, Y/N. You were going to walk away from us, from everything we’ve built. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“That’s not love, Sana!” Y/N’s voice rose, shaking with anger and disbelief. Her hands balled into fists, her whole body trembling with the effort to keep herself together. “That’s manipulation. That’s control.”

“Everything I did was because I love you,” Sana said, tears spilling over as her voice broke. “You’re my everything. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Y/N shook her head, taking a step back as if putting physical distance between them could lessen the weight of Sana’s words. Her hands clutched the edge of the couch for support, her knuckles turning white.

“You can’t sabotage my life and call it love,” Y/N said, her voice dropping, quieter but no less firm. The exhaustion in her tone made Sana flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Sana whispered, her own tears falling freely now. She reached out, her hands trembling. “I just… I couldn’t lose you. Please don’t leave.”

For a moment, Y/N stood frozen, staring at the woman she had once thought she couldn’t live without. The desperation in Sana’s voice pulled at something deep inside her, something that still wanted to believe in the version of Sana who had once made her feel whole. But now, that version felt like a lie.

Even as the words hung in the air, Y/N could feel the pull. It was the same as it had always been, when she’d said it was over, Sana hadn’t heard her. Not really. All Sana had heard was, “Baby, can you pull me in closer?” And every time before, Y/N had let her.

But this time was different. It had to be.

Later that night, Y/N sat alone in the apartment. The only light came from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, casting uneven shadows across the room.

Her thoughts were a chaotic tangle of anger, guilt, and exhaustion, each emotion crashing over her like relentless waves.

She wasn’t innocent in this, she realized. She had ignored her instincts, fed into Sana’s need for control because it made her feel wanted, needed. She had convinced herself that the intensity of their love, the highs that left her breathless and the lows that shattered her, was proof of something real, something worth fighting for.

She thought back to every moment she had brushed aside the red flags, every time she had excused Sana’s behavior with the same tired reasoning: She just loves me so much. But now, those excuses felt hollow, stripped of the power they once held.

This wasn’t love. This was a game Sana had been playing all along. And worse, it was a game Y/N had willingly joined, feeding into the chaos, finding her own twisted satisfaction in the drama and the thrill.

The apartment was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, each second stretching endlessly before her.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, her head resting on the edge as she stared at the ceiling. “How did it get this bad?” she whispered to no one.

The only answer was the quiet hum of the city outside, a distant rhythm that seemed to echo the chaos in her heart. Y/N sat in the stillness, her gaze drifting back to the chessboard. The queen stood tall, unshaken, but the sight of it no longer felt like a challenge it felt like a cage.

The pieces weren’t scattered by chance, they were placed, deliberate and calculated. Y/N realized that as long as she stayed, the game would never end. She would keep losing herself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to give.

Her chest tightened as the weight of her decision settled over her. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Slowly, she rose from the couch, her movements hesitant at first but gaining strength with every step. She didn’t need all the answers yet. She just needed to take the first one. She had to leave.

In the days that followed, Y/N prepared quietly, methodically. She found a new apartment on the other side of town, small, simple, but hers. She made sure the lease was signed and the keys were in her hand before she packed her things. Every step of the process felt surreal, like she was watching someone else’s life unfold.

She packed in secret, careful not to draw Sana’s attention. It wasn’t just about leaving, it was about ensuring Sana couldn’t find her. The thought made Y/N’s chest ache with guilt, but she pushed it aside. She owed herself this clean break.

When the day came, Y/N returned to the apartment one last time to collect the rest of her things.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Y/N stood by the door, her suitcase by her side. The weight of her decision hung heavy in the air, every breath she took feeling like a step into uncharted territory. Sana stood a few feet away, her eyes red and swollen, her hands clenched tightly together as if she were physically holding herself back from reaching out.

“Please, Y/N,” Sana’s voice broke, thick with tears. “Don’t do this. I can change. I will change. Just… Please don’t leave me.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, the pain in Sana’s voice cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. Memories flashed through her mind, Sana’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled during their late-night conversations, the way she had once made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.

But then came the other memories: the fights, the manipulation, the moments of doubt and helplessness that had slowly eroded the foundation of their relationship.

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Sana,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ve given you everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough. I can’t keep losing myself like this.”

Sana took a step forward, her hands outstretched. “You’re not losing yourself, you’re finding yourself with me. We can fix this, Y/N. Together.”

Y/N turned to face her, the sadness in Sana’s expression pulling at her heart. “I’ve been trying to fix this for months,” she said softly. “But the truth is, we’ve been breaking each other. I need to let go, Sana. I need to let myself heal.”

Tears streamed down Sana’s face as she whispered, “I love you.”

Y/N nodded, her own tears threatening to fall. “I know. But love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”

She turned the handle and stepped out, closing the door behind her before the pull to stay became too strong.

Outside, the crisp evening air hit her like a wave, clearing the fog in her mind. Her suitcase rolled unevenly over the cracks in the pavement as she walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When she reached the end of the block, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled it out.

The message was from Sana.

I know I’ve hurt you, but I can be better. Please give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. The words were everything she had wanted to hear for so long, everything she had hoped for during the countless nights she had spent doubting herself.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, the urge to reply clawing at her. She could feel the pull, the desire to relive the highs of their relationship, to chase the fleeting moments of joy that had once made her believe in them.

But the pain wasn’t worth the promise of temporary happiness anymore. She couldn’t go back, not to Sana, and not to the version of herself who had allowed the cycle to continue.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. She didn’t reply.

Hours later, the city pulled her outside. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay within the confines of her new apartment, where the silence pressed down like a weight. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, her steps heavy, her mind a storm of memories she couldn’t stop replaying.

Somehow, her fingers found the necklace, tugging it free from her pocket. The cool metal was damp from her grip, the pendant swinging lightly as she walked. It felt heavier than it should, laden with the promises Sana had made, the ones Y/N had once believed.

The rain had started softly, almost unnoticed, but now it poured, streaking down in cold rivulets that blurred the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood frozen on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched the delicate necklace. The memories played on repeat, an unrelenting loop of love and chaos.

A sharp honk jolted her back to the present. She blinked, startled, realizing she had wandered into the edge of the street. A car sped past, the splash of water snapping her fully out of her thoughts.

She turned, her breath visible in the cold air as she glanced back at the skyline one last time. The city lights shimmered like the tears that threatened to spill over, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.

At her apartment, Y/N stood in the quiet of her small kitchen, the necklace Sana had given her dangling from her hand. She turned it over, the delicate chain catching the light, its small pendant glinting like a final remnant of the life she was leaving behind.

For a moment, she considered keeping it, just as a memory, a token of what they’d shared. But even as she thought it, she knew it would be a weight she couldn’t carry.

With deliberate care, Y/N let the necklace fall into the trash. The sound it made as it hit the bottom was soft, almost imperceptible, but it felt like a thunderclap in her chest.

She stood there for a moment, staring into the trash as if expecting the necklace to call her back. When it didn’t, she closed the lid, the act feeling both final and liberating.

As she walked to the window, the city lights stretched out before her, vibrant and full of possibility. For the first time in what felt like years, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope, not for the love she had lost, but for the love she was beginning to find within herself.

The days that followed were slow and quiet, but Y/N welcomed the stillness. She filled the emptiness with small steps forward: rearranging her new apartment, picking up books she hadn’t read in years, and beginning to journal the thoughts that had weighed her down for so long.

Over time, the heaviness started to lift.

Months had passed since Y/N left, and the weight that had once pressed on her chest now felt lighter, manageable. She sat in the sunlit corner of her new apartment, a cup of tea in one hand and her journal in the other. The space was small but bright, with clean lines and open shelves, a far cry from the dimly lit apartment she had shared with Sana.

She set down her tea and picked up her pen, the journal’s pages already filled with reflections, questions, and truths she hadn’t been ready to face before. Therapy had helped her unpack the layers of their relationship, the highs that had made her stay, the lows that had broken her, and the role she had played in perpetuating it all.

“I was just as addicted to the chaos as she was,” Y/N wrote, her pen moving steadily across the page. “But now, I know better.”

The memories still surfaced sometimes, unbidden and sharp. She could still hear Sana’s voice in her head, the promises, the pleas. The lyrics from a song she’d heard recently echoed in her mind:

“You were plotting how to stay in my head, We were toxic till the end.”

Y/N set her pen down, closing her eyes. It was true, Sana had stayed in her head long after she’d left, but the hold was loosening.

Her gaze shifted to the canvas, the blankness of it inviting rather than intimidating. It was a stark contrast to the chessboard she had left behind, the rigid lines, the scattered pawns, the queen standing tall. The canvas didn’t ask her to play a role. It simply waited for her to decide what to create.

She picked up her journal again, flipping back to a page she had written weeks ago. She had reflected on the lessons she’d learned, the things she could forgive, and the things she couldn’t.

“I can forgive you for a lot of things,” she had written, quoting the song that had felt like a lifeline in her darkest moments. “For not giving me back my Tiffany rings. I’ll never forgive you for one thing, my dear. You wasted my prettiest years.”

But now, sitting in the soft glow of her new life, Y/N felt a shift. The bitterness wasn’t as sharp as it had been.

She turned to a fresh page and wrote.

“She wasted my prettiest years, but I taught myself how to cherish the rest of them.”

The words felt like closure, final and freeing.

As the sunlight poured in, Y/N set her journal aside and walked to the canvas. She picked up a brush, the blank space before her a promise of what could be.

For the first time in years, Y/N felt like she wasn’t playing a game or following someone else’s rules. She was creating something entirely her own.

#minatozaki sana x reader #kpop imagines #girl group imagines #kpop x reader #gg x reader #sana x reader #twice sana #twice imagines #sana imagines #twice x reader #twice x fem reader

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queervegancryptid · 15 hours ago

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What's funny to me about this is that I have Medicare and Florida Medicaid, and let me tell you: compared to other countries with socialized medicine, we are getting absolutely shafted. It's been going on for a long time, at least since George W. Bush was in office. That's when Medicare Advantage plans started becoming a thing, and in Florida and at least some other states, there is no public option for Medicaid. You HAVE to pick a private "managed care" plan. (UHC, Humana, Florida Blue, Molina, and Sunshine Health are the companies that come to mind. I think there's one or two more in the mix for Florida Medicaid. YMMV.)

My Medicare and Medicaid benefits are administered in one dual special needs plan (D-SNP), which is the best option for me in a lot of ways... except here's the thing: I get those benefits because I'm disabled. Legally, my disability benefits were approved on the basis of PTSD, eating disorders, and severe anxiety.

It is impossible to find an eating disorder recovery program, online or in-person, that accepts Medicare. So I have a disability, and I wouldn't even have insurance at all if I didn't go through the process of sitting in front of an ALJ after nearly three years of waiting time, for her and the hired assessor and fuck knows who else to determine that my eating disorder is a major factor in why I can't work.

So you might say I only have this insurance because of my eating disorder.

So you might even go so far as to say the reason I have this insurance (any insurance, really) is CATEGORICALLY excluded from the benefits offered by this or ANY OTHER plan available to me that includes Medicare. Almost no Florida Medicaid plans are accepted by any eating disorder specific program or facility, and the way it works is that Medicare is billed first, and it seems like no one really knows what that means for people like me.

I currently have a D-SNP, but I could switch to having separate plans for each of Medicare and Florida Medicaid. It might be worth doing, but I can only switch plans once a quarter, and it seems like switching is the only way to find out. But if it doesn't work, and it might not, I could be without benefits I desperately need for months before I even get an answer. I've heard of the whole being more than the sum of its parts, but somehow, Medicare + Medicaid in one plan may do less than two separate plans.

Oh, and my plan? I won't name it, but it's UHC. Private insurance companies run Medicare Advantage plans and D-SNP plans like mine. I have this plan mostly because it covers my prescriptions. (Well, for now, anyway. Fully expecting to lose coverage for HRT within the next year or two.)

The psych facilities in-network to me are okay... if you don't actually have to do anything above outpatient therapy. I would be goddamn terrified to be sent to one of them for inpatient care. Just based on the Google reviews alone.

But who cares about mentally ill poor people. If I had a drug or alcohol problem, I'd have no problem finding a rehab in-network for that, but I'd still never check into one on an inpatient basis. The only ones of those in-network to my plan have the same problem as the general psych facilities near me. I would survive, but I'd probably come out worse, not better.

Original Medicare (Parts A and B) is more predictable in some ways, but it doesn't cover all of what the Medicare Advantage plans (Part C) cover (no prescription drug coverage at all without enrolling in either Part C for all your Medicare or at least a Part D plan, which deals with prescription drugs). Also, you still have to pay a monthly premium unless you're dirt poor and qualify for Medicaid and "Extra Help." So calling it socialized medicine the way Canada does it or the way the NHS does things in the UK or whatever, for example, is seriously stretching the limits of that idea.

Anyway tl;dr I've been dealing with this for a while and have a lot more to say about it, but the point is, if you think Medicare and Medicaid are examples of "socialized medicine" the way other countries use the term, you have been misled and will end up extremely confused and frustrated if your situation actually demands complex care of any kind. And for certain specific conditions, apparently, you're just fucked. You end up nearly dying of anorexia three or four times because there's literally no help for you that won't cost tens of thousands of dollars out of pocket.

Sorry for the rant. I'm incredibly frustrated about these things and just venting a little, I guess. But I also feel like this kind of shit should be common knowledge, because I'm definitely not the only person dealing with it, except somehow no one ever seems to talk about it.

I can hardly wait to try to get an autism assessment covered.

saw someone say the only people who don't approve of Luigi are old enough that they basically DO have socialized health care (medicare or whatever) and as such literally don't understand what everyone else is going through. made me think.

it definitely matches up with the idea that people's political and cultural positions are largely a superset of their material interests

#medicare #medicaid #florida medicaid #socialized medicine #eating disorder recovery #anorexia #bulimia #ednos #osfed #arfid

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i-am-just-a-skeleton · 16 days ago

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i really want to talk to someone, i don't care who or about what but i feel like if i don't i'll start going insane, i've been accidentally ignoring all my friends not that they've tried to contact me either but that's fine they're busy and it's not like that's something they really do anyway it's just that i can't see them in person anymore and it kind of just feels like i don't exist because No One talks to me and i barely respond anyway if they do and i Need to get better at staying in contact with people because if i don't i'll just move away and probably never talk to them again and i don't want that to happen but it Will if i don't do something and it Sucks. this Always happens. every time i start to be friends with something they leave or i leave or we just drift apart and then it's over and i've never had a single person stick around and i never Do anything and i feel like i only exist as a person inside my head and nothing i do ever really affects anyone else and i'd really like. if just for Once i could get out of my own head enough to really connect with someone. and then actually manage to keep them around

#it's not that i'm Always alone #it's just that nothing ever lasts for more than a few years and then they're gone again #there are so many people i just don't Talk to anymore #and i want to ask if they remember me like i remember them #but we've grown apart and it's been years and i can't even talk to the people who are still my friends now for some reason #why the hell am i like this. i Know it's me i'm the weak link i'm the faulty screw I'm the one that lets go #maybe no one ever cared enough to hold on to me but i never really tried to hold on to them either did i?#and the worst part is the most important times weren't anything either of us could have helped and all my best friends are just Gone now #except the one time i Could help it i'm still not doing anything #vent post #i really shouldn't let myself spiral like this but. the way it hurts does feel kind of good

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talkorsomething · 6 months ago

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I have Got to get more transgender

#100% секретный дневник левы НЕ ЧИТАЙ #transmasc #trans ftm #transgender #i like 2 say i'm very trans already but unforch i am Not Really. mostly boring ftm Guy Ever #so tempted to cut my hair again but my sense of what i look like is already so fuzzy i dont think it'd help..#want to dye my hair anyways. at this point i'd take whatever color i can get if not purple LOL #it's almost everything i could want and yet ... still me. still the same life. stuck.#soooo high functioning like you wouldnt believe EXCEPT istg i need an emotional support human who will guide me through tasks #such as 'pay with your Moneys Card at the Store'#or... idk that's it really. maybe go grocery shopping without feeling like i'm not meant to be there also #or like. exist in general maybe #reasons why not emotional support Animal: creature cannot understand capitalism. and also is not as necessary as a service dog specifically #idk! every time i come on here i fall apart (in text) and then pull myself back together for another day of ... this i guess.#i'm not even having like crying breakdowns or anything to go along with it i'm just held inside this shell of a body. typing away again #i'm soso tempted to make things worse. progress wouldn't matter anymore... at least maybe it would feel real that i'm like this #i wish my face fit on my body right. and also that i did not look quite so much like a vaguely gnc lesbian #like at LEAST let me look butch as hell but no. curse of sad hair & uncertainty #miss my little mullety thing from that brief period in october... miss my short hair from back in 2017 ...#just dont feel satisfied with what i am now. in general.#top surgery is literally Within my reach but i'm not sure about cost and i need to wait because of doing guard now......#my list of do i want t i kept for the past month turned out to be a bunch of maybes #partially cause i got sick. partially cause it stopped being shark week and i forgot about it #as always happens...#still unsure in my new(er) name. only heard it once #didn't feel the same way as with my old one? but idk. just don't know.#missing guard also but feeling conflicted about not having time for other hobbies...#since winter season is over i've had so much time to play guitar! that's insane! mostly cause i stopped playing for unrelated reasons...#just tired again. wonder if i need more sleep than what i always get. kind of restless.#there's nothing else to say i guess. just wish i could be a person the way everyone else seems to be.

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guinevereslancelot · 1 month ago

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hopefully i'm not getting ahead of myself with the second job idea but i'm v excited abt the possibility

#i miss the kiddos!!!!#and like 3 of my coworkers lol #but it may not be any real benefit to have someone who can only come in for 1.5 hours a day to close #bc they would be paying me potentially more than one of my coworkers to do the same thing #then they would have two people working middle shift bc im gonna close but they're still paying them like full time and then paying me also #idk it may not work for them #however theybcant retain people for shit in that program and nobody wants to close except me lol #so it mught be worth it #if they can offer more middle or opening shifts to people #also what they really need is a fourth full time teacher innthat room but they'll never do it #but another part time teacher could help bridge the gap in coverage so that it works #maybe #idk #i would really love to do it i think #bc all the issues there were related to being full time but i dont think they'll be too hard on me if i'm part time #like i'm an independent contractor basically and i have another full time job so its not like im desperate #they cant shit on me or ask me to do anything but the shift i told them i could do lol #so it should be fine #there's literally no superviser during closing i'm basically my own boss and there's nothing to do except hand the kids off #then clean and lock up #no decisions whatsoever #im letting myself get way too excited tho #bc it could potentially not work out #this has been a shitpost

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darkmatilda · 1 month ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just two bookworms arguing about books and having a s3x right after

𝐚/𝐧: please read the note! so it's only a very short part of my upcoming fanfiction that has...25k words...i'm aware no one is going to read it all soo i'm publishing one of my favorite parts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

Maybe it was that one drink you had, but your legs seemed to take you in a certain direction.

You weren’t sure if Spencer was even home. But if you had nothing else to do, why not check? A short walk. You were a little desperate, after all, you didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s how you justified it. You were going to him because you had no other option.

He opened the door, dressed in a wrinkled shirt, trousers, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was in disarray, and you felt an urge to run your fingers through it and style it the way you wanted, but it would’ve been awkward.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

Surprised, Spencer shook his head.

"No... Actually, I was asleep."

"In those clothes?"

"I fell asleep while reading..." he explained, trailing off when he noticed your appearance. To put it modestly, you looked incredibly hot. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on your dress, visible beneath the open jacket and ending high on your thigh. "Very... nice dress. Is it... is it your mom's too?"

You chuckled.

"Can you imagine my mom, a school psychologist, in a dress covering half her ass?"

Embarrassed, Spencer raised his hands in apology and also chuckled softly.

"Sorry, I'm still half-asleep. Anyway... is there something wrong that you're here?"

"My mentally unstable ex-boyfriend of my roommate is lurking under our apartment.” You confessed bluntly “I'm a little scared to go back, and... I didn't know where else I could go."

It seemed like he was suddenly waking up quickly. He swung the door wide open, letting you in.

"Of course, come in. Is he dangerous?"

"He shows up every now and then and then disappears. It's like a lottery. Jude doesn't want to ever see him again, so we just pretend we're not here when it happens."

The inside looked just as you remembered. The lights were off everywhere except the bedroom, where he was probably reading. You allowed yourself to take off your uncomfortable shoes and set them by the door.

"Why don't you report it to the police?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Jude doesn't want to. And I don't want to do anything against her will. But I swear, if this happens again, I'll convince her. Or I'll do it myself."

"You should," he said, and suddenly a silence fell between you.

You weren't sure how to act. You'd barged in on him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his sleep. Not to mention, you hadn't seen each other since that conversation at the bar.

"Let me take your jacket," he said after a moment, as if remembering how to behave when hosting a guest.

You slowly took it off, revealing the full dress. Spencer momentarily let his gaze linger on it, but then he caught himself and turned away to hang your jacket. The glance didn't embarrass you in the slightest; if anything, you expected to catch him looking.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said, realizing you should probably apologize. It was only then that you began to feel a little awkward about the situation.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. And I'm glad I can help," he said, and once again, silence settled between you. Spencer placed his hand on his forehead as he realized you were still standing in the hallway. "Sorry, it's been a long time since anyone's visited, and I don't even know how to act... Do you want something to drink, or need anything?"

"I’m fine," you assured him, walking behind him into the living room. "I don't want you to act like I'm some important guest, Spencer. Or like you need to serve me."

"But you are an important guest," he replied.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on your lips.

"What were you reading?" you asked, leaning your lower back against the kitchen island, the two rooms connected as one. You glanced around the cozy interior, in soft, almost warm hues, where the darkness of the night blended with the orange light of the lamp. "Let me guess, some spine-chilling thriller?"

"I have spine-chilling thrillers every day at work," he snorted. "I was reading... Emma. Jane Austen."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"You fell asleep reading classic literature on a Friday night? Spencer Reid, what kind of man are you?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

He stood across from you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. Your eyes lingered on the first few undone buttons of his shirt.

"Of course, in a good way. Why would I judge someone for reading?"

"I don’t know," he shrugged. "Some people think it’s boring. And weird, especially on a Friday night. And what about you? What were you doing before your roommate’s ex showed up?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded meaningfully toward your outfit. "Were you reading too?"

You lifted your chin high.

"Exactly. I was reading my favorite Shakespearean drama in my favorite dress. And those incredibly comfortable shoes I left by your door."

"That goes without saying."

"I definitely wasn’t at any club."

"I wouldn’t even suspect you of that."

"I was doing what any God-fearing virgin would do," you said, bursting into laughter at the absurdity. "Alright, alright. I’m getting carried away. Now I actually feel like reading something. But nothing too classic—I don’t have the brainpower for it. Do you happen to have any romance novels?"

I'm afraid not."

"Really? You have more books in your home than the library in my hometown, and not a single romance? I’m not talking about dark erotica or anything—just something subtle. Friends to lovers, polite sex..."

Spencer choked on a laugh.

"Sorry, but are you drunk?"

You were just horny.

"Not a drop of alcohol has touched my lips. I'm just hyperactive. That’s what the night does to me."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"So? Aren't you hiding any sinful books in there?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly amused rather than annoyed by your persistence.

"You're welcome to look," he offered, gesturing toward one of the shelves. "But I’m not promising you’ll find anything like that."

"But if I do, you owe me a drink."

“And if it turns out I’m right, then what?”

You bit your lip, pondering.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You know, I won’t enter a bet unless I know what I get in return.”

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner together,” he replied without hesitation. “Or breakfast, if you prefer.”

“Deal,” you answered just as quickly. You weren’t worried about regretting it—your blood was buzzing too much for that.

He extended his hand for you to shake on it, sealing the deal. Instead of letting go, you held onto his fingers firmly and tugged him toward the bookshelf. He stood so close as you examined the books one by one, taking some out to inspect their covers to see if they suggested any hint of romance. When they didn’t, he let out a short laugh, his breath brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t let it show.

“Spencer…” you started after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “It counts if the book has a romantic subplot, right?”

“No, it doesn’t count! We agreed on a romance. A full-fledged, contemporary one.”

“We didn’t say contemporary.”

“I assumed it was implied since I mentioned owning Jane Austen books. Pride and Prejudice is a romance, among other things…”

“Ha! So you do have one. I won!” You raised your hands high in victory.

“…But it’s also a social and domestic novel. Doesn’t count.”

You poked him in the chest with your finger.

“You don’t know how to lose.”

He glanced at the spot where you touched him, clearly trying not to smile.

“Maybe I just care a lot about that dinner,” he admitted boldly.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to look at him confidently, but it was hard to think and maintain eye contact with him at the same time.

“Or breakfast,” you murmured.

“Or breakfast,” he agreed. Realizing how close he was standing, he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “So, are you ready to admit my victory?”

You shot him a defiant look.

“Not a chance. I haven’t even checked all the books yet. I’m only about three-quarters through. Who knows what kind of BDSM might be lurking in the last quarter?”

“Seriously?” he asked with a sigh. “Okay, just look at me. Do I seem like the kind of guy who reads stuff like that?”

“Honestly, you look like the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias. But the one thing I know about people is that appearances can be deceiving. Still waters run deep.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re as stubborn as they come.”

“Maybe I just really want that drink,” you teased.

“I can make you one,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Seriously?” The suggestion caught you off guard.

Spencer shrugged casually.

“I don’t drink much, but some friends gave me a few bottles for my birthday.”

You hesitated, considering.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you admitted. You felt good, even without alcohol. “But I do have another request… Do you happen to have something I could change into? I won’t lie, this isn’t the most comfortable dress… though it’s absolutely stunning.”

He smiled softly.

"You’re right. And yes, I’ll find something for you to change into. Just… it’ll be something of mine."

Following him into the bedroom, you let out a small chuckle.

"You know, I didn’t expect you to have a closet full of women’s clothes. Plus, in my size. Although, who knows what girls leave behind at your place. It’s a tactic, you know? You leave a sock at a guy’s place to have an excuse to come back. Unless you didn’t like it, then you have to accept losing the sock."

He didn’t say anything, opening the wardrobe to find something appropriate for you. You’d been in his bedroom before and didn’t feel the need to look around; nothing had changed inside.

"Do you do this often?" he asked, inspecting a t-shirt. "Use the sock strategy?"

"No," you replied, shrugging. "I’m too straightforward for that. If I like it, I just go back and say 'Let’s do it again' Or I don’t leave at all. I’m a bit of a parasite too."

He chuckled at the comparison and finally handed you some clothes. You didn’t really look at them; you just needed something looser, something you hadn’t danced in for hours at the club.

"You know where the bathroom is, right?"

You confirmed and were about to head in that direction when you stopped.

"Wait," you said, turning back toward him. But then, you turned again, facing him with your back. "The zipper on the dress," you explained, pulling your hair to the front. "I could manage it myself, but I don’t want to risk breaking it. Could you…?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed after a moment, stepping closer.

He stood just behind you, reaching for the top of your back. Before he pulled the zipper down, there was a moment where he simply paused, unmoving. Your knees suddenly trembled, almost impatiently. Then, he tugged at the zipper, unfastening the dress, and the coolness and freedom teased your skin.

You could have said thank you and headed to the bathroom, but you didn’t. Something kept your body rooted in place, right there next to him, feeling the pads of his fingers on the lower part of your dress.

Even his breath, louder and irregular.

When you began to, slightly disappointed, assume that he wouldn’t do anything more, his lips found a spot on your neck, kissing it slowly. You inhaled deeply, your head instinctively tilting back, giving him more access, as if you had been waiting for just that. He stopped for a longer time in this specific place, pressing on it harder, as you barely hold a groan.

Your breath was given a free rollercoaster ride.

You reached your hand back, wrapping it around his head and pulling him closer to you. You felt him sigh directly into your skin, leaving another two hungry kisses on an exposed skin on your shoulder. God, why were you still wearing that dress?

You abruptly stopped, turning around and almost hitting the top of your head against his jaw. You didn't care about it, and the thought of apologizing never crossed your mind, just simply pushed him, planting a strong kiss right on his lips.

The clothes he gave you slipped from your hand and fell to the floor, but neither of you were concerned about it, as you were both too absorbed to care. You pushed him again, this time onto the bed, on which he sat, surprised by your suddenness. You saw red marks creeping onto the parts of the neck exposed by the undone shirt.

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," you said, shaking your head in a mock reprimand. He tilted his head to the side, unsure of where you were going with this, his fingers impatiently brushing your waist on both sides. "You lied to me."

Your hands grabbed his face, positioning just under his jaw and lifting it upward so you could find his lips right against yours.

“I lied to you?”

"“That's right. You said you don't read romances. But tell me, how does someone who doesn't do that know such practices?”

“Practices?” he repeated again, surprised."

His gaze was focused solely on your lips to which he tried to get closer, but you hadn't allowed him to yet.

"This whole unbuttoning of the dress. And then, the neck”

With your index finger, you traced along the skin on his neck

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He removed one hand from your waist and took your hand, the one you had been playing with.

“Did I like it?” you scoffed with a genuine laugh.“I’m like half naked now. Answer that for yourself”

Undressing was the element you hated the most. You became impatient and couldn't understand why your clothes couldn't just disappear from you, instead of threatening to burn your already overheated skin. Spencer didn't help, so slow in his movements. You had a feeling he was doing it on purpose. He probably enjoyed watching you struggle to untangle yourself from the dress. He waited a minute before helping you, effortlessly pulling it over your head.

Maybe slow wasn't the most accurate description.The way he touched his body wasn’t slow. It was like rationing a treat, breaking it into small pieces and savoring them one by one. Meanwhile, it gazed straight into your mouth, shouting, eat me!

It required incredible self-control and composure, but it resulted in something more than just pleasure. When he found himself right between your legs, his lips touching gently every single inch of your thigh and refusing to go further despite your pleas, you compared him to the previous guys you slept with. With them, on the other hand, you had to tell them to slow down, to do everything more carefully, and not to focus solely on their own needs.

“Does it feel right?” He asked, briefly lifting his gaze, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your back arched, probably enough of an answer, but you confirmed it with a soft moan.

"I'd rather you said it out loud. Does it feel right?"

"That's edging on sadism, do you realize that?" you whimpered, trying to release the tension by pulling at his hair.

He stopped again.

"Please, do it again."

It wasn't something he had to beg for.

The rest went similarly. You liked how his confidence and courage grew, but you also went wild when, at certain moments, the same gentle and sometimes awkward Spencer returned. It was a perfectly balanced mix.

"Can you talk to me more?" he asked over time, once he was already inside you. "I want to know how you feel about all of this." After those words, your forehead twitched slightly as you felt the onset of pain. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you whispered, accompanied by a faintly tired exhale.”A little. But it's normal I just didn't have sex for a while”

"No, it shouldn't hurt you. Do you want to stop?"

"Just... give me a moment."

He slowed down, almost stopping. You took a breath,pressing your forehead to his. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you in a hurry. After all, where to? Outside, the night still reigned, long and patient, winter’s grip holding steady. You liked having his face so close to yours, joining them together and not speaking. For the first time, you could truly say that you enjoyed the silence.

You had always considered silence overwhelming, incapable of calming the chaos that arose in your mind. You preferred moments of wildness, loud sounds, and fast pace, but it was in that silence, which fell then, that you found a peace filled with intimacy.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

"It's okay, I'm ready."

After everything, you simply lay facing each other, tangled in one another. Actually, you didn’t like that expression "after everything." After everything—after what exactly? Sex wasn’t just about the physical act; it also included the long moment before and the even more significant one after. It was precisely that moment after which revealed the true you both. How much you cared for each other and how much you meant to each other beyond the bed. That was often missing in one-night stands; the perspective of quickly disappearing from each other's lives and being forgotten somehow intensified selfishness in people.

Lying there, you played with the hair on his forehead.

"You know, they say this is the moment when people are the most honest with each other."

"Do you want to squeeze a few secrets out of me?" he asked.

"Just one," you said mysteriously, turning onto your back. Before that, you noticed his eyebrows furrow.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you again.

"Which one?"

You pretended to hesitate before answering. You tried with all your might to keep the smile from appearing on your face, betraying you.

"I'm afraid that even now, you won't be honest with me."

"I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to tell the truth. Give me your pinky."

"What?"

"A pinky promise, you fool."

“O-okay”

Clearly surprised, he did what you asked.

"Now tell me the truth. You got any romance books at your place you're too embarrassed to admit to?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll find them," you teased. "I’ll get up right now and find them."

You pretended to get up, but he pulled you closer, preventing you from moving.

"You're not going anywhere."

i know some of you were curious about this fanfiction, so I'm tagging it.

@nightfullofparadox @bloodredrubyrose @lillaberry @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

#criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x oc #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #bau team #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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nereidprinc3ss · 19 days ago

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ghost in the machine

in which spencer reid coaxes reader out of an episode of extreme dissociation after a triggering therapy session

angst, fluff warnings/tags: established relationship, accidental mild injury, blood, unspecified trauma, but at the very least implied past emotional abuse, anxiety, reader has ptsd and is in #denial about it a/n: I'm hellaaaa chill sometimes I just lose hours of my day if I think about my childhood too hard

It’s normal for you to get home and immediately wash your hands—a habit you picked up from Spencer. So you walk through the door, and you close it, and you take off your shoes and you hang up your coat and he calls hey from the couch.

You don’t respond. Or do you? You’re not sure. But you’re washing your hands, and then as you go to dry them, you notice your coffee mug from this morning, still sitting on the counter.

I should wash that, you think, and so you pick it up and you take it back to the sink.

Sink. Sink equals washing hands.

You’re washing your hands again.

What did you mean to do?

Dishes? Right. The mug is… gone, seemingly, but there’s a knife in the sink, too—you pick it up, and you’re about to rinse it off, and then it’s clattering from your hands. Somebody is pulling you back from the sink.

Someone is saying your name a whole bunch of times.

You turn, blinking, and there’s Spencer, glowing softly in the yellow light of the kitchen.

He looks so concerned. He strokes your cheek but you feel it less than you seem to observe it from a distance. Says your name one more time, eyes softening a little.

“What?” You murmur, as if in a trance.

He blinks.

“You dropped a mug. You’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s news to you. It seems like a preposterous claim, but you look down, and sure enough—that coffee mug which had disappeared from the sink is in pieces on the floor and the tile is smeared in red.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Are you okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

His brows furrow.

“Yes, I see that. Do you remember breaking the mug?”

The mug. Oh, yeah. Now that you think about it—yeah, you do remember dropping it. Watching it break into a hundred pieces. That noise, of dishes breaking and clattering—suddenly you inhale deeply.

“I broke it,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I broke it—”

The memory of the sound is cacophonous, deafening and completely inescapable.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Nobody’s upset at you. It’s just a mug.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier to lower your shoulders from where they’ve tensed to your ears, because once a dish breaks, there’s always a second of terrible, tremulous silence, before it explodes and somebody is screaming, painting every wall in the house with their rage. You squeeze your eyes shut. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, you whisper, wordlessly, just as you did so many years ago.

“It’s just a mug,” he says again like that will help. “I’m gonna clean it up, okay? It’s gonna be like it never even happened.”

And that does provide some comfort—the fanciful idea of undoing. Of closing your eyes against the something terrible and wishing it away like you’ve always done and having it actually be gone when you open them. Spencer must be magic.

“I’m gonna clean it up, but I want to make sure your foot is okay first. Is that okay?”

You take a deep, shuddering sniffle and nod, but that warm fog is pouring down the corridors in your brain like smoke in a maze. It obscures everything. Your feelings. The pain. The fear, thank god. There must be shards in your foot. Spencer apologizes from below as he peels off your bloodied sock, where he’s pulling the first aid kid from under the sink and working on you, but you don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything except the pressure of the bandage around your foot as he stands.

He says your name again.

“Hm?”

You’re scaring him. That much is evident from the look on his face. You wish you could stop, but it’s like you’re in a dream again. The brief clarity that moment of panic had provided is gone.

“Can we just—can we go sit down?” He asks, already putting a hand on your waist. Sure. Why not. He supports your weight as you hobble around the broken mess on the ground and all the way to the couch. Oh. It’s too soft. Too forgiving. You sink into it too deeply, like you’re being swallowed, or breathed into a pair of monstrous lungs.

Spencer is crouching in front of you, pushing hair from your face.

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’m fine. I just… dropped… a mug.”

“You didn’t remember or notice that you dropped the mug until I pointed it out. You washed your hands twice. You were about to try and wash a knife without a sponge.”

“No, I’m just… I’m tired. It’s…”

You trail off again, any further attempt at a meager excuse walled off a thick swirling fog. It’s like you’re trying to walk but you can’t see more than a few feet ahead of you. You can hardly think, let alone speak.

Spencer frowns deeper.

“It’s what?”

You pause for a long time.

“Um… Don’t remember.”

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers, and again you wonder why, only you can’t really wonder at the moment. “Did you hit your head? Where did you come from?”

“When?” You ask.

“Just now. When you came home, where were you coming from?”

“Diane. I was, um—I was at therapy.”

“No stops on your way home?”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure. You actually have no memory of what happened between leaving Diane’s office and walking through the front door.

“Did you feel okay before you started therapy?”

“… Yeah.”

“So this started after?”

“What?”

“Your inability to put a sentence together, honey. You’re really out of it.”

“Oh.” Your eyes sting. It feels like an insult. “‘M fine.”

He reaches up to cup your cheeks.

“What did you and Diane talk about?” He asks gently, a little less anxiously, like he’s figured out what’s wrong with you.

At this, your mouth goes dry. What was before swirling fog has become a hulking black wall of solid obsidian. There’s nothing.

“Um…”

“Can you remember?”

Something hot traces the length of your cheek from your eye.

“No,” you whisper, sounding utterly distraught. “No, I can’t remember. I can't remember anything.”

More tears are coming now. How could you forget? You’re trying so hard to remember. How did you even get home?

“Okay. That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to remember.”

“I’m sorry. Something’s… wrong…”

“Don’t be sorry. I think you just got really overwhelmed at therapy and now your brain is trying to protect you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?”

Your… your body?

Nothing. It feels like nothing.

“Why don’t you try and take a deep breath? I’ll do it with you.” He brings your hand to his chest, and your finger twitches against the hard abalone button. His chest expands, and you try to do the same, letting the cool rush of air down your throat. The room spins.

“Woah,” you mutter, suddenly hyper aware of your breathing.

“Slow down. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

He leads you through a few more deep breaths and you manage to get to a place where they don’t feel so precarious and unsteady. Your head sparkles with fresh oxygen and everything is too much. After a moment you’re settling your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. Spencer rubs soothing lines up and down the side of your legs.

“How do you feel now?”

“Not good,” you whisper. “My foot hurts.”

He hums.

“Technically I shouldn’t let you take Ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner and you have an open wound, but I think it’ll be okay just this once. You okay if I go get some?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes with your palms until you see stars. The brain fog hasn’t lifted, but it’s thinned considerably.

He comes back a few moments later with two round pills and a glass of cold water. The shock of it in your hand zaps your brain and you almost drop it but Spencer seems to have anticipated this so he hadn’t let go of the glass yet. He administers the pills once your hand is steady and you take them, feeling the river of ice down your throat and into the pool of your stomach. It seems to travel outward, extending into every reach of your body, bringing the sensorial world back to the forefront of your consciousness. Spencer must notice the goosebumps because he’s unfolding a blanket and wrapping it around you tightly, before pulling you into his arms where he sits and tucking your head beneath his chin. You let your eyes flutter shut, embracing the warmth, the pressure, the soft fabric against your skin.

“I don’t know what happened,” you murmur. “I don’t… feel right.”

“That’s okay. I know it feels scary, but nothing’s wrong. I think you maybe talked about something that’s really hard to talk about when you weren’t quite ready. Sometimes when that happens, your brain tries to protect you from perceived threats by dissociating. It makes thinking straight really difficult.”

You frown.

“How did I… How’d I get home?”

He strokes your hair.

“The parts of your brain responsible for procedural memory aren’t as impacted during episodes of dissociation. But it’s actually not uncommon for people who don’t have PTSD to forget their commutes. It’s called highway hypnosis.”

“I don’t… I don’t have PTSD,” you insist. When Spencer doesn’t answer for a long moment, only continues stroking your hair, you swallow.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, angel.”

“Okay,” you whisper, like a child too weary to argue. He kisses your head.

“It might be good for you to take a nap,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. “I bet you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” he says simply—a line borrowed from you. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? I’m gonna order from Tandoori, and you’ll fall asleep, and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat, and we can watch your show.”

You smile despite yourself.

“So assertive.”

“I’m thinking I can get away with it right now.”

He’s only teasing. You cuddle closer. He holds you tighter.

“I’m the boss. And I want Thai food.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, rubbing your back over the blanket. The warm saccharine sweetness of his tone dizzies you, muddles your mind more pleasantly this time. Your heart rate slows. Your breathing goes back on autopilot. The rise and fall of his chest rocks you like the sea. Just at the cusp of sleep, he whispers one more promise. Of safety. Of love.

When you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it.

But there's pad Thai on the table, and the kitchen is devoid of blood or broken glass.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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homo-house · 1 year ago

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hey uh so I haven't seen anyone talking about this here yet, but

the amazon river, like the biggest river in the fucking world, in the middle of the amazon fucking rainforest, is currently going through its worst drought since the records began 121 years ago

picture from Folha PE

there's a lot going on but I haven't seen much international buzz around this like there was when the forest was on fire (maybe because it's harder to shift the narrative to blame brazil exclusively as if the rest of the world didn't have fault in this) so I wanted to bring this to tumblr's attention

I don't know too many details as I live in the other side of the country and we are suffering from the exact opposite (at least three cyclones this year, honestly have stopped counting - it's unusual for us to get hit by even one - floods, landslides, we have a death toll, people are losing everything to the water), but like, I as a brazilian have literally never seen pictures of the river like this before. every single city in the amazonas state is in a state of emergency as of november 1st.

pictures by Adriano Liziero (ig: geopanoramas)

we are used to seeing images of rio negro and solimões, the two main amazon river affluents, in all their grandiose and beauty and seeing these pictures is really fucking chilling. some of our news outlets are saying the solimões has turned to a sand desert... can you imagine this watery sight turning into a desert in the span of a year?

while down south we are seeing amounts of rain and hailstorms the likes of which our infrastructure is simply not built to deal with, up north people who have built everything around the river are at a loss of what to do.

the houses there that are built to float are just on the ground, people who depend on fishing for a living have to walk kilometers to find any fish that are still alive at all, the biodiversity there is at risk, and on an economic level it's hard to grasp how people from the northern states are getting by at all - the main means of transport for ANYTHING in that region is via the river water. this will impact the region for months to come. it doesnt make a lot of sense to build a lot of roads bc it's just better to use the waterway system, everything is built around or floats on the river after all. and like, the water level is so incomprehensibly low the boats are just STUCK. people are having a hard time getting from one place to another - keep in mind the widest parts of the river are over 10 km apart!!

this shit is really serious and i am trying not to think about it because we have a different kind of problem to worry about down south but it's really terrifying when I stop to think about it. you already know the climate crisis is real and the effects are beyond preventable now (we're past global warming, get used to calling it "global boiling"). we'll be switching strategies to damage control from now on and like, this is what it's come to.

I don't like to be alarmist but it's hard not to be alarmed. I'm sorry that I can't end this post with very clear intructions on how people overseas can help, there really isn't much to do except hope the water level rises soon, maybe pray if you believe in something. in that regard we just have to keep pressing for change at a global level; local conditions only would not, COULD NOT be causing this - the amazon river is a CONTINENTAL body of water, it spans across multiple countries. so my advice is spread the word, let your representatives know that you're worried and you want change towards sustainability, degrowth and reduced carbon emissions, support your local NGOs, maybe join a cause, I don't know? I recommend reading on ecological and feminist economics though

however, I know you can help the affected riverine families by donating to organizations dedicated to helping the region. keep in mind a single US dollar, pound or euro is worth over 5x more in our currency so anything you donate at all will certainly help those affected.

FAS - Sustainable Amazon Fundation

Idesam - Sustainable Developent and Preservation Institute of Amazonas

Greenpeace Brasil - I know Greenpeace isn't the best but they're one of the few options I can think of that have a bridge to the international world and they are helping directly

There are a lot of other smaller/local NGOs but I'm not sure how you could donate to them from overseas, I'll leave some of them here anyway:

Projeto Gari

Caritás Brasileira

If you know any other organizations please link them, I'll be sure to reblog though my reach isn't a lot

thank you so much for reading this to the end, don't feel obligated to share but please do if you can! even if you just read up to here it means a lot to me that someone out there knows

also as an afterthought, I wanted to expand on why I think this hasn't made big news yet: because unlike the case of the 2020 forest fires, other countries have to hold themselves accountable when looking at this situation. while in 2020 it was easier to pretend the fires were all our fault and people were talking about taking the amazon away from us like they wouldn't do much worse. global superpowers have no more forests to speak of so I guess they've been eyeing what latin america still has. so like this bit of the post is just to say if you're thinking of saying anything of the sort, maybe think of what your own country has done to contribute to this instead of blaming brazil exclusively and saying the amazon should be protected by force or whatever

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moineauz · 7 months ago

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જ⁀ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 , various ! pt two

synopsis: his voice lines about you as his beloved partner

including: boothill, aventurine

side comments: my first voice line fic was well received and for that I thank you all <3 so of course this is for all my boothill and aventurine lovers out there! (including myself for boothill...)

extra: gn reader, angsty and fluffy moments, I genuinely loved writing boothill's, minor spoilers for both favourites: boothill word count: roughly 1000+

care to see the first part? includes dr. ratio, jing yuan, & blade!

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

WHO ARE THEY? I "Out here askin' question huh? Well if you're that curious... then you better listen close."

FIRST MEETINGS? "Met them on a bullet train in a neighbouring star system. Turns out we were chasing after the same fudge-heads. You could've seen them- a sly creature that's who they were, whipping out the most slick sniper I've ever seen. I'd reckon that was one of the most thrilling fights I've ever had: came out with dents all over my arms and a broken gun. Their bullets nearly punched a hole through my cheek... hah!"

GREETINGS? "They may be a load of dormant gunpowder, but they sure are sweet! Full of laughter and courtesy. But I'll let you in on a little secret... ( Name ) likes to walk in, pretty as always- and plant kisses all over my cheek before they even say a word."

PARTINGS? "Being a Galaxy Ranger means never staying in one place. ( Name ) is no Galaxy Ranger... I'd reckon it's better that way."

ABOUT US: SHOES IN THE HOUSE "I can't exactly 'take off my shoes' now can I? But ( Name ) likes to keep the house tidy and I best not anger them... like that one time- anyways, we came up with this whole fudging system just to keep the bottom of my damn boots clean! It's fudging ridiculous! *Chuckles* I can't help it, but ( Name ) is understanding. Even if I trudged through all the grime in the universe- they'd still wipe it all off."

ABOUT US: FAMILY "You see, ( Name ) has this big family. Siblings, cousins, extended cousins, aunts and uncles, you name it. We were on their home planet once, and I finally understood where ( Name's ) knack for puttin' a real good home together came from. Their family lives in the countryside where all you can see are open fields, lush hillsides, free-roaming animals and wildflowers. Consider it a quiet paradise. They even grow their own food for fudging sake! Everythin' made by hand and land. Darlin' nearly coaxed me into joining them for dinner once, but I knew better. Best not spoil the family get-together."

CHAT: HATS N' POSES "Personally, I like my hat and flare the way it damn is. How would fightin' be without it? But of course, your partner has to be a cheeky tease about it."

CHAT: WARMTH " I've seen it in the movies- those fudging 'romcoms'- and read it in books. When it gets cold... I'm no help. Can't do much except reach for a blanket and wrap them up. But even then, metal and skin don't fudging work."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Count me in on a dance sugar plum! Have to admit, darlin' has a fair share of good dance moves. Nothin' like a hard-earned victory being celebrated with a cool glass of whisky and a smooth dance."

ARGUMENTS: "Bitter things that's all they are. Leaves you knocked out cold. Reminds you of all the things you can't take back."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: "Following the hunt ain't an easy task. But someone has to punish the wretched. That's the thing about the hunt- you get cold, hard. Sugar follows another path that doesn't make any fudging sense to me. But that doesn't matter. None of that ever mattered, not to them, not to me or even the hunt. Call it selfish, but I'd like to one day settle down... Just like their family. Out where no one could find us."

WHO ARE THEY? II "They call me their 'sweet lover'. But really it should be me saying that. If anything I am the sweat of their brow- a nuisance at times. But they still love me. They still fudging love me."

EXTRA: IPC ENTRY "Normally, Galaxy Rangers travel alone. However, we have seen the wanted Galaxy ranger- Boothill- be accompanied by someone who appears to be a vagabond follower of Xipe. Despite the information we possess, the relationship between Boothill and his supposed 'partner' is very limited."

𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

WHO ARE THEY? I "Fancy meeting you here- oh? A rumor you say? Rumours do have peculiar ways of reaching the ears..."

FIRST MEETINGS? "All business ventures possess their gains and losses. However, I did not expect my pockets- alongside others- to be picked on a night meant to celebrate the Strategic Investment Department. The person who did it played their cards exceptionally well. I applauded them and the subtlety of their skills."

GREETINGS? "Despite their rather cunning nature, ( Name ) is quite kind... shockingly so. I thought their smile was a chip they played for their own meticulous advantage. *Chuckles* I was wrong, there was simply nothing to understand behind that smile."

PARTINGS? "One transaction after another, the universe keeps spinning. Don't keep up, you fall behind. Simple. I don't have to worry about that around them, or at least, for a while, until another wager must be made. Until the peck on the cheek is over."

ABOUT US: LOCKET "( Name ) has a keen eye for trinkets and bought- well stole- a locket for the two of us to share. I keep it with me, a lucky charm if you may."

ABOUT US: NAPPING "Personally, I don't nap. But, ( Name ) is a terrible influence and says I should. I must admit, waking up to them in the afternoon is not a bad way to spend my time."

CHAT: THEVERY "( Name ) is a thief... a good one at that. Oh don't worry, they struck a deal with the IPC. Primarily on their terms because they have been such a nuisance to the IPC. It's rather amusing seeing the IPC chase their own tail. We've definitely shared laughs over it."

CHAT: CONFESSIONS "Who could possibly love something so broken? It's like keeping a clock that won't tick or a deck of cards missing a queen. Sometimes, I wish they didn't care so much. It would be... easier."

PASTIMES DONE TOGETHER? "Of course, a good game of cards is a fun way to pass the time. *Chuckles* Though, ( Name ) is a terrible player. Not that I mind, I'll guess I'll play the role of 'loser' this time around- best you not tell them."

ARGUMENTS: "What else is there to say? Nothing. That part is the worst."

SOMETHING TO SHARE: HEART OF GOLD "( Name ) steals to give to the poor. It's their motto... I saw them once with a group of kids on a planet in a distant star system. They were giving back to the orphanage- the smiles on the children's faces when given toys, marbles to be exact, were so bright."

WHO ARE THEY? II "In all honesty, I'm not quite sure. However, what I do know is that luck finally worked in my favour... I'll hold onto that for as long as I can."

EXTRA: DR RATIO'S OPINION "The gambler- without hesitation- will bet 'all in' even if it means his own life hangs in the balance. However, amongst the chaos of his bets, there is one person who will drag him back to reality... ( Name ). Aventurine will never gamble nor forfeit the one person who truly understands him. Even I don't fully understand the gambler's crafty nature. I suppose a thief is the only one who can and more importantly, will."

masterlist.

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hannieehaee · 1 month ago

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BED CHEM

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i don't even remember what it's about #oops

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

"Chan? What are you doing here? Hurry, come in! Guys aren't allowed in here after hours," you ushered him in quickly, taking a look outside to check for any onlookers before locking the door behind you.

In the meantime, Chan turned around, ready to face you once you'd ensured yourselves some privacy. On his walk here, he'd sobered up enough, but his decisive demeanor somehow remained. He had one task tonight and he was going to fulfill it no matter what.

What task was that? He was going to beg you to put him out of his misery, hopefully obtaining an annoyed affirmation from you and ridding himself of his lack of experience once and for all — and also finally getting to have a taste of you, but that was besides the point!

And then that all his courage died the longer you stood there, staring at him expectantly.

But he couldn't back down now. He needed to prove a point, both to the guys and to himself. Also, he was growing quite fed up of his predicament. There was only so long a guy like Chan could go without the touch of a woman, and 22 years seemed to be the limit for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you for a favor," he mumbled, eyes unable to look into your own.

"At 3 in the morning? Was it urgent?"

"Yes!", he found himself quipping with far more energy he'd meant to.

You eyed him curiously.

"Okay, what is it?"

Well.

That was a difficult question.

But this was the moment of truth.

He needed to come out and say it. Just get done with it.

Any moment now.

It was just like a bandaid.

A single moment of bravery and then-

"Chan!"

Oh, right.

He huffed, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, all of the above, before mustering the courage to spit it out.

"Ineedyoutotakemyvirginity," he mumbled out all at once.

"Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What?! You actually understood that?"

"Why would you say it if you didn't want me to hear you?"

"Yeah, but like. How can you be sure I said what you think I said?", this was a lost battle and he knew it.

You were his best friend. You were fluent on his drunken rambles, his annoyed mumbles, his overexcited speeches. Of course you could understand what he said, no matter how mumbled or quickly he'd said it.

"Chan."

"Okay, fine! Want me to say it so bad, I'll say it."

He took a short pause, taking two steps towards you before taking your hands in his own and looking to you with pleading eyes.

"Will you please take my virginity?"

"Since when are you a virgin?"

"As much as I want to take that as a compliment, I'm pretty sure you're implying I'm a slut," he frowned at you.

"God, Chan, you- Come on. Come sit with me," you pulled him by the hand, dragging him over to your couch and taking a seat with him.

Your body faced his own with complete ease and confidence while his remained slightly avoidant of yours. He was slightly faced towards you, but it'd be clear to any spectator that his body language lacked any confidence, especially considering his eyes were facing your lap rather than your face.

"Explain," you instructed, lacking any real emotion in your voice. If anything, you sounded annoyed — something which, to be fair, was not unusual between you and Chan.

"Uh," he started, scratching his head, "Do I have to?"

"Chan!"

"Okay, fine!"

Chan took a breath, body leaning against the back of the couch with a groan and resulting in a slouch of his back. He continued to make no eye contact with you, face now in his hands as he attempted to rub the embarrassment out of his eyes.

"I might've sworn to the guys that I'd lose my virginity," he groaned.

"Sworn how ..?"

"There was a bet involved," he grimaced to himself.

"Chan, you idiot," you chastised, "I didn't even know you were a virgin."

"How could you not?"

Before he could hear your response, Chan suddenly felt a ruffle of the couch. Pulling his hands away from his face, you forced him to face you, now sitting even closer to him on the couch.

"Have you seen your friends? No offense, but they're all kinda ... slutty," he could hear the humor in your voice and knew exactly what you meant. His twelve elders were never shy about their promiscuity.

"Plus, you're always flirting with me. I thought this was something you did with any girl you wanted to sleep with," you added nonchalantly after.

Well, you were half right.

That was something he did with girls he wanted to sleep with. Except you were the only girl he did it to. Because you were the only girl he wanted to sleep with.

A slippery slope.

Chan was his own damn enemy.

"I, uhm, I'm shy around other girls," was his lame excuse.

"So, what, you want me to take it from you?"

"Well, it'd be helpful."

He proceeded to stare at you with what you usually called 'dumb boba eyes,' knowing they had a tendency of breaking you down if he used them just right.

"Dude," was all your response, deadpan as per usual.

"Listen! I'll pay you!", he chirped exasperated, not realizing how his words could be interpreted.

"You want to pay me for sex? Walk that one back for me, Channie."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I take it back. My bad," he couldn't help but flush at the way you laughed at him after he took it back.

"Chan. You don't have to lose it if you don't want to, you know?"

Great, now you were going to comfort him. Chan usually loved how in tune with his emotions you were, but what he needed right now was for you to defile him.

"I know! I just- I just want to. Please? I- It won't get in the way of our friendship, I promise," he went to grab onto your hands, attempting to convince you and himself of his certainty, "It's not sudden either. I've thought about asking you before."

"Why me, though? It's not that I'm saying no," you went to say when Chan was about to interrupt, "I just don't get why now and why me."

Because he was in love with you and because a year from now you'd both be graduated, no longer in each other's constant vicinity. That's when he'd lose his chance altogether.

"Because I know you and I trust you. You'd be nice to me," he allowed himself to be a big vulnerable around you as per usual.

"I'm always mean to you."

"Shut up, I'm making a point here," he disregarded you, "Plus, don't tell me you've never thought about it."

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a giggle.

"Maybe," you mumbled between chuckles.

Oh. Okay.

Chan would just have to take this confirmation and store it for later.

"So, what do you say?" he looked at you expectantly.

"I think you're the bane of my existence, but what else is new?"

He pinched at your leg like a petulant child who was being denied of a treat, "Answer the question!"

"God, you're even more annoying as a virgin," you chastised, squeezing your eyes closed with a groan before actually responding, "Fine!"

His head turned to you like a magnet, expression completely dumbfounded.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you really trying to get me to change my mind?"

"N-no! Just- Shit, are you serious?", he scoot over closer to you, invading your personal space in the same manner a child would.

"I mean. I kinda feel bad for you. Plus, I've always thought you were pretty cute, so why not?", you said in a way far too casual for Chan to compute.

Was this good? I mean, you did call him cute. But did this mean this would be completely meaningless to you. Would that mean he had absolutely no chance with you past this one instance?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?", you interrupted him.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to comprehend this. It's a big moment in a man's life when he finally gets his cherry popped."

"Please never say that again," you laughed.

He chuckled with you, still a bit dumbfounded but overall content with the unexpected turn this night had had. His face must've shown the turmoil of thoughts bubbling up in his head, as you suddenly scoot even closer, putting your hand on his leg in a comforting manner before speaking up.

"What, changed your mind already?", you were joking, but there was still kindness in your eyes.

"It's not- it's not that. Just nervous, I guess," he mumbled.

"Tell me about it," you encouraged.

"I, uh, what if ... what if it's disappointing for you?"

"Well, luckily for you, we're best friends. I'll guide you, if you want. What matters most is that it's good for you."

"Yeah, but, but I want to make you feel good."

Careful, Chan. Might give yourself away on accident.

"Chan, I've seen you dance. There's no way you won't make me feel good," you chuckled almost to yourself.

Oh, well, that's-

Chan felt himself getting a bit flustered.

Did you look at him like that when he danced?

"Oh, I- uh, thanks," he managed to mumble.

You must've not caught onto how awkward he felt, as you made no comment about it as you usually would.

"So," you dragged the 'o,' "when do you wanna start?"

"Oh! Uh, I don't- I don't really know. I didn't think I'd get this far."

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

You giggled at this, "I can hit you, if it'd help."

"I always thought I'd be way smoother at this," he half groaned, half chuckled, sitting back against the couch while you knelt on it, facing him.

At least he felt more relaxed now. This had gone way better than he ever thought, not that he ever even considered asking you to take his virginity before tonight.

"So, my question?", you pushed again, scooting closer. Chan was beginning to fear you were suggesting something.

"Oh, uh, well-"

Before he knew it, you were even closer, knees pressed to his side as you leaned your body towards him, confident body language while his own reeked of awkward alertness.

"How far have you gone before?", there was a smile on your face. Not a happy one, though. It seemed more satisfied than anything. Kind of as if you had a higher ground (which you did).

Chan's body couldn't help but lean back as you got closer. It's not that he didn't want your touch, he very much did. The issue at hand was just how deprived of it he was. Having never felt such touch before, the mere thought of it could very well be his early undoing. He needed to mentally prepare for such a thing.

"Well, uh," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact, "I've kissed a few girls before ..."

"And?"

"That's, uhm, that's kind of it," he mumbled.

The avoidance of eye contact became harder now that you were closer in proximity, but he continued to attempt it.

"Really? Only kissing? Uh, what kind of kisses were they?"

"W-what do you mean?", he knew exactly what you meant, he was just an idiot.

But how was he supposed to tell you that in his entire twenty-two years of life he'd only ever shared a few short-lived kisses. There was nothing in his repertoire of experiences to write home about, much less to tell his best friend.

You half-muffled a giggle, now invading all his personal space, "What type of kiss, Channie?", you repeated.

"It was just- they were just regular kisses, uh, you know?," he gulped.

He couldn't help it when his body tilted a bit to face you. Chan still felt unsure and nervous, but his body did not lie to him. If anything happened, he'd welcome it despite the risk of embarrassing himself.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean," you whispered, leaning even closer.

Within a mere passing second, one of your hands went to his chin, tilting his head towards your own before finally invading the entirety of him. Your eyes were hooded and glued to his lips, a pleased smile still on your own lips.

You pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling back, causing a pathetic little whimper to leave Chan at the surprise.

"Was it like this?", you asked against his lips pulling away for a mere second before pressing your lips to his own once again, this time for longer.

While the first kiss had barely been there, the second one was anything but shy. This kiss evolved very quickly, with your tongue entering his mouth and tangling with his own. Chan attempted to follow your lead, but was initially very awkward. His teeth clanked against your own, his tongue was too shy and then too excited. You had to silently lead him and teach him the right way to kiss you, eventually resulting in what Chan could very embarrassingly describe as an orgasmic kiss.

He whimpered when you finally pulled away, lips pathetically chasing your own up until you nibbled at his lower lip with a hum.

"Or like this?", you went to ask a light-headed Chan.

"H-huh?"

"Ever kissed someone like that?", you giggled.

"Oh, uh, n-no, I just- no," he stammered his way to his answer.

"Well, glad to be your first," you winked, finally sitting back down next to him.

"Are you- uh, I mean, was it good?", he found himself asking.

You giggled again, unnerving him once more.

"Yes, Channie, it was really good. Don't worry, I'll let you know if there's anything you need to work on."

This made him nervous, but it was preferable, right? Even though he hoped he'd somehow be a natural at blowing your mind, he was glad you'd be the person leading him. The fear of causing disappointment or embarrassing himself diminished tenfold at knowing it was you who'd be with him through this process.

However, his undying crush on you remained in the back of his mind (and sometimes the middle, front, and, well, everywhere in his mind). Chan knew this would become a problem the very second you touched him. Hell, it was already a problem after just one kiss. His mind was already going in circles, attempting to create scenarios in which those kisses were a regular occurrence between you.

"When do you want to start?", you interrupted his thoughts.

The slight chub forming in his pants was begging him to tell you that it was imminent you started now. However, he wanted to at least not smell like frat house when he was finally deflowered.

"W-when, uhm, when do you want to do it?", he mentally face-palmed. He could not be smooth about this even with a gun to his head.

Once more, you chuckled at him. You appeared to greatly enjoy his awkwardness around the topic.

"How about Sunday? I be completely prepared for you. To make your first time special and all, you know?"

Chan did not want to begin imagining what you meant by that. His mind was already scrambled over the results of tonight's events.

All he could do was numbly nod in agreement at you.

"You know, I think this is gonna be very fun," you hummed with a giggle, pinching at his cheek teasingly.

You got up from the couch after that, too nonchalant for the life-changing kiss that had just happened all while Chan continued to process it. That kiss was only the beginning, he realized. On Sunday he'd get to see your naked body, feel it up, have your breasts pressed up against his chest, your wetness will land on his lap, your cunt will wrap around his-

" —Channie?" you called out from the kitchen, head peeking out the doorframe just moments later.

Chan shook his head to rid himself of any of the unseemly thoughts he'd just been having before asking you to repeat yourself.

"I asked if you're staying the night. I'll make you some hot chocolate before we go to sleep," you asked, though it clearly wasn't a question. You had already deciding he was staying, not that he was complaining.

"You know, all that sugar before sleeping can't be good for you," he tsk'd, following you to the kitchen.

"Shut up. You're not my nutritionist, you dweeb."

"This is why you never fall asleep before 3AM."

Despite his chastising, he aided you in the making of the drinks, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge after you'd boiled the milk and poured the liquid into the matching cups he'd gotten for you last christmas.

"You expect me to take health advice from the guy who showed up tipsy at my dorm room at 2:45 in the morning? Just come to bed," then you walked off, drinks in hand as you settled them on each bedside table and made yourself comfortable.

Ah, right. Sharing a bed.

Chan had momentarily forgotten that you were in a point in your friendship where sharing a bed was as normal as breathing. It had been a while since you'd been able to have a sleepover, but Chan felt particularly awkward about this instance in specific.

You see, before tonight, any sleepover was had with nothing but platonic thoughts in mind (at least for the most part). Now, Chan had to sleep next to you while knowing you were likely thinking about how you'd rob him of his innocence just a few days later.

And him? He'd be thinking about how well you fit in his arms. How well other parts of you would fit with his own.

Within minutes, Chan found himself clad in some pjs he'd left over at your place after the endless times he'd crashed with you. Meanwhile, you were already in bed, whining at him from your place under the sheets for him to move his ass and cuddle with you.

Yeah, Chan was basically a dead man walking.

Regardless, he couldn't leave you waiting for too long. He never could.

"Chan! Hurry, I wanna go to sleep!", you exaggerated your whining a bit for the effect, he could tell.

"God, just say you're in love with me already," he whined back as he made his way to your bed and joined you under the sheets.

"Stop projecting."

Those were your last sleepy words before nuzzling your way to his side, falling asleep almost immediately while Chan sat awake with your head on his chest. One of his hands absentmindedly toyed with your hair as you slept, with his mind completely filled with contemplations about tonight's events.

Chan knew it had been an idiotic, spur of the moment decision to show up to your dorm room tonight. He was well aware of the regrets he'd have if he actually went through with it, knowing there'd be no way for him to feel platonically about your relationship after the fact. Hell, any platonic feelings he had about you were already dying day by day, and that was just due to your mere existence!

Sadly, Chan's desire for you ran deeper than his ability to think critically.

Jeonghan had been right, after all. Maybe this was the way to go. It'd be shooting two birds with one stone, like he'd said. After this, he would maybe finally find the confidence to find another girl, get over you (despite how unlikely he found that to be), and not have to worry about getting rejected for being a loser virgin, as he liked to call himself.

All Chan needed to do now was enjoy your embrace and mentally (and physically) prepare himself for you this coming Sunday. In just a few days, you'd be changing his life.

The following morning was not much for the books. You had an early shift at the supermarket you worked at near school, so you left pretty quickly despite it being a Saturday.

Meanwhile, Chan stayed in bed for a while longer, mind still fuzzy from last night. When you'd given him a kiss on the cheek as you usually did when bidding him goodbye, he began malfunctioning at the memory of the steamier kiss shared between you the night prior.

He only allowed himself a short time to go over last night's events in his head again before finally deciding to leave your dorm room. As a frequent visitor, he had a pair of keys which he used to lock the door behind him, taking his dirty clothes from last night with him and heading over to his own dorm.

Sadly for him, he had the misfortune of sharing a room with a nosy Kim Mingyu, who began berating him about his whereabouts last night after storming out. Along with him were Vernon and Jeonghan, who he recalled being annoyed at last night in specific, though he didn't remember exactly why.

It was extremely uncommon for Chan and Mingyu's dorm room to be empty of at least one other member of their friend group, but out of all times in which Chan wished he could be alone, today was the biggest instance. Except that even alone, Chan knew he'd have to deal with their teasing at one point or the other.

What was even worse, however, was his stupid decision to confide in them with what had gone down last night. They were his friends, after all.

Their reactions were exactly as expected, going from shock to laughter to mockery and eventually landing on a weird demonstration of understanding.

"Well, I guess this was the best course of action, all things considered," hummed Vernon as he rummaged through the mini-fridge Mingyu had gotten a few weeks prior.

"Dude, you're an idiot. Good job," Jeonghan snickered at him, offering up a high-five Chan vehemently denied. Mingyu responded to it in his name.

"C'mon, man. You should be happy! Isn't this what you wanted? You'll finally rid yourself of your virginity and bag your crush. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chan couldn't help but glare and at Mingyu in complete silence. Vernon's snort at the interaction was what brought him out of it.

"Dude, how is this a win? She's only sleeping with me out of pity. Plus, it's going to be so fucking embarrassing when I nut in my pants the second she lets me see her boobs!", Chan whined, completely exasperated.

But he didn't stop there.

"And what even happens after this? Am I just going to be stuck in the friendzone? I'd rather not have her at all than have her once and have it go nowhere. I know me, I'll never get over it," he let himself fall back on his bed, groaning at his predicament.

His friends continued to lounge in his room, at some point even turning on a console to play and not really paying much mind to his dramatics, though still providing sufficient feedback for his situation.

"Okay, then call it off," challenged Jeonghan.

Chan sat up to stare at his friend, not surprised to find him on his couch, eating his food, yet still finding entertainment in his misery.

"Well, I- I don't-"

"See! You want this. Just let yourself have something good, Channie. Wouldn't you rather your first time be with the girl of your dreams rather than with some random?"

"Yeah, my first time sucked. I'd pick Y/N over the girl I lost it to. It was so awkward," Vernon physically shuddered, "Also, this is a step in the right direction, if you really think about it."

Chan ignored the allusion to you and Vernon in that context, choosing to retain the very little sanity he had left in him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she'd sleep with you just for the fun of it. We're friends too and she just doesn't seem the type. I think she might like you back and is just using this as an excuse," theorized Vernon.

Before Chan could deny his assertion, Mingyu clapped his hands as if he'd discovered something grand, his mouth in an 'O' shape at Vernon's theory.

"Dude, you're so right," Mingyu agreed dumbly, "Wasn't she the one to start the kiss? Dude, she like-likes you."

"Of course she like-likes him. Anyone with eyes can see it," interrupted Jeonghan, "This idiot just needs to play his cards right and he'll be virgin-less and with a girlfriend by Monday morning."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Chan.

"No, it's pretty easy, actually. You're just an idiot," Jeonghan's statement was met with agreement from the other boys in the room, leading Chan to groan again.

"She said she was going to prepare something for me. What ... what does it mean when a girl says that?", he asked with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Chan felt like he was violating some sort of secret between you by sharing all this with the guys, but he also did not want to make a complete idiot of himself when he finally got a chance with you — putting all context around it aside. So he opted to try and gauge to see if his friends could give him any type of useful advice.

"Oh, god, she's gonna eat you alive," Vernon chuckled, earning a similar reaction from the other two boys.

"What does that mean?", Chan was afraid to ask.

"He means she's going to rock your world," snickered Jeonghan.

Their responses were sort of absentminded by nature, seeing as they had at some point turned all their attention to the old Xbox Wonwoo bad recently handed down to Chan. They were still lucid enough to amplify Chan's anxieties, though.

"Okay, that gives me nothing."

"God, Chan, what they mean is that she wants you and she's going to make this a good experience for you. She's probably dolling herself up for you and getting you fancy flavored condoms or some shit. Stop overthinking it," grumbled Mingyu as he hacked at his controller, not even facing Chan once as he said so.

Chan felt himself falter at Mingyu's comment. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Were you really making yourself pretty for him? Chan felt that was completely unnecessary, I mean, god, seeing you in your tiny pajamas last night had been more than enough for him to grow a chub unprovoked.

Should he do something too? Was there any prep he needed to do in order to please you? Maybe he should ask his friends to see if-

"Before you think about it, do not do anything stupid in preparation for it. Just let her take care of it. I know it's your first time, but as a guy you should focus on it feeling good for her," Mingyu scolded precautiosly, "She'll know what to do, just do whatever she asks you to."

Chan's mouth closed before it could even open, nodding to both himself and Mingyu in affirmation.

The conversation seemed to lull out there, with his friends still giving occasional feedback but with Chan checking out at some point due to his anxieties for what was to come.

Despite their advice, Chan decided that he'd at least hit some online forums to do some last minute research on how to optimize your pleasure despite his lack of experience. Along with that, he made a quick stop at a Target nearby to stock up on aftershave (despite not growing any facial hair), some cologne you'd once mentioned you liked on him, some condoms (just in case), some of your favorite snacks, a few aftercare products he saw listed on Reddit, and a few other amenities he thought might be useful.

At some point during the day you'd texted him letting him know at what time you'd be expecting him at your place, instructing him that all he needed was an overnight bag and to make sure his stamina would be up to par with your own (a comment he was sure you'd said in jest but had sweat dripping down his neck).

After having packed the stuff he'd bought in his overnight bag, he decided to call it a day and go to sleep to be well-rested for what he was sure would become the best day of his life.

What he felt was a mixture of jitters and dread. One side of him was overly excited to not only lose his virginity but to also finally be able to have you in a way he'd dreamed of for years. However, the other side of him dreaded the possibility of disappointing you and embarrassing himself. That, and knowing that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and that he'd have to live the rest of your friendship thinking of this moment knowing it'd never happen again.

These thoughts invaded his mind for a little while before he had to retort to some sleepy tea and some melatonin to ensure he'd maintain his energy for tomorrow as instructed by you.

Chan had woken up with a mission.

After all the research he'd done online, he might've gone a little overboard with the superstitions behind his preparation, but being overly prepared did no harm, right?

It had all begun with a very meticulous shower, ensuring he was cleaner than he'd been in his entire life. He'd even gone as far as using essential oils with your favorite scents to attain a smell he knew you'd enjoy. That, paired with his cologne had him confident you'd at least be happy with both his appearance and aroma.

He'd even gone as far as preparing himself a smoothie with a healthy mixture of fruits he'd come to learn would aid to his taste. He was slightly iffy about this fact, but decided against asking his friends about it to avoid any further teasing — they'd all been spamming his phone with good luck messages already.

A few hours were killed as he paced back and forth in his room, passing by the mirror every so often to fix his hair in order for it to be as perfect for you as possible. Hell, he'd even stopped by a flower shop to get you some tulips as some sort of token of his appreciation for ... for your pussy? He had no reason for it, it just felt right to get you flowers.

Your meeting was meant to be at seven, which gave Chan the impression that you'd probably spend all night at it ... The thought had him shuddering every hour that passed by as he waited.

When the time finally arrived, Chan felt extremely out of place as he stood outside of your apartment, flowers and overnight bag in hand as he pondered when to knock on your door. It was 6:58PM, was it too early? Should he have arrived a bit after seven? Would you think he was a loser for being so punctual, or for having brought flowers and snacks for you?

Okay, fuck. He needed to chill. You were his best friend. You already knew the most embarrassing things about him and he knew yours, there was really no reason to be this anxious or to feel inadequate in your presence. He needed to just man up and take anything you were prepared to give him.

When he finally ended his internal monologue, it became 7:01PM, which he thought a good enough time to finally knock on your door.

But he was beat to it by you, as per usual, as you suddenly showed up on the other side of the now open door, laughing at him as you always did for some reason. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He had gotten used to most of his friends laughing at him, that was sort of his goal most of the time.

"Are you planning on knocking any time soon?", you berated him in jest.

"How'd you-"

"The peephole, you dumbass," you giggled before pulling him in, seemingly ignoring the nerves radiating off him.

Once inside, Chan was able to take in what you were wearing, or more like what you weren't wearing.

In front of him, you stood with in nothing but a floor-length robe, though it was clear to him your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, with matching nails you hadn't had last time he'd seen you.

Fuck, he was terrified to find out what you were hiding under there.

"Dude, stop that. You're overthinking this," you scolded him, "Here, let's go to my room, gimme your bag."

One of your hands held onto the bag while the other grabbed onto his own as you led him over to your room.

Before he could make any quip or fun comment to alleviate his nerves, his attention was taken up by the brand new decor in your room. It wasn't anything too fancy or breathtaking, but the implication was enough to knock his breath out of his lungs.

Your bed was partially undone, with what Chan knew were your favorite sheets (as you'd berated him about the one time he'd laid on your bed with his shoes on), the lighting was best described as sensual, not too dark but dark enough to provide a lustful vibe, mostly provided by some dimmed fairy lights and a few candles here and there.

"You like? I didn't wanna be too cliche, but I thought you'd appreciate the atmosphere," you laughed when you noticed him mutely eyeing his surroundings.

"Y-yeah, thanks. Honestly, you're kind of making me nervous."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. What'd you bring?", you asked as you rummaged through his bag.

He thought about stopping you, but you were too stubborn for it to work. You were already pulling things out of it, giggling at some of its contents. Chan had to hold back a physical wince when you pulled out the condoms and lube he'd packed just in case.

"Flavored condoms. You're a man of taste, Lee Chan," you giggled, "You didn't need to bring anything, you know. I have everything we need."

You decided to ignore his bag now, instead walking over to him and sitting him at the edge of your bed, taking a seat next to him and turning to face him.

"I know you're nervous, but this really isn't as nerve-wracking as you think. It's usually worse for the girls. All you really have to do is sit there. It'll be fun for you regardless."

"But I want it to be fun for you too," he practically whined.

Chan already knew this would be a good experience for him no matter what. God, seeing you dolled up for him was already eternal spank bank material for him. The kiss a few days ago? He'd jerked one out to that mere bit of contact this same morning when he took a shower. His pleasure had never been something he worried about. It was making this good for you (and hopefully making you fall for him in the process) that he was wracking at his brain for.

"God, Chan. It will be fun for me, are you serious? You're such a people pleaser, there's no way that doesn't translate over to sex. Plus, you're hot. That in itself makes the experience ten times better than usual."

Hot? You wanted to kill him. That much was already obvious to Chan.

"So, when do you wanna start this, Channie?", you asked as if it was nothing.

"What, uh, what exactly are we going to do?"

"Ever watched porn, Chan? You have to get me wet first. We need some foreplay before you can put it in. Maybe we can just start by kissing like last time? God, it sounds so lame when I say it out loud, just get over here," you grumbled by the end, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him face you better.

Despite asking him to come closer, you were the one to take initiative and straddle him as he sat on the bed, leading his hesitant hands to hold onto your covered hips. Chan gulped at this, fingers instinctively squeezing at your hips as you leaned in closer.

"Don't overthink it," were your last mumbled words before closing the gap.

The kiss began soft and shy, almost as if it were your first. It progressed into open mouthed kisses up until the point your tongue introduced wetness to it, encouraging Chan to do the same. Similarly to last time, he was awkward about it at first, but your guidance got him comfortable enough to reciprocate your kiss.

"You're good at this, Channie," you mumbled, not giving him a chance to reply with anything but a moan.

Your hands were exploring him, unlike his own static ones. You played with his hair, toyed with the collar of his shirt, even unbuttoning the first few buttons, caressed at his cheeks and jaw. You had fun mapping him out while he remained stagnant and shy.

"Can I take this off?", you asked gesturing to his shirt, hands already fiddling with the leftover buttons.

All he could do was nod numbly as he stared up at you, gulping when your hands expertly did as you'd said. Your hands proceeded to push it off his shoulders, feeling up the skin of his chest with your cold hands.

"You're so strong, Channie, so pretty," you mumbled almost entranced as you felt the strong muscle on his torso. Your lips didn't leave him for long as you did, constantly reconnecting with his in open-mouthed kisses that were making him dizzy.

"Take off your pants for me, Channie?", you asked in a tone sweeter than Chan had ever heard from you before. Sure, you were probably the nicest out of all his friends, but your tone was slightly winded and soft in a way that made him shudder at the mere sound.

A few moments later, you got up, moving Chan's hands away from your hips (to his misery) and giving him space to get up and quickly remove his pants, sitting back down on his boxers as his hands insisted on pulling you back to his lap. He hissed a bit when he felt your weight back on his hardness.

"Fuck, you're big. Didn't feel like sharing that bit of information with your best friend?"

Chan could only groan at your comment, both in annoyance and hornyness. You were incredibly infuriating to him in all the best ways, specially as you pressed up your weight against his hardness and humped at him once to test the waters. Drawing another grunt from him, you giggled, losing the gap between you again.

The kissing continued for a while, and Chan had no complaints. If this was meant to be a learning experience, then he was learning a lot from you. As time went by, he felt less and less shy about the pants and moans he'd release against your lips as you sucked at his tongue. His hands remained mostly shy, but would at some points reach up to your back to pull you closer and then make their way back down to the meat of your hips.

Things became slightly problematic when you suddenly decided to begin moving your hips.

It was barely-there movement at first, but that only lasted a few moments. It progressed into full-on dry humping when Chan least expected it, catching him off guard at how good it already felt. Pushing him to fully lay down on the bed, you repositioned yourself to fuck yourself against him in a way that had him choking on his own tongue.

"F-fuck, wait," he rasped, hands digging into your hips in a lame attempt to stop you while knowing it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't like it, Channie?", you asked despite knowing the answer.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grumbled half annoyed, half incredibly horny.

"Isn't that the fun part?"

"I- I want-" to fuck you, he meant to say

But he couldn't bring himself to say it when you were on top of him, shoulder now bare due to the robe sliding down and pretty eyes staring down at him as if he were a meal.

Not that he'd be able to verbalize anything so explicit to you otherwise.

"You want me to fuck you, right? But there's so many other fun things we can do first, angel. The night is young," you giggled, going back to your dry humping, now allowing yourself to moan at the friction along with Chan.

'Angel'?

Did you find him as perfect as he did you? He was an angel? You were a goddess.

That's when he gave himself up to the pleasure. It was a frustrating type of pleasure. His body ached for more, but this in itself already felt so damn good, he didn't have it himself to fight it. He knew the real thing was coming soon.

At some point you became desperate, huffing and puffing above him as you clearly stole all pleasure you could take from him, riding him through your clothes as you pressed yourself up against his hardness. Through the fabric, Chan could feel the warmth of your cunt dragging against him, making his eyes roll back at the thought.

He was aware you were wearing some sort of lingerie under your robe, — he'd caught a few peaks already — but the anticipation to see it was too much that he found his hands coming up to the loose knot located to the center of your waist, nudging it as he asked for silent permission to undo it.

Your frantic movements did not stop, but you still nodded in affirmation, aiding him in throwing off your robe when the tie came loose.

Chan grumbled into his throat at the sight.

Fuck.

He always knew your body to be a dream, but decorating it with a lacy babydoll was completely unnecessary. It felt like a targeted attack at his sanity and a mockery of his self control.

It was baby blue and sheer, which allowed him perfect view of the equally sinful lingerie laying underneath, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that he'd always remained curious about.

"God, you're so fucking mean to me," was all he could say in reaction, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his balls tighten, an orgasm surely heading his way.

The sight combined with the making out, the extended foreplay, the caresses, and the dry humping left Chan a defeated man. You knew you held victory the moment he walked through that door and now Chan was willingly giving you the orgasm you clearly wanted to pull out of him.

All he could do was whimper pathetically as his orgasm took over, biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself as he gasped at your continued movements against his stimulated dick, seeking out an orgasm of your own.

"F-fuck, Channie ... So good, so, fuck, so perfect," you cried as you let yourself fall into him when your orgasm finally took over.

With your face buried in his neck, Chan pulled you as close as he could, hips occasionally humping upwards without meaning to.

You remained laying there for a few moments, completely spent at your shared orgasm.

Meanwhile, Chan held you close as he attempted to catch his breath and maybe recuperate some of the sanity he'd just lost at the most intense orgasm he'd ever had — one due to mere dry humping, at that.

"How was that?", you chuckled when you caught your breath, sitting up again.

"You're insane," was his response.

"Just wait til I actually fuck you."

He shuddered, hating how easy it was for you to have an effect on him.

But you seemed to enjoy it, so it wasn't all bad.

"But for now you need to rest a bit," you got up from his lap then despite his complaints, laughing at his grabby hands.

That's when he got a better look at your outfit of choice, making him groan to himself once more.

"Like it, Channie? Got it just for you," you even twirled for him as you said it.

God fucking damnit.

For him? You'd bought lingerie for him?

Chan remembered Vernon's words then. Maybe you did like him back. God, the need to make you feel good just multiplied right that second.

He gulped as he sat up and let one of his hands reach out to you with shyness he wished he could rid himself of. You smiled at him with what felt like adoration, moving closer to him to let him touch you.

Chan was in a trance as he pulled you closer, getting up to match your stature better and letting his hands hesitantly find your waist.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes running up and down your body before staying locked on your own eyes, which were conveniently stuck on his lips.

Taking his chance, he kissed you again, immediately moaning into your mouth at the intensity in which you kissed him. It took no time for you to take control of the kiss, making it as fervent as all others you'd shared and turning yourself around so you could guide yourself to lay on the bed, now pulling him to lay atop you.

Your hands were frenzied as they felt at every inch of him, pulling at his hair and scratching at his muscles in ways he had no idea could turn him on so much. His hardness was already beginning to come back.

Chan pulled away from the kiss to make his way to your neck, internally panicking at doing something wrong but taking the chance anyways. His hands explored you a bit more now, going beneath the baby doll and feeling the nude skin of your stomach while occasionally gracing against the lace of your bra and panties.

"I want you so fucking bad," he found himself breathing out when his kisses reached your chest, mind reeling at what laid beneath the pretty bra you'd worn for him.

"Then take me," you challenged.

Your hands joined his own in ridding yourself of the troublesome lingerie, throwing it out of the way as if it'd offended you and finally giving Chan a peak at what would now become the main character of all his wet dreams.

"Oh, fuck."

"Am I what you imagined, Channie?", you giggled, licking into his open mouth while he aw'd at you.

"Fuck, god, shit," his hands were frenzied as he felt your body under them. Any shyness in him left the moment he received unadulterated access to you.

"Shit, Channie," you gasped when Chan began grinding into you, this time harder due to him being on top and you being now fully nude.

"I, fuck, I want you so fucking bad," he repeated.

Chan's lips followed his hands, exploring every available inch of your body. They went from your neck, licking and sucking at any place that had you whining a little louder. Their next stop were your breasts, where he spent enough time to have you writhing under him, pawing at him to do more. Your stomach was his next victim, though he quickly skipped over it to make way to your thighs, which he opened further as he now knelt at the foot of the bed.

Wet yet desperate kisses were pressed against the skin of your inner thighs, ghosting at the place Chan wanted to claim the most. With your moans of encouragement, Chan braved a few love bites on the ample skin offered by your thighs. His hair somehow became an erogenous zone as you pulled and pulled at it in frustration at his avoidance of your center. The feeling was slightly painful, but Chan still keened at it.

Eventually even Chan grew frustrated of kissing around the place where you needed him most. With a deep breath and furrowed brows, he finally lowered his head to your cunt, hoping his half-assed research on Reddit gave him good enough advice on how to make you feel good.

His tongue licked a stripe at your middle, going from bottom to top and landing on your clit, which he recognized soon enough and began licking intently at. Slightly worried at your lack of reaction, he let himself take a peak above, only to find a sight that had him moaning into you.

Your mouth was open and your eyes tightly shut, with your eyebrows furrowed like his own. Paying close enough attention, Chan realized you'd been releasing silent noises of pleasure, stuck in your throat as he continued to lick and suck at you.

"Cha-channie, fuck," you finally breathed out, hips inadvertently pushing up against his face.

As if it were second nature, his arms went to push you down, holding you onto the bed to allow himself free rein over your pleasure.

At some point Chan's worries went away. He began to freestyle your pleasure, to put it in simple terms. He went off of your reactions, licking or sucking any time you pulled at his hair a little harder or whined a little louder.

The experience ended up being far more enjoyable than Chan had ever imagined. Sure, he knew he'd have enjoyed being on his knees for you, but never had he imagined he'd lose his inhibitions so easily whilst between your legs. His face was practically buried in you, devouring every inch of you whilst his hips took a life of their own as they humped at the bed.

Your noises were making him lightheaded, your whines of his name and your breathless gasps. It was all too much for Chan, he completely lost himself in you to the point in which he completely missed your first orgasm, too focused on his task to process it.

"Channie, f-fuck, I already came, you don't have to- shit. You don't have to keep going," you hiccuped at him, hands pulling him away from your cunt but hips continuing to attempt to get closer.

But he needed to keep going. He was slightly scared that he'd cum in his pants (again) by how consistently he kept humping at the bed, but he needed to draw that second orgasm out of you more than he needed his next breath — which he also needed, as he was basically suffocating between your legs.

Your whines and pleas became higher and even more winded as he continued, enjoying the torturous pleasure he knew you were feeling at that moment. Chan had never felt such ecstasy in his life.

"C-cumming, Channie! Cumming!" you gasped out before beginning to shake under him.

And even then, Chan could not bring himself to stop. He liked and kissed and sucked until you kicked at him to stop, groaning his name between breaths.

"Shit, fine," he grumbled in a chuckle when he finally separated himself from you.

He had no time to be cocky before you pulled him up, somehow managing to get him to lay on the bed and straddling him once more. Maybe you'd caught him off guard or maybe his body was too willing to do anything for you to ever fight you. His hands were able to immediately go to your hips, which was rewarding enough in itself.

"Shit, that was insane," you giggled with wide eyes as you looked down at him. Then you paused, your eyes squinting at him while the ghost of a smile took on your lips, "Wait you have a little something ..."

That's when you kissed him again, not shy at all in licking any leftover slick from his lips and even sucking at any remnants from his tongue. Chan, being only but a man, easily fave in to it, kissing you back as you'd shown him timeless times throughout the past hour.

"Who taught you that?" you asked in amazement as you pulled back.

"Reddit?"

"God, you're such a fucking loser. Why is that hot?", you mumbled the last bit to yourself.

You bit your lip as you watched him under you, likely looking like a complete mess. All his preparations for you had been undone by now. He probably reeked of sweat and his hair was completely fucked up (courtesy of you), yet you looked at him as if you wanted to eat him.

A few seconds later and your hips began moving from their spot on his crotch. You leaned down again, this time kissing at his neck while you ground on him. Chan whimpered pathetically at the stimulation, already too pent up to put up with it.

"I- I can't- I need to, fuck," he swallowed, "Please fuck me."

"God, how can I say no to you when you're so ..." you groaned into his skin, not bothering to complete your sentence.

That's when you got up without a word, aiding Chan in removing his boxers before pulling a condom from your the pile you had on the bedside table and sitting back on him.

Chan both salivated and gulped at the knowledge of what was to come. His hands tightened on your hips when you began eyeing at his dick. Half of him was self conscious while the other half was too turned on to even think.

The girl of his dreams was currently sitting on him, completely naked as she eyed at him like he was meat. There wad a mixture of fear and immense anticipation building in him.

"Such a pretty dick, Channie. I should've known. Everything about you's so pretty."

"T-thank you," he hiccuped when your hand went to lightly trace at his cock, almost as if entranced by it.

He was slightly embarrassed when he cried out when you finally got him into the condom, but what could be done? He was incredibly turned on and would likely continue to embarrass himself the moment you got him inside you.

"Ready, Channie?" you asked from above him, breath slightly scattered just like Chan's.

He nodded snd 'uh-hu'ed at you, hands pressing at a bruising strength into the skin of your hips as you lifted yourself just enough to press his cock against your folds. As the tease Chan knew you to be, you played around with him a bit first, tracing your folds with his tip before circling your clit with him to stimulate yourself even more.

When Chan's whining got too loud, you hushed him by lowering yourself down on him with no warning, slow in your descent and making sure to make noises that'd drive him crazy. Unluckily enough, Chan's own noises battled your own.

This was an unparalleled experience for Chan. His mind was hazy yet he felt more alive than ever. He whined and cried and moaned and whimpered at your heat. You hadn't even moved yet, but Chan's world had already been turned upside down.

"Oh- oh, fuck. That's so- You feel so fucking good," he rasped out. His hips canted forward a bit just as he spoke, causing another whine to leave his lips.

"It's so good, isn't it, Channie? Fuck, so good and perfect for me," you sighed when you began to move.

Taking on an increasingly rapid pace, you still made sure to angle yourself perfectly in order to get him as deep as possible, Your legs were practically in a knelt pancake stretch above him as you took turns bouncing and grinding. Red marks were left on his chest as you raked your nails across it, but Chan was in too much pleasure to register any of the pain; he was on Cloud Nine.

"Didn't think it could, shit, feel this good."

"That's cause it doesn't, baby. This is all you," you whined out.

Chan was entranced by you above him. It was clear you were enjoying yourself. Endless noises left your mouth and ecstasy made a home in your features. Your movements had finesse, but were mostly done in desperation. Chan felt his stomach knot at the knowledge that he was the cause of your pleasure.

"Gonna ruin me for anyone else," you complained in between pants, causing Chan to hump upwards without meaning to. This made you both gasp, eyes rolling back in unison, "F-fuck, Channie. Do that again."

And your commands were impossible to not follow. His hips immediately began canting in sync with your own. With his feet planted on the bed and his hands secured on your waist, Chan fucked into you with a complete lack of finesse and a mind full of depraved desperation.

The only noises leaving the two of you after that consisted of cries of each others' names and grunts. The mixture of skin slapping and disgruntled sounds of pleasure was nasty in nature, but Chan found the sheer need shared between you mind-numbing. This was a physical representation of how much he'd always wanted you, and it was finally taking form.

When Chan felt his orgasm approach, his hips sped up, causing you to hiccup out praises and moans, with a warning for your impending orgasm in between. Your hand went down to your cunt, toying at your clit messily as you continued to ride him.

It became a mess pretty quickly, but Chan didn't care. His mind was too focused on your shared pleasure.

"Gonna cum with me, handsome?", you gasped out between heavy breaths.

"Mhm!", was the most Chan could do at the moment. The pleasure was blinding as it led up to his orgasm. It was impossible to keep control of himself at that moment.

And then it came.

It felt like he was completely blinded, like his senses were overturned while also shutting down completely. Everything felt way more sensitive, especially when he felt you tightening around him for your own orgasm.

His brained tuned out your noises of pleasure and his throat muted any of his own. The feeling was so good that he choked on the loud noises he knew he'd be letting out at this moment. It was like he short-circuited. It all went black for a few moments as the pleasure overtook his entire being.

By the time his senses came back to full function, you were lying on top of him, breathless as you took turns nuzzling against his chest and pressing kisses on the flushed skin. Just before his arms wrapped around you, you disconnected yourself from him to lay beside him, removing any distance between you to cuddle into his side.

"I think you might've ruined me for anyone else," he breathed out finally.

You chuckled.

"Well, good thing I don't want anyone else to have you," you said nonchalantly, unknowing that Chan's heart rate sped up 100x.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes, I like you back, you absolute dumbass," you said in faux annoyance before pressing a kiss to his lips and getting up, mumbling something about needing to clean up before catching an infection. Girl stuff.

Meanwhile, Chan sat back on your bee completely dumbfounded yet more pleased than ever before.

Fuck, maybe he should buy Jeonghan a drink or something.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, loser!chan getting bullied by the members and reader all at once (with love ofc!), mentions of sex, mentions of prior overstimulation, sort of dom/sub dynamic, begging, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 169 (teaser); 1858 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Dude, you totally owe me money," cackled Jeonghan as soon as he spotted you and Chan walking into the frat house hand in hand.

"What? That was never the bet," Vernon gestured towards you and Chan, who were now settling onto the couch across from them, "The bet was that he wouldn't lose his v card, which it looks like he did – congrats man," he finished off with a high five to Chan.

"I'm talking about the other bet," rebutted Jeonghan, "I told you he'd confess within this week. You said it'd take him til after we graduated."

"Wait, what? We bet on that?"

"You guys had multiple bets based on my love life?", gaped Chan, half annoyed and half confused — he was making that question mark face you loved on him. He looked like a curious puppy when he did it.

You continued to watch amused, eventually joined by Seungkwan as he took a seat to your opposite side and offered you a sip of his fruity drink.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #lee chan x reader #lee chan fluff #lee chan smut #lee chan fanfic #dino oneshot #dino x reader #dino fanfic #dino smut

1K notes · View notes

punkshort · 5 months ago

Text

Thank you Anon for this request!

A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Living in Jackson during the apocalypse doesn't do anything to curb your desire to have a child. The problem is, most of the men in town are unavailable... except for one.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, breeding kink (given the request, obv), language, friends to lovers, mentions of anxiety, infertility, pregnancy, angst, pining, alcohol

WC: 3.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you first asked him, he thought you were crazy.

He stared at you in complete disbelief, his gaze flickering down to the drink in your hand, trying to recall how many you had to propose something so insane. But it was only one.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mhmm," you said confidently. "I've thought about it for a long time. I want a baby and the men in this town are either taken or have the mental fortitude of a child," you joked nervously. "You're neither of those things. Besides... I trust you."

His eyes softened for a moment and he dropped his gaze to the table. You had known Joel for the better part of five years, and while at first he was brash and gruff, throughout countless patrols and fights against infected where you had to have each other's backs, you had grown rather close. Neither of you ever crossed the line past friendship, and you had never even thought about it until recently when your anxiety was keeping you up late at night, wondering if you would ever find a man and settle down to start a family.

It was a luxury in this life, to be sure. The population of Jackson wasn't very large, but in five years you had come to get a good read on most of its citizens. And you kept coming back to the same conclusion: the man for you was not there.

So after much thought and self-reflection, you worked up enough courage to get a drink with Joel after your route and ask him if he would be willing to give you a baby.

You followed up by telling him you would be solely responsible, that you would do all the work and he could be as involved in the child's life as much as he wanted to be, if at all, while he sat there dumbstruck.

Now he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously as he weighed your proposal.

"Can I think 'bout it?" he finally asked.

"Oh, god, of course!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise that he was considering it at all. "However much time you need."

But that was almost a month ago. Each day that passed you became more anxious, more impatient, and it was beginning to sour your mood.

On that particular day you were checking out the park rangers outpost hidden deep within the Wyoming forest. The building was up within the trees, providing the park rangers in the past a bird's eye view of the forest, and now it gives Jackson the same.

Joel was scribbling something in the log book while you strolled aimlessly around the cabin, opening and shutting drawers loudly, already knowing what was in them but just looking for something to do.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he mumbled over his shoulder, his focus still on the book.

"No," you said defensively, but when you angrily began to struggle with a window that refused to open, it became clear you were lying.

"Here, lemme help," he offered, dropping the pencil and walking to your side of the room.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," you snapped, though you obviously did.

His hands gripped your shoulders and forcibly moved you out of the way before he took hold of the window and gave it a quick jerk, loosening the window in it's frame and finally allowing fresh air in.

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes before breezing past him.

"This attitude 'bout the window or 'bout what you asked me?" he challenged, stopping you dead in your tracks. Slowly, you spun around, unsure what to say.

"The window," you finally answered, then shifted your weight and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little of both."

"Mhmm," he said, advancing toward you. "Thought so."

"Well... have you thought about it or are you just trying to come up with a nice way to say no?"

He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. "Now why d'you think it's a no?"

"Because you haven't said a single word about it in a month," you told him like the answer was obvious.

"Well maybe the answer's yes but I don't know how to casually bring up into polite conversation that I'm ready to knock up my goddamn friend!" he argued.

You stared at him, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Wait, really?" you whispered.

He nodded and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, I mean... if you still wanna or... whatever," he grumbled.

The first time was bad, to put it mildly. Your kisses were all teeth, chins and noses bumped together awkwardly. You had hoped once you got down to it that it would have gotten better, but you were wrong. Your rhythms were all off, you hit your head on the end table, and Joel nearly fell off the couch at one point. Needless to say, you didn't come. It was a miracle he did by the end of it.

Afterwards, you both sat there, catching your breaths and wondering if you made a huge mistake.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was always a means to an end. Ultimately, it didn't really matter if the sex was good or not, the end result would be the same.

Still...

"I'm not usually that bad," you finally said, breaking the thick silence. He groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

"Me either. I swear, I ain't lyin'. I never usually..." he trailed off, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. "We'll try again. Back home. In a bed. That's the problem. It's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah," you nodded, not fully believing him but at that point, what could it hurt?

The next time was the following day at your home. It was a little better than the first time, but not by much.

"It doesn't matter, Joel," you assured him, tugging your blanket over your chest.

"Matters to me," he said defensively. "I'm too in my head or somethin'. It's still weird, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's weird," you agreed.

"It's too planned out. Maybe it's gotta be more natural. More... spontaneous."

"Yeah," you agreed.

A couple evenings later one of the other men on patrol was having a bonfire at his home and invited a handful of others, you and Joel included.

Ten or so people sat around a roaring fire, tossing back whiskey and playing cards or swapping war stories. The alcohol made you feel warm and relaxed, your limbs as loose as your tongue when you joked around with the others, joining in on the teasing when a seasoned patrolman admitted to shooting off a crossbow at a leaf that fell just a little too loudly in the woods.

Then you felt a hand on the small of your back and you turned, your eyes glassy and face warm from the booze and the laughs. Joel stood beside you looking just as at ease as you and he gave you a knowing look.

For once, you were on the same page. Neither of you said a word.

You made your excuses, said your goodbyes, and slipped into the night. It was quiet, the rest of the town asleep, so it was easy to hear Joel's voice carry over the wind a few minutes later when he announced his departure, your heart skipping an excited beat in your chest.

He didn't hurry to catch up with you and you were glad. It helped. The anticipation built up on the walk home, and for the first time you felt a warmth bloom between your legs. Your fingers shakily worked your front door when you heard his steps growing closer, the crunching of gravel growing louder and louder until your door swung open and the squeak of old wood under his boots as he walked up your stairs echoed in your ears.

You didn't bother to turn the lights on. His hands were on your waist instantly, kicking the door closed behind him as his mouth crashed against yours with a groan. All you could hear was your shared breath and the rustling of fabric, each of you working to strip the other of their clothes as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the spontaneity of it. Whatever it was, it was better. Oh, so much better.

Somehow you had made it to your bed and you had never been more grateful to have a small ranch home in your life. When he first pushed inside, you moaned and arched your back off the mattress and his teeth gently grazed your collarbone, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. Instantly, you found a rhythm. Your hips rolled to meet his at the perfect time, his hands squeezed and pinched your breasts while his tongue invaded your mouth, only sliding down to cup your ass when he sensed it was becoming too much.

"More," you moaned into his mouth, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He alternated between snapping and grinding his hips, the mix of sensations quickly bringing you over the edge.

You could feel the excitement in his body when he finally made you come. Like he was reenergized and focused, like he had finally accomplished what he set out to do.

"Come for me, Joel," you whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. You could tell he was close by the way his muscles tensed and the deep groans emanating from his chest.

"Yeah? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?" he growled, the dirty talk sending a jolt of surprise through you. Before, he had been so quiet. This was new.

"Yeah," you whispered back, "want you to fuck a baby in me. I want everyone to see what you did to me."

He groaned so loudly you wondered if it could be heard from outside. His teeth sunk down into your shoulder when he came, muffled words being spoken into your skin as he shot thick ropes of his seed deep into your womb, only slowing when his legs began to shake and he collapsed on top of you with a huff.

"Fuck," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath on top of you. "That was..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you felt him swallow tightly. "That was much better."

"Yeah," you whispered, your eyes sliding shut as your fingers gently raked through his hair. You didn't even realize you were doing it or how intimate it seemed considering your arrangement, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into it a bit as he waited for his heartrate to slow.

Once he collected himself, he propped himself up on his hands and slowly eased out of you with a hiss.

"Can you hand me-"

"Yeah," he said, already knowing you were asking for the small, firm pillow you used last time to prop your hips up, and gave it to you. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to your bathroom while you tucked your knees against your chest, hoping you were getting the angle right.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he handed you a wet washcloth to use when you were done, then began to dress.

He glanced at your face, then your hips propped up in the air.

"You need anythin' else?"

"No, I think this'll do," you joked, and he chuckled before he stood.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," you said with a smile, then watched him as he left your bedroom and listened while he slid his boots back on and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you all alone.

"Fuck, it better work this time," you muttered as you bounced up and down on Joel's lap, your hands digging into his shoulders for support as you slid up and down on his cock. His hands held your waist, guiding you while you rode him on his couch, his eyes transfixed on where you were connected.

"Gotta relax. I told you, it ain't gonna work if you stress yourself out," he replied, eyes still glued to the way his cock emerged from your clutch even wetter than before.

"It's been six months, Joel," you whined, but he shushed you by slanting his mouth over yours. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't mind when you came to him each month with a look of dejection when your efforts inevitably failed. He felt bad for you, don't get him wrong, but he had grown very fond of the one week every month you found yourself wrapped around his cock.

His thumb found your clit and he felt you tense and your mind went blank. Perfect.

"'S'right," he murmured, watching your face go slack, "just turn off that pretty little head of yours for a minute and lemme take care of you."

You nodded, eyes sliding shut as your hips began to work faster, rolling and grinding down on him until your nails dug into his skin and you cried out his name. Fuck, he loved hearing that. It didn't take much more for him to come, his hands gripping your sides so tight, he was afraid he might leave bruises as he thrusted up into you, giving you every last drop of his release.

"Goddamn," he whispered, head falling back onto the couch as he panted for air.

"Shit," you gasped, voice a little cracked. "Shoulda finished with me laying down. It's gonna leak out when -"

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and, still plugging you with his cock, twisted around so you were laying flat on the couch and he was hovering above you.

"Better?"

"Much," you giggled, playing with a stray curl over his ear. You gazed warmly at one another, neither of you saying a word as your pulse slowed and his cock softened.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Joel," you whispered, your eyes drifting all over his face, taking in every little detail.

He nodded and swallowed then forced himself to look away. If he didn't, he was worried you would see too much.

He slid out of you and grabbed a pillow, handing it to you blindly before standing and strolling to his bathroom. After he cleaned up, he leaned over his sink, hands curled around the cracked vanity, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a pit in his stomach.

How did he let this happen?

He should have known. The morning before you came over, he had a bad feeling. Like something had shifted in the air, something had changed without his permission and it left an empty feeling in his chest.

The overly excited knock on his door as he sipped his coffee almost made him want to pretend he wasn't home, that you weren't about to bounce into his kitchen holding two white sticks with a huge grin plastered across your face. But he didn't, and you did.

Either he really sold his reaction to your news well or you were too elated to notice his heart being ripped from his chest.

It was over. You were pregnant, and you no longer needed him. You would no longer come by every month and keep his bed warm. You would no longer share breakfast with him or talk to him about the books you were reading. He would go back to being utterly and completely alone.

It took a good month or two, but he adjusted back to his normal life. You still did patrol runs with him, which he protested, but when you finally began to show around five months, you agreed to stop and found a different job in town, instead.

That made his chest crack back open. Now he hardly ever saw you. It was bad enough he didn't get to be with you, taste you, fuck you anymore, but now he didn't even get to hear your voice. Occasionally he would see you in the dining hall or in the street and you would always talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Meanwhile, you walked around Jackson with his child growing in your belly, your shirts straining against the swell of your womb, the life he put inside you blooming before everyone's eyes. And all he wanted to do was claim you, right there in the center of town for everyone to see. For everyone to look in awe at what the two of you had created together.

One evening he was sitting alone in front of his fire, sipping whiskey and staring blankly into the flames. He had a decent life, considering the circumstances. So why couldn't he just be happy?

Then a rap came at his door. Urgent and loud. He placed his tumbler down and quickly went to open it, surprised to find you waiting on the other side.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, one hand over your round stomach. His eyes dropped down to take you in before he met your gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you replied with a look on your face that told him you didn't realize he would obviously panic about your wellbeing at this point in your pregnancy. "Sorry, I just - can I come in?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, stepping aside to open the door wider. You toed off your boots and shrugged off your jacket, allowing him to take it from you and hang it up before you wandered into his living room. Your eyes fell on his abandoned glass and you smiled.

"I miss drinking," you said longingly. He grinned and, leaving the whiskey where it was so as not to tempt you, sat on the couch.

"What're you doin' here so late? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, tearing your eyes away from the glass and sitting down near him on the sofa. "Baby's good. I just was thinking about you and I wanted to see you."

He perked up at that, he couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah?"

You grinned and bit your lip shyly before looking away. "I miss you, I guess."

A smile spread wide across his face. "Aw, how sweet."

You swatted an arm out to smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, his heart finally feeling like it was mending a bit.

"Jerk," you muttered, and he laughed again.

"I missed you, too," he finally admitted, his cheeks rosy from the fire and the whiskey as he gazed at you, the reflection from the flames making your skin glow. Maybe it was that pregnancy glow that everyone used to talk about. Or maybe you always glowed and he just never allowed himself to notice until it was too late.

He watched your throat work, swallowing dryly while your fingers fidgeted in your lap and he realized you were nervous.

"What if I told you I missed you as more than just friends?" you whispered, your eyes pinned to the floor, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze.

His breath caught in his throat. Surely, he must have misheard you. But then you finally turned to look at him, tears welling in your eyes, and his heart lurched in his chest.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you?" he bravely whispered back.

Your eyebrows pinched together and your face crumpled before you reached forward, curling your arms around his neck and pulling him close, your lips pressing together earnestly before opening your mouth and letting his tongue lick behind your teeth.

He wasn't sure how you both made it upstairs and into his bed. He couldn't remember peeling your clothes off, one by one, revealing more and more of your changing body to him for the first time. But he did remember seeing your bare, swollen belly underneath him while his hand slowly slid across your skin in wonder. And then he felt it. A little flutter. A little jolt. And he looked up at you in surprise.

"She's kicking," you explained, and his eyes fell back to your stomach.

"She?"

You nodded, placing your hand over his lovingly. "I think it's a girl."

He smiled as tears began to cloud his vision, then bent forward to press a kiss against your stomach, letting his lips linger so hopefully his unborn daughter could feel him there and feel the love he had for her.

You had to pull him away by his shoulders, the both of you laughing softly, unable to believe how much things had changed in just a year.

Because not only were you a couple months away from finally being a mother, but you also realized you were very, very wrong all those months ago.

The man for you was, in fact, right there all along.

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maeumi-jng · 1 year ago

Text

lipgloss and kisses

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: he watches you put it on and he loves to take it off.

warnings: fluff, skinship, suggestive-ish for hyung line except sunghoon, swearing, humour levels: bad, proof read ig

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

one word. impatient.

heeseung obviously thought you looked good with lip gloss. in fact he thought you looked good in anything. lip balm, lipstick, lip oil, whatever that was... the reason behind it wasn't the product, it was you.

you just had such kissable lips. he had always thought so. even before you got together. heeseung liked you so much to the point any time you'd bring out some lip balm, all his attention would be focused on your lips. it was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that. but heeseung also couldn't help that you were just so captivating. the care you took to put it on, ensuring nothing escaped the borders and if it had, the swipe of your finger that tugged those pretty lips down... god... it was a lot.

honestly, you spent a lot of money on lip products. the reason? heeseung.

that man was always kissing you. on the bus, during your night routine, before bed, when you wake up, when you cleaned the dishes together, after being a part for a mere half hour....

and it wasn't just a peck. no. it was like heeseung was consuming you're entire essence. he would be breathing heavily, hand supporting the back of your neck to bring your closer if possible, kissing you as if he had been waiting a lifetime to do so. small gasps would fall from your lips while he nibbled down slightly, tugging and pulling at what was purely swollen by this point.

you lost more product than you put on. take now for instance because this is how it played out every single time. especially in the case of your stupid lipgloss.

you were getting ready for the day, adding your final touches. heeseung, who was only half dressed, still sporting his sweatpants from the night, had his arms slung around your neck, chin nestling into your collarbone, being his usual clingy morning self as you began to apply your lipgloss.

heeseung, finally registering you were putting on the lip gloss, whispered in your ear. "come on, a little faster, baby."

"hee," you whined, cheeks beginning to burn already. this was it. you could barely get through putting anything on your lips without him urging you to hurry up so he could kiss you. "stop! i always have to reapply because of you. i'm not going to kiss you."

heeseung just smiled softly, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain your focus. "why do you make this so difficult?" you mumbled, carefully applying the gloss to your bottom lip.

you could hear a huff of amusement slip out of heeseung's mouth. "you are one to talk... you know how i feel about your lips. yet you torture me every single day."

you suppressed your eye roll at your boyfriend's theatrics. "not my fault you're down so bad."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, now watching you finish up without a word to say.

you had barely put the wand down let alone in the tube when heeseung's hand gently travelled to your chin, turning your head slightly so he could duck down and bring his lips to yours.

your half-groan and half-squeal turned muffled. your grip around the applicator tightened as you fell victim to the very thing you had been trying to stop. not that you were trying hard or anything. the gasp you released when he nibbled down allowed him to make a mess of you, slipping his tongue in to mix with your own and dance with the rhythm of your heavy pants.

heeseung finally parted, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths. his finger tugged down your bottom lip, only little remnants of your lip gloss dotting it. he sighed with a small smile. "you were right. i am down bad."

jongseong

the first time jay saw you apply lipgloss in a mirror, he was hooked. he only had to see you do it once and the following day, he brought several lipglosses for you.

it was like a side quest for him. every time he gifted you anything, a lip gloss would be on the side. or when you were literally out for groceries, you'd find him in the cosmetics aisle and he'd turn to with a lipgloss on hand. grabbing your hand, he'd pull you closer to him and start to compare the lipgloss in the packaging to your lips. "hmm... i don't know... maybe the red one would be better."

as much as you loved it, you were beginning to complain once your draw began to fill up with several tubes of gloss, covering any other item you had in sight. what were you supposed to do with this much lipgloss? furthermore, they actually had a shelf life.... they expired.

when you brought this up to jay, he gave you the most careless shrug. "i'll just get new ones. besides, all you have to do is put them on. i'll just take it off."

oh?

oh.

jay would also be so fucking sulky if his favourite colour was changed or discontinued. it wouldn't be obvious at first but after finding out, he'd let out little sighs every time you applied a different colour and he'd keep on looking at the expiry date, wishing time would stop.

you did manage to find a dupe, however. and the moment jay saw it, he was over the moon. like thank god and the stars in heaven.

immediately he'd ask you to put it on. and who are you to deny your boyfriend's sweet request? so you opened it and applied the colour, conscious of jay's trailing eyes. the moment the wand went back into the tube, jay grabbed your face, examining your lips with the distance of a hairbreadth.

you felt warm in his grasp, feeling his thumb hover over your lips as if he were tracing them. a satisfied smile washed onto his face, the scrunch of his furrowed brows disappearing. he nodded. "beautiful."

your cheeks tinged with a heated flush. you couldn't help but just give him a long kiss on his lips, parting to find your colour imprinted on him. you grinned, imitating his own tone. "beautiful."

jay rolled his eyes, hand travelling to encircle your waist. your mouth dried at the sudden proximity and the intensity swirling in his brown eyes. "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

STAWPPP 😳🤭

jaeyun

babe. listen. jake will stop everything he's doing if it means getting to watch you put some lipgloss on. sure, there's lip balm. but lip balm is not as pretty as lipgloss is on you.

pretty sure he has a spidey sense for it as well. like at any given time, if he thinks you're about to put on some lipgloss, he'll run right towards you.

you'll be in your room and you got a package the other day. it was some new lipglosses that you wanted to try. jake is in the living room, headphones on full blast, but yet somehow he can hear you open the package he brought from your mailbox.

you've just picked a lipgloss to try on and jake is already dragging the ottoman in the corner of your room to your mirror. "jake? i– where did you come from?"

"i heard you open your package, so," jake shrugged.

you blinked blankly. your hand stretched out to lift the headphones hung around his neck with a finger. "you heard me? with these on? jake, they're noise cancelling."

"i should sue for false advertisement," jake nodded to himself before redirecting his attention to you. his wide eyes flickering back and forth between you and the lip gloss in your hands.

you sighed, shaking your head. you knew exactly what he wanted. he wasn't slick with it. you had caught him several times, purposely placing your lip glosses randomly everywhere. on your bed, on the kitchen counter, next to your phone, next to the sink... the list was endless.

jake intently watched you open the lipgloss, head leaning in naturally. the push of your hand towards him surprised him but he realised quickly that you were fulfilling the question lingering inside his head: the smell of the lipgloss. taking a quick whiff, he noted the feigned berry scent, reminiscent of the warm plum colour it had.

you pushed down your smile at the cute little nod jake did once he was satisfied. taking the wand back, you leaned into your mirror, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

out of your peripheral, you could see jake do the same, except his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, far too focused on what you were doing.

his eyes trailed the tip of the applicator. the warm plum colour smeared softly against your pillowy lips, mostly sheer. it had small speckles of glitter from what jake could tell. as you rubbed your lips together, finally bringing in the entire coat, jake could tell he loved this gloss.

it looked amazing on you. or well, you made it look good.

you turned to him, wiggling your eyebrows. "what do you think?" you queried, jutting out your lips for him to see.

jake was at a lost for words. all he could do is grab your face with his hands and place his lips onto yours. your eyes widened at the sudden kiss before closing once you began to melt away at the pure fervour jake had within him. he was consuming you, attempting to get closer to you if he could and seizing any air around you.

you pulled yourself away, taking a big inhale of air. shit...

your eyes fell to the plum colour smudged across jake's lips. you were sure yours looked the same. you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat when a loose grin played on his face. "i love it."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon had never thought about this. like ever. he had never seen it, never mind with someone he really liked, so it didn't really register for him. jake, the most clingy person he knows, talked about it all the time. he was already down bad but whatever this thing was with lipgloss, it had jake go feral. and sunghoon just didn't get it.

like bro, it's just lipgloss? like chill.

sunghoon understood the mundane things. like watching you tuck your hair behind your ears, the way you would chew down on your lip when you were concentrating on something, or the scrunch of your nose when you would squint. he would never admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but he loved that shit.

this lipgloss thing? eh...

but then he saw it.

sunghoon never really pegged you for a lipgloss person. you were always complaining about your hair getting stuck in your lip balm, which resulted in your tucking your hair behind your ears (a win for him). so he just figured lipgloss wasn't in your kit.

but you two were getting ready for a lunch date and sunghoon saw you whip out the warm pink gloss while he put on his shoes. he forgot all about doing the laces... eyes honing on your lips through the mirror.

now that he had seen it, he couldn't stop looking. he understood it.

it was so intriguing.

the way you had to purse your lips and apply such a pretty colour. the way the light bounced off the shine, glittering occasionally. the care you took... the rubbing of your lips to smear the colour evenly... the little satisfactory nod and smile you sported when you saw yourself fully in the mirror...

fuck, he got it.

after finally finishing his shoes, sunghoon walked up to you, watching you turn around with a wide smile. you wiggled your eyebrows. "how do i look?" you asked, giving a small spin.

sunghoon smiled quietly, mind full of only your lips. he dipped his head down to your cheek, leaving a lingering kiss on the soft surface before pulling back. "pretty."

you smiled at his compliment, your own eyes looking him up and down, hand rubbing his chest gently. you stood on your toes, pressing a quick peck on his cheek as well. "you look pretty too."

your eyes widened at the shiny pink stain on his cheek. "aw shit," you cursed.

sunghoon raised a brow, looking at himself in the mirror. his body paused on the silhouette of your kiss on his skin. he could've sworn his heart was thundering in his chest while a wave of warm washed over him.

you grabbed a fresh wet wipe from your vanity, hand stretching out to wipe off the mark but sunghoon's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

sunghoon gave a small smile at the confused expression swirling in your eyes. "leave it."

your eyes go big at his words. "b-b-but it's gonna be on your skin? it's so pink and so... obvious..." you told him, voice slowly turning into a whisper as his smile got bigger.

"it's okay," sunghoon murmured, grabbing this wipe out of your hand and resting it on the vanity before intertwining his fingers with yours. "i like it like that."

soft for this type of sunghoon 🥹🤭

seonwoo

listen, seonwoo is the motherfucker that would apply it for you.

don't get him wrong. he loves watching you put lipgloss on. he admired the way you got so into it, blocking out the rest of the world for a good three minutes to make sure you had applied it well. besides, you looked so pretty.

but one day, you broke out of your trance and caught seonwoo looking invested in it. the surprise he had when you offered him the wand and a lipliner was like no other. you thought he wanted to put it on which was fine with you. especially considering you were secretly the one who loved seonwoo's lips the most. so soft... so pillowy and plump, perfect for any lip product.

but much to your surprise, seonwoo shook his head no and asked is he could put it on you. the offer was so sweet, you immediately wiped off any product on your lip, not caring that it was technically a waste, and sat ready for him to apply it.

and now... it was like a daily ritual.

every morning, as the both of you got ready, you would both decide on a combo you would wear for the day. and you would sit in front of the window, on the floor, sun beaming down on you.

it normally took three minutes at most to line your lips and then fill it with lipgloss. but with seonwoo, it took a lot longer. the both of you got distracted to easily.

he'd be lining your lips, unaware of all the sweet whispers falling from his mouth. "you're so pretty, baby," "i didn't know it was possible for lips to be this cute." and adding the final touches of your gloss, he'd say, "i just want to kiss you so bad... every day."

and this was your breaking point.

screw the lipgloss.

you would always end the entire moment by grabbing his face to kiss him. you could feel the sticky gloss move onto him, his soft pillowy lips absorbing all the colour and sparkles.

seonwoo would also get into it, pushing himself closer into your touch, making the kiss deeper as his craving for you expanded. his hands, free of the liner and gloss, would crawl up your neck, getting tangled in your hair. his eye would be completely shut, letting himself melt into you entirely.

the whole gloss thing always left seonwoo on fire. like he just couldn't wait to kiss you again and again.

you would leave the kiss by placing kisses across his jaw and kisses. practically adorning his skin in your marks while your hands fisted the end of his shirt.

you'd both spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe off the marks with wet wipes, talking and laughing about how maybe the lipgloss should be left to you, only for seonwoo to get sulky about it, refusing the proposition entirely. he was going to put your lipgloss on. even if it only resulted in it coming off.

you didn't mind though. seonwoo knew that deep down you'd wake up the next day and do it all over again just to kiss him again. because that's exactly what he wants.

jungwon

jungwon is another one who doesn't really get it. he's just so caring and romantic that he revels in the simplicity of romance.

he likes that you're the first text he sees everyday, even when you're right next to him. or when you walk around in his clothes... hoodies, matching bracelets, and keychains. when he checked on you to make sure you had eaten and to see how you're day had been going. his favourite, however, was your random urge to poke his dimples. it always made him break out into a shy smile which you teased him for.

these simple things... they kept him going.

but then came the lipgloss his sister had gifted you for your birthday. you were a big fan of tinted lip balms, he knew that. he always pretended to gape at your drawer full of them because he knew you'd end up hitting him in the arm, annoyed by his teasing.

this lipgloss, however, was truly one of a kind. it was packed with some of the prettiest glitter jungwon had ever seen. to be honest, jungwon should've thanked his sister when he saw you first apply it the next day.

you were out having a picnic. everything was just right. the sun, the comforting breeze, and the warmth of your head resting on jungwon's lap, while music softly played from your phone.

as you were resting on jungwon's lap, eyes closed and absorbing the peaceful atmosphere, you suddenly remembered you had brought along his sister's present. jungwon, who was spending most of this tranquility staring at you and combing his hand through your hair, had a mini heart attack when you suddenly opened your eyes and were lunging towards your bag.

his sharps brows furrowed at your rummaging. "what are you looking for, baby?"

your tongue hung out of the corner of your mouth. "uh," you failed to respond, trying to find the tube that you apparently had misplaced so easily in your bag. "ah! got it!" you cheered, feeling the smooth tube enter your hand.

jungwon watched as you grabbed your phone as well and went back to laying on his lap. you slid your phone to the camera, turning it so it faced you. placing the butt of the lipgloss tube in your mouth, you expertly twisted out the applicator and moved the tube between your fingers to apply the product.

the whole scene was some sort of alluring contraption to jungwon. the dexterity of your fingers surprised him but nothing surprised him more than his sudden fixation on your lips. the way you applied the warmish red in thin sheer coats across your soft lips, letting the sun capture every single speckle of glitter in it.

you were radiating.

you checked yourself in your phone before putting it down. you looked up at jungwon's staring eyes and pursed your lips. "thoughts?"

jungwon remained silent for a second, internally contemplating. but, nevertheless, a sigh slipped out of his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours. the peck was momentary before he pulled back. "i think it's pretty."

a flush of heat travelled down your cheeks. "jungwon," you whined, jutting out your lip, only increasing his urge to kiss you again. "you took like half of it off."

jungwon grinned, dimples popping out, making you instinctively poke them with your finger. his lipgloss coated lips pressed a brief kiss on the side of your finger. "i also think i'm going to have to buy you some more lipglosses."

riki

an interesting sort of impatience.

from the moment you started wearing lipglosses or he watched you put on your lip balm, riki was fixated on the act. he always pretended like he didn't care because for him it was slightly embarrassing. to be affected by something so simple, that is.

he never tries to enforce you like some people might by putting lipglosses everywhere or buying you them specifically. riki liked when it happened naturally and every so often.

on the occasion, maybe you were getting ready or you were testing out a new colour, he'd watch you out of the corner of his eye. patiently waiting for you to apply. why? it was simple because he wanted to come off.

he couldn't really grasp it. there was just this sort of annoyance that you had when riki smudged the gloss so it escaped the confines of your lips... and riki adored your reaction to it.

you'd always get slightly heated. whining and purposely trying to move away from him so you could apply it in peace. only for him to follow you out, resulting in you being chased around the house.

that was what he was impatient for. that very specific intimacy between you two. as mentioned, he enjoyed the natural occurrence of it. he could never make it happen. it just happened. and when it did, it would set the mood for the rest of the day.

like today.

you were already cautious the moment you saw riki walk into the bathroom in your peripheral. riki would raise his arms in defence. "i'm just looking for my cologne," he'd say, "i put it somewhere here because jake was hounding me for some.

you narrowed your eyes, silently turning back to the mirror and returning to your application. riki was next to you, pretending to rummage through the bathroom drawers. you can't miss the way he slowly rises up from drawers, his eyes fixated on your lips through the mirror.

by the last swipe of your lipgloss, you can already feel and see riki leaning in to mess it up. "nope!" you said, immediately retracting yourself from the bathroom counter, rushing to walk out of the room.

riki was hot on your tail. "oh come on... i'm not doing anything. i just want to spend time with you. is that so bad?" he asked, amusement underlying his voice.

you turned to him, now walking backwards out into the living room. "yes. it is bad when you have that look in your eyes."

riki stepped towards you, eyebrows pulled together in a feigned confusion. "what look?"

"that one. like you're going to eat me or something," you pointed accusingly.

riki rested his hands on his hips, standing in front of you with a slight tilt to his head. he clicked his tongue. he spoke with a nonchalant tone. "because i am."

the moment you see him take a step forward, you're off. you fell into a maze, running around your furniture which riki just inches behind you. you made it to your bedroom, in fits of laughter by this point and about to shut the door on his face.

but you're just a bit too slow.

riki's hand stretched out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into him. you squirmed in his grip while he shifted the both of you to the bed with a soft thud.

"riki," you complained despite the wide smile etching on your face. your head fell to his chest, hair falling around your ears to cover your flushed skin.

a hum fell from his lips as riki's eyes flickered over your face, hand reaching out to push your hair behind your ears after he tilted your face back up. the action seized all the air around you. at least that's what you thought by the feel of your mouth drying.

"i got you," riki quietly teased, grinning at you.

you snapped out of your trance and rolled your eyes. you hit his chest playfully, a soft laugh following after. "let me go."

riki blinked at you, head leaning in towards you. you could feel his hot breath glide past your face. one would think your heart is in your ears by the sound of how loud it is. lips a mere millimetre away from yours, he whispered, "never."

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcannons

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 4 months ago

Note

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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