#how did you write a masterpiece like this??

[gaysforbyler]

The fics I write for shits and giggles are always the ones that do the best, and the ones I think people will like always flop. I’m wishing ill on my fic-in-progress because I genuinely think the concept is pretty cool. 🫳✨LIKE IT ✨

[notreallythatlost]

at first, i have one thing to say: MASTERPIECE

LILY, THIS ONE IS LITERALLY EVERYTHING TAKING ALL MY SANITY AWAY BECAUSE YOU WRITE SUB!SAURON SO FREAKING GOOD 🤍🤍

and i have so many thoughts:

Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.

i love the fact, that aulë courted her and that she was supposed to be with him

Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about

and denied him because of melkor

Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching.

he really IS a creep

He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.

THESE LINES AHHH

Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.

and how she should���ve stayed away 😭😭

You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.

MY GOD???

You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.

goosebumps, literally

When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you.

oh, to be that worshipped

Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless. 

i think, someone would’ve suffer more than he already did

“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.

“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.

HOT HOT HOT DAMN

Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.

oh damn, you bad girl

“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.

“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.

“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.

oh, holy-

“Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.

that must’ve hurt so bad 😭

“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.

He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.

A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out. 

AND ANOTHER ONE THAT LEFT ME TOTALLY BREATHLESS

But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.

i’m screaming, give it to me

oh my good lord, i’m speechless.

no, i mean really because i just loved it. and your writing, it gets me everytime. 🤍

i can’t wait to read the next part, can’t wait to see what you did with goo!sauron and our beloved halbrand

— HUMBLED (I)

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader

SUMMARY — Grown tired of living in your sister's shadow, you offered yourself to the one whom she had rejected once – Melkor. You regretted it quickly as he turned out to be a cruel lover and you became the very first subject of his twisted tortures meant to reshape one's spirit. In his eyes you were nothing by Varda's shadow but in the eyes of Mairon the Maia you have always been the only and the most holy goddess. When his master is gone, he can finally get close to you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I had two ideas for Sauron with Morgoth's ex and honestly? I will probably write one more because I like the other idea a lot, too. This fic is quite dark because of the nature of Reader's relationship with Morgoth. Not gonna lie, it was a challenge to write a Reader who is a literal Goddess but Sauron himself inspired me to explore this dynamic when he seemed to be so proud of the fact that it was a God himself torturing him... 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. In the next part there will be some goo/blob!Sauron + Halbrand and in this part our favourite ginger loser makes his comeback! 🦊 Apparently, I can't write him as a dom... 😂 Well, surely not with someone who is so much above him. Huge thanks to @dinsbeskar once more because we were brainstorming about this idea together. ⭐ Special thanks to @olchr-1 as well! 💚 PS – I haven't described how Morgoth looks like either but I imagine him as a tall, black haired hottie like on the fanarts. 💀😂 There is also a slight mention of the Reader being originally promised to Aulë, which was inspired by the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite.

WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), domestic abuse (with Morgoth), mentions of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,330

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

HUMBLED (I)

The very first thing you remembered was beholding your sister Varda being crowned one of the mightiest of the Valier and Queen of the Valar, Queen of the Stars, a beauty beyond the description of Men and Elves. So pure to reject Melkor and marry his brother Manwë instead – King of the Valar.

You followed your sister nearly everywhere, hoping to bask in her light but it never seemed to be enough to make you feel warm. You were greedy – at first, you were jealous of her husband and insisted on her spending more time with you than with him, striving for all of her affection. Once you realised that it was a lost cause, you began to detest Manwë.

You watched Varda situate the stars in the heavens above Arda as if they were jewels and you were the one setting them alight with the fire burning within you for they could lighten up the firmament. You were responsible for the treacherous element that the fire was – useful in many ways but also dangerous if not used correctly or with malicious intent.

Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.

Everyone, including your sister, was encouraging you to become his wife for his heart was of a noble kind. Your own heart remained unsure but you wished to marry as well instead of only watching Varda and Manwë sharing a bond you could only dream of. Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about.

It was Melkor that you were drawn to; Manwë’s powerful brother, the very same whom your sister had rejected once and he had grown to resent her. You were observing him often because he fascinated you and you probably were the only one amongst the Valar who understood him. You were outcasts, both of you, but you were better at hiding it.

He was sometimes observing you as well, from the corner of his eye. You could feel his gaze on you and you knew that he had to feel the same way you did – he could see the malice inside of your heart for his was the same.

Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching. Of course, he was there for your sister but still, some of his gazes were reserved for you only.

Therefore, on the eve of your wedding to Aulë, you forsake the light and seeked the shadow as you sneaked out of the palace you lived in and you found yourself knocking upon Melkor’s doors. There was no fear inside of you, only pure determination.

And you knew you could never replace your sister; your power was a mere shadow of hers. Yet, you offered yourself to Melkor on that night and he took you in, claimed you as his own and made you his bride. Before dawn, together, you fled from Arda for some time, leaving behind sorrow and dismay.

Your sister was most grieved by your betrayal. Alongside her, Aulë descended into a state of melancholy until Manwë mentioned to him the possibility of courting Yavanna instead and The Fruit-Giver became his wife – that union became one of harmony and love unlike the one you would have with The Smith.

You always fascinated Mairon the most – (Y/N), Mother of Flames, Aulë’s lost love. As his disciple, Mairon observed you humbly before and he knew his master’s heart enough to know that Aulë would always feel bitter towards you. Yavanna was his love match but she could not fuel the fire inside his forge and become the source of his creation.

What a source of inspiration you were for Mairon, though. The same way others worshipped Varda, Mairon worshipped you. Everytime he stared at the fire inside the forge, your image was all he could think of as the thought of you lingered in his mind constantly. You were long gone from Arda after eloping with Melkor but he hoped it was not yet over, that he would see you again. In the early days, when his spirit was still pure, he often fantasised about you being taken back by the Valar and forgiven by them, so he could build altars for you amongst the kins that would yet awake to inhabit Arda.

Some of his bolder daydreams were about another form of punishment for you – he would have you humbled in the name of redemption, bound to a lowly Maia. He meant himself, of course. He imagined the Mother of Flames becoming the source of his creation, fueling the fire within his forge and watching over his craft as his very own wife. He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.

And perhaps that blasphemous dreams of Mairon the Maia, bold in their insolence, would be a kinder fate for both of you and the whole Arda. Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.

In his greatness, he dwelt in solitude and his mind remained ungraspable for you. He would rarely let you inside to allow you to see the world the way he perceived it. Though he desired you, it was not as an equal, neither as companion nor as lover. And even in his desire, there was contempt, too, because as Varda’s sister you were a reminder of her rejection, which still lingered within your husband as a wound unhealed. And your beauty, your power, your holiness… They were nothing but pale echoes of your sister’s qualities; faint reflections of her no matter how hard you tried. And each one of your failures to meet Melkor’s towering expectations was met with your husband’s wrath.

None among his servants who would later know him as a cruel master ever dared to complain about his punishments in your presence because you were his first subject of torment, his earliest experiment in reshaping the will of another and they knew that you survived things they could barely think of. You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.

Alone in his presence you felt belittled and humbled. But by his side before others, you were exalted and invincible – cloaked in the might of his dominion – and that illusion of power became intoxicating. For allowing you to get sedated with such greatness was enough to worship him like he was Eru himself and out of all your offerings, he loved that devotion the most about you.

To be his wife was not easy – it was a torment and perhaps you were burdened with the most difficult fate out of all the Valar. Yet, it was what you had chosen willingly for yourself and you carried this responsibility with pride, trying not to think too much of the life you could have lived instead. You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.

When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you. You sometimes wondered if the Maia joined Melkor for him and his power or were you the real reason for his spirit’s betrayal. His devotion amused you but you offered him no kindness as his yearning for your favour was met with cold indifference. Even though he was desperate for more of it, he should know better and be grateful for your rejection. Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless. 

Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that Melkor could not sense Mairon’s admiration for you. Perhaps he thought of it as something innocent – something expected from his servants to feel towards his Queen. Perhaps he thought of it as silly and pathetic, unworthy of his attention, because he knew you would never humiliate yourself to betray him for a servant.

Or perhaps your husband cared about you even less than you suspected.

After Melkor’s defeat, you were hiding inside your fortress in the North from the wrath of the Valar. Your husband’s absence was welcomed by you with relief but also a huge emptiness within your soul. You had been his companion for ages and to be left alone now felt oddly wrong. Many of the creatures of darkness expected you to take the leadership but you stepped away instead, wishing for a calmer and more peaceful time at least. 

The power you had once craved now was something you dreaded. Your husband’s ways had drained you nearly completely, you were a shell of your old self. You wanted nothing but to crawl inside a hole and spend another eternity there, resting as a person unknown to the outside world. 

Mairon was the one who took all the responsibilities upon his shoulders and while committing to his duties, he would always emphasise he was fulfilling them in your name. Forever a servant he would remain. 

Now, without Melkor’s eyes observing him constantly, he gained more courage to bask in the remains of your corrupted light. You sensed his gaze on you wherever you would go.

Your wish, however, was to go much further away and Mairon knew about it, which was worrying him. He was trying his best – nearly desperately – to reunite your husband’s armies and dark creatures of the shadows, to become their leader and build a realm for you to rule over. To become worthy of you.

“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.

“You wish for an audience, Mairon? But is it not you preparing to get crowned very soon, my cunning spirit? Soon it shall be me asking for your audience,” you teased him and he looked up, his eyes filled with panic. Melkor would punish him for such schemes but you were not him and his influence was upon you no more. 

“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.

He swallowed thickly out of fear but his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but pure admiration. In Melkor’s eyes you had been Varda’s unworthy shadow. Perhaps no one had ever perceived you with such devotion as Mairon.

“I shall build you altars in my realm; in every village, every town, every city. And in the capital of my kingdom where I will reside, I shall build a temple where you can find your peace,” he breathed out. “Just, please, do not abandon me.”

Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.

“I must, Mairon. When you build your temple for me, though, then I might come back to reside there. But until then, we must part,” you insisted and walked away at the sight of his eyes getting wet.

“Will they ever follow me without you by my side?” He asked, unsurely.

“They will not. Not all of them. Can you not see that it is a cursed path, destined to become a failure, to follow Melkor’s steps?” You turned around to look at his face once more. “Run away with me, Mairon. Forsake this realm, forsake your schemes,” you proposed and he gasped, visibly contemplating his answer. But the sparkles faded away from his eyes very quickly.

“No,” he shook his head. “I must stay and heal Middle-earth. I cannot abandon its people because of my own selfish desire,” he resisted you as you chuckled at that.

“You are no god, then, Mairon. Gods do whatever they wish. Spirits like you were created to serve,” you teased, cruelly as you sat on your armchair and he moved uncomfortably, looking away, but he remained kneeling and humbled.

“Allow me to serve you then, Mother of Flames,” he dared to whisper, nearly inaudibly, his breath shaky and lips trembling.

You tilted your head, thinking about his words. You would leave this realm soon, perhaps forever. He surely deserved a little treat before your departure for all the worship and devotion he had been gifting you with. And you deserved to give in to desires of your flesh as well after all the treatment your husband had given you.

“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.

Mairon glanced up at you as if he could not believe the amount of humiliation you would put him through now. It was true that back in the day you had often contrasted with Melkor’s cruelty but now Melkor was no more and you had been taught the craft by the very master of it.

Perhaps his influence was still upon you and it would remain there forever. 

You waited with an eyebrow raised and Marion gave up eventually, crawling on the floor towards you. He might have been humiliated and embarrassed but his eagerness was obvious in the way his eyes sparkled at the sight of your legs getting closer and closer to him. And when he was nearly in front of them, you opened them slightly as he gasped and looked up at you with admiration. He could not believe the access you had just given him while you smirked at his obedience.

“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.

“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.

“Bold of you, mighty Maia, to speak of such matters,” you let out a laugh. “Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.

He cursed Eru himself for creating him as such a low spirit because this way he could never be worthy of you and to be able to walk by your side as your equal was all he had ever wanted.

“Let it be then… Anything to be close to you, my Lady,” he cooed. “Please, allow me to touch you,” he begged as he moved even closer to your legs.

“Proceed,” you nodded and watched him closely, observing his every movement, every gaze, which probably intimidated him even further but you could sense his desire to please you becoming too grand to care about anything else.

His hands wrapped around your ankles and moved up slowly, brushing your skin as the skirts of your dress pulled up, revealing your calves for him to admire. He had never seen them.

Well, perhaps he had. He had often sneaked up on you here and there and you had known about it but welcomed it with nothing but a chuckle as you had been pretending to be oblivious.

However, he had never been so close to them. To you. He crawled up even closer as he planted soft and devoted kisses to your exposed skin. You had never known kisses like these because Melkor had been mostly devouring you, tormenting you, using you. 

Mairon sighed and you felt a shiver go down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing the back of your knees. You slid lower on the armchair as your skirts pulled nearly all the way up, exposing your thighs to him. Your obedient servant gasped and looked up at you once more as if he was asking if that part of you was allowed for him, too.

“Have I told you to stop?” You challenged him and he nodded before burying his head between your soft thighs to kiss and lick them softly, breathing the sweet scent of your skin as if you were the holiness personified.

Wicked thought it was for you were the most corrupted and fallen out of the female Valar and yet you doubted any of them were worshipped with such eagerness as you were now.

“If we never left Valinor and I never followed Melkor,” you breathed out, caressing Mairon’s ginger hair and playing with the delicate strands of his hair between your fingers, “you would be my disciple and we would spend forever in the fields under the sun with you worshipping me, my sweet spirit,” you shared your fantasy with him and he whined at that as he moved his face further and deeper, his nose nudging your glistening cunt as he requested for your legs to open even wider.

“So impatient,” you pointed out and grabbed him by his throat to pull him away. You felt him swallow underneath your hand and then you forced him to look up by grabbing his chin. It was slightly wet already from your leaking cunt and you leaned in to give him a possessive, open-mouth kiss; to taste yourself on him as his eyes widened but he gave in immediately.

While granting him with a kiss he would never forget, you opened your legs further and further, giving him full access to the sweet nectar between your thighs and he whined into your mouth like a brat when he realised what you were doing. He laid his trembling hands on your thighs and moved the folds of your dress even further to the back, making sure your cunt was all exposed for him.

The cold air of the room caused your clit to twitch and swell before his thumb found it and brushed it. Now it was your time to moan into his mouth. You broke the kiss and pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in. Pleasure without pain was an experience brand new for your flesh and you had to steady yourself as he watched in awe.

“A-allow me…” Mairon pleaded and your eyes opened once more as you looked deep into his with a nod.

You laid back in the armchair and watched him with curiosity but also a hint of contempt to see a spirit so mighty humbled like this – perhaps you could understand Melkor more than you had ever expected to be able to but it was truly fascinating and pleasurable to humiliate other spirits. 

To be able to kiss and lick your cunt, to devour it – it was surely a life-changing experience for your sweet Mairon. His usually calm demeanour changed in an instant, reminding you of a hungry hound as he whined and whimpered, lapping on your juices as if it was the sweetest nectar granting him immortality. He was intoxicated as his hands squeezed your thighs to keep them open and allow him to feast eagerly. 

Your body of a goddess allowed you to go on without breaks; a peak after peak as you shivered and trembled, caressing his head and meeting his hazy, devoted gaze once in a while to let him know he was doing good. Your praise meant everything to him for all he had always known was your husband’s reprimands. 

Your flesh could go on and on but your mind of a goddess was a demanding one and soon you grew simply bored of his ministrations, therefore you pushed his head away and crossed your legs, taking away the access from him.

Mairon’s face was flushed, his eyes foggy and skin glistening from sweat and your juices dripping down his chin. He was kneeling and looking up at you mindlessly as if he would follow your every order now, no matter how self-destructive it would be.

“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.

“P-please,” he whimpered and you furrowed your brow before realising what he begged you for.

His own release.

“Was not your kin created to serve mine? I do not think our creator blessed you with such desires, Mairon. Do not be a dirty liar,” you teased him.

“Please, my Lady,” he whined, desperately.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, then, let me see for myself,” you smirked and pushed him down onto the floor before getting out of your armchair and straddling him like a predator would trap her prey before sinking her teeth into him.

He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.

Melkor’s brutality had been driven by his own whim. Yours would be driven by your revenge for all the centuries of being treated like his dog. Beaten dogs tended to bite deadly and Mairon knew.

“Do not fear me, sweet Mairon. I only want to see for myself if it is true that you have fallen and corrupted yourself so much with your devotion towards me that you have been gifted with desires of the flesh,” you smirked. “Or cursed with them,” you pointed out as your hands worked on his robes and the trousers underneath them swiftly and quickly.

You gasped and laughed when you saw how hard he was already after all those hours he had spent between your legs. He blushed even further and his cheeks were crimson red now like his clothes.

“This must hurt,” you pointed out with a sinister chuckle. “Is it the first time for you?” You asked, brushing his thighs with your fingernails, making him shiver under your touch but refusing to actually pay any attention to his hard and reddened cock with its tip swollen and twitching, leaking precum.

“No,” he confessed, nearly inaudibly.

“Interesting,” you hummed to yourself and leaned in, your face so close to his that your noses brushed. “And what were you doing usually when it happened?”

“Nothing,” Mairon confessed, his face wincing out of shame. “Nothing, my Lady. I would never… I would never dare to…” He gasped after every word, so sweetly desperate and frustrated but not brave enough to ask you to do anything in particular. He would never order you around.

“Oh, my sweet, poor Mairon… You should have come to me each time and I would have helped you,” you grinned at him although you both knew it was not true. None of you would have ever dared to commit such an act behind Melkor’s back. “Do you want me to ease you now?” You asked.

“P-please…”

You reached towards his twitching cock and grabbed his wet length as you watched with cold fascination while he struggled and writhed underneath you. A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out. 

His body of a Maia did not need breaks but there was always a limit to how much seed any male flesh could produce. And when you felt he could absolutely do no more, you stopped and watched him catch his breath as you giggled, laying on top of him and intertwining your legs. One of your hands kept caressing his sore and softening cock gently as your other hand pulled his head closer to your chest, burying his face between your breasts and caressing his ginger hair strands.

“Please, do not go… I will be so lost without you,” Mairon looked up to meet your gaze and you smiled sadly at that.

“Do not start again,” you scolded him.

“Can you at least stay for the coronation?” He pleaded but you shook your head.

“No. I must leave tonight, as soon as possible,” you leaned in to kiss his forehead and a short while of silence occurred.

It surprised you greatly but some part of you began craving to take care of him now. As if the sinful act you had just performed with him, which stained you in a way – because what else would you call lowering yourself to pleasing a Maia? – as if it had forged an attachment between you two and bound you to him indeed like he had blasphemously suggested before.

You definitely had to leave and hide from the Valar, seek your own peace of mind. But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.

MASTERLIST

[tasteless-lemonade]

where is that post about how bad people can make good art because i just watched dark knight returns

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

eyes on the prize

a/n: me writing a fic where rafe is actually wholesome and nice? i didn't see it coming either... this idea just came to me when you were all voting for the kinktober fic a while ago, and i was prepping that it maybe could go in this direction and then ended up falling too much in love with the fantasy, so i simply had to get it out of my system.

summary: “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

warnings: mma!rafe cameron x reader, smut, college au, study buddies to lovers, soft!rafe, autumnal vibes, takes place in the beginning of november, studying, friday the 13th references, scaredy cat!reader, violence, mma fights, kissing, semi-public sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, manhandling, ripping pantyhose, size kink, spit kink, hole inspection, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 2626

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“So,” you hesitantly broke the silence that had fallen over both you and the partner that had been assigned to you on this current project, “did you get up to anything fun on Halloween?” 

Glancing up from the thick book Rafe’s bored gaze was rushing through, it instead lingered on you for but a moment as his mutter reverberated in the quiet corner of the university’s library, “uhm, yeah. I popped by a party for a bit.” 

“The one at delta neu?” a glint flickered in your eye as soon as he offered you a nod, “me too! Though I went home kinda early, so we might have missed each other… what did you going as?” 

“Jason,” he simply uttered. 

“Jason who?” the soft smile didn’t fade from your lips as his short answer hadn’t landed the way he’d hoped. 

“You know,” his brows furrowed slightly at your cluelessness, repeating once again as if the name alone should be enough for you to understand, “Jason.” 

“…Jason Statham? Jason Momoa?” your eyes squinted as you quietly attempted to hit the bullseye, “uhm… I can’t really think of any other famous Jasons right now…” 

“No, Jason from Friday the 13th. You know, the dude with the hockey mask and the machete.” 

“Ah, him… yeah, I haven’t watched those movies,” you shrugged, “but, cool costume.” 

“Wait, you’ve never seen Friday the 13th?” he tilted closer to where you sat across the table from him, “not even the cheesy remake?” 

“Nope,” you simply returned your gaze to the textbook beneath your fingers.  

“Seriously?” his eyebrows didn’t float back down yet, “well, I don’t know if I should be offended that you’ve never watched that masterpiece before or jealous that you get to experience it for the first time, but either way, that’s a problem we need to fix.” 

At first, you thought you’d entered the wrong building. 

That was until you rounded the corner, and your gaze fluttered up from the map still open on your phone, guiding you to the mysterious address your study partner had texted you, asking you to meet up with him there before the rest of your plans could unfold, that you discovered that you hadn’t stumbled into the wrong place. 

Though that wasn’t the only thing you discovered in that moment as the culmination of that enlightenment was spotting Rafe in the middle of the industrial and cold gym, going through the tail end of some drills with his trainer. 

As he went through the combinations and grunted like a guard dog, sweat dripped down from his brow and rolled so low that it cascaded over his already glistening and bare chest. 

You hadn’t really noticed how your feet had stopped or how your pulse had picked up so fiercely that you could feel it between your thighs before his own eyes located you and he flashed you a smile.

“Hey!” his voice cut through your trance as he patted his coach on the shoulder and began to near the edge of the ring. 

“H-hi,” you blinked, shaking your fuzzy head slightly to clear it, “I didn’t know you were into this sort of stuff,” you briefly waved a hand to the gym around you and tried your best to rip your stare away from his heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” he began to loosen a glove, “sorry I asked you to meet me here, I’m just really busy these days cause I’ve got a fight coming up.” 

“Oh, well we don’t have to have a silly movie night if you don’t have the time,” you averted your gaze, recalling how before you’d been paired with him on the assignment for Callahan’s class, you hadn’t even been sure of what his name was. You’d just known him as the hot guy, three rows behind you. 

“No, no, I want to, unless of course you’ve changed your mind.”

Blinking back up into his eyes, you smiled, “definitely not.”

“Well, great,” a grin spread across his lips, “then just give me a second,” he cast a brief glance over his broad shoulder at the locker room, “and then we can head back to my place,” a notion you hadn’t expected would have ended with you up on the back of his motorcycle, a terrifying concept that you’d somehow been unable to deny as the crush that had blossomed and bloomed within your heart for him had made it near impossible for you to say no to a single one of his suggestions. 

“You never told me what you went as,” Rafe hummed beside you, causing your eyes to tear away from the horror movie buzzing on the TV.

Blinking over at him next to you on the leather couch, your fingers began to fiddle with the blanket you’d slumped over yourself, “oh, well I didn’t wanna buy anything new, so I just went through my closet and ended up going as Britney Spears because I found the skirt of my old school uniform. I don’t even remember why I brought it with me the last time I went home, but–, ah!” a shriek suddenly shuttered through your form as your eyes accidentally fluttered back towards the screen just in time to witness the villain sink a large blade into the head of one of the drunk teenagers, “oh my god!” your frame couldn’t help but jump at the fright, nearly tossing the blanket across the room as you instinctively hid your features in the mass of Rafe’s bicep. 

As your heart raced and thumped in your chest, you felt Rafe’s shoulder begin to move before you heard his laughter. 

“Shut up, it’s not funny!” you smacked him lightly in the chest, though kept your vision darkened by his shirt, “so I’m not desensitised to the horrors of scary movies, big whoop!” a mutter then slipped out of your lungs, “fuck, why did I agree to this? I’m probably gonna have nightmares for weeks…”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” you felt his palm find your arm in a soothing rub as his voice hummed directly above the crown of your head, “and the scene is almost over.” 

“I can’t look…” you felt yourself lean more into his touch. 

“…do you want me to describe it to you?” 

“No…” you lingered in the security of his warmth and felt the terror slowly melt from your bones. Cupping a hand on the side of your face to shield your eyes from the horrors on screen, you carefully plucked your face just shy out of his safety before you uttered, “…just tell me when it’s over…” 

The blaring light from the television reflected against the side of Rafe’s face as he gazed down into your eyes and breathed, “okay,” his stare slowly dipping and fluttering down towards your lips. 

It wasn’t till now that you noticed how close you’d accidentally scooted to him as you weren’t far from just sitting in his lap. 

Sharing his breath, your mind went entirely blank and only switched back on when you’d closed the distance betwixt your lips and now found yourself kissing your study buddy. 

Thankfully, your brain didn’t get a chance to begin spiralling as it only took Rafe half a second to reciprocate the sudden move and kiss you back. 

His strong hands found the small of your waist buried beneath the woollen blanket before he began to drag you closer, pulling you so near that you actually did wind up sitting in his lap, your fingers fluttering against his buzzcut as his own scooped down over the curve of your ass. 

When the movie gently humming from behind you was long forgotten and your soul instead had drifted straight to heaven, you felt Rafe tilt his head back to breathlessly utter, “come watch my fight…” his forehead still pressed against your own. 

Scarcely picking up on the words behind his honied hum, you breathed, “what?” 

Reeling back just enough for his eye to catch your own dazed pair, he said, “in a week, when we’ve turned in the assignment, and everything is over, I want you to come watch me fight… watch me win…” a cocky smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he awaited your answer.

You’d never seen a fight in real life before. 

Not boxing, not mixed martial arts as this was, not even a juvenile one in a schoolyard. 

At one point, when you thought all hope seemed lost, when Rafe got pinned by his opponent and blood was trickling down from the cut at his brow so clearly that you could make it out from the second row seat you found yourself planted in, he somehow managed to turn the tides and capture the boulder of a man in a lock so fierce it made them nearly melt into one pretzel-like being. 

As he flexed his arm around the other’s throat with the rest of his limbs restricting him as well and rendering an escape near impossible, Rafe’s eyes then flickered up to catch your wide ones in the crowd. A grin appeared on his features as he held your stare a moment longer, watching as you shyly began to mirror his smile, before he tightened his hold and squeezed till the opponent opted not to bruise his pride and tap out, instead going limp in the grasp. 

Once the trophy was in his gloved hand and he’d leapt out of the ring, on his way back towards the locker room, he zigzagged through the cheering crowd and caught onto your arm, dragging you with him as he exited the buzzing hall. 

“That was insane,” you heard yourself babble as he pulled you through the corridors down towards the backroom he’d been in prior to the fight, “I mean, I know I went into it kinda blind, but I had no idea it would be like that,” adrenaline still rushed through your veins as he tugged you over the threshold and closed the door behind you, swiftly dropping his trophy to one of the long benches, “sure, it was as insane as I probably imagined, but the way that you moved, the way you slipped in and out like you were made of water or something, I mean, that was beautiful–,” the fighter then suddenly cut your rambling short as he yanked you to his sweaty form and pressed his lips to your own. However, as his feet shuffled and your spine collided with the back of the door to the small locker room, your fingers fluttered over countless of the spots where he’d been hit, causing you to jerk back and ask, “wait, shouldn’t you have someone check you out?” your eyes flickered from the cut splitting his brow to the various fresh bruises already beginning to blossom and reveal their true colours, “are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” he tried to lean back in to capture your lips once more, though you tilted away just in time for him to miss. 

“You sure? Because–”

But your words were quickly snuffed out as his hands then flew up to grasp the sides of your face to force you to notice the glint in his eye and the desire dripping in his tone, “just shut up and kiss me,” he commanded before he practically devoured you whole. 

As Rafe’s tongue danced against your own and made you feel dizzy in his tight embrace, his fingers then blindly fumbled for the lock and twisted it with a click that harmonised with the throbbing that had appeared between your thighs as soon as the fight had commenced. 

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest and melted into your mouth as he then plucked you off of the ground and lifted you into his arms. Broad palms spreading wide below your bottom, he brought you as close as possible, causing the skirt you wore to ride up and crumble at your hips. The thin barrier of your pantyhose and the underwear beneath nearly incinerated from the heat that sparked as his hips greedily rocked against your covered core, lending you to feel just how hard he was in his shorts. 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned between pecks, his fingers digging into your softness.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating your victory or something?” a light giggle bubbled out of you. 

“I thought that was what I was doing,” he smirked before dropping you back down onto the ground, making you gasp at his sharp movements as he suddenly spun you around to face the closed door, “unless you have a better idea of how we could celebrate,” he nipped at your neck, making your eyes flutter. 

“I–…” your teeth briefly captured your bottom lip as his front pressed against your back, and your spine instinctively arched back into him, “no, yeah, this one’s g-good…”

“Good,” he murmured in your ear before his fingers found your pantyhose in a pinch and ripped a big hole in them, nearly splitting them in two as he exposed your underwear, “do you want it?” he gripped your hips and titled them for his hard-on to perfectly nudge against the soaked cotton. 

“Y-yes,” you panted, even just that one word haven been a struggle to utter through the fog he’d cast you into. 

“How bad?” 

“So bad–, Rafe, please,” he made you squeak desperately, “I just–, please…”

Cheek smooshed against the door, you glanced over your shoulder and watched as he then kneeled down behind you. Both hands still firmly planted on your hips, keeping you in place for him, they only strayed for a moment in order to shove your skirt the rest of the way up and letting him see the wet spot decorating your panties. 

“Oh, shit…” he groaned as he tugged the gusset of your underwear all the way to the side, a string of your glossy want clung to the fabric till it snapped back against your aching core. Nearly salivating as he inspected your holes, his fingers dented your ass as he pulled you apart, splitting you open that much further and watching intently at the way your drooling cunt throbbed in anticipation for his touch. 

As if your pussy’s embarrassingly leaky state wasn’t enough, a dollop of his spit then roughly landed upon your folds, the lewdness causing you to let out a moan as he swiftly rose back up to his full height without as much as a tickle to your tingly petals.

The next thing you knew, the adrenaline coursing through you both drove Rafe to free his length from its confines and, without as much as another kiss, slammed inside of your weeping pussy in one fell motion. 

Balls nuzzled tightly against you, the very tip of him nudged against a part so deep inside of you that it made you lose your breath as he took a moment to savour the sensation, freezing up within you and huffing against your cheek as you gasped for air through your whimpers. 

“Oh my god!” one of your hands curled back to crawl at his waist, “Rafe!” 

“Now,” his hips slowly drew back, dragging his fat girth back out of you and letting you feel every little detail of him, “you just gotta be a good girl, stand right here for me,” only the bulbous head of his cock remained, keeping you plugged up as he purred in your ear, “and take it like the perfect little prize you are,” he then buried himself once more with such vigour that his heavy sack tapped sloppily against your puffy clit, “can you do that for me? Will you be my reward?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[chxncinth]

SPARKY THIS WAS SO GOOD???? I SWEAR THIS IS IN THE TOP 10 BEST THINGS I’VE EVER READ ON THIS APP. I LOVE YOU 🫶🏽

♡ A Good Bad Day ♡

Author's note: thank you for 1.5k followers! This is a reupload with edits of one my most favourite fics I've ever written. It was written around the time Chan replied to the person who asked him to pin them to the wall to say "please" and the whole fandom went feral. I only incorporated that part at the end because I was already done with the fic for my lovely ♡ chanonie ♡ from my other blog, who is now my dear friend. Enjoy ♡

Characters: Chan x Y/N

Warnings: smut, minors dni. Unprotected sex, mentions of being anxious and upset, Chan consoling y/n, mentions of loving and leaving scents, dirty talk, pet names: princess, baby, pussy eating, fingering, and a healthy appreciation of Chris' big nose. Lots of praising. Lots. Of. Praising.

All the people in your life are busy. To be fair, you are too, but the thought of burdening someone with your problems makes you grimace in annoyance with yourself. Especially at the thought of sharing your problems with your boyfriend, the certified-by-all-and-himself as the busiest individual in JYP. 

You’ve just had the lousiest day. First, it was when you forgot to turn on the charger, so your phone’s basically dead. And then of course you were late for class because alarms don’t work on dead phones, which in turn resulted in your professor making you answer all his questions throughout as compensation. You consider it public humiliation, especially because the introvert in you just hate having to talk in front of crowds and not to mention, his questions were fucking hard – you only got 1 correct out of the 7 questions he made you answer. 

Oh, one would think that’s the end of a lousy day but no, no, no. Once classes end, you finally check your social media only to be greeted with rumours of your very friendly boyfriend allegedly in a relationship with a very pretty and basically perfect female idol; hint: his best friend Sana. All because you lent her a hoodie that you forgot your boyfriend bought as a matching set for the both of you. 

Stupid y/n. Now you’re not only having a bad day but the PR team for Stray Kids and Twice, and not to mention Stray Kids and Twice themselves would probably be too. Good job, stupid brain. Way to go! 

If only you could be like Joey in his Dr. Drake Ramoray character and have a fucking brain transplant… how nice would that be? 

Because now you’re just stuck with this current brain that’s just so anxious, waiting for your boyfriend to come home, so you could apologise even when he reassured you multiple times that the little hoodie slip up happens and it’s not really a big issue because they have the best PR team when it comes to dating scandals. 

So, you do the only thing you can do, which is sit in front of the stand fan, on the floor and just watch the blades go round and round, round and round, round and round. Somehow this is the most therapeutic thing you can do right now, and if it doesn’t work, you’ll go and stare at the ten lava lamps Chan bought for you all because you mentioned to him that you like to see pretty jello-like lights. 

You really don’t know how you managed to snatch this man from every woman in this universe. But as much as you think you don’t deserve him, you’re one selfish girl who would never let him go. You would never in your right mind let this man go. Because no matter how much you mess up or how  much he does, he would always find a way to make it work. 

His understanding, although sometimes very anxious, nature is what makes the both of you work. And you want to always make it work. 

But your mind today is just filled with disappointment in yourself that you are even considering ending the relationship because Chan would be better without you, right? 

You're deep in your negative thoughts, the fan just becoming a prop in your mind rather than the distraction you badly needed. 

“The wheels in your head are moving just as fast as those blades, princess.” 

Chan’s voice startles you, making you jump in your sitting position, head nearly hitting the fan if it were not for Chan’s fast reflexes. He has a protective hand on your forehead, keeping you in place as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head. 

He plops himself onto the floor, legs spread in between you so that he could trap you in his embrace. 

“Chris,” you say, wanting to greet him properly but you can feel the heat of incoming tears coming up to your face, so you only trust yourself to say his name. 

“Hi, y/n, my pretty princess,” he says, and you can feel the smile in his words. Chan props his chin on your right shoulder, nose playfully nudging and rubbing your cheek. 

You whine, not feeling so pretty at the moment, especially not mentally. “I’m sorry, Chan,” you corak out, voice shaky, turning your head to look at your boyfriend who now has a worried look on his face. 

“I told you, baby. Everything’s okay. Especially because it’s not true. I’m not dating Sana, my best friend. I am dating y/n, the prettiest princess, my soulmate and my little hoodie stealer,” he reassures you, making you giggle a little at his last statement. 

“I didn’t mean to give her the hoodie,” you pout. “We were hanging out here and she was cold and I didn’t have other clean ones, so I gave it to her. I forgot how fans can be detectives, I should’ve been more careful,” you try to explain your side, wanting Chan to know that you really didn’t mean to cause such issues. 

“I know, pretty princess. I figured as much. But everything’s okay. It’s been taken care of,” he tells you, hand now wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t worry, you trust your Channie, right? So, believe me when I say everything’s okay.” 

You nod timidly, your boyfriend’s reassuring words finally allow yourself to melt into his hold. 

“How long have you been on the floor, baby? Isn’t it cold?” Chan asks, voice laced with concern. With not much effort on his part, he slips an arm under your butt and with his other hand on your waist, he pulls you up from the floor for a brief moment as he crosses his legs and then softly places you on his lap, earning a surprised shriek from you. 

“Channie, you surprised me,” you him, pinching the non-existent fat on his arm. 

“Mmm, you love it,” the man chuckles, burying his head on the crook of your neck. “How’s your day, baby?” Chan asks like the best boyfriend that he is. 

You sigh, not knowing if you should really tell him or not. You know Chan appreciates honesty but wouldn’t push you if you didn’t want to talk about things. But his soft touch, rubbing softly on the side of your waist makes you want something else rather than talking. 

You haven’t had much alone time with him in a while. He’s been really busy, with the new album promotions and the preparations for the world tour. Chan does try to go to your apartment every night, except for when practice ends too late or when his creative juices either help him or mess with him in the studio. 

But times like this, you and him, sitting close together, being literally glued to the hip – this is rare. And you miss it. You miss him. 

“I missed you, Christopher,” you say in a whisper, neck turning to rest your forehead on his. You can see him smiling at your confession. 

“I missed you too, my princess. So so much,” he replies, his big palm resting on the side of your face, caressing softly. “How’s your day been, pretty girl?” he asks, knowing too well that it hasn’t been the best for you. You only post photos of the sky when you’re upset, despite your captions sounding cheerful and only praising how beautiful the sky looks. 

You sigh at his question. You should be the one asking him. Compared to yours, his life is pretty much a million times more hectic, more deserving of attention. 

“It’s been okay. Just not thrilled about causing a dating scandal between you and Sana,” you tell him, choosing to avoid talking about the other things that happened, which now you find miniscule in the presence of your boyfriend. 

“I told you, pretty girl. It’s okay. It’ll die down. It happens,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your nose. 

“I’m sorry, Channie,” you apologise once again, to which he makes a soft shushing sound, peppering more kisses on the side of your face. “How about you? How has your day been?” you ask. 

Chan does a little tsk sound at your question. “We always talk about me. I wanna know about your day. You know I love hearing your experiences just as much as you love hearing mine.”

“But it’s the same thing everyday for me.”

“Yet you always want to hear about what happens at the routine dance practices and vocal lessons.”

“They’re exciting!”

“Your classes and your thesis preparation presentations are exciting to me!” 

You whine at his reply. This cheeky man always knows how to get what he wants. 

“Well, today isn’t as exciting. Ready to hear it?” you huff, still feeling silly because you just know you would start crying when you tell him about your day. 

“Always ready for my princess,” he chuckles, giving you a slight nod. 

You take a deep breath, wanting to prepare yourself. You place the tip of your tongue on the roof of your mouth as preparation, in case you start tearing up. 

“Well, I forgot to turn on the power outlet for my charger, so my alarm.. It didn’t work.. And when I got to class, everyone stared, then my professor.. He.. he made me answer a lot of questions, but I can’t-” you tell him but your voice cracks when you try to tell him about the incident in class. 

You hate feeling stupid. You hate when you’re seen as stupid, especially in front of people. The anxious and humiliated feeling you felt when you couldn’t answer questions in front of a full lecture hall comes dawning back to you, and you can’t stop the tears from flowing. 

Chan panics a little at this. She must have had a really rough day, he thinks to himself. But this is good. Chan has always had to coax it out of you because you would always make sure he gets engrossed in telling you about his day. He’s glad you managed to tell him without much coaxing today, making him feel trusted. 

“Oh, princess. Slowly, slowly. You can do this,” he tells you, wanting you to finish your sentence. 

You take a deep breath, but the sobs won’t stop, so you just turn your body and straddle your boyfriend, wanting to just cling onto him and bury your face on his shoulder so he wouldn’t need to see your face. 

“My pretty princess, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he tells you, hands now on your hips as you straddle him, knowing how you need to be in his hold rather than have him try to make you talk. 

You continue sobbing, no longer feeling the need to suppress your emotions because you know Chan’s there with you. He’s there with you no matter how silly you think you’re being. 

So you sit there, on his lap, both on the floor as he rubs your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

If you thought you were being silly for having these thoughts, you feel even sillier for thinking your boyfriend wouldn’t understand. 

Chan’s your safe space, just as you are his. 

♡♡♡♡♡

“There you go,” Chan says in a cheerful voice after he helps you wash your face. “My pretty girl, let me help put on your moisturizer,” he says in a sing-song voice, making you giggle. 

You don’t say no to that, somehow the feeling of wanting to be pampered is just too strong for you to push away. Not to mention how the little splashes of water has made Chan’s shirt cling onto his chiseled body makes you pray a little, so that he would want to initiate some intimacy today in the bedroom because you’re too shy to ask. 

“Got it,” Chan announces, jogging his way back to the bathroom after taking the moisturizer that you put in your school bag. His eyes are fixed on your smaller frame, looking so pretty in his shirt and that little pair of shorts that is covered by how big his shirt is on you. 

“Got it,” you repeat his words for no reason, reaching out your hand to get the moisturizer but he pulls away from you. 

“Nope, your boyfriend is going to put it on you,” he says, smiling. You giggle at his cuteness but agree anyway. 

“Okay but you need to be really thorough, need to massage the moisturizer properly, so it absorbs into my skin,” you tell him, redoing your tied up hair that’s getting loose. 

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he tells you but you know Chan’s also thinking about something else, something that’s not about applying the moisturizer on your face. 

You look at him, waiting, wanting to see how this pans out. But when Chan shakes his head a little, as if to break himself free from his thoughts, you frown a little. Luckily, Chan’s fast enough to catch it. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, secretly hoping you would say something that would eventually lead him to at least eating you out. But he doesn’t want to push it. He knows you’ve had a bad day and just really wants to make sure you’re comfortable and happy. 

“Nothing,” you tell him in a whisper, turning to the mirror and turning on the faucet to wash your hands even when it’s basically clean from the wash you just did not even 5 minutes ago. 

“Be honest with me, baby,” he tells you, engulfing you in a back hug. He feels a little guilty for being turned on at how much smaller you are compared to him but he can’t help it. He misses you. He misses getting to touch you. 

You just shake your head, not wanting him to hear your thoughts. It’s enough embarrassment for today. You’ve been honest with him about the rough day you had, you can save your dirty thoughts for another day. 

But what stuns you a little is when you feel something hard pressing against your backside. 

Chan’s hard. Chan’s hard. Chan’s hard and you’re very happy to know that. 

“How about you be honest on what’s happening in your pants there, Mr. Bang?” you tease him, giggling at your own sudden change of behaviour. He must really like seeing you in his shirt. 

Chan chuckles, pinching your side, making you yelp. “What’s wrong with the happenings in my pants, Miss y/l/n? I don’t suppose you want to check it out - or do you?” he teases, making your face flush. You can never get the upper hand with this man. He just knows how to make you putty in his hands. And the hardness pressing against your ass is not helping your case. 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything, baby. I’m happy to get to spend time with you. And make you feel happy from your long day,” he tells you softly, detaching his lower side from yours but it only earns him a whine. 

Chan raises an eyebrow, smiling at how cute you’re being. 

“Or I can also make you happy… in other ways,” he cautiously adds, wanting to give you the other option that he, too, craves. 

You make eye contact with him in the mirror and your little nod, accompanied with a breathy and needy sounding “Yes, Chris,” is all Chan needs to hear before he leads you to the bed, moisturizer forgotten on the sink. 

You’ll have to wash up again after this anyway, so why bother, right?

♡♡♡♡♡

Chan has you sit on the edge of the bed, legs spread with your shorts already off, leaving you in his shirt and your white lacy panties. 

“Such a beautiful princess,” he praises you, on his knees, eyes raking your clothed body. God, he’s just so in love with you. And the contrast of his black shirt with your white panties just makes his cock throb with need to rip the clothes off of your body. 

But not yet. He wants to try something out with you tonight. 

“Tell me, princess. What do you want me to do?” he asks, knowing how shy you get. And you just whine at his instruction, making him chuckle. 

“Too shy? But look at you, already wet, soaking through the pretty panties you wore for me as an apology for giving someone the hoodie I bought for us,” he teases, pressing his forefinger onto the wet spot, making you squirm. 

“Channie,” you whine and moan out his name, feeling sensitive. You don’t really touch yourself, not being able to cum without having Chan tell you what to do. And him touching you just a little bit like this drives you crazy. 

“I’m here, baby. Just have to tell me what you need,” he tells you, tone soft and levelled, different from how needy you are. “You can do it, baby. My lovely princess can tell me what she needs, can’t she?” 

You try to nod, breath stuck at your throat. His finger feels so good pressing onto your clothed pussy, your mind getting fuzzy at how hot your body feels, wanting nothing but for your boyfriend to fuck your worries away. 

“Then tell me, princess. Only good little girls get treats, and I know you’re the best girl there is, the only girl for me,” he praises again, knowing how much you like it, and how much he himself loves it. You moan at the praise, feeling good at the thought of being the best girl for Chan, the only girl for him.

“You, want you,” you tell him, trying to spread your legs wider for him to get the hint, not that he doesn’t. 

“Pretty princess wants me? Hmm, maybe you want me here,” he says, touching your hand, “or here,” your thigh, “or here,” your lower lips.

“Anywhere, anywhere,” you tell him, desperate. You know so well he’s just teasing you because he knows it gets you so wet. And it’s apparent how this little chasing game of his is affecting you because you physically feel yourself getting wetter, your natural lubricant flowing in such a generous amount that you know Chan would have no problems impaling your needy hole with his thick cock. 

“Anywhere? I’m guessing my pretty princess also wants me here,” he says, fingers teasingly drumming over your clothed cunt. “Look at you, so pretty like this. I almost can’t get mad at how you let someone else wear the hoodie I bought for you,” he teases, earning another whine from you. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, small fingers raking through his curly locks, the fading blue only means he would be keeping his little promise to you of dyeing his hair black – a promise he made when you let him cum on your face and let him lick your face clean, which is totally worth it. 

“Mmm, I sleep in all the hoodies I give you because I know my princess likes to smell me. Why do you think they’re all a little stretched out?” Chan chuckles, knowing that he purposely keeps this information to himself just because he feels good doing these little things to make you happy without you knowing. But he thinks it’s time for you to know that because he only wants you to wear the clothes he specifically stretched out and make smell like himself. 

The revelation makes you whine in protest, wanting to call Sana right away so she would never use the hoodie again until the day she gives it back to you. 

“Jerked off in the new one I gave you too, so don’t give that one away to anyone,” he tells you, swiping your panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt to him. “Oh my pretty princess. My pretty little princess with the prettiest pussy.” 

“Fuck, Chris, please,” you moan, mind filled with the thought of your boyfriend wearing the small hoodie that must have been really tight on his body, jerking off to the thought of you. Your man is full of surprises, and the dirty ones just make their way to your heart and cunt at the same time. 

“Look at you, all wet for me. So soft too,” Chan groans, giving an experimental swipe on your pussy lips, making you tug on his curly locks harder. 

“Chris!” you moan, feeling yourself getting so needy that you can just pull this man’s face and bury it in your cunt. 

“Patience, princess. Gotta admire this perfect pussy first, don’t I? Haven’t touched your princess parts for a while now, need to test if you still remember me,” he gives you a sly smile before snapping your panties back in place. 

“No, no, please,” you beg, not wanting Chan to leave you like this but the man just chuckles at your reaction. 

“Oh my sweet baby, I’m here. Channie’s here. Just need to take off your panties, yeah?” he smiles, getting up to give you a sweet kiss on the lips to calm you down. You melt into it, his lips moving against yours does indeed calm you down, making it really easy for Chan to take off your panties. 

“There we go,” Chan says, smiling against your lips as you feel his fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. 

“Let’s appreciate how wet you are before I lick it all up,” he tells you, crouching back down so he’s face to face with your cunt. “Fuck,” you hear him curse, making you shiver at how low his voice is and how you can feel his breath on your pussy. 

“Won’t you look at that, what a pretty pussy. You’re getting wetter, baby, look at you leaking on the sheets,” he teases and praises at the same time, making you whimper in shyness. 

“Don’t be shy, love. You just need to let me lick you up and then make you cum, so that you’ll be even wetter for my cock,” Chan says, eyes looking into yours. 

You nod, giving him a definite “Yes, please,” and Chan is not Chan if he doesn’t dive into your cunt like an eager puppy. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, Chris!” you moan, your elbows giving up on you when Chan starts licking, making you lay flat on your back, hand fisting the sheets as you let your boyfriend eat you out. 

Chan’s amazing with his tongue, as he is with everything else. But his tongue plus his nose nudging your clit just makes being eaten out a heavenly experience you can never say no to. And the fact that your boyfriend just loves slurping up your juices makes you feel like a real princess who’s being served on a platter for the hungry prince. 

Slurping sounds fill the room, Chan’s tongue licking you up nothing short of a man starved, every lick resulting in him trying to reach deeper into your hole, his only aim is to make you feel good. 

And God, you feel really good. 

The way he’s fucking his toungue into you, the way his nose rubs against your clit and sometimes when he’s being too eager, he gets messy and accidentally has his nose buried into your hole but it all feels fucking good that your whole body shakes. No more teasing Chan, this is just full blown hungry Chan who wants nothing but to pleasure his woman. 

Chan has his palms spreading you open because he knows his little princess gets so squirmy when he has his head down between her thighs, always trying to squeeze his head. He usually doesn’t mind it because his little princess is not that strong to crush his head – and to be honest he likes the dizziness that comes after being free of her thighs sandwiching his head, an euphoric feeling that not many enjoy – but he doesn’t want his ears to be blocked because that means he wouldn’t be able to hear your moans clearly. 

“Chris, oh, Chris, you’re so- so good!” 

“Oh God, ngh, I- Chan, Chris-!” 

“Ah, ah, ah Chan- fuck, you’re- God!” 

He loves hearing you all fucked out, not being able to even form coherent sentences because of how much you love him going down on you. Chan might be insecure about his big nose but he definitely knows how to make use of it when he’s licking your pussy clean. 

Chan pulls his face away and if you were looking at him right now, you would see your juices messy on his cheeks and chin, shining under the dim neon lights you bought to match Chan’s. But you weren’t because you couldn’t keep your head upright, couldn’t even force yourself to keep watching Chan giving you the head of your life because it feels too good, you nearly pass out from the pleasure. 

“Pretty princess, look at me,” Chan says and you open your eyes slowly, greeted with the sight of Chan who already has his shirt off. What a nice surprise. 

“You did so well, baby. So, so well. Letting me eat you out and giving me your sweet juices. You’re such a good princess,” he praises, making you pull your legs together to have some stimulation on your cunt. 

“I'm good princess," you breathe out, trying to catch your breath from Chan's heavenly tongue. 

Chan smiles as he looks at you, already fucked out without even having his cock. Oh how cuter and prettier would you be when he finally lets you enjoy his cock, lets you take his cock like the pillow princess that he loves. 

"You are. Such a good princess. The best princess," he coos at you, making you purr in delight.

“Doing so good for me. No more thinking you’re stupid, okay? You’re the smartest, most hardworking princess I know. Got it, love?” he adds, going up to face you, his big frame making you feel so small, so safe. 

You nod, eyes staring into his shiny ones. “Kiss. Need you,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear, needy enough for him to fulfill your wishes without a second thought. 

He kisses you again, lips molding into yours. The kiss is more passionate, the both of you needy for each other. And Chan channels all his love to you through the kiss, biting your lips just because he needs you to gasp, so he can taste your mouth with his tongue. 

And he does. His tongue dances with yours, making you taste yourself and eliciting soft gasping sounds from you. But gasps turn into moans when you feel Chan slowly pushing in a finger into your cunt while he continues to kiss you. 

Your hands automatically grips onto his shoulders, head thrown back, no longer kissing your boyfriend as you succumb into the heavenly feeling of his thick finger prodding into your hole. 

“Chan,” you moan, chest heaving, heavily breathing at the euphoric intrusion, trying to keep your eyes open because you know Chan loves it when you look at him as he fingers you. 

“There you go, princess. Taking my finger in so well, aren’t you?” he praises, pushing his middle finger in and out of you softly. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, more like a whimper. It feels too good. His finger reaches deeper than yours ever will and it’s been a while since he took his time with you like this, slowly fucking his finger in and out of your cunt. 

“Such a pretty girl with a cute little cunt,” he says, voice raspy, mind thinking of how good it would feel when he has you clenching around his cock. “Want another one? My princess wants another finger?” Chan asks, finger fucking into you faster. 

“Yes, yes, ano-another. P-please,” you stutter out your response, mind only filled with the thought of Chan’s fingers filling your hole. 

Chan smiles sweetly at your response but instead of giving you what you want, he takes out his finger. 

“Nggh, no, Channie,” you whine, nearly sobbing at the loss of something in your hole. But Chan just gives you a kiss to calm you down. 

“I need to get a good look at your cunt now, baby. Need to see how pretty your hole stretches around my fingers,” he tells you, kneeling on the bed so that he can see your body. 

Slowly, Chan inserts his forefinger and middle finger into your cunt, only to take them out again. He repeats this three times, all the while watching how pretty your hole tries to accommodate his fingers, and all the while listening to your pretty moans pleading him to do something. 

“Channie, channie, please, please no teasing,” you beg him, hips bucking to chase his withdrawing fingers only to get playful taps on your pussy lips. 

“But you get so wet and needy when I tease, princess,” he chuckles, continuing his light taps. “Don’t look at me like that, baby. My princess can handle a little more, can’t she?” Chan tells you softly but his tone does nothing to hide his devious act. 

This teasing man will get a taste of his own medicine now, you think to yourself. 

“I- I can. But- need you in me. Nee-need any part of you in me. Need to remind my princess parts who they belong- belong to, right?” you say, the little stutter goes unnoticed by Chan because now he’s just stunned at your sudden change of demeanour. 

Chan’s eyes glimmer with mischief and adoration, his naughty fingers stopping their little game and now changing it to another level, putting just his fingertips in and never more as you say those words. 

“Need to– need to have you now, Chris-Christopher,” you breathe, little fingers holding the edge of his shirt that you’re wearing and slowly dragging it up bit by bit. “You’ll take– take me, right? Make me– make me forget bout my day. Make me take your- your cock?” 

And that does it for Chan. He grips your hand, taking it away from your little striptease, leaving his shirt on your body but resting on the bunched up fabric on your chest, your underboobs showing. 

Without a word, he starts to finger fuck you. Hard and fast, as hard and as fast as your greedy cunt allows him. The squelching noises are even louder, paired with your pleasureful screams of his name and his grunts, his fingers relentless and your moans that fill the room just motivates him to make you cum like this. 

“That’s it, princess. Take my fingers, there you go, God, look at you,” he rasps. “You like this, you do, hmm? So pretty for me,” he keeps on praising, making you moan louder, your restricted hands make the only option for you to keep yourself grounded is to curl your toes onto the mattress, messing up the sheets even more. 

Your boyfriend is giving it to you hard. After all the teasing, you’re more than satisfied with the turn of events. Your hips keep bucking up because of how good your boyfriend’s fingers feel inside you, consistently nudging that sweet spot inside, always knowing how to curl and aim just right to make you see stars. 

“Chan, Chris, God please,” you moan, not even producing full sentences. Who are you kidding? You haven’t been talking coherently ever since your boyfriend touched you. 

“Can feel you clenching around my fingers, princess. You wanna cum for me?” 

“You do, don’t you. Babbling like a cute little baby. God, you’re so pretty like this.” 

“Already so fucked out from two fingers, you’re so precious. Such a precious princess with the cutest cunt.” 

“Cum and you’ll get my cock, princess.”

And that does it for you. The promise of Chan’s cock and the little rubbing of his thumb onto your clit makes you convulse around his fingers, making him chuckle at you lovingly. 

“Good girl, what a good girl. There you go, there you go,” Chan soothes you, slowly bringing you down from your high. But you need more, you need Chan’s cock. 

His grip on your hands is loose, so you wiggle yourself out of his hold and circle his neck, bringing the man close to your face, the sudden movement makes him withdraw his fingers from inside your hole, you can feel the wetness from his fingers dripping onto your thigh. 

“I need you now, need you to make love to me,” you say in one breath, hoping he hears you. Hoping he would let you have his cock. 

Chan might be a tease but he knows a deserving princess when he sees one. And you are definitely a princess who deserves to be filled with his cock and cum. 

“Anything for my princess,” he tells you, giving you a soft and sensual kiss right after. 

Chan lets you go briefly to take off his pants. You lick your lips as he stands in his naked glory, his abs are just asking to be licked and his cock so hard, it bounces on his stomach when he takes off his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight, wanting nothing more than to suck him off. This beautiful, wonderful man. And all yours to admire and touch.  

But when you’re about to take off his shirt that you’re wearing, he stops you. He takes the bunched up fabric and instead of taking it off all the way, he makes you bite it. Now the shirt is between your teeth, tits bare to him. 

“Wanna fuck you in my shirt. So I can have something that you’ve cum in and you have something that I’ve cum in,” he tells you and you swear you’re about to have another orgasm just from that. The thought of Chan wanting to have something of his associated with the act of you cumming is just so hot. 

You can only give him a desperate nod, loving how sexy but also intimate it is to have him say that. Chan kisses your forehead as a sign of thanks, his cock now hard and ready to fuck you to oblivion. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he moans as he prods your entrance with the tip of his cock. Your small frame is more apparent now that he’s about to fuck you with something bigger, something  a lot thicker. 

You, on the other hand, can only moan through the shirt, now all muffled. Chan keeps on playing with your hole using only the tip of his cock, hissing at how good it feels to have you clench around him. 

But his focus is not just on your cunt because now he’s presented with his other favourites; your tits. “Pretty princess with the prettiest cunt and the prettiest tits,” he praises, tongue immediately lapping up your nipples, biting and licking as he has his cock head playing with your entrance. 

Your head is just filled with Chan. The way he’s so greedy with your tits but so stingy with your cunt is driving you crazy. But you can’t say anything. The fabric of the shirt that you’re biting is already wet with your saliva but you don’t care, you just want to be good and get Chan to finally fuck you. Make love to you. Anything that involves him shooting his load in you. 

“Fuck, fuck, I should just make love to you like this. Tease you with my tip, just like this, fuck!” he groans, head filled with only the thought of cumming inside you. But he knows you want his whole cock in, so when he sees your eyes getting watery, he admits defeat. He can no longer tease his princess, not when she’s been so good and obedient. And especially not when she’s tearing up, all needy and greedy for all his cock to fuck into her cute little cunt. 

Chan gives into you, finally, sinking his cock little by little, the stretch so good you let go of the fabric in your mouth, moaning so loudly, telling Chan how good it fucking feels. 

“Oh Chan, ah, ah, fuck Chan!” you nearly scream, the stretch too good for you to not let the neighbours know. “Oh fuck, so big, so big,” you say to him, this time reserving the praises all for your amazing man. 

“Yeah? You like it don’t you? Like having me stretch your pretty pussy,” he tries to tell you in a confident tone but a man like him is weak when he’s presented with a cute princess like you, what more when he’s engulfed with such warmth from a pussy he wishes he can use everyday. 

“Fuck, princess. So fucking wet and tight,” Chan runs his mouth, not caring if he’s just repeating his praises because all he can think of is you. You. you. His one and only princess, one and only love. 

You’re no better. Fingers clawing Chan’s back as he starts his thrusts, you being so turned on that he doesn’t need to start so slow, hips already snapping into you, the plan of making love to you thrown out the window. 

“Made for me, fucking- fucking made for my cock, aren’t you, princess?” he asks, his cock rubbing against your throbbing walls, the tip finding the sweet spot inside you so fast. 

“For you, just you, you Channie,” you answer him, legs that were initially propped up now limp on the bed, just taking what you’re given. Your boyfriend’s cock never disappoints, the girth stretches you out more than you think you could handle but he’s known your body enough to make his big dick an enjoyable experience for you. 

“For me, fuck, fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. My princess, my fucking baby,” Chan moans, feeling himself already on the edge of cumming but he needs you to reach your high first. His thumb sneakily rubs your clit, and his mouth latches onto your nipple, giving you a lot of stimulation at once, making you cry out in ecstasy. 

Your moans bounce off the walls, your brain no longer computing actual words, just meaningless babbles of “Chan”, “Chris”, “cock”, “big”, “full”, “cum” all used separately. 

“Gonna cum? My pretty princess wants to cum?” Chan grunts with every thrust, feeling his ego boost because of how you’re now just a mess because of him. 

You nod and nod and nod, and with one more push of his cock into the spongy part that makes your eyes roll, your head thrown back as you finally let go, your cunt squeezing Chan’s cock but the man is relentless, he doesn’t stop although you’re already cumming and sobbing at how good it feels to cum around your boyfriend’s cock. 

“My. Cunt. Mine. Fucking. Mine,” Chan says with every punishing thrust, his cock hitting the spot in you repeatingly, overstimulating you a little but in the best way. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re throbbing around my cock, princess. So good, so good, i’m gonna, gonna fucking cum, make you mine, make you take all of it, all- fuck, fuck fuck!” and your boyfriend finally lets go, hips stuttering as cum shoots from his tip, filling you up just as he promised. 

You moan at the warmth, your request of being filled up with your lover’s come finally coming true, and it makes you smile like a dumb puppy, all satisfied. 

“Yeah, there you go, there you go, take all of me, all of me,” Chan chants more to himself, still filling you up, always having a lot of cum to give you. He bends down to kiss you, wanting to remind you of his love despite the rather hard fucking he gave you. 

You thank every lucky star for your boyfriend’s thoughtfulness – as well as for his kindness, and not to mention amazing cock and stamina, not to forget the copious amount of cum this man can provide your needy self. Only thing you have to do next time is fuck in the hoodie that’s with Sana. Some purification in the form of cumming with it on should be done. 

“Thank you, Chris,” you say, voice rather breathless. Chan still has his cock in you, still slowly pushing in and out of you for added stimulation. But his next words make you salivate. 

“Oh princess, it’s still too early for appreciation. Now I have to pin you to the wall and fuck all my cum out of you, don’t I? Need to make sure you really forget about the bad day you had.” 

You can confidently say that today is actually a good bad day. 

"Yes, please."

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[allurilove]

Yan!Prodigy x Rival you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: enemies to lovers?— not really he falls in love pretty quick, first time kissing, stalking, admitting his feelings, he gets excited by the tiniest sight of skin, he’s delusional, gender neutral reader.

*I played violin for a couple of years, but my knowledge is a bit dusty and it’s been awhile 😬 And sorry for not posting! I’ve been busy with studying for the SAT! He is referred to as “your enemy” and this is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s been on the top of his game for years. He’s known as the most talented violinist, and his ability to play has brought people to tears. All until you came along and threatened his legacy.

He was upset and furious that a nobody like you could win the spot of the first chair. You were now the center of attention, and not him. He wanted to break you down.

But… why did he find himself yearning for you?

He’s been practicing for years. He spent his whole life dedicating to the art of music. His fingers have been numb before, his wrist hurt, and he’s been staring at music sheets for so long— that everything looked like notes to him.

He’s been the first chair. He climbed his way to the top, he earned his reputation, and everyone admires him.

So, a little and measly talent like you shouldn’t have been in his spot. He had to audition for that seat—just like everyone else— but he knew that the directors loved him the moment he stepped on the stage.

He created masterpiece after masterpiece, and he’s a well sought out man.

He heard murmurs and whispers as he sat down behind you. He could feel everyone look at you with fascination, and admiration. He scowled and his grip on the neck of the violin was tight. He imagined ripping you out of the chair, or shoving his bow down your throat.

He had a steely gaze as you turned around to look at the person who had been glaring daggers at you. You smile at him, feeling a bit bad that you’re a newbie who took his usual position.

Why was his heart beating?

“Dont look at me.” The man scowled at you. His face slowly turning pink, and he looked away as you turned to face him again.

For the first time ever, he was distracted. As the show began he could hear his mistakes. He felt his hand shake, and he accidentally pressed down too hard on the string- causing an eerie squeaking noise. He looked up to see what you were doing and you are confident, each note of yours is perfect, and you were clearly the better choice. His eyes slowly widened as he became hypnotized by the way you moved, and the way your hand was so nimble.

“…fuck.” He was falling in love. That has never happened to him before. His body is filled with warmth, his heart fluttered, and he felt like he could float on the wave of happiness. For the first time ever— he felt alive.

The person next to him gently kicked at his chair, and he snapped out of it. He looked back at the sheet, and he realized he lost his place. His eyes and ears frantically tried to figure out where they were.

The show was a nightmare. He got chewed out for the very first time, and he hung his head low. He made multiple mistakes, made a mockery of the whole orchestra, and organization. He apologized to everyone, and he seethed at how people thought he was slipping.

You were the only one to approach him. Your enemy threw his jacket on, ready to leave, but he paused when he saw you.

“Hey… I’m sorry-“

He raised a hand to stop you. “It’s not your fault.” He said curtly, and he grabbed his instrument case. He brushed past you, and quickly made it out of the building. He had to stop and take a breather- leaning on the wall as he felt red cheeks. He always felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement when you came close to him.

That’s when the stalking began. I mean it was a total accident, and he didn’t mean to find your apartment… he just happened to know it was yours, because of the way the melodic sound came from the window. He was across the street, and he was able to see you sway, and play with such emotion. He stood there for what felt like years, and he started to film you.

He would rewatch them at night in his bed. A huge smile on his face as he was able to relive that moment. Before he knew it… he kissed the screen.

He came to practice early in the morning. Your enemy had to keep up a cool facade, and he ignored your little “hello” to him. He sat in his chair, feeling a bit bitter, but he knew it was well deserved. You’re a good violin player, and he was coming to terms with it. He sighed as he brought his instrument out of the case, he took out his tuner, and he started to tune his instrument. He fiddled with the fine tuners, and eventually adjusting the pegs when that didn’t work.

The whole entire time… he glanced at you. His heart swelled up as he saw you take off your jacket, and he gulped as he saw your shoulders.

Ohhh god.

He slightly groaned as his pants felt tighter.

He heard the peg creak, his fingers mindlessly kept turning and turning. He gasped as the string he was trying to tune snapped, he felt it hit his cheek, and out of surprise he dropped his violin.

He was so embarrassed as you helped him get an ice pack. You two were in the tiny hallway, an ice pack in your hand. Instead of handing it to him, you placed it on his cheek for him. You made him feel better, told a little joke about what happened and he let out a chuckle.

He saw you smile and step closer to him. Was this seriously happening? He immediately kissed you back as you pressed against him, one arm around your waist and the other on the back of your head. You tasted wonderful.

He started to moan out your name, your hand now down his pants, and he arched his back. His hands then gripped at the brick wall, his hips jerked with the movement, and he felt his orgasm coming pretty close.

He felt you pull down his pants and boxers, and you got down onto your knees, and your tongue stuck out to lick his length.

“God, I love you—“ He pants, his stomach tightening as his arousal grew.

“Hello?”

Hello?

His eyes came back to focus on your hand waving in his face. He gulped as he took a step back. You were confused as to what happened, you tried to speak to him, but it looked like he was lost in his thoughts. His face was flushed and he was murmuring incoherent things.

The man quickly snatched the ice pack and he panicked— his dick twitching— and he ran away from you.

Allure: It’s a pretty short fic, unedited, and i wrote this on my break 😭 yandere x zombie part three should be coming soon.

[weakformingyu]

The very first night | L.M.

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Summary: after a few months of dating Minho, you two finally have your very first night.

Genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers

Words count: ± 3,200

THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

If you like my content don't forget to ✨reblog✨

Warnings: virgin!Minho, virgin!reader, very sloppy and eager sex, unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral(F receiving), biting(I think that's all)

A/N: I was reading this fic by @moonlinos and had this thought: "what would be like to have your first time with inexperienced bf Minho" and it came out like this 🥺 I'd like to tell @/moonlinos that I just found out about your blog and your writing is amazing, you're really an inspiration 🫶🏻

You met Minho on your first day of college, you were lost in the campus trying to find the orientation room when you bumped into someone, letting your books and bag fall to the floor.

It was your fault, you were looking around and didn't see the man coming in your direction. You apologized right away, more preoccupied with picking up your things rather than looking in his face but he didn't answer you, waiting for you to properly look him in the eyes.

To say that you two hit it off instantly when your eyes met his, it's an understatement. You even blinked a few times making sure you weren't dreaming. That guy was the prettiest man you have ever seen and it's not even an exaggeration. He was wearing a light pink sweater with a white dress shirt below, dark blue jeans and all stars. It was an outfit that would look average in anyone else but it looked like a masterpiece in him.

You didn't want to let him go so in the spur of the moment, you asked if he knew where to find the orientation for your major, just to find out he was also going there. After that day you two got closer like it was nothing, you were never good at making friends but it seemed so natural with him, like it just happened you didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.

You first realized your feelings for him when he told you he had a date coming up. You felt like throwing up and the ache on your chest just made the whole situation more excruciating.

You avoided him for a week after that, trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him or at least that you could pretend not to be in love with him.

When he showed up at your dorm in the middle of the night looking extremely tired, eye bags under his eyes and hair a mess, he inquired why you were being like that and you suddenly didn't want to pretend anymore. You decided in the split of a second that it was worth it to confess to him, so you did.

He blinked once, twice and for a third time, not letting out a single word, making you suddenly regret everything that you said to him. What if he wanted to end your friendship? You don't think you could handle losing him as your friend too.

But in an unexpected turn of events he stepped close to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you.

“I thought you didn't like me back”, he whispered after pulling away, breathless. “That's why I was trying to move on”

You felt relief wash all over you, so he liked you back it seems.

After months of dating, you still hadn't gone beyond kissing and some light touching. You always let things flow in your relationship, knowing that you two would give the next step when you were ready. And it was sooner than you expected.

The end of the semester had arrived, finals were finally over and you could take a deep breath. You and Minho would meet in the cafe in front of the college gates, grab some coffee and go back to his apartment to watch some movies and cuddle. His roommates would be out tonight partying to celebrate the end of the semester and the apartment would be just yours.

“Fried chicken or pizza?” He asks, scrolling on his phone while selecting something to order.

“Fried chicken?” You ask back, making him glare at you. He hates how indecisive you are so he always tries to give you few options.

“Ordered”, he tells you.

“I'm gonna take a shower”, you get up going to the bathroom.

Your bath is a bit longer than usual, you are not in a hurry today since you can stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow but when you open your eyes there's a surprise in the wall next to you.

“Minho!” You yell, screaming like you just saw a ghost. You grab a towel and jump to the other side of the bathroom, watching as your boyfriend swings the door open, worry in his face.

When he looks at you and sees you are safe and sound, he scowls.

“What is it?” He rushes you, impatiently.

You point out in the bathroom, tears in your eyes.

“Did you make all this scandal because of a cockroach?” He asks, huffing but goes after it and kills it for you.

“You know I hate them”, you make a disgusted face. “They are gross”

He sighs, just now paying attention to you and noticing that you have only a towel covering you. You only remember that fact when his cheeks and ears turn pink and you look down, instantly covering your chest.

“Don't look!” You whine, hiding behind the door.

“Okay! Okay!” He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around and closing the door.

What follows after that is an awkward atmosphere, you are boyfriend and girlfriend but never have seen each other naked. You know it's something that is certain to happen but you never really discussed much about it.

You decide to address the issue when you are already on your second glass of soju. You look at him challengingly, narrowing your eyes.

“I think I should see you without a shirt since you have seen me too”, you tell him. It's not what you wanted to say, you wanted to ask if he ever thought about your first time but the moment you were going to say it you chickened out.

“I haven't seen you without a shirt though”, he says, “you were covered by a towel”

“But that's the equivalent of me being naked in front of you, so now you have to pay me back”, you roll out your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. You're not drunk enough to be doing that but you're definitely embarrassed enough to be doing that.

Minho sighs, knowing you won't drop it. So he puts his hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling it off, revealing his abs.

You can feel your cheeks burning, you have never seen him without a shirt and the only thing that comes to your mind to describe him is: tempting.

You gulped down, feeling a strange pool form in your panties, you can feel it getting soaked.

“I think now it's your time to pay me back”, he raises a brow, making you bite nervously on your bottom lip.

“I'm not wearing a bra”, you whisper, feeling your heart beat faster at each passing second.

“I wasn't either”, he jokes, making you punch him in the arm. When Minho doesn't look away, staring at you intensely, you realize he's being serious about that so you gather all the courage you have, grabbing the rem of your — well, it's actually his, shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall down to the ground as you become completely mesmerized by the look on his face.

Minho has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, lust emanating out of him. You can see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace.

“Can… Can I touch you?” He asks, looking into your eyes desperately and you nod, watching as he comes closer, cupping your breasts with both of his hands. He's on his knees in front of you, kneading on the soft flesh of your chest. Minho pinches your nipple, groaning when you let a moan escape. He's sure it's the prettiest sound he has ever listened to.

He leans over you, taking your lips into his. The way he kisses you stays the same, calm and gentle. He trails wet kisses down your jaw, to your neck, seizing the opportunity to mark you with his teeth, something he loves to do and that's the closest he has ever been to your chest until today. He goes down tracing kisses till he's in front of your breasts, Minho kisses the hill between them and attaches his mouth to the right one, still massaging the left one, pinching the bud eventually because likes to hear you whimper and sigh.

Your hands go to his hair, pressing him against your chest. You have your eyes closed shut, probably an unflattering face of pure pleasure but you really don't care. Minho sucks at your other breast before going down, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

You're embarrassed, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable like that and you really want to have him go down on you but you're a bit scared since your friends always talk about how guys find it a hassle to go down on girls. You know Minho is not an asshole, he won't want you to do the same to him if he can't pleasure you first.

“Can I?” He asks when he notices your hesitancy, his fingers are hooked at the waistband of your sweats, playing with the elastic while you decide if you'll let him continue.

“You don't have to feel obligated”, you bite on your bottom lip, not very sure on what to do next.

“I don't, I really want to do it”, he says, but seeing as you don't look like you believe him, he chuckles. “Chan said he really enjoys going down on his girlfriend, I wanted to try it since we started dating but didn't know how to ask”, you can see his ears turning a dark shade of red, making your heart beat faster.

You nod, feeling more nervous than before.

“Can we kiss a little bit more?” You ask and he nods frantically.

“We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready”, he says, hovering over you and kissing your neck.

“I'm ready”, you cup his face, making him look at you. “I'm just nervous”, you chuckle awkwardly.

“It's fine”, he gives you a peek on the lips. “Should we move to the bed?” He asks and you nod, getting up as Minho collects your things and his, following you to his bedroom.

It takes you half an hour of making out to grab Minho's hand and pull it down to your core, you lift the waistband of your sweats and panties so his hand can find your soaked pussy. He slides one of his fingers between your folds gathering your slick and pressing it on your clit.

“Is it good like this?” He asks, even though your face should give it in right away that he's pleasuring you.

“Yes, please don't stop”, you put your hands on his arms, digging your nails on his skin. Minho chuckles, doing what you asked but also adding another finger, making you open your eyes in an instant to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh”, it's the only thing you can let out when you feel the knot forming on your lower stomach.

He kisses you, turning the experience into something much more deeper. By the way he kisses you, no longer the calm and gentle but now an eager and hungry kiss, you can feel how urgent he's feeling, how much he wants you and that's enough to make you come on his fingers.

You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes just to witness your boyfriend putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. You gulp, feeling a burn run through your body.

“Can I go down on you now?” He asks, eyeing you eagerly and you nod, still too dazed by your orgasm.

Minho doesn't lose time, moving to your bottom part and pulling off your pants and underwear with him. He looks at your pussy enamored, like you're the prettiest creature he has ever seen and that makes you embarrassed, moving your hands to cover yourself but your boyfriend shakes his head, preventing you from continuing.

“Don't cover yourself. You're so beautiful, I have no words to describe it”, he tells you, eyes so sincere you can't even tease him about lying.

You nod once more, laying down comfortably as he trails kisses up your legs. Minho kisses your ankles, then your calves. He follows the path to your knees, kissing the inside of each and then going to your thighs, doing the same thing. When he leans down on your core, you hold your breath, feeling his hitting on your skin. You have goosebumps all over your body when he kisses your clit, making you sigh and let go.

Minho licks a huge strip between your folds, gathering all the juice he can get on his tongue, enjoying your taste. You moan loudly, earning a glance from him, he was so concentrated by his own pleasure on feeling your pussy on his mouth that he forgot to check what was your reaction and he's glad to find that you're enjoying yourself, hands flying to his hair as you pull him more into your cunt. He keeps licking your clit, sucking and even biting just to make you shudder glaring at him. He chuckles every time, making the vibrations stimulate you even more.

Minho puts on a finger, testing the water to see how you react, he puts on another one when you look unbothered by just one, earning a reaction from you as you whine and moan. You can feel your second orgasm of the night being ripped out of you, as he intensifies his sucking on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you.

You let out the louder couple of moans of the night, holding onto the sheets for dear life as you tremble and arch your back in pleasure. You're absolutely fucked out and have no idea how Minho can keep going, his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen, his face is covered on your juice from his mouth until his chin. When he kisses you again, you can feel your own taste on his tongue, making you groan.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your leg. He still has his pants on looking painfully tight.

“You wanna keep going?” He asks and you nod, biting on your lip. “I think Chan has some condoms stocked, I'm gonna take a look”, he starts moving out of the bed but you hold his wrist, pulling him back to you.

“I'm on the pill”, you bite on your bottom lip, “I’ve been taking it since we started dating”, you prop yourself up, leaning on your elbows as you kiss him, “wanna feel you”, you say, making his breath hitch and his face turns red.

He nods, blinking a few times before leaning over to kiss you once more. He gets up quickly, taking off the rest of his clothes and in a second his body hovers over yours as he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your entrance carefully.

“If it hurts, tell me”, he checks with you for the last time and you nod. He starts pushing his cock inside you, your hands are holding him by the shoulders, digging your nails on him but he doesn't seem to mind.

He closes his eyes briefly, feeling your velvet walls squeezing him so much it's hard to keep going. Minho stops when he hears you sniff, opening his eyes just to find your eyes full of tears and trembling lips.

“Am I hurting you? You should say it if I am”, he scolds you gently, something only he can do.

“The first time is supposed to hurt”, you explain.

“But I can do something to make it hurt less if you tell me what you're feeling”, he kisses your forehead, having all the care to not move inside you.

“You're already making it so much more comfortable”, you smile, kissing his nose.

“Maybe you should be on top, that way you can have the control”, he tells you and you ponder for a minute, nodding.

He pulls out of you, making you whine to the sudden loss, making you feel empty. Minho chuckles, kissing you before laying down to watch you be the one to come on top of him.

You grab his cock, position it in your entrance and push it in. You're much more brave than him, Minho thinks, but also you're the one who knows how much pain you can handle so it's only right for you to have the control — at least on your first time.

You sink down on his cock slowly, making him grab the sheets rather than your hips, too afraid to put too much pressure on you and hurt you. Your face tells him you're in pain, but he knows there's not much he can do about it other than soothe you. So he caresses your back with one hand and your face with the other, sliding his hands to your breasts and kneading at them so you can at least relax a bit.

When you finally have all of him inside of you, you sigh, staying still for a couple of minutes. Minho feels like he can explode at any second, you're squeezing him like crazy but he doesn't want to hurry you so he waits for you to move.

You start grinding on him, rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and trying to relax the most. After a while the pain is almost not perceptible and you start riding him at a fast pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, Minho says, finally grabbing at your hips to pull you down on him.

You can't really form coherent sentences, so the chant of “ah-ah-ah” followed by your kisses on him and you marking his chest is the biggest form of communication you can manage at the moment.

Minho thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen, he thought that the moment your eyes lock for the first time and he'll think that until you two are too old to remember what you ate the day before.

When he feels like he's about to cum, he warns you and you nod to let him know you understand but keeps sinking down on him even deeper. He paints your walls white while trembling, his bottom lip stuck between his bunny teeth as he holds your hips with such strength that you know it's gonna bruise. But you don't mind, not at all.

You didn't cum this time, it wasn't as painful as it could be but still painful enough to not edge you.

“I'm sorry you didn't finish”, he pouts as you pull out of him and snuggle yourself in his arms.

“You made me come twice”, you chuckle, making him smile before kissing the top of your head.

“But I wanted to do it a third time”, he huffs.

“We have all the time in the world”, you tell him, resting your chin on his chest as you watch him grin.

“Yes, now you're mine forever”, he giggles to your widened eyes.

“Should I be worried?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“You were already mine from the start, you just didn't know it yet”, he kisses you, pulling away just to stare at you for a few seconds. “I love you”, he confesses and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I love you too”, you say, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again.

[haerni]

+ yn killing jay just because he killed sunghoon??? THE SAME MAN WHO WROTE ABOUT HER DEATH SO MANY TIMES???? Insane twisted and just so SMART??!?? still holding the same affection for him even after all the things he revealed the twisted love she had for sunghoon onfgwhydg IM SCREAMING it felt like her emotions were my emotions it was so scarily good??!?!!

against the world

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader x sim jaeyun (ft. park jongseong)

GENRES ▸ fluff, angst, psychological, horror, thriller

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, murder, descriptions of gore, unrequited love, found family, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mc is an unreliable narrator

SUMMARY ▸ if you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting park sunghoon.

WORD COUNT ▸ 14,064 words

PLAYLIST ▸ back to black by amy winehouse • the french library by franz gordon • perfectly splendid by the newton brothers

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! this fic is a rewrite of one of my first horror fics that i’ve written :') it badly needed reworking and i completely changed the ending. i hope you guys enjoy my spooky szn contribution ♡

THE TRUTH WAS, YOUR LIFE BEGAN TO FALL APART EVEN BEFORE YOU MET SIM JAEYUN. 

You realized this as you woke up, face pressed against the ice-cold, concrete floor of a holding cell; when the guards dragged your uncooperative, limp body into an interrogation room; when you were face-to-face with Detective Lee Heeseung and handcuffed to a cold, metal table as he read your Miranda Rights. The handcuffs dug into the flesh of your wrists, but you only fought against them once and gave up as soon as you realized they wouldn’t give in. You just wanted to thumb away the crusted blood staining your hands and pick out the flakes under your nails.

The room was foreign to you. It was something you’d seen in movies and read in books, but you never fathomed the idea of being in an interrogation room yourself. There was a two-way glass that you aimlessly stared at, wondering who was listening in on the other end. 

You couldn’t figure out just how you ended up in this situation. Everything was smooth in your memory up until your supposed arrest—a tear in the fabric of your recollection. You hardly remembered what happened on the way to the police station or when you were getting booked in. You dug your palms into your temples and then pressed against the soft flesh under your eyes, frustrated by the stunted gears in your head. As much as you begged than to click and start spinning, they remained stuck and rusted in place. 

But you couldn’t ask the brooding man standing over you. You couldn’t look up into his cold, unforgiving eyes. After all, he knew you were a murderer. 

“There’s no use in lying to me, Y/N,” Detective Lee said gruffly with a gaze like steel, “the prints match.”

You drummed your fingers against the table—a habit that was rooted in your anxiety. Your fingers were stained and pruned like roses, and as hard as you tried to paint the table red, it only flaked off. You were sure your heartbeat was faster than the tapping of your fingers, your mind perhaps speeding off twice as fast.

Your stomach twisted. If Jaeyun was going to prison, too, then you could no longer protect him.

There was a limit to how much he could take; you knew that being thrown in the slammer would be intolerable for him. You knew you needed to get to him immediately because Jaeyun was the guy who felt too little and too much at the same time—the guy who looked for the part of him that ran away, who self-destructed when he felt the world closing in on him.

After all, Jaeyun was a stick of trinitrotoluene lit at both ends. 

You worked up the courage to look Detective Lee in the eye, which made him stiffen up, biceps flexing under his white button-up. 

“Where’s Jaeyun?” you asked. 

Detective Lee’s lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Cutting into his pale cheeks. You decided that couldn’t be a good reaction. 

You continued, “He didn’t do anything, I swear. He was just there. He didn’t do anything.”

“If you cooperate with us, then you can see Jaeyun again,” the detective answered in a clipped tone. “I can sit here all day and wait.”

Cooperate. You hated that word.

You knew Detective Lee was just trying to sugarcoat your betrayal. You knew he was looking down on you, ready to push you to your limit. 

But there was nothing you could do in this room. There was no way for you to escape or talk your way out of it to see Jaeyun. You knew quite well that staying silent would only prevent you from making sure your boyfriend was okay. 

You had no other choice but to work with Detective Lee. 

“Will you at least make sure he’s not hurt?” you inquired, to which Detective Lee agreed with a nod.

“I’ll ask again: Will you cooperate?”

You stayed silent. You despised your old habit of shutting down like this, but you couldn’t help it.

Detective Lee sighed and sat in the chair across from you so that you both were eye-level with each other. “Listen, Y/N, you’re young. This murder investigation—this is serious stuff, okay? We just need to know the full story before we jump to any conclusions and make a false arrest. Can we start from last night?”

Deep down, you understood. But it’s all too fresh—too soon. The grief had yet to settle. The recollections of blood and lifeless eyes poisoned your head; it was all you could see when you closed your eyes.

You sounded hollow when you said, “It didn’t… start from last night.”

Detective Lee acknowledged this and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “Then let’s hear it from the beginning.”

If you could change anything about your life, it would be meeting Park Sunghoon.

Your first meeting was at the age of fourteen. Moving schools was an unexpected shift in your life, and you didn't expect to find many friends at your new school. Starting new in the beginning of the year was one thing, but entering unknown territory with people already acclimated in their respective groups was another. 

People flocked to comfort, and you were sure that no one would want to step out of their comfort zone to bring a stranger into their friend group.

And then Sunghoon swooped in, like an angel sent from the heavens.

Initially, he was awkward. You were both fourteen-years-old and going through the initial stages of puberty—all voice cracks and awkward intervals of growth stunts. Sunghoon was soft-spoken and didn’t have many friends when he approached and befriended you. 

It started when you both found out you shared a love for novels. You spent hours talking about your favorite books, and Sunghoon shared his dream of wanting to craft the perfect story. Oftentimes, Sunghoon would share some of his writing with you, and then his eyes would sparkle upon hearing your feedback. 

You two were classmates, sitting right next to each other in the back of the classroom, conveniently right next to the door. You got to know Sunghoon slowly—the same gradual feeling of starting to care for someone. You knew his boundaries, though, because you were aware that you could never be the closest to Sunghoon. He and Park Jongseong were attached at the hip, and you couldn’t lie to yourself; you felt like a third wheel in the beginning.

But there was some comfort in the security of your friendship.

“It’s you and me,” Sunghoon would tell you, “the two of us against the world.”

You knew you should have been grateful to have made friends in the first place, but you didn’t exactly know if you belonged with them. As comfortable as you felt, there was always a whisper in the back of your head, telling you that you would never be their number one.

You would never be anyone’s number one.

“I don’t understand girls,” Jongseong said one day, hands tucked behind his head as the three of you were hanging out in Sunghoon’s room. You were flipping through some comic book that Sunghoon had laying around, and you shifted uncomfortably upon hearing the question. 

“You don’t have to.” Sunghoon’s eyes flitted from you, and then back to his phone. He swiped through some apps, but you could tell he wasn’t really paying attention judging by the glazed-over look in his eyes. “Girls make no sense at this age.”

Jongseong nudged you. “You have anything to say about that, Y/N?”

To be honest, you didn’t understand yourself much either. You were just starting to go through puberty, and it wasn’t ideal for a teenager as young as you to only have guy friends. You couldn’t relate to any of the girls your age, nor could you ask them if they were going through the same changes you were. 

You were acquainted with several girls, of course, but you never got close enough to ask what feelings and experiences they had. You wanted to know if they were becoming as conscious of themselves and others like you were, but you kept those questions bottled up since you only had Sunghoon and Jongseong.

“Nope,” you replied. “I couldn’t tell you.”

You supposed Jongseong was having girl problems again, and it all clicked because lately, he had been hanging around a pretty girl in their class. They were cute together and clearly into each other, but you could pick up on the issue: Jongseong was on the down-low about their relationship. More importantly, he had been on the down-low about it around Sunghoon, which had to have been breaking some sort of best friend code.

Jongseong asked, “You like anyone, Hoon?”

Hoon, your brain echoed, and you imagined yourself using the name as casually as Jongseong did. It sounded awkward coming from you, though. Friends gave each other nicknames, right? What if you gave Sunghoon a nickname? How would he react?

Sunghoon flushed behind his phone screen. You could tell he wanted it to go undetected, but you caught a glimpse of his flustered expression before he was able to compose himself.

“Oh, not really,” he replied with an air of indifference. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really been looking.”

“How about you, Y/N?”

You faltered for a moment before you realized you had been addressed. It was a normal question; you should have expected it, but it hit you like a tornado and your mind was swirling. Dating had crossed your mind a few times, sure, you had never prepared an answer because you thought it was going to be straightforward—a simple “yeah, there’s a few cute guys in class.” But that wasn’t the case this time, and you were wondering why there wasn’t any clarity in your head.

Come on, Y/N, you urged yourself, as if you were complaining to multiple, uncooperating attendants working in your brain. Just say something—anything. 

Your mind was blanking, though, and you were scared. You couldn’t quite grasp why your stomach felt like a never-ending pit, but it only worsened when you couldn’t spit some guy’s name out. You wanted to open up your skull, thoroughly examine your head, poke at the areas refusing to work, and figure out who you couldn’t just list some attractive guy in class; on top of that, you wondered why you couldn’t just flat-out refuse the statement and claim that there was no one you were interested in.

You were struck with a painful realization that there was only one person you could think of.

Sunghoon.

No, no, no, your brain and your heart screamed at each other. Get ahold of yourself.

You quickly decided that it was just a passing feeling that you needed to suppress until it went away. It was just stupid teenage hormones and puberty making you feel this way and starving you of affection that you didn’t actually need in the first place. If you didn’t get a hold over yourself, you were going to crumble and ruin the good things you had going.

You internally convinced yourself that everything was fine. There were plenty of teenagers your age who had moments of weakness like this with their guy friends. You just needed to branch out more, that was all. 

Sheepishly, you replied before the boys could chew you out, “There’s no one I’m interested in right now.” 

You weren’t a very good liar, but as long as Sunghoon and Jongseong were sold, you were content with how things were. 

Your group expanded when you turned fifteen, and you and Sunghoon grew closer—maybe even closer than Sunghoon and Jongseong were. 

You were laying down in your bed one night, breaking into sobs when you realized that you needed more than one hand to count the number of friends you had now. Your shell was broken and your world was bigger. You normally lived like your uphills were mountains and your downhills were cliffs, but, lately, the mountains were getting easier to climb and the downhills weren’t that big of a drop. You didn’t need to stop and catch your breath or worry about hurting yourself on the way down.

You never felt lonely anymore. If Sunghoon or Jongseong weren’t free, you would call Nishimura Riki to catch grasshoppers in the creek with you, or you’d go play video games with Yang Jungwon. Kim Sunoo called you nearly every night to bother you, but you didn’t mind. You liked them; they made you feel important, like you were wanted.

“Come on,” Sunghoon teased Jungwon one day as he was blushing over some girl. “What are you being so shy about?”

“It’s embarrassing!” Jungwon complained, and you giggled over how a flush of red started creeping from his ears to his cheeks. “I’m not a smooth-talker like you are, Hoon.” 

Sunghoon snorted. “I’m not a smooth-talker.”

“He’s practically, like, bulletproof,” Jongseong chimed in. “We can’t tease him about anyone. He just brushes it off.”

“I’m not bulletproof,” Sunghoon argued, but anyone could see the pride behind his expression. “I’m just not interested in anyone right now.”

You thought you had finally squashed the weird, gooey feeling that arose in your chest every now and then whenever Sunghoon came close. It was primarily due to the fact that Sunghoon was a respectful individual who didn’t try to weasel his way into your personal bubble as he pleased. That was probably for the best because you were sure your brain would go haywire if Sunghoon was too close for comfort.

And then there was Sim Jaeyun. 

Jaeyun entered your circle pretty easily. With his radiant personality and warm presence, it was no shocker that he was accepted by the group instantly. He possessed some odd charm that drew people to him, and you couldn’t seem to figure just how that worked. You were almost jealous of him, honestly, with how much of a social butterfly he was.

Out of all of them, Jaeyun seemed to take a particular interest in you. It drove you crazy, though, and you couldn’t figure out how to get the guy to stop teasing and messing around with you. The others couldn’t figure it out either; you just weren’t as bright and bubbly as Jaeyun was, so it was odd that he kept nagging the one person whose wavelength wasn’t on par with his. 

Sometimes it was cute—endearing even—but sometimes it was just flat-out irritating.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jake grinned, and his voice was all light and airy as he approached you. “What’re you doing for the summer break?”

“Probably sleeping in, hanging out with the others, and some more sleeping,” you replied, hardly sparing him a single glance. 

You were too focused on clearing out your locker of all the books and papers you had tossed in during the year. Gotta keep this, gotta throw this away, gotta return this one, you rattled off in your head, mentally preserving a reminder of your various items. But Jaeyun knew how to push your buttons and grab your attention. He never took your deflection without retaliating back. That was one of the many reasons why you found it so difficult to be around him.

“And hanging out with Sunghoon, huh? Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it’s not there?”

You closed your locker with a swift swipe of your hand, revealing Jaeyun’s smug expression. Your eyes were practically bugging out of your sockets as you stared him down. Somehow, you knew exactly what he was hinting at, but you refused to spell it out for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, but Jaeyun was already walking away from you. He was turned away, but you could visualize that stupid smirk of his like it was carved into your memory.

Jaeyun was smart. Too smart.

Your summer was filled with laughter, beach trips, and shy glances at Sunghoon. He drove you around places and you sat in the passenger’s seat next to him, toes curled in your shoes because you were so overjoyed. The car was always loud with music and laughter, and whenever it was silent, it was because everyone else was sleeping on each other after a long day of being outside.

You still masqueraded around, playing the role of Sunghoon’s best friend who definitely had zero romantic feelings toward him. It was quite hard when you had to pretend like your heart didn’t flutter whenever Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against yours.

“Sunghoon,” Jaeyun would complain, rousing laughter from everyone at how impatient he was, “are we there yet?”

“You’re so annoying,” Sunghoon retorted, clearly as a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, but it quickly died on your lips once you caught a glimpse of Jaeyun winking at you in the side mirror.

Jaeyun had a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “But you still love me, Hoon.”

Oh. 

He was trying to make you jealous. 

You fought down the urge to laugh at him. You might have been harboring a small crush, but you were never the jealous type, especially not over petty things like this. There was one little thing, however, that you couldn’t seem to shake.

For some reason, the anticipation to call Sunghoon by a nickname made you anxious. You never tested it on your tongue; it just floated around in your head. However, when you addressed him as Hoon one day, your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon responded with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun.

You grew closer to Jongseong, too. You didn’t feel like the third wheel with him and Sunghoon anymore; you felt like you were all at the same level of closeness. You and Jongseong hung out sometimes without Sunghoon, and despite a few awkward pauses in your interactions, you two warmed up quickly and you learned how to joke around with him easily. 

Jongseong wasn’t all stiff and dry like you were initially afraid of; rather, he was surprisingly fun, and every time you learned something new about him, like how he adored cats but was allergic to them, you were even more amazed. 

It wasn’t just Jongseong, though. You and Sunghoon grew far closer than ever before, whether that was for the better or worse. 

Sunghoon only lived a street away, so it was convenient to hang out, and when you didn’t hang out with him, you two called each other. You could see him unravel in front of your eyes; he became visibly more comfortable when it was just the two of you—smiling, laughing, and bursting into laughter with tears of unrestrained happiness. 

It wasn’t just the jubilant memories that tugged you two closer, though. It was also the despair.

In the first place, it was an accident that you even happened to break down in front of Sunghoon.

You two were in his room when it happened, and things were as they always had been before you sensed the calm before the storm. You joked around as usual and passed the time by playing video games. Sunghoon was perched on his usual spot in the corner of the bed. You looked over at him and realized how close you two had become as friends.

Friends. Just friends.

It was right at that moment when you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want to just be Sunghoon’s best friend. You wanted to be the reason why he smiled, the one to make him blush, and the one he could share his pain and happiness with. 

But your feelings were the scariest thing you’ve ever had to face, and you felt ashamed for even wanting to cross the line drawn between you and Sunghoon.

You couldn’t dare bring yourself to confess. You were almost positive that Sunghoon didn’t feel the same way, and you would be risking a fall-out in your current relationship if you admitted anything. What if Sunghoon ended up hating you? What if you lost him and all of your other friends? What if you weren’t the closest person to him anymore?

That was why you felt like Sunghoon was in another dimension, always a layer away. Always.

This was your own fault. You were the one who fell for your best friend. You were the one who did this to yourself. You broke your own heart.

You couldn’t help it when you started falling apart in front of him. It started with a broken cough that was supposed to cover up a sniffle. You were thankful for the loud battle sounds in the game that drowned out your quiet sobbing. But the video game didn’t stop Sunghoon from noticing your shaking hands gripping the controller.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

Your voice is so shaky, so broken. Sunghoon knew you were crying before he could see or hear it.

He paused the game and put the controller down, but your eyes were still trained on the screen, hands shaking as you clutched the controller until you were white-knuckled. Sunghoon was on edge—panicked. Although, it was a different kind of panic from all the times you would be stressing over an assignment and Sunghoon would offer some lame piece of advice in return.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His tone was frantic now as he searched your face for an answer.

You smiled, although faint melancholy was tucked away in the curl of your lip. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Now, I know that’s not true.”

Your smile broke. It was so unfortunate that Park Sunghoon had to have a heart so big.

You could almost hear Jaeyun in the back of your head: Have you realized it yet, or are you still pretending it isn’t there? 

You started crying, and it wasn’t something soft with a gradual crescendo. It was loud and all at once, like a wounded animal. Your hands shook more, and you finally dropped your controller, burying your fingers into your roots, as if tugging your hair hard enough would make it all stop, as if it would hurt more than the ache in your chest.

Sunghoon was quick to get off his bed and slide to the ground, right next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and it only made you feel ashamed. You stiffened up and shrunk back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how you tensed up at his touch. You could hear your own heartbeat, but you were pretty sure you were hyperventilating at a faster pace than the pounding in your chest. The world under you moved, bounced, so you decided to lean into Sunghoon.

The logical half of your brain informed you in a calm, clipped manner that you were having a panic attack. The other half meanwhile was screaming and shutting itself down. 

Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste, you tried telling yourself, but your senses overwhelmed you completely. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn’t hear anything but your sobs, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire. 

“Y/N, talk to me,” came the softest voice that eased the painful ringing in your ears. 

“I can’t,” you stuttered out. “Not right now.”

You wish you hadn’t let it get to this point. You were completely humiliating yourself in front of Sunghoon right now. This was the one thing you couldn’t let him find out about. 

Your heavy gasps grew more labored. You then curled into yourself, sweaty hands tugging and knotting at your hair. And, shit, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you repeated again and again, like a broken record. The desperation in your voice was so ugly.

There was something fierce in Sunghoon’s eyes, like he was ready to protect you from anything or anyone that tried to hurt you, but there was also softness in his voice. “You know, you can tell me anything. Whatever it is, I’ll hear you out. I don’t want you to suffer alone, Y/N.”

With a small smile, he added, “It’s just you and me, right? The two of us against the world.”

That only made you cry even more. You just replayed Sunghoon’s words in your head, like it was your favorite song.

“Alright.” You breathed in real deep, through the aching chest and everything. “It’s really stupid.”

“If it makes you cry this hard, it can’t be stupid.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed. “I think I like someone—someone I can’t have.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment, and it rattled your brain. He probably was wondering this underwhelming confession warranted a breakdown from you, and you couldn’t blame him. However, it was the only way you could avoid lying to your best friend without giving him the whole truth. 

For a split second, you wondered if Sunghoon simply just didn’t hear you. But you didn’t want to repeat yourself; you didn’t like repeating yourself. 

To your surprise, Sunghoon just smiled. “Do I know them?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were stringing together in your head to form a coherent sentence.

“Uh, well, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” Sunghoon continued. He flushed and flicked his thumb under his nose—an awkward mannerism of his that you grew to love over the years. “Actually, I think we’re in the same boat. There’s someone I like, too. Someone I can’t have.” 

His words bounced in your skull. Settled. Bounced again.

“Really?” you spluttered out, and it took you a moment to recuperate from the heavy sadness that was filling your chest. You brought yourself to ask, “I mean, you’re so popular, so why don’t you just ask them out?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not? Are they dating someone else?”

There was a sad smile on Sunghoon’s lips when he answered, “No, Jongseong likes her, too.”

At the age of sixteen, you realized that you couldn’t get over Sunghoon, but you could suppress your heartbreak and lingering feelings. 

It physically hurt to think about how deeply ingrained your concept of friendship was with him, and the possibility that Park Sunghoon would never think of you as more than a friend. You two had shared too many experiences—worn each other’s shoes and walked miles—to ever become more than what you were.

Nothing would ever change.

You were hanging out by a creek near Jongseong’s house. It was just the two of you—no Jaeyun to poke fun at you, and no Sunghoon to distract you. It was just the two of you, and it was somehow so easy to be with Jongseong like this. You could laugh with your stomach and smile with your eyes without feeling the need to close up or shut down. 

“It’s getting annoying, isn’t it?” Jongseong asked under his breath at one point. When you shot him a puzzled look, he clarified, “Sunghoon.”

You picked up on Jongseong’s annoyance toward Sunghoon over the past few weeks, but his words confirmed your suspicions now. You wondered if it was geared toward the girl they both liked—whoever she was. 

You never thought to ask, mainly because you didn’t want to know. Either way, if Sunghoon wanted to share, he would’ve done so already. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, trying to grab at words and shove them together, but you genuinely didn’t know what to say. 

It had always been you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. You never thought about them turning on each other. The very idea made you feel sick to your stomach. 

Over the past week, you had seen Sunghoon’s indifference toward Jongseong, but you were too afraid to ask about it. Your friend group was slow to pick up on it, but you noticed the way Sunghoon would purposely avoid conversing with Jongseong, or the way Jongseong would walk quickly past him if they crossed paths. It was odd, though, because everyone knew that Sunghoon and Jongseong were the best of friends—inseparable. How could you hold onto someone for so long and just let go of them like that?

You recalled that Jongseong and Jungwon went over to talk to Sunghoon about his moody behavior, but Jongseong never told you whether the talk went well or not. You figured it just never happened because Jungwon called in sick the very next day. 

You prayed that he would hurry up and get over his cold. He had been out sick all week, which checked out since everyone was getting sick around this time of the year. Jungwon would know how to get Sunghoon and Jongseong to reconcile. He was always the friend that helped everyone patch things up. 

“You guys are best friends,” was all you could say. “You’ll make up in a few days, right?”

Jongseong clicked his tongue loud enough to make your skin crawl. 

But you didn’t want to drop it this time, you asked, “Seriously, what happened between you guys?” 

For a moment, you wondered if you should’ve brought up what Sunghoon confessed to you—about him and Jongseong liking the same girl. But this couldn’t have been about that; Sunghoon would never let a girl get between his friendships. 

“Sunghoon’s hiding something dark,” Jongseong blurted out. “I don’t think I can get him out of this one.”

“Something dark? What is it?”

“I don’t really know—”

“Jongseong,” you cut in. “If you know something, then just say it. He’s my best friend, too.”

Jongseong shifted uncomfortably, restless. He was silent for a long period of time, so you just waited for him to collect his thoughts. Uneasiness bursted from the tips of your fingers and crawled under your skin. You felt the heat of the sun against your face, so you looked up and covered your eyes with a hand, blinking back red. 

“If Sunghoon did something unforgivable,” he started in a murmur, “would you forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” was all you could say.

“Yeah,” Jongseong replied, his terse words nearly making you flinch. “I don’t know, either.”

The sun grew hotter against your face, and all you could see was blood red behind your eyes. 

You didn’t know how exactly it started, but you slowly started to find solace in Jaeyun.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to care for him a little more than the people around you. You were starting to get swayed by him—the things he said, the way he looked at you—and it scared you a little.

But Jaeyun felt safe. He felt like home.

You two called at night, sometimes. You weren’t normally one to be vulnerable in front of others, but you shed some tears in front of Jaeyun a couple of times.

The only other person you had cried in front of was Sunghoon.

“It’s kinda sad,” Jaeyun told you one day. You two were spending the afternoon studying together at his place, and you were feeling self-conscious because you were starting to regret not dressing a little cuter. “I’ve known you for a year, but we’ve only gotten close now.”

“I don’t think either of us cared about deepening our friendship back then.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You think I didn’t want to be closer? How do you think I picked up on you liking Sunghoon?”

“Because I was obvious about it?”

“No, idiot, because I like you.”

You blinked a few times until you fully processed his words. I like you, your brain repeated, and then you reprocessed the information. 

No, there was an ‘idiot’ before that. Not only were you liked, but he thought you were stupid, as well. 

You became painfully aware of your knees touching Jaeyun’s, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around the idea of him liking you romantically. You had never been in this position. Since your crush on Sunghoon had been one-sided for the past few years, you never expected to be on the receiving end. 

“You…” you trailed off, floundering to find something to say—something that wouldn’t make you sound stupid or mean. You settled with, “You, too?”

His eyes beamed with hope. “For a year now.”

Your world was so small before. It was just you, Sunghoon, and Jongseong. 

Before you could even wonder if there was space in your heart for Jaeyun, you realized that you had already let him burrow his way in there.

“Can I kiss you?” Jaeyun asked. 

You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, and every once of nervousness slipped away. You always thought you could attain this level of closeness with Sunghoon, but maybe your relationship with him was just that fragile—where you could just grab the string binding you two together and snip it completely. 

But it was different with Jaeyun. 

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling, “you can.”

And then, with Jaeyun’s breath fanning your lips, you felt Sunghoon completely dissolve from the impounding thoughts racking your brain. Right now, it was Jaeyun and only Jaeyun. 

You leaned in first, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against Jaeyun’s soft ones. It was weird, kissing for the first time, but he leaned into it instantly so that your movements were less awkward and more guided. 

A fire blazed inside of you, burning hotter than imaginable. You didn’t expect Jaeyun to drive you this crazy—to crave more, to want more. You drew back before you slid your hand into his hair, although you were tempted to go further when his pillowy lips peppered soft kisses along your jawline. 

But you didn’t want to go overboard or ruin anything by going too fast. You settled for leaving another chaste kiss against his lips before pulling back, and you were delighted when you saw how pleased Jaeyun was. He was practically glowing. 

From then on, you and Jaeyun had a relationship that extended past something platonic, but it wasn’t like you two were official. Naturally, you ended up confiding in him over everything. 

While Sunghoon still held a place in your heart as your first love, you grew to care for Jaeyun, who kindled a gentler fire in you. Sunghoon, on the other hand, left you burned and scarred. 

You didn’t want to rush into a relationship, mainly because you didn’t want Jaeyun to think he was a rebound, and he respected that. So he waited for you to figure out your feelings and let your heart choose who was right for you. 

You weren’t stupid, though; you knew that chasing after Sunghoon was a hopeless cause.

You and Jaeyun drifted about in a limbo-state of your relationship. You two went on a couple of dates, got to know each other at a deeper level, and spent a lot of time together. He became the person you thought about when you were falling asleep and when you woke up in the morning. 

You two got along surprisingly well, and you wondered why you ever had doubts about him in the beginning. Sure, Jaeyun still got on your nerves at times, but you just found it funny after the wave of annoyance passed. 

Your friends started to talk about how close you two were and frequently brought up the idea of you two dating. Of course, you always denied it, enjoying the privacy you and Jaeyun had. 

But as your relationship blossomed into something more serious, you decided that you didn’t want things to stay casual any longer. So, you asked him out, and Jaeyun, being the lovesick puppy he was, accepted without a second thought. 

You thought about how much had changed in your life. Sunghoon stopped hanging out with you completely, resorting to being alone most of the time. Everyone was concerned about his behavior, but after several attempts of failed confrontation, they all collectively gave up. You and Jongseong still kept an eye on him, using roundabout ways to find out how he was doing; it was the most you two could do given how little opportunity you had to talk to him. 

You didn’t share many classes with Jongseong anymore, but you two were still close, even after your “two of us against the world” friendship with Sunghoon had gone to shit. 

Jongseong was kind, though, and despite how he was rough around the edges, he was gentle enough. 

But he knew that Sunghoon was hiding something dark, and that alone made you somewhat nervous around him. 

You felt unsettled the entire day, but when your group chat started flooding with texts about Jungwon in the middle of the night, you felt an icy chill travel down your spine. 

It was all over the news. The whole story about him being down with the flu was just a cover-up while authorities were looking for him.

You felt nauseous. 

HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT FOUND DEAD NEAR WOODS. FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED.

The 16-year-old boy was found dead at the scene. The parents of the deceased student have identified him as Yang Jungwon. As of now, there are no leads, but authorities have ruled the case as a homicide. 

Police have asked anyone with information to contact their local police department.

You read the headline again. Over and over again until your vision was blurry and the words were convoluted. Your fingers were raw and bitten down to the nail bed by the time you were able to put your phone down so that you could just cry into your hands. 

By the time you got around to reading the details, grimacing at the descriptions of mutilation done to Jungwon’s body and how his body had been decomposing for weeks now, you had to run to your toilet and dry heave everything out. 

You weren’t the closest to Jungwon or anything, but imagining such a bright person meet such a horrific end wasn’t easy to process. For hours, you ignored all of the calls and texts and attempts to comfort from your parents. You stared straight at your wall—so terrified that your chest hurt and your breathing was ragged. 

Later that night, when the world was quiet and dreaming, you received a text from Sunghoon. 

sunghoon: Hey sunghoon: I’ve been thinking about you. Are you doing okay? sunghoon: I haven’t been a good friend lately, I’m sorry sunghoon: It’s still the two of us against the world

There was a time when those words made you feel like you were on top of the world, soaring high over the clouds. 

Now, though, all you could feel was a horrible sensation of dread.

It had been months since Sunghoon and Jongseong’s falling out. 

You were seventeen now, but you felt hollower as you aged. Sunghoon showed up to school and lingered within your group silently, only contributing when spoken to directly. He didn’t approach you anymore or ask to hang out after school. Actually, no one knew what he did after school. He would head straight home and then go completely off the radar. 

Gone off the rails, as Sunoo called it. 

You cried several nights over it. You felt like not only was your best friend slipping away from you, but Sunghoon’s disconnect from the group would soon make you pull away, too. You had Jaeyun, of course, but nothing felt the same anymore. With Jungwon dead, the group felt tense and gloomy. You all started hanging out with other people and slowly stopped responding in the group chat. 

Part of you realized that Sunghoon’s detachment was because you didn’t reply to him the night Jungwon’s murder was publicized. Back then, you suspected that Sunghoon could have been behind it, judging by your conversation with Jongseong earlier. It all added up in your head, but the only thing that was stopping you from believing it fully was that you couldn’t fathom Sunghoon ever doing something so evil. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with him,” you whispered into the phone, even though there wasn’t anyone around that you were worried about listening in. “He’s shutting me out now. Something must’ve happened to him.” 

You heard Jaeyun hum and contemplate for a moment before he replied, “Maybe he just needs space.” 

“I think something happened between him and Jongseong,” you admitted, “but I can’t imagine Jongseong saying anything that would make Sunghoon ignore him for this long.”

“It must’ve been serious, then.” 

“But… but it’s Sunghoon; he’s”—you paused as you recalled what Jongseong once called him—“bulletproof.”

There was a pause.

“I guess that’s the problem with being bulletproof,” Jaeyun spoke gravely. “People think they can just keep shooting.”

What Jaeyun told you that night kept replaying in your head over the next week—over and over again. It hit you a little too hard, and you waited to confront Sunghoon about it. You wanted him to know that he could be vulnerable, too. But you couldn’t even speak to your best friend these days. He had been avoiding everyone like the plague.

You assumed it had something to do with Jongseong, but when you talked to him about it, he was hesitant to get into it.

“You’re the closest person to him,” you told him. Today was colder, and you rubbed your hands together for warmth as you and Jongseong stood by the gates after school. “I think if you guys sit down and talk things out, then he’ll start being himself again.”

“I was the closest person to him,” Jongseong corrected with a scoff. “Plus, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? What about your friendship?”

You couldn’t stop the words from leaving your mouth. Anger roiled deep in your chest, and you were too furious to realize that Jongseong only looked dejected in response. If he wasn’t going to explain what happened, then you couldn’t understand what was eating away at their relationship. 

“There is no friendship, Y/N,” he said slowly, in a voice so low that it sounded like the calm before the storm. His words made everything come to a halt, and you felt like time itself had frozen. “I suggest you let go of Sunghoon, too. You’re hanging onto someone who’s beyond help.”

“But I don’t know what you know!” you exclaimed. “I can’t let go of someone just like that, Jongseong. I need answers.”

He was quiet before he asked, “Do you remember when Sunghoon stayed over at your house once when we were fourteen?”

“When his house caught on fire?” you recalled, but the memory was sort of hazy for you. All you remembered was how you were in complete awe that Sunghoon was unscathed and unbothered by the incident. 

“Yeah,” Jongseong’s voice was grim as he said, “and I bet he never told you that he was the one who started that fire on purpose.”

It was like a punch to the gut. You could only shake your head blankly, lips parted in disbelief. 

He continued, “When we were fifteen, he thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught—”

No.

“—and, at sixteen, he actually did it.”

No. No. 

“Jongseong,” you whispered, your voice smaller than you intended, “was it…” 

“Jungwon?” He said the name so carefully, as if the world would explode into nothingness if he did. You had been gnawing at your lip so hard that you drew blood, yet that couldn’t distract you from the haunted look in Jongseong’s eyes. “Yeah, he killed Jungwon.”

You felt like you had just been doused with ice-cold water. 

“I shouldn’t have brought Jungwon with me. I knew Sunghoon was gonna do it to someone, but I didn’t know…” He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath that racked his entire body. “I didn’t think it would be him. I brought Jungwon to talk him out of whatever was going on, not to…” Jongseong stopped himself again, covering his face with his hands to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. 

It’s you and me, Sunghoon’s voice chimed in your head. The two of us against the world.

You thought your world had been shattered, but then you realized that it had actually been broken for a long time.

That night, you asked Jaeyun to come over, and he arrived at your door in record speed.

You two were sitting on your bed, controllers in hand, but the screen was off and neither of you were even in the mood to play. You must have trusted him more than anyone by now because the words started spilling with no preamble. You ended up explaining most of your conversation with Jongseong after you had Jaeyun swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell a soul.

Of course, you didn’t expect any normal person to compliantly come to terms with the fact that their friend murdered their other friend, but Jaeyun was a bit different when it came to you. Instead of accusing you of lying or denying the truth, he believed you wholeheartedly. You couldn’t tell if he was patient with you, or if he was just horrified by everything you had told him. 

It had been an entire year since Jungwon had been found dead and the case closed as an unsolved murder, but your words sucker punched Jaeyun like it had just happened yesterday. 

Jaeyun’s tone was urgent when he said, “We have to tell someone.” When he noticed your hesitation, he shook his head at you with a disapproving frown. “Y/N, this is serious. This is Jungwon, my best friend.” 

Your mouth went dry. “I-I know, it’s just—”

Jaeyun didn’t have to cut you off. You froze right when you saw tears welling up in his eyes.

“Y/N.” He said your name gently, but you still flinched. You had never heard your name being called with so much despair. “If Sunghoon really murdered Jungwon, then I can’t keep this a secret.”

“Give me a few days,” you pleaded. “I just want to hear Sunghoon out. No matter what he says, I’ll come with you to testify.” 

He shook his head immediately, eyes fierce. “You are not going anywhere near Sunghoon—not after what he did to Jungwon.”

“Then let me ask Jong—”

“Y/N,” Jaeyun interrupted, letting his hand slide over yours. His eyes were full of concern when he asked, “How do you know you can trust Jongseong?” 

Your hands started to shake.

“Y/N,” he said again, “if Jongseong took Jungwon to see Sunghoon, what do you think he did after Sunghoon killed him?”

Your pulse raced.

“If Jongseong knew about Sunghoon’s behavior for this long, why hasn’t he ever done anything?” 

All this time, you thought your world had grown a little bigger ever since you met Sunghoon and Jongseong. 

But you were living in a fantasy by yourself. 

Not so long after your talk with Jaeyun, your phone rang. You were in the middle of finishing up your history paper when you saw the caller ID flash across your screen.

It was Sunghoon.

You didn’t even give yourself time to think about it first. You just picked up the phone immediately. It was an old habit; you saw Sunghoon and accepted the call without a second thought. You never expected Sunghoon to ever call you again, so you didn’t exactly have any practice in rejecting his calls.

“Y/N?” came the familiar voice of Park Sunghoon—gentle, but almost like he was a caged animal.

“Sunghoon?” You swallowed hard. “Uh, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, but you weren’t sure what he was apologizing for. “It was supposed to be the two of us against the world.”

You frowned. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering your question, Sunghoon hesitated before saying, “We should catch up sometime. You can read part of the story I’m writing.”

You paused, and before he could ask if you were still there, you replied, “Yeah, sure.”

“Right.” Sunghoon sounded like he had more to say. You almost didn’t catch it because he was so quiet, and the last thing you heard before he hung up was a quiet, “Bye, then.”

Your deepest regret was answering your phone later that night.

It was hours after Sunghoon called you. Jongseong was more of a texter, so you were surprised when his caller ID flashed across your screen. It was definitely not a reasonable hour for a high school student to be out and about, but nothing could have prepared you for what you heard on the other side of the line.

Jongseong was sobbing. 

The sound chilled you to the bone. You never heard Jongseong cry, but this didn’t feel normal; this cry was frantic and mangled, like he was spiraling out of control. 

“Y/N, you have to come over quickly,” Jongseong begged through broken sobs and heavy breaths. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“Jongseong, calm down. Tell me what’s happening.”

“You have my location, right? Just hurry. Please.” And he hung up. 

In a daze, you called Jaeyun and asked him to pick you up. 

“I really think we should just call the cops,” Jaeyun offered, almost pleading. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jongseong, but this sounds sketchy, Y/N.”

Pitted fear festered in your throat. You knew something was off, but you weren’t sure if you could handle losing Jongseong, too. You had gotten so used to not being alone that you were paranoid of returning to having no one. 

“Call them as soon as we get there,” you said. “I just need to make sure Jongseong’s okay.” 

Jaeyun pressed his lips into a thin, grim line, but he kept driving. 

It was a port that Jongseong’s location directed you to, and discomfort crept into your limbs as soon as Jaeyun pulled into the area. Maybe you should’ve stayed back where it was safer and let the police handle everything, but you must have been a fool. It was just that Jongseong’s cries echoed in your head whenever you started having second thoughts.

You could hear him before you saw him.

Jongseong’s soft sobs could be heard from behind a metal storage unit, and you and Jaeyun inched closer carefully after getting out of the car. Your heart dropped to your stomach; you were dreading the worst, and when you turned the corner into the closed area Jongseong was in, you realized that the sight before you was the worst it could get. 

Sunghoon’s body.

You waited for his chest to rise, but not even a shallow breath escaped his blue-tinged lips.

It took you a moment to reorient yourself and realize that Sunghoon wasn’t just passed out, he was dead. 

You saw the blood pooling around him and the wounds piercing his torso, staining his white shirt, but you wanted to believe your mind was playing tricks on you. You convinced yourself that Sunghoon was going to get up any second now and start laughing, and then Jongseong would join in and tell you it was all a joke. 

But that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t fear that overtook you—not an overwhelm of emotion—it was numbness. You stared at Sunghoon’s body as he bled out onto the concrete, blood pooling into the cracks in the ground. You felt an odd sort of disconnect. 

You tilted your head to see Sunghoon’s face turned to the side against the concrete. His blank eyes just stared into nothingness, and you realized that you would never get to see Sunghoon’s warm, sincere gaze ever again. You were never going to see his bright smile. You were never going to hear his contagious laugh. You were never going to read the wonderful stories he wrote. 

You supposed your life was always meant to be a tragedy. 

“H-Hoon?” Jaeyun choked up behind you. He was staring down at Sunghoon’s lifeless body in horror before his expression was slowly replaced with anger. “Jongseong, what the hell did you do?!”

“It was self-defense, man,” Jongseong whimpered out before his body was racked with sobs again. “He pulled a knife on me out of nowhere. I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at Sunghoon.

“Come on, guys,” Jongseong pleaded. “I can’t go to fucking prison. I’m eighteen now; it’s not juvie, it’s a life sentence.” You didn’t know what he was getting at until he requested the unthinkable, “Help me get rid of the body.”

You wanted to puke. You eyed the shiny metal soaked in blood that Jongseong was clutching. You were never going to see Sunghoon again. You were never going to hang out with him over the weekend. You were never going to hear his voice again. 

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “What the fuck are you gonna do when they realize he’s gone missing? You just killed someone! This is on you, Jongseong, not us!”

“Are you going to help me get rid of it or not?!” Jongseong tugged at his hair. “Just help me throw him off the dock, and we can all walk away from this.”

You watched helplessly, horror-stricken. “I… I can’t.”

“The body’s gonna float and show up somewhere,” Jaeyun countered with stony eyes. “They’re gonna catch you.”

Jongseong looked terrifyingly pale. You wondered if it was just the glow of the moon, or if he was also holding in his urge to puke. “I’ll just cut his stomach so he sinks.”

Disgusted, Jaeyun scowled. “You’re a monster.”

You watched as Jongseong tried hauling Sunghoon’s body before giving up and dragging him by the legs. You shot Jaeyun a warning look, mouthing for him to call the police before Jongseong noticed. He lingered back to do so while you followed Jongseong to plead him to stop. His arms gave out as soon as he stepped onto the planks, and he let Sunghoon’s lower half collapse onto the solid wood. 

“Y/N, help me cut open his stomach,” he ordered, hardly sparing you a glance. If he did, he would have seen how horrified you were.

“Oh,” you said, voice wavering, “that’s… that—that’s his…” 

“Y/N, help me.”

“Jongseong,” you begged, “please… please stop.”

He paid you no attention, though. You felt ghastly as Jongseong used a paring knife to make an incision on Sunghoon’s stomach. The smell was putrid. You screwed your eyes shut as the metallic smell of blood invaded your nostrils. Your nausea plunged into your gut, and you had to fight the pervasive urge to hurl.

A stream of Sunghoon’s blood made its way to your shoes, staining the soles. 

Jongseong was cutting your old best friend open. 

The dread had kept you numb for this long, but it was when reality settled in that you finally lost it. You couldn’t handle it anymore and pitched forward over the edge of the dock, throwing up until you were heaving up bile. You sobbed through it all, mournful and low, and your friend paid you no attention while he was cutting through flesh. 

When Jongseong was done, he wiped at his cheek, leaving behind a smear of blood. Sunghoon’s blood. You stared at him, and you had never been more terrified of him in your life. 

And then you really noticed Jongseong. You noticed how Sunghoon’s blood was coated all over his hands, how he hardly had any scratches or bruises on his body, how merciless his eyes were as he stared down at his old best friend. 

The realization that washed over you was frightening. 

“Sunghoon didn’t actually try to kill you, did he?” you managed to warble out. “You killed him yourself.”

A deep silence from him followed—heavy and wretched. Sunghoon’s blood was so dark that it nearly looked black under the dim light, and you could only stare helplessly until Jaeyun made his way to the dock, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. 

Jongseong turned to you and Jaeyun, clutching his knife tightly. You could hardly recognize the boy in front of you. You never truly understood the term “paralyzed by fear” until you saw the crazed look in Jongseong’s eyes—cold and haunting. 

Jaeyun’s eyes glistened with tears and his throat was thick with emotion when he said, “Jongseong, please—just hang on and… and we can talk this out.” 

The hand gripping his knife started shaking. “You won’t tell anyone, right? You guys won’t snitch on me, right?” When there was no response from you or Jaeyun, Jongseong’s desperation grew stronger. He turned to you with his eyes big and terrified. “Y/N, come on, we’ve known each other for years. You know I—”

“Shut up!” Jaeyun yelled. His protective grip on you tightened. “Cut the bullshit, Jongseong. The police are gonna be here soon, and they’re gonna take you straight to prison once they see what you did to Hoon.”

It was like a switch flipped in him. A distant part of your mind wondered if you could get everyone out of this—somehow bring Sunghoon back and go back to your normal life—but you immediately shut down that fantasy as soon as Jongseong’s eyes darkened. 

In the darkness, you could make out an amused expression on his face. His smile took on a cold edge. 

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll just have to get rid of you two before the police get here, then.”

You felt like your world slowed. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears. You could tell Jongseong was walking closer to you while Jaeyun was desperately trying to tug you and get you to run, but you were frozen in place. You wanted to believe that your old friend wouldn’t actually hurt you, but then you didn’t know what to think when he raised his knife. 

It had all happened so fast. Too fast. 

In your brief struggle as Jongseong tried to stab you, you heard a sharp gasp that tore you from your haze, like you had just been drenched in cold water. Brutally sober. You tried to push Jongseong off of you, but he was too heavy, too limp. Jaeyun shouldered his way between you two and shoved Jongseong back, grimacing when his skull hit the wood with a thud. 

You heard one last, strangled gasp from Jongseong before he stopped breathing. The last star in his eyes twinkled until it dimmed for good. 

Jongseong laid flat on the dock with his knife piercing his chest.

As you heard police sirens go off in the distance, Jaeyun wrapped his arms around you before you finally broke down into his chest. 

Your best friends were dead and your world was broken beyond repair. 

“So, it was self-defense?” Detective Lee asked, his piercing eyes boring right into yours. “Purely accidental? You had no intention of harming Park Jongseong?”

You shook your head. “I still couldn’t process the fact that he killed Sunghoon, so I didn’t think he’d actually try to hurt me.”

You wanted to cry. You bit your chapped lip, but all you could taste was blood that you doubted was even there. You couldn’t even say Sunghoon’s name without seeing that radiant smile of his stained with deep red. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ve told you everything I know. Can I see Jaeyun now?”

Detective Lee eyed you for a moment. Finally, you saw some sort of sympathy in his gaze, although you felt sort of repulsed that you were being pitied in this state. The detective muttered something about him being back later, and he left the interrogation room, leaving you handcuffed to the table. 

A minute passed by. Another. Several more. 

You were pretty sure it had been at least an hour or two of staring at the wall, but the passage of time felt meaningless now. You could wait hours, even days, but you didn’t think you would ever be ready to confront what cruel reality awaited you. 

You were so tired of everything, so exhausted that you didn’t even think about your parents until now. Were they here? Were they informed about your arrest? They must have been worried sick all night. 

When the door opened, your head shot up. 

“You’re free to go, Y/N,” Detective Lee said, pulling out a key to uncuff you from the table. 

You were frozen. You just stared up at Detective Lee with your jaw hung open. 

“I know this took awhile, but there was no security footage at the scene to confirm your story,” he elaborated. “But your stories matched up, and we found more evidence in the trunk of Jongseong’s car that he had been planning this murder.” 

He helped you to your feet and escorted you out of the room. You were able to pick up everything they took from you before you were locked up in the holding cell—your keys, wallet, and your phone. Then, you were taken to the waiting room where your parents were seated at the far end. 

At the sight of you, they all but leapt from their seats to rush over, hands cupping your face and arms embracing your weak, battered figure. There was so much love in their eyes, and their fear over possibly losing their daughter replaced any anger they had toward the situation. However, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you ended up getting an earful the next day. 

“Mom, Dad,” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome with emotion. You were immediately aware of how weak and pathetic you felt. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” your father silenced you by rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Jaeyun’s family wanted us to let you know that he’s okay, too. They just took him home about ten minutes ago.”

You were slightly disappointed. Part of you was hoping that he would wait for you, but you figured Jaeyun’s family would have wanted to go home right away. You definitely would have felt better if you got to see your boyfriend in the flesh to make sure he was alive and well, but you weren’t going to complain now. 

There was still a ghost of a smile on your lips as your parents walked you to their car. They gushed and gushed about how glad they were about you being safe and sound, and about how they never would’ve expected Jongseong of all people to end up being a murderer.

You were happy to be alive, of course, but you felt so empty. 

You pulled out your phone to try and text Jaeyun, but, as you thought, it was dead. 

“Mom, can I use your phone?” you asked, and you dialed Jaeyun’s number immediately as soon as she handed it to you. You had it memorized because it was a combination of numbers that was fairly easy to remember. 

It rang four times, and by the fifth ring, you were scared that he wouldn’t pick up. But then, it beeped.

“Hello?” Jaeyun answered. “Who is this?”

It was like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders once you heard his voice. Despite Detective Lee informing you that Jaeyun was, indeed, alive, you felt more reassured hearing it from your boyfriend himself. You wanted to cry then and there, but you didn’t want to make your parents worry unnecessarily. 

You forgot you were even supposed to respond when Jaeyun spoke again, “Is anyone there?”

“Jaeyun, it’s me,” you mumbled softly. “Y/N.”

You heard him suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

Jaeyun gave you the breakdown of how his experience went, which took a completely different turn than yours. After receiving medical attention, they brought him back to his holding cell to sleep for hardly a few hours. The detective interrogating Jaeyun tried to build trust with him, telling him they wanted to help and just needed his confession. They lied about already having evidence that he killed Jongseong, but Jaeyun denied it and told them the whole story. He was only free to leave after they cross-examined his story with yours. 

“Jesus,” you whispered into the phone, breathing out a small laugh. By now, you were already parked at your house and walking to your front door. “This is so fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “but we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, Jae. Us against the world.”

Sim Jaeyun spent nine hours being questioned by authorities. 

He knew the nature of the crime that occurred was complex, and he was still reeling from the loss and betrayal that left a deep wound in his chest, but there was something that terrified him still. 

It wasn’t the murderous look in Park Jongseong’s eyes, or the blood completely drained from Park Sunghoon’s face. 

Rather, what scared Jaeyun the most was that he spent so long pining after you and getting to know you at a deeper level. He genuinely fell hard for you, even though you had monsters in the closet. He thought he knew almost everything about you, like how you were a terrible liar. 

Yet, you had just lied about everything that went down last night for nine hours straight. 

What scared Jaeyun the most was how clueless he had been about who you really were.

Truthfully, he was also in the wrong for going along with your lie. It was definitely going to bite him back one day. In the moment, though, he was far too much of a coward to go against you. Although he was able to get Jungwon the justice he deserved and allowed his family to finally be at peace with answers, Jaeyun still felt horrible. He just remembered the desperate look in your eyes as your face and hands were stained with blood, begging him to protect you. 

Jaeyun’s downfall must have been that he liked you too much to say no.

It was true that Jongseong called you in a panic, begging you to show up at the port as quickly as possible, and it was true that you wanted Jaeyun to drive you there instead of calling the cops first. 

Jaeyun knew deep down that you were making the wrong choice, but he had hope that you knew what you were doing. Truthfully, although he liked you a lot, he was still wary about how you felt toward Sunghoon. He just couldn’t understand how you were still unconsciously protecting him after hearing what happened to Jungwon. He knew that you wanted answers, but Jaeyun was worried about how you’d react once you got them. 

The real story—the one neither of you told the detectives—never started with Park Jongseong killing Park Sunghoon.

It really started when you and Jaeyun arrived at the port to see that no one was around. It was eerily quiet, and Jaeyun was starting to regret not turning around and heading straight for the police station. When you two got out of the car, you walked several feet down the line of shipping containers before returning to Jaeyun with a confused look on your face.

“I don’t see either of them,” you said, but then your eyes grew unfocused as you stared at something—or, rather, someone—behind Jaeyun. 

He turned around to see Jongseong walking over to the two of you in a calm fashion, as if he had no other care in the world. The port was relatively an open space, so he had no idea where Jongseong could have emerged from. Jaeyun rolled his neck, more frustrated than anything. 

“Jongseong!” you called out. 

When he neared you two, Jongseong shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh, you brought your boyfriend.”

“What’s going on?” you urged. “Is it Sunghoon? Did something happen to him?”

“Wow, that hurts, Y/N.” Jongseong barked out a laugh, but nothing about his tone sounded sincere. “I call you in the middle of the night and all you can think about is Hoon? Wow. How do you feel about that, Jaeyun?”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just glowered. 

Nothing about this felt right. 

You stammered, “I-I just assumed—”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Jongseong cut you off with little regard for your excuses. “Sorry to say this in front of your boyfriend, but imagine how I feel when the girl I’ve liked for years only cares about my best friend.” 

The air went still.

Your voice was barely a whisper when you asked, “Excuse me?” 

Jaeyun pursed his lips together, and, for a moment, he thought his tongue would start bleeding if he bit it any harder. Sunghoon liked the girl that Jongseong liked, and if that girl was you, then Jaeyun was worried that he already lost you. He knew for months that he would never truly have you the way he wanted. Your feelings for Sunghoon were stronger, and although Jaeyun was able to pack his insecurities into a tiny ball and shove it down his throat, it was all coming out now. 

His uneasy heart shattered into a million pieces once he caught a glimpse of your expression—hopeful and longing. And it wasn’t for Jongseong; it was for Sunghoon. 

“Now that’s a great expression,” came an overly-enthusiastic voice from Jaeyun’s right.

Park Sunghoon was leaning against one of the shipping containers, arms folded across his chest before he uncrossed them and made his way toward the three of you. He must have been hiding behind the containers this whole time because Jaeyun hadn’t seen him at all before. 

The situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. Jaeyun wanted to shrink back when Sunghoon suddenly took great interest in him, keeping his eyes fixed on him instead of you or Jongseong. He used to have such bright and happy smiles, but, this time, Jaeyun almost thought his grin had been sliced into his face with a blade.

Sunghoon slung an arm over Jongseong’s shoulder. “Wow, Jae, now I really wanna see the look on your face when you’re in total despair,” he crooned, almost mocking. Jaeyun’s blood rushed in his ears when Sunghoon’s tongue swiped across one of his fangs. “You should’ve seen the look on Jungwon’s face.”

Jaeyun lunged before he could even think, but he stopped himself as soon as you held onto him, stopping him from hitting Sunghoon. 

And that was when he knew he already lost you. 

“Don’t,” you insisted.

“Are you serious?” he breathed out, brows knitting into a frown as he looked down at you. 

Shame clung to your throat, keeping your mouth shut, but Jaeyun was more concerned now about the sharp blade pointed at his throat.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Jongseong had a paring knife pointed straight at him, and Sunghoon’s smile never faltered. They were clearly on the same side. There was a reason why Jeongseong never did anything about Sunghoon after killing Jungwon. 

Jaeyun felt stupid for not putting it together earlier.

“I’d listen to your girlfriend,” Jongseong warned. His voice crawled all over him, freezing Jaeyun cold to the bone. “You might as well hear us out before you die here tonight.”

“Can’t exactly let you two run off now that you know what happened to Jungwon,” Sunghoon added.

“Jungwon was our friend,” Jaeyun hissed. “He was my best friend, you sick freak! What did you do to him? Why? He’s never… he never did anything wrong!”

“You’re right. He didn’t do anything wrong,” Sunghoon confirmed, surprisingly calm and collected. “In fact, he exceeded my expectations. It was a great performance, actually.” Jaeyun clenched his fist tight—so tight that his nails dug into his palms and drew blood—and Sunghoon took notice of this with a delighted hum. “You should’ve heard him scream, Jae. I had my doubts about him at first, but when he was begging me for his life, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

You were distraught. “Sunghoon, you—”

It all happened in seconds, like a rubber band finally snapping after being stretched too thin. Jaeyun used his elbow to knock Jongseong’s arm out of the way, and he shoved Sunghoon as soon as he found an opening, driving his hands into his ribs. He heard you cry out, but Jaeyun could only see red until he was dragged back up by Jongseong, the sharp blade of the knife being pressed to his throat. 

“Stop!” you cried. “Leave Jaeyun out of this! You wanted me, right? Just let him go. Please.” 

“I don’t think so.” Sunghoon wrapped an arm around you. “You two already know too much, and Jongseong and I have been waiting for this finale for years.”

Your eyes had a faraway look in them for a moment before you turned your attention back to Jongseong. “You told me…”

“I told you that when we were fifteen, Sunghoon thought it would be fun to plan out a murder without getting caught,” Jongseong filled in the blanks for you, a haunting smile playing on his lips, “and I was in on it.”

Sunghoon tutted. “But you got it all wrong, Y/N. It wasn’t Jungwon’s murder that we were planning; it was yours.”

You looked up at him in horror.

Jaeyun struggled against Jongseong for a moment, face taut with unbridled anger. He just wanted to get to you. Get Sunghoon’s filthy hands off of you. 

“I’m a writer. I write stories,” Sunghoon continued. “Isn’t it a great twist? Convincing my childhood best friend that I loved her all this time, only to reveal that she’s gonna die at my hands.” He scoffed. “Jungwon was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he was good practice. I was too careless back then. I shouldn’t have left all those drawings and papers out like that when he came over, but now I’m gonna finish the job properly.” 

Your breathing was shallow. Jaeyun could see the flood of despair racking your body with soft sobs and quick pants. Your gaze fell to the ground, and Sunghoon peered to catch a better look at you. 

“Good,” he praised. “That’s what I wanna see. Wow, that’s great, Y/N. I can’t wait to see more when—”

“Get the fuck away from her!” Jaeyun yelled, grunting when Jongseong pressed the knife harder against his supple skin. 

With an exaggerated flourish of his hands, Sunghoon raised both arms and backed up as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He wore an easygoing smile, yet something sinister was tucked behind the curve of his lips. Your inconsolable self stayed fixed in place, staring helplessly at your shoes.

“For the past two years, I’ve been isolating myself from the friend group for the sake of this story and its ending,” Sunghoon said. “I think I deserve a little fun right now, Jae.”

“Fuck you,” Jaeyun spat. “You deserve to go to Hell.”

Sunghoon took a step closer to Jaeyun, ducking his head so that they were at eye-level with each other. Jaeyun tried to struggle against Jongseong once more, but he froze when the knife pierced his skin. He felt something trickle down the column of his neck, and he soon realized it was his own blood. 

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Sunghoon mocked a pout. He lowered his voice by an octave, only for Jaeyun to hear. “Competing with a childhood friend is brave, I’ll tell you that.” 

Jaeyun’s blood boiled. To his surprise, Sunghoon gestured for Jongseong to let go of him. He took the paring knife from his friend and handed it to Jaeyun. 

“Take it,” Sunghoon said. “Why don’t you try killing me? You wanna get back at me, right? I killed your best friend, after all.”

Owlish, he blinked back at Sunghoon, almost absently. Jaeyun really considered it for a moment—like, really considered it. Some part of him wanted to senselessly beat Sunghoon up until he was unrecognizable, but the morally righteous side of him knew that he could never stoop to Jongseong or Sunghoon’s level. 

Jaeyun took the knife by the handle, weighing it in his palm experimentally before chucking it away—far from both Sunghoon and Jongseong. Jaeyun was pretty sure he could overtake Jongseong if Sunghoon turned his back, but he wasn’t sure if Jongseong had another weapon up his sleeve. He heard the blade skid and scrape against the concrete, and he could only hope that Sunghoon and Jongseong being distracted by him would give you time to escape. 

But Jeongseong immediately stopped you as soon as he saw you picking up the knife, and he let go of Jaeyun to grab ahold of you. Jaeyun tried to yank Jongseong back by the back of his shirt, but Sunghoon grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head against the metal of one of the shipping containers.

Jaeyun’s world was thrown off-balance. The ground bounced, tilted, swayed. He was so dizzy and disoriented that he couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if he was collapsing. 

The corners of his vision grew hazy with white splotches dancing around. Jaeyun tried hard to focus, making out some of the yelling that was going back and forth, but he couldn’t think at all when a newly-formed cut on his forehead was getting blood all over his face and hands. 

He doubled forward, falling onto his knees. Jaeyun had to stay there for a while and ride out the intense waves of vertigo until he was stable again. When the world finally returned to its normal axis and stopped bouncing under him, Jaeyun lifted his head to see you and Jongseong screaming at each other.

And Sunghoon was on the ground.

He stumbled over, and it was as if the white noise in Jaeyun’s ears had drowned out everything in the background. He couldn’t see or focus on anything except the pained look on Sunghoon’s face as the color drained from his neck. Blood was gushing from his jugular vein, and he was digging his palm into his neck to put pressure on the wound. 

“—you stabbed him!” you screamed at Jongseong. Your voice was hysterical; Jaeyun had never heard you sound so desperate, not even when he was being held at knifepoint. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I wouldn’t have hurt him if you didn’t pull on my arm!” Jongseong yelled back. He sank to the ground, simultaneously dropping the knife and dropping his head between his knees. 

The sight was miserable to watch. Jongseong wailed loud and mournful until he couldn’t take it anymore, doubling over so that he could throw up until nothing but bile was coming out. When it seemed as though he had nothing else to heave out of his stomach, Jongseong sat up for a brief moment. You and Jaeyun watched as his eyes rolled back almost instantly, falling onto his back and hitting his skull against the concrete. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him, and you two didn’t have long until he was conscious again.

Jaeyun turned his attention back to Sunghoon, watching his life bleed out of his body slowly. For some reason, an odd disconnect came over Jaeyun, and he bent down to help apply pressure over Sunghoon’s wound. At first, Sunghoon gritted his teeth, but even he knew when to accept help when it was needed. 

Sim Jaeyun was pretty sure he was broken beyond belief by now, but it was impossible for him to ignore someone who was dying right before him. 

Even if he murdered Jungwon. 

“Y/N, we need to get him to a—” 

Jaeyun cut himself off when he looked up at you to see that your expression had changed. Something was different. You looked like numbness had seeped into your body, coiling around your heart until you couldn’t feel anything. The way you looked down at Jongseong, clutching his knife tightly, made Jaeyun worry.

“Y/N,” Jaeyun said again—slower, “whatever you’re thinking… please put it down.”

It didn’t seem like you were listening, though. Almost as if your body and brain were at two different places. 

“Y/N—” Jaeyun shuddered when you brought the knife down, driving it straight into Jongseong’s chest. 

Jaeyun’s stomach lurched. He watched as Jongseong struggled for his life, hardly conscious as you repeatedly stabbed him over and over again until Jaeyun was yelling at you to stop. He was sure he would never be able to close his eyes again without hearing Jongesong’s blood-curdling screams and seeing Sunghoon’s face drained of color. 

“Wow,” Sunghoon choked out. One last amused look crossed his face before it fell apart painfully. “I told you, Jae, there’s no competing with a childhood best friend.” Jaeyun flushed with anger, but it dissolved quickly when he realized Sunghoon’s breathing got slower, shallower. The look on his face was one of someone accepting their untimely death. “Thanks for the show, though.”

In his arms, Sunghoon took his last breath and went still.

It wasn’t grief that Jaeyun felt. It was something far greater.

“Jaeyun, I—I didn’t mean to,” you sobbed out, shakily holding up your bloodstained hands. “It was self-defense! I tried to stop him, but he was trying to kill me, and then he… he killed Sunghoon. I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t—” You exhaled shakily. “I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jaeyun didn’t respond. He just stared at you in disbelief. 

“Come on, Jae,” you pleaded. Oh, so it was Jae now. “You have to help me get rid of their bodies. I can’t go to prison!”

“Get rid of the body?” Jaeyun raised his voice, exasperated. “Y/N, they’re dead! We have to tell the police everything. I mean, what are you gonna do when your prints match?”

Your lips pressed together in a grim line. “Your prints are on the knife, too.”

Were you blackmailing him? Jaeyun couldn’t believe what he was hearing from you. He never expected you, of all people, to be the one to throw him under the bus like this. He had trusted you with his life before, and you threw it all away in seconds. 

“Are you going to help me or not?” You looked toward the dock over the water. It was a good enough distance for you to drag Sunghoon and Jongseong’s bodies over to, but Jaeyun sure as hell didn’t want to get involved. “Just help me throw them in the water, and we can both walk away from this, Jae. We can go back to our lives, okay?”

He shook his head sadly. You just sounded like a stranger to him. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pleaded, tears stinging his eyes, “please stop this. You have to turn yourself in.”

But his resolve was shaky. Jaeyun knew that he would still be booked once they found his prints at the scene, and there was no telling what you would do to protect yourself. By now, Jaeyun wouldn’t have been surprised if you somehow pushed the crime onto him. 

“Jae, listen to me,” you insisted. Your eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and Jaeyun couldn’t help but think you looked a little crazed. “We can both get out of this, but you have to help me out here. We’re gonna tell them that Jongseong killed Sunghoon before we got here, and then he chased us until we ended up stabbing him out of self-defense. I mean, that’s all this was, anyway! It was self-defense!”

A distant part of Jaeyun’s mind wondered what happened to you. He wondered if you had always been this way, perhaps keeping it tucked away. In the end, you were still trying to protect Sunghoon in your own way. You were still trying to protect some fragment of his golden image.

“It’s you and me,” you whispered, kneeling down by your boyfriend’s side until you were cupping his face with your hands, staining his cheeks with Jongseong’s blood, “the two of us against the world.”

Just hours ago, Sim Jaeyun looked at you like you were his entire world.

And now, with your bloodstained hands holding his face, there was unmistakable fear behind his eyes as he looked up at you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end !! i would lovee for you to guys to share what you thought, but just to point a few things out, jake's pov was the unfiltered version of what went down that night. the dialogue from mc is similar to jongseong's because while she painted him out to be the villain in the end to protect sunghoon, it was really her who said those things. originally this had a happier ending but i'm a lot more satisifed with this one actually. i hope you guys liked it !! <3 also i am deciding against using my permanent tag list this time because i haven't used it in a year and don't know if anyone exactly signed up to read horror 🧎‍♀️

[infamous-if]

I love how infamous is a masterpiece of unoriginality. It takes every possible rock band cliché, sticks them together with minimal effort, and calls it a story. The whole thing feels like a rejected script for a bad soap opera that somehow managed to weasel its way onto the internet. And don't even get me started on the emotionally exhausting ROs no one asked for. Let’s be real, the romance options in Infamous are just moody messes waiting to drain you of any energy. Want to play therapist to a tortured soul with commitment issues? Or babysit someone whose emotional stability is as shaky as the band’s career? Welcome to Infamous, where all the ROs are there to make you question your life choices—and not in the fun way. The Plot? Nonexistent, don’t worry. Who needs an actual storyline when you can just string together a bunch of angst-filled scenes and call it a day? The author must’ve thought, “What if I just didn’t bother with a plot at all?” So instead, you get a collection of sad, disjointed events that vaguely resemble a story if you squint. Writing quality? Eh, who needs it: From clunky dialogue to forced drama, the writing in Infamous feels like the author just threw words at a page and hoped for the best. It’s practically a masterclass in “good enough” writing—if by “good enough,” you mean “barely tolerable.” It’s almost like the main goal was to make Infamous as unoriginal and shallow as possible. Like, did they even try? Probably not. The whole thing reeks of “I read one too many fanfics and thought, ‘Hey, I could do that!’” Spoiler: they couldn’t. In short, Infamous is less a story and more a chaotic, poorly executed mess that somehow escaped the author’s drafts folder. If it’s supposed to be a game, the only real challenge is making it through without rolling your eyes.

I love how infamous is a masterpiece

you think my story is a masterpiece?

[seichv]

˖ ࣪⭑ CERTIFIED FREAK !

☆ sum: sunday, gallagher, aventurine, and sampo's kinks.

contents: (MDNI!!!), f!reader, bdsm, dacryphilia, exhibitionsim, orgasm denial, slight degradation, praise, p in v, fingering, creampie, squirting, daddy kink (gallagher) sampo is subby and whiny, choking, just... freak shit hehe ;)

note: writing slump: 0 ellie: 1 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SUNDAY - BDSM

yeah, he can indeed fool someone with those angelic looks, can’t he? he can easily deceive with them. giving you the impression that you could get away with just about anything under his watch, huh? you were simply wrong. little did you know the things he was capable of.

who would’ve thought you’d find yourself tied up, bound, hands clasped together by ropes, ankles tied to the ends of the bed, with sunday looming over you like a tantalizing, impending, dooming shadow, his sharp gaze like daggers, like frosty ice, boring into you, boring deep. 

“should i have brought a gag along with me too, darling?” he teases, inching his face closer and closer to you as your pussy pulsates with a brutal need, drenched in your arousal. he can practically smell it on you. smell your surrender, your submission. 

and oh, how beautiful the sight of your naked form is… trembling, goosebumps tickling your skin. it’s purely art to him. a masterpiece. and it's all for him and him only.

you vigorously shake your head in response, watching him slowly stroke his cock as he aligned it just barely at your weeping entrance, and you impetuously rut your hips up, desiring friction, attention, any sort of contact, as you writhed in agonizing desperation, deprivation. "n-no, please… please, fuck me…”

he hums at the sound of your frail voice, a smile spreading along his face. "such a pretty mouth uttering such filthy words… hm,”

and before you can say anything else, you suck in a deep gasp, the intrusion of his length taking you out in one go. he buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, and slowly, tormentingly begins rolling his hips, watching your expression like a hawk the entire time. he can’t help but hiss, your spongey, melting walls encasing him, sheer blankets of your slippery slick smearing along his cock. this couldn’t be mere pleasure anymore, this was euphoria.

and he’s already lost his sanity,

“o-oh, yes, yes,” you gasp, the thump of your heart skyrocketing in speed, as his pelvis starts smacking into yours faster… and harder… the woody material of the bed frame beneath you creaking, and ramming into the walls. you simply can’t understand how he can possibly feel so good. reaching places inside you you never knew you could feel, as if he were attempting to merge the two you into one.

"i want you to tell me,” sunday whispers breathily, glacially, almost like an eerie rustle of wind, like a whoosh of arctic air blowing right through every inch of your weakened, restrained body. he reaches out, takes your jaw in his slender hand, his penetrating stare not moving an inch from your beady eyes. “how good does it feel, darling?”

your vocal cords are giving up on you, being pulled at with every labored mewl and sob running off from your quivering lips. you can barely form a response, a creeping warmth scratching at your skull, making you feel dumbified. “s-so good! c-can’t… last long…”

and neither can sunday, not with how pretty you look, not with how the sweet, harmonic melody of your sounds makes the ache in his cock escalate overwhelmingly. all the sensations are getting sharper, more vivid, his pulse syncing with his rapid panting.

"cum with me,” he permitted, his tone close to urgent, almost like a plead. “let go for me. together.”

and it all happens quick. sunday grabs onto your waist, tightly as if for leverage or grounding, his eyes going wide as he’s met with his climax, his cock twitching inside your cunt before dumping his load inside, strained groans breaking out his throat as you gush all over him simultaneously.

yeah, he’s addicted. addicted to basking in the blissful pleasure of your body, basking in it with you.

GALLAGHER - EXHIBITIONISM

oh, the things you do to him.

he’s on a shift. but you, being the damn minx that you are, decided to prance on into the drink lounge with your pretty ass, giving him that look, seductively licking the rim of sugar that coated the top of your glass, while looking him dead in the eye.

you little tease,

would it be shocking for you to end up pressed up on the wall in the employee room, that gratuitously short skirt (that you very much wore on purpose) hiked up around your waist, with his thick cock drilling into you? he shouldn’t even be indulging in this, since you’re such a brat. you shouldn’t be getting what you wanted. but he can’t fucking resist, not when you play with him like that.

"showing up to the lounge, teasin’ me like a little slut, huh? while i’m working?” he snarls, his deep, gruff voice snaking up from behind you and right into your ear, making your knees give out. gallagher peers down, before lightly pushing at your ankle with his boot, urging you to spread those pretty little legs wider for him, his hands grabbing at your bubble ass, fondling and spreading the globe-y flesh. he wants a nicer view of that pussy swallowing him whole.

and god, it’s like a fucking glove. a sleeve,

your pussy is crying for him, hugging him, holding on like you can’t bear the thought of letting him go. you’re coating him in that creamy, syrupy slick, and every stroke has the static in your mind playing more and more frenzied. and he’s just so big, that thick head of his cock bullying your cervix with every sloppy, rough smack of his hips against that ass… fuck.

"hngh— n-needed you… so bad…” you’d whimper, choking on every whiny noise that you try to suppress, as you’re still trying to keep in mind that you are indeed in public. not that you’d admit that it turns you on more. you can’t help yourself. not when you’ve got him on your mind all day, his musky scent that engulfs your senses in flames, his perfect body… those muscles that you’re always ogling at.

oh, and speaking of muscles— your eyes suddenly roll right back into your skull the moment his beefy, rock-hard bicep curls around your throat, manhandling you in a chokehold, pulling your head back and making you arch against him, his dazy gaze right up in your fucked-out face, and he chortles. 

"yeah, didn’t you? can’t go a little while without some dick, huh?” gallagher practically growls, his teeth gritting hard with his jaw taught and set in a firm clench. if anyone could get a glance of his expression right now, they’d think he fucking hates your guts, like he’s fuming. with the way his sleeves are pushed up his arms, the veins in his forearm are visible, throbbing and bulging just like the veins of his cock inside you, the veins that your pussy can map out perfectly,

"w-with no haah— panties underneath this fucking shit,” gallagher groans, before his free hand lands a sharp smack to your ass, leaving behind a delicious sting. he’s not even surprised that you like that shit. like the naughty, cock-hungry whore you were. 

“daddyyy…” you whine, your tongue lolling out dumbly as you went limp, every part of you going numb except your pussy, throbbing and aching harder and harder the more he plowed into you with ruining force, as if he was trying to make you crumble apart entirely.

”gonna cum for daddy, huh?” gallagher huffs, his tone of voice nearly mocking. “yeah… how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and take it? k-keep milking my shit dry f’me… f-fuck.’

and that’s when it hits, your orgasm. it’s like a freight train, like a harsh blow, knocking you out in a blink of an eye. there was no way you could hold it anymore, not with the authority in his voice combined with his unmatched fervor and strength—

it’s splattering, your juices squirting out your pussy like a fountain, your mouth agape as your nails claw at his arm that stayed put around your throat. gallagher groans out loud at the sight, his own eyes rolling back as a rushed, ‘fuck, fuck,’ rasps out his strained throat. thick, hot streams of his seed plugs your wet heat up to the very brim, and he stays there, panting hard with you pressed against him.

"f-fuck, sweetheart. made a goddamn mess—"

"gallagher?! whaddya’ doin’ in there, man? you disappear on me, or what?” aaand there’s siobhan… fuck.

you can only glance back at gallagher with a cheeky little giggle. hehe… whoops.

AVENTURINE - DACRYPHILIA

“don't you take those eyes off of me.” aventurine coos, his gaze flickering back and forth from your pussy, then back towards your face. he’s got you prettily sprawled out on the bed, two of his slender fingers pistoning inside your drooling cunt, curling at just the right angle, reaching nice and deep. his vigor is just relentless, you’re desperately trying to clamp your legs together, your face shying away as your eyes squint and your eyebrows curl inward, a squeal escaping from your throat.

“oh, i don’t think so,” aventurine grunts, his free hand roughly spreading your legs back open, his forearm shoving against the back of your thighs so that they stay pushed back. “you are not running from me, darling. take it like a good girl, won't you?” he purrs, and you gasp, dragging out a hoarse whine as he picks up the pace, the wet sloshes that your cunt produces getting progressively louder. even flecks of your juices were flying out with every thrust of his hand at this point, and fuck, was it lewd…

“gonna cum—!” you’d croak out, warm tears flooding your vision and pooling up along the waterline of your eyes as you’re unable to sit still, creaks and rustling ringing out from the bed as you desperately attempt to thrash around, despite aventurine holding you in place. that familiar tingle in your lower tummy was brewing up, and quick.

and oh, were those tears he saw?

the ache and the strain in his pants only hardens at the sight, serving to drive him even crazier. he can’t help it. you look so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so needy, so desperate. and it’s all because of him…  fuck. makes him wanna devour you whole, like he’s lost every train of thought, every bit of composure…

“my, oh my,” he snickers, shaking his head incredulously as he keeps his gaze glued to you, his violet orbs bordering a feral look to them. he loves seeing those crystal streams trickling down those cheeks that are prominently coated in a deep, rosy flush of color. you look like a doll.

his doll,

and he can tell when his doll is close. that adorable look on your face gives it away, eyes wide, gazing up at him, your mouth dangling open, hands grasping at the sheets for dear life. “gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone low, almost taunting, so velvety, so smooth, it's practically spine-chilling, and that alone makes your walls clench around his digits once more. as if you hadn’t done that enough already.

"y-yes, gonna— fuck!” you’re cut off as aventurine’s thumb meets your clit, rubbing the swollen nub with skilled precision, causing your pleasure to soar up to insanely imposing heights. its as if he’s trying to coax your pussy into orgasm, trying to lure you into cumming. and fuck, is he doing a good job at it. a good job is an understatement. his hands… it’s like they could cast a motherfucking spell on your pussy…

“cum, pretty. make a mess all over my fingers. go on,” he urges, the smirk on his face flashing brighter as one last whimper rips out from your throat, until you’re squirting all over his hand, and his mouth drops open, his pupils blowing and darkening.

"oh, yess,” he groans, eager to milk every last drop out of your pretty pussy, continuing to finger fuck you through your high, elongating it, even as you’re a shaking mess, trying to pry away from him. 

“mhmm, would you look at that,” he huskily purrs, sliding his creamy, sticky fingers out your pussy with a squelch, licking them clean with a smirk, before your pussy throbs at the contact of his hand meeting it in a mean slap, spanking your pussy and sending a jolt through your body. 

"made my pretty girl cry from both her eyes, and her pussy, hm? poor thing…”

SAMPO - ORGASM DENIAL

sampo is a mouthy one, there’s no doubt about that. roguish, cocky, cheeky. you can't help but feel this itching urge to shut him up. to put him in his place.

hence why you’ve got him in between your legs, his back to your chest, one of your hands pumping his cock while the other is over his mouth, muffling his needy moans.

he’s bucking his hips up as you stroke his cock, fucking up into your hand, his eyes rolled back,

”ohh, baby,” you coo with a sly grin, your warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear before you give it a small nibble. “don’t tell me you wanna cum already, hm? its too early for that, silly boy.”

you lift your hand off of his mouth, only to gently wrap it around his throat, and he lets out a hoarse whimper, shaking his head. “n-no… w-won't cum yet… won’t cum…” he whines, and it practically pains him to say that, as he’s just dying to cum, his angry tip flushed bright red, his balls heavy and aching, desperate for release.

"good boy. you just sit still and take it.” you giggle, your words alone making him even needier by tenfold, his legs shaking, his hands grasping at your legs like lifelines. 

you’re pumping harder now, schlick after schlick, sticky and creamy, his arousal making a mess out of your hand.

he throws his head back against your shoulder with a loud moan, his hips bucking more frantically before you land a soft spank to his balls, earning a sound from his throat that almost sounded close to a shriek. 

“didn’t i just tell you to sit still?” you resume your quick, rough stroking as sampo has to hold back from literally throwing himself around, his consciousness practically out the window at this point. “you were doing so good f’me, sampo. what happened? don’t you wanna cum?”

"yes!” he’s quick to respond, burying his face in your neck as he sniffles, shaking hard like a leaf. “y-yes, please… ‘m sorry, so sorry… w-wanna cum so bad—!” he whines, hearing that buzzing begin to ring in his ears, his vision a bright white light. his limits are being pushed and pushed and pushed, about to burst like a balloon. its too much for him.

"p-please… c-can i cum for you? n-need to cum for you…” he whimpers, lifting his face to look into your eyes with a pleading, almost teary gaze. his cock is solid, and he needs this release so bad it’s close to paining him. “s-so much… h-have so much for you…”

"mm, wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you? all for me,” you giggle, pumping especially harder at the tip, making the twitch in his thighs quicken.

"go on, then. cum for me. let me see how bad you need to,” pfft. you didn’t need to tell him twice. like jets, his cum splurts out, shooting straight up and all over his hand as he’s whimpering, and whimpering fucking loud. his jaw falls slack, fat beads of sweat running down his temples, his eyes going straight back into his head yet again as he thrashes back against you. you gasp, chuckling softly as you keep your gaze glued to his twitching cock, leaning in to gently pepper kisses along his neck, making him shiver harder. 

”lookkk at that, baby,” you purr, your hand that was around his throat sliding up to brush his hair away from his face. “there you go, easy, baby,” you whisper, and he chuckles breathily, whimpering small little, ‘thank you’s’ before his eyes flicker back open and fall upon your tongue licking his cum off your hand.

yeah. that’ll do it for him. now he’s definitely gonna slurp your pussy off the bone.

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slip, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“An impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want you cum coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into obvious for what it seems like endlessly, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, i did that, didn’t i?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassure, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[the-nameless-ramekin]

🤧🤧🤧 THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME 

genuinely at a loss for words and pumping my brain for actually coherent English things to say JAHSJKHKH so there's just brain dumping in the tags 👇

Tumblr can't deal with all of my tags RIP so here's more things I included that got thanos snapped:

this has had more cultural impact than the renaissance. not even my partner on our wedding day could move me to this degree.

not me not realising your two accounts were the same person LMAO 🤡

genuinely am so overwhelmed by the sheer prowess, beauty, intricacy of this masterpiece. bias aside (being my story and also my existing love for your art) it's just objectively the most visually stunning thing I've ever seen

I will blast my current story with copious amounts of leorook in honour of you

how tf did it take me an hour to type everything out + wrangle Tumblr

i drew a thing for this beautiful fanfic by @the-nameless-ramekin >:3c i 100% recommend this fic for people who enjoy crying (and beautiful writing in general!!) anyway hey rame...it's ao3 user bachstreetsolo o(-( i love your writing (i cried!!)

keep reading for rambles and alt images 🌟

fun little detail (kind of) - i gave each character clothes in a hue close to their partner's hair colour...vil's was a bit hard to work in but she has a bit of white in her hat. also sorry for having the opposite of same face syndrome

honestly i think this might be the most detailed piece i've done? even my rook birthday art wasn't this intense omg. i aim to do more detailed pieces in the future 💥 i can't keep doing flat backgrounds forever...i'll keep improving 🔥 and seriously read the fic it's crazy good

[xwhitenoise]

the way a romanced astarion unpacks everything when you get the good ending for his personal quest is lowkey funny tho

like. he basically sums up the entire point of his journey and confirms explicitly that you did, in fact, make the exact right choices to help him grow????

the writers really drive home this idea of just "that's it! you did it! you uncovered the secret to making him a good person, and it turns out the only requirements were to give a shit about him and believe he's capable of doing the right thing!! literally just those two things and nothing else!!"

first in the graveyard

side note, "you trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do" is one of my favorite lines because it just sums up really the whole experience of his romance gfjdklgjdf

then later in casual conversation

[tav: you saved yourself, i just gave you a push]

it's all really sweet and lovely and emotional but also. REALLY funny to me. because there are all those people who go "astarion is an irredeemable piece of shit with no soul and everyone who likes him is in denial of how much he sucks"

meanwhile astarion's just out there like "thanks for keeping me from becoming the worst possible version of myself by exercising empathy instead of just writing me off as a hateful pile of garbage ❤ love u"

really incredible. absolute masterpiece

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.

[navxry]

HOLY SHIT???

The way it ENDED... OH MY GOD

Oh this is so. Okay I need to lie down. What the hell. Oh my GOD. /pos /exag

JUST...

Holy SHIT I can't stop reading it (I say as I reread it again to gather my thoughts. Did it work? No. No it did not)

Hi Harmony! I just noticed that your requests are open and I decided to drop by with a small request I thought about for weeks.

I was thinking about Arlecchino for a while, and it made me ponder of the concept of Arlecchino with a darling on a reincarnation AU. Maybe Arlecchino has met her darling at such an inconvenient time, and every time that it has happened, only she remembers their past lives.

It probably goes to the point that Arlecchino starts devising ways to be able to keep her darling safe, because each time they would meet, her darling gets into an accident... And it would seem that each time she tried, then it would simply fail. And it would push to a point where she resorts to one of the more not so morally good methods.

I don't know if this counts as a req. or a brainrot, but I offer you this idea because I think it could be interesting to think about sometimes. You're free to deny it btw if its typical, hard, or overall you can't write it <3 I completely understand if that's the case.

(p.s.: this is the one running @yxstxrdrxxm BAHAHAHAHAHA I'm sorry if I haven't replied to your message during OLC, I dont know how to talk to you w/o sounding really awkward </3 also!! hydration check! Anyways thats all, have fun with the idea + I hope you have a great day Harmony :D)

Pantomime Of The Night

yandere!arlecchino x reader

cw(s) : yandere, vampire!arlecchino, mentions of blood, murder, slight gore, non-consensual touching, unbalanced power dynamics

wc : 2.1k

a/n: omg hiii! would you believe me if I said I was just thinking about you before getting this ask? also please don't worry about my message! i had a hunch that you might be in a situation of sorts. thank you so so much for requesting arlecchino because i've been itching to write for her for a long time! i decided to go with vampire!arlecchino for this because i thought it'd suit the reincarnation theme well. i hope you enjoy it<3

At the deepest hours of the night, even the innocent crackles of hearthfire sound as clamorous as gun-shots.

You're dazed by the flame's continuous dance until the aroma of freshly brewed tea reaches your senses and the servants have left. A sharp clank from Arlecchino's glass and the weight of her gaze prompt you to meet her eyes. The light from the fireplace casts shadows on the other half of her fair face, she seemed to have foregone her usual taught posture in favor of a relaxed one. One of her hands supports her cheek while the other holds the wine glass, the beverage within sloshes as the claw-like accessories on her fingers curl around the object.

Your side of the table is far more decorated, desserts that you've never even seen in your impoverished mortal life and that tea you've grown fond of over the course of your stay in her mansion sit appetizingly. All beckon you to feast, all seek to fan the flames of voracity and you offer but a thoughtless stare in return.

The master of the house seems to have noticed your lack of appetite as she finally breaks the stretched out silence, “These are all confectioneries of the highest quality from the town and as I recall, all of your favorites. But you give them no more than a blank stare... you've also not taken a sip from the tea. May I inquire why?”

The raspy tone of her observation has your arms covered in gooseflesh, though, you note she does not sound as confused as her words suggest. You can feel her onyx eyes gloss over every part of your person, inspecting and dissecting each and every visible clue. You swallow dryly, “It’s just that it's way too late in the night,”

“Yet you look as ready as ever to head out. Tell me, have you been anticipating my return, dearest?”

Arlecchino stares pointedly at your attire, likely referring to the traveling clothes you have on instead of the silk nightwear that she had gifted. Your shoulders tense unconsciously, there's something about the way she speaks at this instance that has your heartbeat crescendoing. The silver haired woman gives you a few more beats of anxiety, her talons scrape against the dainty glass.

“I’ve been informed that you have not eaten anything since yesterday.”

The words escape her painted lips easily, but they don't fail to send a jolt through your system. Throughout your stay, she'd never spoken to you like this, like you were one of her children who did not know better and decided to cross a line. That realization renders you further puzzled, you did nothing wrong to begin with, but her tone made you feel as though you were on the verge of doing so. You clear your parched throat and gather yourself to meet her eyes. This time, you do not allow yourself to wilt at the force of her burning stare.

“Arlecchino, I have something to tell you.”

The addressed woman straightens up at your sudden serious tone, her hand abandons the wine glass on the table and you inhale involuntarily at the scratches that now decorate the object, “I’m all ears, dearest.”

Your brows crease, as usual, Arlecchino is courteous, too courteous for someone who makes it obvious she's informed of something that she wasn't supposed to know. She's been like this ever since you and your travel-partner stepped foot in her ambiguous estate. Initially, you were touched by the hospitality she and her adopted children had shown you. Your greed lulled any arising suspicions, you neither questioned why she'd been so generous to a commoner with nothing more than fifty mora to their name nor did you bother to think about how she was affording all those gifts. You naïvely wished to believe in her kindness and that nothing was wrong about this house. But of course, self-woven deceptions last so long.

“Before you mistake me for being ungrateful, I did plan to inform you before leaving. Me and my friend are extremely thankful for the care your house has shown us, but we cannot stay in one place forever.”

“Why not?” you halt at her abrupt question but she follows up before you could even part your lips, “Have we lacked in any area to provide you with the adequate comfort? Have any of my children said something? If it's the latter, I'll apologize in their stead, they can be quite playful at times, I'm sure you understand.”

You stare dumbfounded at the sudden turn this conversation has taken, she wasn't supposed to behave like this. Why is she searching for a reason to make you stay when she should've been happy that a burden was about to be lifted off of her shoulders? Are all nobles this pushy?

“I—” you cut yourself off as the silver-haired woman leans in without warning, her shadow envelopes the delicacies laid out on the small table.

“Or… have you seen something?” she drawled.

You cannot hold back a flinch this time. A curse echoes in your mind at your stupidity, this was no ‘conversation’ to begin with ; this was yet another trap and you'd willingly played right into the palm of Arlecchino's hand. If there's one thing you've learned about this mysterious noblewoman, it is that she enjoys the process of dragging answers out of everyone. From the very beginning, she was aware of your scheme but, she chose to wear that mask of courtesy one more time and lured you out in the open, unguarded. If only your friend arrived to fetch you from your room at the right time, you wouldn't be in this messy situation.

Your eyes dart from her unblinking expression to the sharp accessories that adorn her gloved fingers and something about them forces you to reply quickly.

“No! I mean, you know that I'm a traveler, do you not? It's already been six months since we came to your estate, me and my friend were starting to.. crave that adventurous thrill—yes! We were starting to miss being on the road and decided to depart in the early morning.”

Once upon a time, your late mother had told you that some people in this world are like spiders. They're always at the centerpiece of their lair, leaving intricate translucent webs for unassuming prey to get tangled upon. Although the croaked warnings of your bedridden mother did not make much sense to the younger you, you understood now exactly what she meant.

“Incorrect. You were planning to escape with that friend of yours, weren't you?”

The hearthfire burns bright, shrouding Arlecchino's expression in shadows. The chilling octave of her voice defeats the warmth of the fireplace and has every muscle in your body stiffened. Escape? Her word choice never ceased to baffle you throughout this faux tea-party. She speaks as though you were her prisoner instead of a guest. She tilts her head and has the audacity to look betrayed as though you were a possession she held dear, and not a random human she decided to take pity upon.

Arlecchino runs a hand through her silvery hair with a sigh that actually indicates ennui and you bite back a scowl, “Honestly, I do not understand why you even befriended that thing. He's an obnoxious blabbermouth with a nose bigger than his brain. And he's loud, too. You've always preferred to mingle with level headed people with a sufficient intellectual capacity in the past and here you are, glaring at me as though—”

“Don’t speak like you know me!”

You pant after the force of that outburst, your voice ricochets across the walls of her room and further beyond. You open your mouth to continue but stop when you notice a strange flicker in the silver-haired woman's eyes. It's gone in a blink and is replaced with irritation just as quickly however.

“Oh, but I do know you. I know you better than you know yourself, in fact. I know that there are exactly 11 moles throughout your body, I know all your preferences and fears. Don't believe me? Did you really never stop to question how I managed to give you things that catered to your tastes? How I knew what you desired even before you did? Or were you so mesmerized by the words of that friend of yours to pay minimum attention?”

If the tone of a person's voice could kill, you'd be rotting in a ditch by now. You would've never believed someone could sound this malicious while not even raising their voice. You want nothing more than to shrink away but the adrenaline accumulated through your anger pushes you to keep digging your grave.

“And so what if that's exactly how it is? You have no right to have a say in who I choose to be ‘mesmerized’ by!”

A ‘ha!’ laden with disbelief escapes Arlecchino's lips. Fine silvery strands bounce at the mocking tilt of her head, “So what will you do now? Walk out of the gates with that waste of space like nothing happened?”

“Oh, you bet I will!” you fume, rising from the chair and turning on your heels. You barely take one step away from the table until the full weight of Arlecchino's malice crashes down on you and you remember something important.

“Arlecchino, where is my friend?”

The silver haired woman leisurely raises her wine glass at your stilted words, “In my glass.”

You swivel towards her, blinking several times as if to confirm you didn't mishear.

“Well, here and… probably in the stomach of my pet vultures, excluding the carcass, that is. I'll admit, the taste is subpar compared to the trouble I went through. That thing kept on screaming until one of the vultures tore its heart out. Ugh, my ears are still ringing.”

Your wide eyes tremble towards the glass in her hand, the deep red liquid within sloshes to the direction of Arlecchino's hand ; paired with her words, your friend’s destiny becomes a no-brainer. All your wits abandon you in that instance and in a moment of sheer panic, you take a step back. Arlecchino promptly interferes with your plans, the door and windows close with no little sound and the table and your chair disappear without a trace—all in the snap of her fingers.

“What are you?”

You would've screamed if you didn't forget how to use your lungs. But then again, you doubt anyone would come to save you from her clutches even if you did. Your eyes connect to her onyx ones and in that moment, she appeared far less human than she'd been this whole encounter. Her pupils flash as two red xs and you feel an invisible pull tugging you to her side. The temptation dominates any coherent thoughts until you find yourself an arms length away from her seated self. Her claws dig into the flesh of your arm and yank you to her lap.

Free from the haze of that strange sensation, the first thing that permeates your senses is how cold Arlecchino's proximity is. Your palm meets her chest in a feeble attempt to push her away but all it does is stun you when you notice the absence of a heartbeat. You feel the sting of something sharp on your chin and waist, your eyes glance back and forth between the sources—dread pools in your stomach. Because of your closeness and the light from the fireplace, you're able to see that the sharp objects you'd mistaken for accessories are actually her nails and the gloves, her real skin.

Perhaps your trembling was so pitiful that Arlecchino could not help but soften her gaze, “Do you truly not recall?”

You look up at her, thoroughly perplexed. There's that previous glint in her eyes again but you've already accepted that understanding this woman was beyond you. One moment she accuses you as though you've been unfaithful, then she vividly describes how she murdered an innocent man and the next she looks almost… hurt?

“Recall what?”

The silver-haired woman’s red lips part and you gulp as unnaturally sharp fangs sneer at you. Albeit, she does not answer you and you wonder if you should get accustomed to playing mental gymnastics with her just to get a simple answer. Her talons let go of your waist and drag their up to your collarbone, creating a deliberate and irrepairable tear on your clothes. Her nails drum against your skin for three seconds before they latch onto your throat.

“Although, that'll no longer be an issue.”

She forces you to make eye-contact with a sharp tug on your chin, the color drains from your face as her cool breath washes against your skin. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but are quickly shushed as you feel her fangs sink into your lower lip.

“Because, we'll have ample time to get acquainted with each other starting from today.”