#how the fuck am I supposed to be accurate fucking warnings up so people can block stuff

[kingsofneon]

Following the events of Beast World, Damian winds up in possession of his former collar. Former...except for the fact that he wants to wear it again.

Read "Run Tame" on ao3!

[prettyboypistol]

TF2 Medic x M!Reader || Unreliable Nurse

[Hurt/Comfort] [Understanding Medic] [Period Accurate Homophobia/Xenophobia towards Gays/Germans] [Coworkers to Ambiguous] [GORE WARNING]

You were a mercenary. You were hired to kill people day in and out for the gratification of your superiors and you were not allowed to stop until the day your contract ended. Every morning should have been the same- wake up, gear up, shoot up.

So why the hell were you holding your Heavy's torso open with spreaders while your Medic dug around in his organs?! You were supposed to end lives, not mangle them back to life!

"Medic, why am I even here?" You grunt in disgust as Heavy's organs squish against your bare palm. They are disgustingly alive. Should intestines move like that on their own?!

"Well someone has to hold the ribcage open, and my hands are rather busy at the moment!" Medic responded cheerfully. He was right though; both of his hands were what you could only describe as groping Heavy's lungs and heart with a sadistically pleasures look in his eyes.

"Eugh, you look like you're getting off to this." You growled as Medic finally seemed satisfied with his curiosities. The lungs he had installed in Heavy were significantly bugger than your head- would the torso even close up?

"Nonsense, I am a professional- er, mostly." Medic chuckled to himself. He waved your hold away as he healed Heavy back up to his usual hulking self. Well, at least someone seemed happy about the surgery that wasn't an absolute psycho.

You had no idea why you helped Medic clean up after the surgery, you could have left at any time, yet you didn't. Maybe it was because you held a burning question on the tip of your tongue that begged to esca-

"Do you actually get off to like, gore and stuff?"

Shit.

Medic perked up, a quizzical look on his face as he flushed the blood into the storage bags. "Do I really give off that vibe?" He sounded rather genuine in his question too. Fuck, you felt like the world's biggest asshole.

"I mean, Scout seems to think so- plus uh, you do this thing with your face that kinda well-" you stumbled over your words as you swept up the bone fragments into the dustpan at your feet. Bending over, you finally finished your sentence. "I dunno, it just looks like you're some kinda sadist."

Medic shook his head as he placed the bloodbags into the fridge. His eyes flickered over where the Spy head used to be before the enemy Scout stole it back. He was a rather funny conversationalist.

"No, not a sadist in the regard. You all are perfectly safe from me!" Medic attempted to joke. You nodded and gave him a small laugh of acknowledgement.

"Well, I suppose I should tell Scout the good news. He's been spouting about how you've been trying to inject him with homosexual serum to see if you can turn him." You informed him. You and the team knew that Scout was spouting bullshit, but your curiosity to Medics reaction was what pulled you to tell him.

Medic slammed a fist down onto his vivisection table, his expression rather grimly stern.

"I've had it with that ungrateful little brat." He muttered. He looked to you, but when you nodded in understanding, he started to vent. "He's always getting himself into shit, then begging me to fix him back up!" Medic threw his hands up, mocking Scout's voice. "always 'Oh medic, heal me!' 'Oh medic! I broke my arm again!'" Medic growled as he slicked his hair back and sighed. "All while calling me a goddamn nazi when I prioritize Heavy!"

You let Medic rant. Clearly this had been on his mind and weighing on him, if the nervous pacing and dramatic gesturing was anything to go by. Yeah, you had heard Scout make a few jabs about the SS and war camps to Medic, but you never really had gotten involved before- it wasn't your business anyway and Medic could handle himself- so you thought.

"I'm not a fucking nazi! I was sixteen and drafted as a Medic!"

You interrupted Medoc with a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at you, shocked and clearly hurt in his brow.

"Yeah, I'll bust him up for that. Didn't know it was that bad, if I knew I woulda stepped in." You apologized- at least, this was your version of an apology. Medic took a calming inhale before he tried to return you a weak smile.

"I try not to let the words of the youth get to me too much. Hell, do you think he was alive for the war?" Medic laughed weakly.

"Isn't he about 25? Probably was born just on the outskirts of it." You mused. You were a few years older than Scout was, but Medic outmatched you with the streaks of grey in his hair. He shook his head softly with a muttering of "Ah, the blissful ignorance of the young."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think you're a nazi nor do I think you're some weird psychosexual freak trying to turn us all into homos." You promise with a playful punch to Medic’s shoulder. "Besides, you can't turn what's already there, yeah?"

"You're-"

"Mhm, don't go telling anyone though, I could lose a job if that info came out."

You thought it was only for that you were open to Medic, since he was gracious enough to be honest with you.

"I thought I was the only one!" Ah, there was that excitedly happy chirp you were scaredly fond of.

Maybe being an impromptu nurse wasn't so bad after all.

[felice-jaganshi]

His Pet

Alastor X OC

Chapter 10

Content Warning: drugging and discussing SA intentions. Also abandonment issues.

I also took some liberties with what Val's powers do, so don't mind if it's not fully accurate.

_-_-_--_-__--_-__-_-_-_-_-

The club was loud and Zariah immediately felt out of place.

“Oh… I think I know why my friends never invited me out clubbing.” Her ears laid flat, and her tails were wrapped tight around her waist to keep them from being stepped on.

Angel smiled and wrapped an arm around her, “Eh a drink or two and you'll feel just fine!” He led her to the bar. “What do ya usually drink?”

“Oh, something weak. I got a low, low alcohol tolerance. I also like fruity flavors.”

Husker sighed, “Fucking great. A weakling with poor taste.” He ordered for all three of them before handing over the money.

“Why's that a problem?” Her ears twitched back up, getting used to the loud noise.

“Because the boss asked me to let him know what you like.” He huffed and took his bottle. She took her drink and sipped on it.

 

Angel frowned and took his, “I was meaning to ask you about that too. You and Al, you good? Like, he doesn't hurt ya or anything, does he?”

She shook her head and smiled, “No, I'm fine Angel. If I wasn't, I promise I'd tell you. Swear on my soul. Actually, he can't hurt me. Part of our deal. I made sure to be careful. So don't worry.” She took one of his hands.

He sighed in relief and smiled back, “Okay, glad you learned from my mistakes at least. You know you're like a sister to me… I had one of those when I was alive too, so you can count on me to be a good brother.”

Tears immediately flooded Zariah's eyes, “I- I'm like your sister? I love you too!” She set down her drink and hugged him tight! Husk's hand immediately went to cover her drink with his hand and he rolled his eyes.

Angel was surprised by the tears, “Whoa whoa, is it really that big of a deal to ya?”

She nodded vigorously. “My real brother abandoned me when I was young, and I kept trying to find a replacement all through life and kept getting hurt by people. But now I have you!” She laughed and carefully wiped at her eyes, trying not to mess up the make up he had done for her.

 

“Oh? And who is this little treat?” Pink smoke suddenly blew towards them.

Angel's eyes dilated immediately, “Shit shit shit!” He covered her face quickly to try and block the smoke from her. “Uh, nothing Val! She's no one!” He sounded terrified.

Husker got caught up in the smoke and was dazed by it.

“Oh, don't try to hide her from me, Amorcito. With tails like that, she was made for the screen! How about it, dollface?” Val tried to reach out to her, but she shrank away with a hiss and a growl. She then tried to hide Angel behind her. “Fuck off creep! I don't do sex, and I don't do films!”

Val raised an eyebrow, “What's that supposed to mean? Everyone ‘does sex’, you mean you're a virgin? Oh even better. You should come back to my office then, pretty kitty.” He blew more smoke at her and she started coughing from it. Angel pushed her aside and swung a fist at Val's face. His fist connected and Val was caught off guard. “Augh! This again?! You ungrateful whore!”

 

Angel didn't listen, just grabbed Zariah, yanked out some of husk's feathers to break his trance, and ran for the door! 

Once the three were outside, Angel looked Zariah over. “Hey! You didn't breathe any of that in did ya?!” He looked into her eyes, growing more worried when he saw how hazed they were. “Shit, you did. Husk! We gotta get her home, Now!” He picked her up and carried her off, husk followed shaking his head, “What's the big deal? She's always walking around dazed anyway.” 

“This shit's different! Val's smoke and saliva act like a roofie if ya ain't used to it like I am. Asshole uses it all the fucking time in the studio for newer employees…” He frowned, “You weren't his target, so you didn't get hit full force like she did. You're also a former overlord, so you're probably strong enough to resist it like Charlie can.”

“Fucking dickbag…” Husk swore under his breath. “He's not gonna be happy about this. Might just rip my soul apart for fucking failing him this time.”

 

“Blame me then, he can't do anything permanent to me.” He smiled at Husker, “She's my sister now, so I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

Husker shook his head, “We're in this together, Angel. We were both responsible for her tonight, and we dropped the ball.” He took one of Angel's hands that wasn't holding Zariah.

 

Once they made it back to the hotel, and Alastor was sitting in the lobby with a newspaper, waiting for them. He set it in his lap, and eyed the three. “Husker, I thought I said to keep an eye on her. I trusted you to keep an eye on her drinks.” He sounded like a disappointed father.

“I did. It wasn't her drink. Valentino approached us, and you know he's stronger than I- augh!” He was dragged to the floor by his chain suddenly appearing. 

“I don't want excuses, Husker! I want her safe, even if you have to die to accomplish it!”

Angel stepped forward, “Hey, stop it Al! Zariah will be upset if you hurt him, she's become friends with him too! We acted fast enough and she'll be just fine, I promise! We did what we-!” He was cut off by Alastor suddenly getting in his face and scaring him speechless. 

“Give. Her. To. Me.” He growled. 

Angel was shaking and held her tighter, “Promise me… promise you won't hurt her or touch her in a way she doesn't want!” He said she was his sister now, and he wasn't going to let her down. Not without dieing first.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but calmed his tone. “I promise that if you don't give her to me, you'll lose all four of your arms. I'd never assault her in the ways you're implying.” He held out his arms. 

Angel took a deep breath before handing her over, he then went to husk and helped him to his knees, wrapping his arms around him, “I got you, whiskers.”

 

Alastor looked her over, she was sleeping, but not peacefully. His eyes held worry, and his smiling was barely held together. If he could drop it, this would do it. But he physically couldn't.  

He turned to them and let husk's chain disappear. “Did he touch her?”

“Nah, I got a sucker punch in before he could. I'll definitely pay for it at work, but she's fuckin’ worth it.”

Alastor turned from them, and used his shadow to immediately enter her room. He went to her bed, pulled back the curtain and laid her down, taking note of the soft, fluffy stuffed animals in it. He started to pull away, only to find he couldn't move. She had a death grip on his shirt. He sighed, well, where was the harm? He laid down beside her and she immediately nuzzled into his chest with a whimper. He wrapped his arms around her.

“There there, my darling… I have you, you're safe now.” He didn't feel the usual skin crawl he got from being touched. She truly was a unique creature. He rest his chin on top of her head and hummed a lullaby to her, one his mother had used to sing to him. She started to relax and one of her tails laid across them both, the other falling off the edge of the bed.

“That's a good girl. Sleep well, and I'll stay right here till you're better.”

[atenea14]

In the Wake of Heroes: Prologue

Soulmates AU

Masterlist

Pairing: Katsuki x Eijiro x Shoto x Izuku x OC (not physically described though)

Warnings: Season 7 spoilers, events of the anime not represented accurately, soulmates AU, slow burn, not beta read, nothing else for now.

A/N: Hi! I’m updated with the anime, not with the manga so possible spoilers for season 7. I don’t really know where this fic will go but I wanted to write something with Katsuki x Eijiro x Shoto x Izuku x Reader and couldn’t decide between abo or soulmates AU and between school setting or professional setting, I also couldn’t decide which character should I pick but why not all?. I’ve decided to do a soulmates AU with an original character and start in the school setting. 

The plot starts at season 7, there will be spoilers but I’m making up most of the events to be able to fit my character. 

Word count: 1,6k

- We will arrive in 30 minutes at the air coffin. Are you sure you want to do this? - She looks at one of the special agents that are accompanying her. 

- What else am I supposed to do? Do I need to remind you of all the pressure you’ve put me in? - Turning back her shoulders she puts on headphones. The rest of the adults look at her with worrying glaces but no one else says anything yet the music seems to calm her. 

I can do this, my singularities have been cause of discordance in all my life but today they will be useful. I can do it, I need to. I’ve been explained how my power can counter attack the disintegration of Shigaraki. I don’t need to be this sca… I’m totally freaking out. HOW THE FUCK I’M I GOING TO DO THIS? I wish I was like Star. I wished she was here to fight with me.

- Minus 20 minutes. - The same agent as before, Mike, puts a hand on her shoulder, taking her out of her thoughts.- I’m… I want to say I’m sorry but I don’t think I have the right to do so. I know you’ve never wanted to be a hero, just anonymously work in intelligence but you have a good base training and your quirk gives you a chance… and we are desperate. - He puts his head between his legs and covers it up with his arms. The girl stares at him and after some long seconds starts to slowly caress his back. 

- Actually… I want to do this, it’s my country too you know?- The agent raises an eyebrow while looking  at her. 

-  I thought you didn’t want to set foot again in Japan- The girl just sighs. 

- There’s a difference between not wanting to come back and wanting it destroyed.- The agent stares at her trying to decipher her but failing. - Anyway the plan is easy, I intercept Shigaraki and give that hero guy the chance to go fight the no face evil man I give my all and pray for my soul. - Some chuckles are heard in the helicopter while the captain approaches her. 

- No Saya, you give your all and if it gets too much you call for extraction.- Saya snorts. 

- And then what? I let that zombie looking guy kill the heroes there?- 

- You are not a hero Saya, nor have you been training to be.- She frowns and suddenly gets up. 

- No, I’ve always wanted to be a detective, old style but that doesn’t make me any less than the rest of the people fighting.- 

- That’s not what I meant…- 

- It is exactly what you meant. Plus how am I going to enter the interpol if I coward in the middle of a fight?-

- It is not any fight Saya, it wouldn’t affect your future.- 

- No, but today’s public exposition surely will.- Some agents sigh in desperation. 

- It won’t be as bad as you think, but you’re too stubborn to believe it.- 

- Enough.- Mike stops it before it gets more heated. - It’s not time for this, we are arriving and we need to have our heads cool.- Easy for you to say, you're not the one who’s entering a place called coffin with a psycho. 

- Opening the jumpgate. Prepare.- The pilot’s voice surprises everybody, Saya takes a deep breath before putting on a determined face. 

- I’ll proceed as planned, try and not to die without me guys. -

- You’re not the one that should be saying it.- Mike pets her and gives her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Saya smiles at him and nods to the captain, who nods back. Then she just gives a really bright smile to everybody and let's herself fall backwards through the gate. 

- See you!- 

- That kid is going to provoke me a heart attack someday. -

Saya’s POV

Should have not jumped like that. Well… who cares. I see the hole in the barrier, that’s it, I’m entering. Once I take in everything that’s inside this floating enclosure I get breathless. It should have been caused by all the chaos, because of the destruction and all the fallen heroes… but no. I get breathless because of a couple of green eyes that look at me as if they had seen a ghost… Not surprising given the fact that my arrival hasn’t been notified. 

- YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE - How intense, my heart beats a  hundred miles a minute, he has scared me.

- Chill, you’ve scared me!- 

- YOU’VE SCARED ME!- Oh my, I got so anxious at the helicopter that now I’m numb, I should focus more. 

- There’s no time to explain but I’m here to fig - A chain of hands appears out of nowhere and tries to smash me as if I were a fly. Luckily I’m able to dodge it but since the green eyed guy tried to save me we collapse mid air and get destabilized. 

- MORE EXTRAS, I hate you. - Everybody is shouting in here, is this normal in group fights? 

- You have good reflexes. - His voice brings my attention again to him and realise that he’s holding me princess style. He grabbed me when we collided, my heart warms and I cannot understand why. While he is busy dodging Shigaraki’s attacks I use the opportunity to speak. 

- You need to go fight All for One, I’ll stay here and end Shigaraki. - He looks at me in astonishment. 

- That was not the plan!- 

- Things have changed, I’ll make an opening for you to run, use the opportunity.- 

- What? But I have been purposefully brought here I…- Luckily the heroes outside intervene, with communications open again It’ll be easier for everybody to catch up. - Okay, are you sure you’ll be able to fight him?- I mischievously smirk at him. 

- Don’t you know? I have good reflexes. - He chuckles and I jump out of his arms ignoring how his presence affects me. Shigaraki has been throwing a tantrum all the time we’ve been speaking. 

- One for All, what are you doing? It’s my time to kill you.- I activate my quirk and get in between the two of them. Suddenly his attacks get interrupted, the chain of hands stops proliferating. 

- Hello! I’ll be the one playing with you know. - 

- You’ll need to hang on for 5 seconds

- Ah??? Damned extra. ONE FOR ALL. - Shigaraki launches himself at Deku while tries to smash me again, but fails. I use the fact that he isn’t paying attention to me and concentrate my quirk at my punch, I teleport myself in Shigaraki’s face and punch him. Surprising nobody he avoids my attack, yet his attention is now focused on me and I start playing a game of attack and dodge with him. These are the 5 longest seconds of my life, but Deku needs them to be teleported.

I momentarily focus on an unconscious guy in the ground, he looks my age… is he dead? What a great moment for my numbness to subside. Seeing the results of the destruction makes my anxiety turn back tenfold. 

- YOU!… IS YOUR FAULT HE LEFT- Shigaraki’s rage is now completely focused on me makes him focus all his attacks, his speed seems to increase by the second, or I’m getting slower. A leg suddenly kicks him and gives me a little bit of breath, I look at my side and realise it’s Mirko. 

The next few minutes pass by in a blurr, I need to communicate with the rest of the present heroes but I don’t have the chance. At least not until a blasting explosion shakes the whole place up. I’m not going to miss the chance. Pressing my ear intercommunicator I speak. 

- I need to pass a message to the rest of the present heroes. - 

- Proceed. - A female voice replies to me.

- Due to my quirk Shigaraki won’t be able to regenerate if I fight hand-to-hand combat with him. I need your help, I can’t overpower him alone but if you create openings for me we will make it. - The female hero that stands watch outside passes my message to all the presents. 

- OI! You sure of what you’re saying?- It’s the guy from before, the one I thought was dead. I speak to him while the game of dodge restarts. 

- Positive!- He gives me a side glance but doesn’t hesitate. 

- Let 's go then! - 

The coordination and tenacity of the heroes here surprises me. It also surprises me their ability to trust me, a stranger. Without a doubt they all make their biggest efforts to allow me to approach him enough to attack him, and for once it pays off. I don’t know how much time has passed but Shigaraki finally gets weakened. Everything is a chaos and I’ve started merely reacting, the combat is extenuating but I won’t give up. The explosive guy is amazing, he’s the one who’s been making me possible to punch the devil and although it is the first time I’ve seen him we fall into rhythm easily, if it wasn't a fight to the death, I'd even enjoy it. 

Time pass by in a blurr, I don’t know what’s happening outside and I don’t know why Deku is here again completely bruised up. He doesn’t give me a chance to ask anything, upon arriving kicks Shigaraki in the face and due to all the damage we’ve inflicted him it really affects him. 

- Kacchan! Let’s do what we agreed! You! Punch him with everything you’ve got when I give you the signal!- The latter is addressed to me and I won’t be the one messing up. I concentrate my quirk at my maximum and once it is needed I attack him with all I have while Deku and the explosive guy also kick his ass. I don’t know what’s happened but suddenly everything hurts, more than it was already and I seem to be unable to keep my focus. Inevitably, the fall to the ground cuts off my breathing completely and I lose consciousness. 

Final note: Sorry for the inaccuracy of the fight, I haven’t read the manga and don’t know how it really develops further than chapter 12 of season 7. I’ll completely make up the plot in the following chapters :)

Next chapter

[chrisevansonly]

Drowning

Chris Evans x Wife!Reader

Summary: Sometimes all you can do is feel every ounce of hurt and hatred that plays throughout you like a loop on a record. Most days aren’t sunshine and rainbows, if they were, these persistent feelings of worthlessness wouldn’t continue to attack you.

Warnings: mental health, depression, TW mentions of suicide (read at your own discretion) angst, soft ending

A/N: This is purely self-indulgent, I wanted to write something a little more upbeat but with my headspace that’s just not happening. Sometimes the best way to numb our own pain is to write about it through fictional eyes. We all need a release at some point, I have been in the darkest of places for far too long, and am still being tested each and every day. You are not alone, you are not a burden, you are loves, you have support, if no one is fighting for you, I will. 

Word Count: 1,025

There really is no sentence that can accurately depict the feeling of your mind being at war with itself, the screaming and pounding feeling that consumes every inch, and every thought you think you have. When you’re young, no one warns you just how painful life is, the constant struggle to find your footing, the urgency to catch your breath, no one warns you that each and every day is a battle, even the strongest of people struggle with. You’re stranded with no life raft if you miss a step, fail a section, giving up seemingly the only option. 

The white walls that encapsulated you in bed seemed to fade to a dull grey as clouds rolled passed the floor to ceiling walls, rain soon following, droplets sliding along the glass, almost mimicking the tears that fell down your cheeks. This struggle wasn’t new to you, it was almost comforting, the one constant in your life besides your husband, who by now, was worrying more about you than anything else going on. I suppose that’s why you felt extra heavy, because who would feel good about making someone worry, you weren’t intentionally trying to be a burden, but as the hours rolled on, it seemed like you were.

Arms wrapped around your tired body, a sense of warmth taking over you, if only it was enough to push the hurt away, and god did you fucking wish it would. You and Chris had been in bed all day, he got up every once in a while to get you food, water, anything he could try and think of that would help distract you from the waves crashing down on you. He was ever so patient, giving as much love to you as possible, his heart crushed knowing you felt so low and depleted. He wished he could strangle the bad thoughts away from you, his pretty girl, his angel, he hated this for you. 

“I don’t want to do t-this anymore...” 

Chris tightened his hold on you as the words tumbled out, his chest tightened at the sound of your voice, full of agony as you begged for a break, even if it was just for a moment

“I know pretty girl, I know, I wish I could take the pain and make it better, fuck I’d do anything to take this hurt away...”

His words covering you like a blanket, trying to bury themselves within the stream of negative notions that swam around you 

“I can’t feel l-like this forever…when will it stop...”

It wasn’t like you wanted to die, that wasn’t at all what you wanted deep down. Truth be told, all you were ever pleading for was peace, for your mind, you, and your husband. You had a therapist you say regularly, Chris supporting you every step of the way, no questions asked he was and still continues to be your biggest supporter. 

“I don’t know when, and I can’t tell you how much longer, but what I can do is continue to be here for you, in whatever capacity you need me. I’ll be your shoulder to lean on, cry on, I’ll be the hand you hold when the storm picks up, I’ll be the anchor to hold you down and to ground you to yourself. I will be the love you crave to help on the low days, to surround you with nothing but comfort and tranquility, and I will be the one to fight for you when you feel like giving up.” 

The tears only continued to fall, Chris catching them and rubbing his hand up and down your back, instinctually moving further into his hold, the one place that was your safety net.

“If I wasn’t here the-”

Before you could even get the words out, he stopped you, turning himself so he could grasp your face in his hands, his eyes glossing over as he looked at you, his whole world, crumbling right before him

“Don’t. Don’t you finish that sentence baby, if you weren’t here, I would cease to exist, you are the light of my life, you have a purpose, you have a future, and I will do everything in my fucking power to make sure you see that, do you hear me baby? I will not, and cannot lose you, that is not an option for me, I love you with everything I have, and If I have to go to the end of the fucking universe to show you just how important you are to me, and everyone else I will fucking do just that. You are worth it, you are strong, you are courageous, the road is rough as hell right now, but I’ll be damned if I let you stop fighting now, if you need a break, let me do the fighting for you, let me be the light for you.”

You blinked a few times letting the words sink in before nodding

“I need a b-break”

Chris pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, and then your forehead holding it for a few moments before bringing you back into his chest, holding onto you like you were going to disappear, and a part of him felt like you would. 

“Alright pretty girl, alright, I’ll fight for you, no matter how hard it gets I’ll fight for you, I will always fucking fight for you.”

In that moment despite the heaviness still resting on you, it almost felt like you could breathe a little easier, your body sinking further into safety as Chris kept you tight to his side. You knew this was far from over and the road was nowhere near the end, but Chris taking over, even if just for a little, made the world seem a little less dark in that moment. You would fight it, you would beat this, no matter what, Chris would make sure of it, even if you weren’t so sure, he was there to remind you that you would. 

‘The world gives you so much pain, and here you are making gold out of it, there is nothing purer than that '– Rupi Kaur

[therealslimshakespeare]

https://www.tumblr.com/precious-little-scoundrel/752046088370962432/i-wanna-share-a-thought-thats-so-incredibly

ok here i go…

so the girls treatment before they get to the stalag. i know maureen and ida were assaulted and ida had her hair cut to rob her of her femininity. as for why they were assaulted, i’m sure it was a combination of wanting to break them down, creepy behaviour on the part of the guards and just a reflection on their thoughts on allowing women in the military (by committing acts of sexual violence).

but maureen and ida are white women. so it’s possible that they’re hated as americans and women and i’m sure the guards are violent because of it. but. smith would’ve been seen as racially inferior as well, which is just a whole other thing. the german guards have women in their lives, what they don’t have is people of colour. which in my mind makes it so much easier to treat smith like she isn’t even a person. so this is just my own two cents on why her assault might have been more violent, more derogatory and more of a spectacle than ida and maureen’s.

Oh fuck I see we are tracking and keeping it historically accurate, I see, I see, ok let’s do this-

Warnings: Y’all, this universe is hard as is, in response I am gonna reference a few specific, historical SS crimes and honestly? take care of yourselves, move along if it’s a bad day or you just aren’t up for it, please be gentle with yourself and skip if needed…

Fully agree about a differentiation occurring, I feel like a lot of the girls are grouped together as you said, in a very mistreated, abused and degraded bunch but I can see two being set aside for being picked on more than others and that would be Smith and Ida.

Like you said- with Ida it’s not even the usual base and sadistic reasons men rape, it’s the chance to get to demean a female officer of that caliber, it’s spiteful to the point of having hardly anything to do with sex except that it’s the chosen vehicle to torture her. That’s it.

And honestly, for the slightly different reason, Smith would be singled out for that too. If the goad of “colonel” is something Ida has to endure during it, Smith no doubt had to endure all sorts of extra slurs than the next woman, a constant stream of commentary putting her further down. And yes, the violence of being considered even less than the next.

Also for all these rapes, I do imagine many of them were during interrogations as that was not an uncommon tactic that the Gestapo used against resistance fighters, off the books. They often assaulted women in front of loved ones or each other to break the witnessing party as much as the victim. So I can see that happening to some.

Some of these rapes we might correlate to others documented, some by guards who were supposed to be fetching prisoners back and forth from integrations or holding cells. This is what I imagine happened to Kendeigh, when you’re getting taken back from interrogation to just rot in your cell for hours, no one is tracking how long the return journey takes, if there’s a detour? Who reports it? Who even cares in that place?

But I think you also hinted at the aspect of public humiliation/making a spectacle and that was perhaps one of the sickest/common things they did engage in. Just to drive the helplessness into both parties. Honestly I think this stays a fear even in the stalag, there were so many reports of the SS in concentration camps raping women/men in front of everyone and making them clap after like it was a show, or else, the other avenue pastime: demanding prisoners rape each other.

One other aspect. I’ve already mentioned the dogs, and I think this was a big aspect for Smith. However that may have played out. Some SS soldiers trained their dogs to tear off women’s breasts and an assortment of other truly mind boggling cruelties, some of which I’ll leave to your imagination. Truly makes you pause and ask how someone even comes up with this stuff. And if you’re the victim it’s happening to? That disbelief is multiplied along with the futility of asking for mercy.

Anyone who wants a horrifyingly sober take on this should read “Ordinary Men” about the SS death squads. It’ll haunt you, for certain, but what humans are capable of should never be underestimated. These were indeed “ordinary men” who took the power given them and became worse than beasts.

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

Spoilers for TOUCHSTARVED demo below the cut

He fucking ate me what the fuck he fucking ate me I was not expecting that at all

Like. I defs went into it being like well if he kills me that’s just the price I have to pay ig but I was just. Not expecting it to actually HAPPEN what the Fuck

I am just. Wow

So I die obviously and it forces me back to the previous choice, I wrap that up and then it lets out into the part where you choose which love interest to pursue and I am genuinely shook like I do not know who to choose anymore

Because Vere is the best one like come on 😫 But dude just straight up fucking ate me I think it’s pretty safe to say I can’t trust him anymore 😭 I’m not gonna sit here and try to tame him or whatever like, I have my own problems, I don’t have time to have the one person I choose to trust be literally okay with eating me at any moment. That’s bananas.

But I don’t want anyone but him 😭 He’s so beautiful and charming and troubled and magical, fuck.

I CAN’T BELIEVE HE ATE ME

I mean I kinda respect the creators to be honest like, you play with fire, you might just get burned. They actually went through with the threat rather than it just being horny.

There is, of course, also the possibility that some players did foresee and desire that outcome. Not my bag but y’all do you

But damn. Yeah.

I don’t know, it does feel like maybe jumping the gun a bit????? Like I assume that with all of the characters, there’s supposed to be sort of a “can I really trust them?” tension to the dynamic and this kinda just completely destroys that. I think we can now say pretty safely I can NOT trust him. Can’t trust him not to FUCKING EAT ME anyway

I mean like...I guess there are worse things. He could have sold me into slavery, tortured me, experimented on me, turned me over to the Senobium where they would have done the same, who knows. That last one did scare me, actually, but I figured the Senobium didn’t know about me yet, so they couldn’t force him to do anything to me. The only risks I felt I really had to face were those associated with his choices, and I deemed them acceptable in light of what I might gain from him.

And I paid the price for taking those risks. And now...I don’t even know.

He confided in me, he told me about himself. I felt connected to him, I was anxious to free him, I was starting to trust him. Was that all a lie? Or did he only trust me with that information because he never planned to let me leave alive?

I could still try to pursue him, be more careful. Things might end differently. But what would be the point? My trust is so thoroughly shattered now that I don’t know if I could ever feel close to him again. I wish I could talk to him, interrogate him, which I obviously can’t since that’s not how visual novels work, but also how completely deranged would that be if I could, like, “Oh, just so you know, I’m pissed at you right now cos you fucking ate me in an alternate timeline” and how would he even respond??? I guess he’d probably just be a dick about it. “I did warn you,” he’d say. And I’d be like, okay, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it, sure, you’re dangerous, I’m dangerous! We’re all here trying to figure out what the fuck is going on with ourselves and how to not hurt other people. I didn’t realize you meant that you were that out of control of yourself, or that you truly didn’t care about other people at all. Lots of people say they don’t care for people and they don’t proceed to fucking murder any random stranger they see. I feel alienated too. I thought we could feel alienated together. I thought we had something. But it was just manipulation. It was nothing.

I thought I was reading him accurately. I thought it was just bravado, melodrama, to hide his own fear and insecurity. I thought that beneath all that, he wasn’t really a monster.

But I was, apparently, wrong.

I guess?

I really don’t know. Does he deserve a second chance?

God how am I even entertaining this HE FUCKING ATE ME jesus christ

Maybe he didn’t mean to. Maybe he regretted it.

And maybe I could help him to be better if I tried.

But is it really fair to ask that of me? There’s helping your partner to grow as a person and then there’s living in constant fear of violence from the person you’re supposed to be able to trust the most.

Fuck, now that I think about it, this really makes me distrust the others as well. They were literally all hanging out, relaxed, in a bar, having drinks as friends. Could they truly not know that Vere is that kind of person? Or do they just keep him around in spite of how insanely dangerous he is?

Wouldn’t Leander be incredibly pissed if he found out Vere ate me? Does Vere not care what Leander thinks at all? Or does Leander truly not care? Is he willing to shake off Vere’s casual murders in order to maintain that friendship (or alliance)?

Actually for that matter...does Leander not know that Vere is under the control of the Senobium? How could he let Vere into what is essentially a Bloodhound stronghold if Vere could literally be commanded to do anything the Senobium wants? I mean, it’s possibly Leander doesn’t know, like I said, maybe Vere only shared that with me given my impending death. But...something feels really off.

God I even noticed he had that very similar pleased expression to Valdemar and I thought it was just an unfortunate coincidence I IGNORED THE RED FLAG 😭🤣

I’m...very disappointed. Not, like, in the game necessarily. None of this is necessarily a criticism of the game. Just personally disappointed. I really wanted Vere. I really wanted to trust him. And I got a slap in the face.

No one else is even half as appealing to me. Mhin was my next choice, but I’m so shaken...I no longer trust my ability to read people anymore. Because, like Vere, I feel that while Mhin could be dangerous, I basically understand their personality, and I can protect myself from any actual danger. But can I? Clearly my skills of perception are not so astute as I thought. Will Mhin murder me as well? Or, more likely, simply leave me to die?

I’m now faced with choosing based not only on my estimation of their personality, traumas, whether I feel drawn to and connect with them as a person, but rather whether my immediate, physical safety is at stake. I mean, I find Kuras’ vibes absolutely repellent. Vere can be arrogant and testy, sure, but it reads to me very much like someone feigning strength to hide weakness—much like he strategically hid his leash and put on a persona in order to hide his vulnerable state when I first met him. And while he can be prickly, it more often than not comes off as playful, flirty, or just someone who is emotionally exhausted and not really able to regulate exactly how they communicate all the time. I mean, he strikes me as a bit of a mess and a bit insecure, not as someone who is genuinely malicious, manipulative, or feels superior to others. Kuras’ arrogance feels more sincere, and also completely cold, like he truly does not care what I think at all. Still, he doesn’t seem like he would murder me or leave me to die. Then should he be the one I put my faith in, even if I find him personally insufferable? And he seems to trust and work with Leander and Mhin, so if they’re not trustworthy, then how could Kuras be? Like, I’m really tilted at the fact that they seemed to all be friends, so if one of them is objectionable, then the others are either clueless or complicit, neither of which inspires much confidence.

I’m gonna replay the scene and see if it was more obvious what was going to happen than I thought, like maybe I missed some key detail or blatantly overlooked something obvious due to my horniness. I mean, the choice was “Resist him” or “Surrender” and he had me pinned to a wall. It was hard not to read that romantically/sexually or at the very least for the sexual tension to cloud my judgment. I just...Fuck. He was making me feel so good, so safe, so comfortable. Reading my mind, reassuring me about the things that hurt me most. I thought he was doing that because he liked me, wanted me. But it was empty...he was just playing me...I was nothing to him. How horrible.

Maybe I’m wrong. I’m probably being dramatic. I mean, I’m definitely being uncharitable. I still feel like he must have at least been conflicted about what he was doing or regretted it afterward, I simply cannot believe that everything about his character was just a calculated lie to achieve this simple end. He could eat anyone, after all. Maybe he got scared of the prospect of intimacy and decided the reframe the situation in the way that put him in a position of power and was therefore more comfortable, even if it might deprive him of the rewards of being loved and lead to serious regrets after.

I don’t know, this is all so strange to me. Maybe this is common in visual novels, but coming from The Arcana and Last Legacy (which are obviously inspirations for and share creative talent with this game), this came entirely out of left field. I really look to these kinds of romance games to relax, open up, and feel close to the characters. Having to be on my guard at this level is unfamiliar and maybe something I can’t really accept. It won’t be a relaxing experience if I have to worry about things like being murdered by the love interest. (Again, I know some people are into that stuff, no shade, it’s just not really for me.)

Maybe it could be a different kind of experience from how I usually play these games. Maybe I could just enjoy the story. But it’s definitely different.

Anyway, if anyone else has played and has thoughts on this interaction, I’d be super curious. (But I’d appreciate if you could try not to spoil me as I haven’t played past that point and may still want to continue eventually.)

[magpiefngrl]

3, 21, 28, 34 for the asks, it’s so interesting when you talk about your writing :)

Ooh thank you so much, anon! I love talking about writing but am insecure and always feel no one cares. Thanks for reassuring me <3

3. How would you describe your writing style?

And off we go with a question I don't think I can answer lol

Mentioning my strengths as a writer is easier because I rely a lot on the feedback I receive and what readers tell me. But my style in general is much harder for me to pinpoint, and I'd love to hear from readers as to what they think it's like. I've been humorous in some of my fics and more poetic and lyrical at others. I like to use metaphors. I love to write long sentences and I adorn them liberally with semicolons and colons. I guess you could say my style is baroque, or at least leans that way.

21. Can you accurately predict how long your fics are going to be? If you can, what's your secret?

Nope. I've no fucking clue. I assumed some of my longer fics would be around 10k and they were three times the length. With the shorter ones I tend to write them in one sitting so I can tell that I'm writing a 2-3k fic.

I'm trying to predict how long the original romance I'm working on is going to be. My goal is 40k, but I'm looking at the number of side characters I've created and I fear it's going to be longer than that. I prob created too many and will need to sideline a few.

That's can be a way to gauge, I suppose: the amount of secondary characters will necessitate more scenes establishing all the different relationships. More characters=a longer story. Not a hard and fast rule, but it might help.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

My favourite question! I have a lot of Opinions on writing and I love to be given the chance to voice them.

OK so one tip that always works for me: when I'm stuck in a scene, I stop and describe the setting in detail. This might not be a big help for people who outline but for pantsers like me, it's worth giving it a try.

Say, for example, Draco is at a house party of one of his relatives, Harry's there, they don't talk. They aren't friendly. I know I want Draco to approach him but I'm stuck. He wouldn't go and just talk to him, it doesn't work for this fic. I'm stuck and can't think of how to proceed.

Then I might start typing:

"It was a splendid room, large and airy with velvet curtains that drifted in the summer night breeze. Every piece of furniture was chosen meticulously, antiques paired with design pieces, bold combinations that worked as they were intended to: to impress and intimidate. The chandelier over their heads cast light on the wine-red carpets. A painting of the lady of the Manor hung over the ornate fireplace; her stern gaze warned her guests to behave, or else. Draco had been subjected to her gaze all his life. A desire to misbehave overwhelmed him, to stick a finger up to her and her ilk, smash the delicate crystal flutes and dance on the shards.

Or he could snog Harry Potter in front of everyone. That should do it."

And I go "Oooh so that's why he approaches Harry!" I wouldn't have come up with the reason if I hadn't described the painting. This trick got me out of plenty of stuck moments, and my guess is that when I describe the setting I feel more grounded in the world of my story. I feel like I'm right in it and it's easier to imagine what happens next. I often delete some of the description--it did its job, which was to get me unstuck.

I just came up with the paragraph above and now I kinda want to write the fic lol

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?

Improvement is a constant concern for me. At times it has actually been detrimental for my health because every single thing I did had to benefit my writing in some way. ("oh look pretty clouds! How would I describe them in a story?") It meant that I got no mental rest. Ever. Luckily, I've learned to take it easy.

Writing isn't the only thing that helps me improve: reading is the big one. Seeing how other authors structure their stories, construct sentences, use dialogue and setting. Also watching TV series and films makes me think about what I can learn to use on my writing.

I don't write fic to improve per se, like it's an assignment, but I do want to improve. I wantt o tell a story but I also think about the writing. Some fics are my attempts on working on a craft element. I've got a wangxian WIP which is a frame story, and I'm very keen on getting that one done.

yet another writing ask

[sleepyivoryrose]

so, now that i've got a little bit of fanboying out of my system...for the weather report the daily diary entry.

Well...maybe the weather report isn't so far off. It's over 30 degree Celsius over here. That's a lot for someone who tends to get psychosis through the heat (not enough drinking, too much staying indoors alone, high stress factors, yadda yadda yadda) so I'm trying my best off blocking out the sun and praying for the best. And I sure do hope it cools down, because I've been living for 3 days straight (or two...my memory keeps getting worse and worse) off potatoes with tuna, and slowly but surely I do miss a little bit of variety...I do have a few cans of chickpeas lying around, maybe I can boil them with the potatoes...

Other than that, I've been enjoying a lot of Alien Stage Fandom Postings around the block (or the internet, to be precise), even though I am way too shy to properly interact with them. It's always funny, after one hour of posting on the Alien Stage of Official Twitter, the fans go rabid in the comments. Honestly, if I had the guts they have, I would join in. But for now, observing has to suffice.

I want to create my own fanart and fanfics too, but fans go MAD when they see someone mischaractecized, and I'm not dealing with that. I can understand, they have a very exact image of how the characters have to be like, and maybe it's very nice to have an accurate canon depiction of the character you like, but...headcanons exist for a reason, yknow?

Maybe I'll do some for myself. Just to get the giddy out of my system.

My creative well is still as dry as the weather over here though. It's weird, not being creative the whole time and daydreaming about stuff. It's just...empty. So the next best thing I do, is looking at other peoples fansworks, as I said.

Last days I am throughruly interested in character design. Like, different races and stuff (orcs, elves, dwarves, you name it.) Dungeon Meshi inspired me a lot in that regard. I love seeing how the mangaka works, how she creates so many different looking characters out of a single race. It's amazing, really.

There's so many crazy creations on Deviantart. I found out I really like Ancient-Egypt-Core, and that mechanical shark tails are incredibly cool looking! (I could actually fuse both of those things together into a Mad Max looking scenario...!)

I also heard that Cara is supposed to be an awesome site who doesn't use the images for AI training at all...I don't worry too much about it (I wouldn't even call myself an artist, what I create are just sketches and doodles) because seriously, no one would get my art for AI training, but...I can understand. If you put so many hours of your life into something, you just dont want people taking it away from you without your clear consent.

(Warning, a bit of a disgusting topic coming up)

I am starting to get acne again, and I don't know why. This week...and the last I think? I didn't eat much sugar at all. Maybe it's the fatty food...? I have to cut back on that food too...but what the hell do I eat as someone who may have diabetes? No sugar (of course), no fat, no pasta, a little bit of fruit but not too much, no carbohydrates...I just can eat vegetables, and I don't really like them. They aren't exactly filling either, you need a little bit of protein and fiber to feel full after all...

Man...and if I start moving more, as planned (probably around September, or else I won't survive the summer) I do need at least a little bit of nutrition too...!

GAAAH.

You know what? Fuck this. I'm going to get myself some delicious, cool water, and then I'll kill time somehow. Washing the dishes in the kitchen is necessary...

Urk.

Well, no time like the present! Let's go....gooo....goooo (That's my echo as I speed into the distance)

[finned-fish]

Vent Post

⚠️Trigger WARNING⚠️

Physical Abu//, Sui//, Sui//al ideation.

Really do hate interacting with new people. It's been so long since I've done that. Well, did it today in phasmo and rediscovered that I am a nuisance to all.

I am that "everybody leaves me" person, except it's more accurate to say they don't interact with me on a closer level in the first place. People do figure out why.

Autism, OCD, ADHD combined type, Chronic Generalized Anxiety, Chronic Major Depressive. All diagnoses of mine. Traumatized regularly and consistently.

I forgot that I talk too much, or that I do something wrong. Idk what I do. I don't know what it is about me but no matter how much I mask, mirror, or even script up entire new personalities, I'm just off-putting. People dislike me. Either that or they coddle me. Treat me like some young adolescent that still needs to learn how to properly communicate and interact with others. I hate it.

I always see people talk about how horrible the "everybody leaves me" person is, or the "nobody wants to be friends with me" person is. Someone was talking abt that and said "especially when they don't even know why." I don't know why. I don't know what I do wrong. Nobody will tell me. It doesn't seem like I've wildly offended anyone. I don't know what I do. If someone just told me what I do wrong I'd fix it. Why am I such a problem? What do I do wrong?

I'm consistently ignored, undermined, dismissed, and coddled.

That or I'm constantly annoying, frustrating, too loud, or too talkative.

I try so hard to be right for other people.

And I hate it when people give me that fucking "just be yourself bullshit." All that "being myself" got me was severe physical beatings multiple times a day.

I'm supposed to move in with the two people I love most. Never in my life have I cherished a connection as much as I do with these people.

Even when I had someone who I was deeply in love with and who was deeply in love with me. She gave me everything and accepted me purely as I was. And then she killed herself. And I didn't know to cherish the connection more. I cherished her more than anything, but I did not know then that cherishing her and cherishing our connection were two different things.

So I don't know if I can move in with these two people. If I am that "everybody leaves me/nobody wants to be friends with me person", I don't want to interact with them or hurt them like all those videos and all those people say the "everyone leaves/no friends" person does.

What should I do? I don't know what to do. I've hovered my finger over that block button so many times. To just disappear.

Is it greedy not to? Should I just disappear for them? Am I being selfish? I love these two people so much, and I don't want to disappear from them.

I don't know what to do anymore. I'm just sinking. I'm so comfortable with them and I am myself around both of them, and every time I say something or send a message, it feels like I pinched a nerve. I worry so severely that I've done something wrong. It doesn't even matter if they're typing their response or talking to me, I still worry.

And I try to act like I don't worry. I don't constantly put myself down or require constant reassurance from them. I am not forcing a codependent relationship or anything. So I don't think that's it either, since I do a pretty good job of that.

I don't know what I'll do when it comes time to move in. I can't imagine myself getting any better or being any better by then. At so many different points at my life I've been sure that I reached my max potential and still wasn't enough, and I was wrong. It's happened over and over and over again. And after all those times of still getting better, I'm also still not enough. And once again I'm at a point where I think I've reached my max potential. And that there is nothing left for me.

And so now I just wonder how long I can keep going before I make a decision? I have such a strong feeling of doom. And I know what it is. I feel it in the strings, and I know that I'm only going in one of two directions.

I move in with them, and that's as far as I can see. The strings end there. Or I fall the other direction.

If I may be dramatic for a moment:

It's a massive pit. It's oozing such horrible doom. I can't describe the potency of it other than saying that it squelches out and climbs up the strings that I feel are tugging me into it.

And saying these "two directions" I already know I'm only going in one already. I am careening towards suicide so rapidly. I think I just didn't wanna sound utterly hopeless or cliché but there isn't another direction. No strings pulling me towards those two. I look and there's none. And I'm not going to make any.

I don't know when I will commit, but I know it's going to happen within the next six months. It feels somewhere between late January and early April.

Is it cold or heartless to be this analytical? Is that the problem? I can use "both halves" of my brain — emotional and intellectual — in tandem and as completely separate entities. It's not the same as turning my emotions off, either. No matter how heightened my emotional state it I have perfect analytical clarity. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe people can somehow feel that and they don't like it.

Now i do feel heartless. I feel entirely neutral — and even at peace — when I ask myself "which part do I cull?"

And I don't care, actually, because I'd do anything to fix myself. So I don't really feel anything about how horrible I imagine that ultimatum must sound to others. And even then I don't know if it sounds that horrible. But if I had to terminate one of those two parts of me I wouldn't hesitate, I just need to figure out which one it is.

And unfortunately, there's no strings with the answer to that.

[noctimusprime]

Vent post bc I don't have anywhere else to post it.

Warning for medical gaslighting, mention of pregnancy

I've been dealing with chronic pain since I was 15 largely caused by an accident and not receiving proper medical care (or really any medical care close to the time of the accident) bc my family didn't have insurance since my mom's husband at the time refused to ask for government assistance even tho I've been dealing with a blood flow restricting birthmark in my face that requires medical intervention from time to time.

I stopped receiving the medical intervention when I was 16 bc we moved states and no one in my current state knows what it is or how to go about it medically.

Most recently, I've been medically gaslit about my face, my severe chronic pain, and my hormone issues bc of my weight and my diagnosis of anxiety on my record.

In the months before I found out that I'm pregnant (before March of this year), I'd been dealing with severe pain that limits my mobility, my ability to work, and episodes where my heart rate reaches 200 bpm according to a fitness watch which I know isn't always accurate. I bought my own mobility aids without the assistance of my medicaid and when I showed up to my next doctor's appointment with concerns about my pain getting worse, her only concern was getting me to lose the mobility aids. She prescribed physical therapy that I had already been attending for 3 years, tpi's in my back, and told me to come back when the physical therapy worked. It doesn't. It hasn't and being pregnant has only increased my pain tenfold. The government food assistance I was getting was taken away because my partner apparently makes too much. We've been paying $1100 a month for a STUDIO apartment and we're literally starving despite my partner working 50+ hours a week.

We don't qualify for housing assistance, we can't get help from local churches because we don't technically have a lease since the apartment is an extended stay.

I feel so fucking helpless. My grandmother was supposed to help us with food today but ended up bailing bc there's food boxes in the area. I've already explained that the food boxes that run only run on days and times that my partner is working and I can't lift anything up 2 flights of stairs to our room. I don't have friends that can help me bc my chronic pain and quite honestly my isolating behavior when I'm stressed has either pushed them away or prevented me from making friends bc I rarely leave the house.

I don't blame these people, I really don't. I get that I'm not the best friend and I'm flaky and I'm not always in the best mood so it can be a pain to hang out with me. The friends that I do have live hundreds of miles away and are in the same boat as I am financially.

I'm just tired yall. I'm tired of not being taken seriously by doctors bc of my weight. I'm tired of being made to feel like my limitations are a burden on others when they're a burden on me too.

I'm tired of being nearly bedbound because it hurts too much to even get up and walk the 3 feet to the bathroom. I'm tired of not being able to eat half the shit we can afford bc it triggers my trauma or there's a consistency or taste problem. I'm tired of puking so hard I burst blood vessels in my eyes and no one can figure out why bc my labs are all "normal". I'm tired of every doctor blaming my pain on my weight bc there's nothing wrong with the bones in my spine according to the shitty ER doctors in my area. I'm especially tired that doctors didn't give a shit about me or my health problems until I got pregnant

[sundaysundaes]

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings:  protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim​ who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him. 

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention. 

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again. 

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.” 

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?” 

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up. 

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though). 

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me. 

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!” 

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.” 

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him. 

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement. 

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin. 

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin. 

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared. 

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them. 

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace. 

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened? 

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older. 

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just— 

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours. 

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too. 

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter. 

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin. 

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—” 

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t. 

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.” 

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin. 

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight. 

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his. 

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out. 

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.” 

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. 

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more. 

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps. 

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.” 

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer. 

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously. 

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.” 

***

[pippin-katz]

THIS. I cannot tell you how relieved and excited I am that Casey is writing it with Matthew. Buckle up for an essay!

Without a book to base the sequel off of, I was worried that anything that they did in it would feel... off? Matthew is a great writer, but he did not create Alex and Henry. No one knows more about them and their lives than Casey.

For some reason in my brain, it would feel almost false for someone else to decide where their story goes. How can you know if that's what they'd really do if the actual creator didn't choose it? I have to note that this is circumstantial to the property/franchise in question. This is a singular, standalone novel written primarily by one person. It's not a property like Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, or Marvel where there have already been numerous people involved in making big story decisions for a while.

Now, I don't have to worry about that at all. There's no book to follow, but the person who would have written that book is writing the script. They practically hopped over a step and went straight to the movie, which I can actually completely understand because of Taylor and Nicholas.

We're gonna veer into some broader discussion here, but I promise it will circle around and make sense!

As an author, I get the feeling that in most cases there's a desire to write the book first, so that the story always plays out how you want it to in its true form. Adaptations, as we have seen, are practically split 50/50 on whether or not it will do its source justice. If the original book series comes first, you know that no matter what the adaptation does, the true story will exist the way it was supposed to. You know the characters will behave correctly or make the right decisions because they are your characters that you are writing about. There's no middleman with a script or an actor who wants to "do their own thing". They will always be 100% accurate because you are basically the god of this universe.

People can offer differing opinions, and authors can make bad choices, but at the end of the day, that's the true story, whether you agree/like it or not. This can actually be the reason you make your decision.

For example, and trigger warning for the discussion of Harry Potter and that bitch, the events are undeniably and irrevocably canon. The way certain topics/characters are approached by the author in their canon shows you their priorities and beliefs.

The side plot regarding Hermione's creation of S.P.E.W. is a perfect example. For those who don't know, or don't remember, Hermione founds the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, an organization to protest the unjust treatment of house elves. House elves are quite literally slaves, and Hermione wants to liberate them. Sounds like a noble, worthy cause, right? No one should be okay with slavery!

The whole thing is a joke to Rowling.

Look at the acronym for the group for fuck's sake. It was intentionally picked to sound like vomiting. Within the book, the majority of other witches and wizards thought the idea was absolutely absurd. They think it is laughable and do not even give the concept a single thought in terms of it ever actually happening. They see no problem with the way house elves are treated in their society. Even other students her age think it is ridiculous, and make fun of her for caring so much about house elves. On top of all that, it is then written that house elves enjoy their work and don't want to be free. It does not take a genius to notice the parallels, connect the dots, and see how gross this is. And this is just one example.

The writing shows you how Rowling feels about issues like this. If you're a person with a normal level of empathy, you would not find it funny. You would be turned away from liking the series at all, because the author chose to make something so sensitive and important into a canonical joke within their work.

No amount of condemning or discussion is going to change the contents of the book. Discussion of how media handles sensitive topics is often had with the intent of continuing to do better in the future. That's not to say that there isn't plenty of positive examples; I'm just breaking it down to it's fundamentals. Of course, it can also happen in reverse where the adaptation contorts/changes something from the original work that carries an important message to make it seem like a different one.

As author, I can say that nothing would piss me off more than an outrageously false/inaccurate depiction of my characters.

Which brings us back to Red, White & Royal Blue's sequel!

None of the misinterpreting or inaccurate choices for the plot and characters is a risk. That's not even possible. Because Casey is the creator and what they say is the truth. Their version of events is the "real" one, if you want to use that analogy.

The weight of uncertainty and anxiety I had about this has vanished, and that is an amazing feeling.

What we know about the sequel is something we’ve always known: it wasn’t happening without Casey, and Casey will not do their boys dirty.

[luxaofhesperides]

stealing clothes

college au ft. domestic joongdok. i am so predictable.

also on ao3.

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Kim Dokja is extremely lucky to have Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate. Not just because Yoo Joonghyuk is the campus heartthrob and Kim Dokja is the one who gets to see him everyday, and not because Yoo Joonghyuk is the perfect house husband, cleaning and cooking because he banned Kim Dokja from doing both. 

While both those things are nice, the best part about having Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate is stealing his shirts. 

Not to do anything weird! They’re just… comfortable.

He even got permission! For the first few, at least. 

It all starts because Yoo Joonghyuk was going to throw out perfectly good shirts that have been worn and washed enough to become soft, the type of softness that even the most high quality shirts can’t capture. They weren’t dirty, or torn, just old. So Kim Dokja protests this and tries to get Yoo Joonghyuk to keep them, only for him to scowl and throw the shirts at him.

“You keep them then,” he said, then left. And Kim Dokja did. 

He’s well aware that wearing his hot roommate’s shirts might be (is) weird, so he only wears them on long nights when he needs some extra comfort to get him through his last assignments, or when Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t home. He never wears them when Yoo Joonghyuk might see. He’d rather die. 

And because his wonderful roommate is out for the night, no doubt at a party celebrating his latest gaming tournament win, Kim Dokja is settled in for a long night of reading, curled up on the couch in one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s old shirts. It’s long enough to reach down past his thighs, so he doesn’t bother wearing pants, and a blanket over his shoulders helps with the chill his exposed collarbones bring. 

The apartment is quiet, most people out or sleeping, and the latest update of his favorite web novel is a long one. And should he get hungry, there’s dinner in the fridge, courtesy of Yoo Joonghyuk who is very determined to get Kim Dokja eating more regularly. 

It’s been too long since he was able to be so relaxed and comfortable. No urgent deadlines, no projects to stress about, no tests in the near future hanging over his head like a guillotine. 

He’s so comfortable that halfway through the chapter he’s reading, Kim Dokja begins nodding off. The living room is gradually getting darker as the sun begins to set, and he sees no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap; his sleep schedule is fucked anyways, a little rest won’t hurt him at all.

The sound of the door opening rouses him. 

Distantly, Kim Dokja hears a lock click and a heavy sigh, but half-awake, he can’t be sure if it’s real or part of a dream. 

He opens sleep-heavy eyes to a dark living room; he must have been sleeping for a few hours, long enough for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine brightly. His entire body feels heavy and slow. 

Slowly, Kim Dokja sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool around his hips. He stretches his arms up above his head, arching his spine a bit, drawing out the stretch as he shakes off the last of his nap. 

Behind him, someone chokes. 

Startled, Kim Dokja drops his arms and turns to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in front of the hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s… shirtless. Kim Dokja quickly looks away. 

“When did you get back?” he asks, trying to break the strange tension that suddenly fills the apartment.

Yoo Joonghyuk is silent for a few moments before Kim Dokja hears him step closer. “Just a few minutes ago. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Is it late?”

The light turns on suddenly and Kim Dokja winces, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. 

“It’s only nine.” 

Huh. He wasn’t asleep for too long then. He feels the couch dip and looks up to see Yoo Joonghyuk sitting right next to him instead of anywhere else on their rather large couch. He’s staring at Kim Dokja’s chest, which makes him shift uncomfortably. 

He glances down to see what has Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention. There’s no stains or anything…

Then his heart stops for a solid minute. He’s wearing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt. And Yoo Joonghyuk knows it’s his old shirt because it’s way too big for Kim Dokja! 

Please don’t bring it up, Kim Dokja mentally begs, trying to send the plea into Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. 

“Isn’t that one of my old shirts?” he asks. Telepathy has failed. Kim Dokja changes to Plan B which is Fake His Death And Start A New Life. 

“Uh. Yeah. You gave it to me,” Kim Dokja answers, hoping Yoo Joonghyuk won’t think he’s weird and kick him out. He’s not willing to give up the best roommate he’s ever had! He just can’t go back to living with the worst people in existence, who treat him horribly and steal his things. He just can’t. 

“I’ve never seen you wear them,” Yoo Joonghyuk says instead of demanding that Kim Dokja move out. 

“I don’t wear them often.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes dart farther down. “You’re also not wearing pants.”

Kim Dokja pulls the blanket over his legs and tries to pretend Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t just say that. “Well, you’re not wearing a shirt! You’re only wearing…” he trails off, finally letting himself look at Yoo Joonghyuk. Those sweatpants look familiar. They look just like the ones he thought he lost months ago. “...Isn’t that mine?”

“...Our laundry must have gotten mixed up.”

That’s a lie. Yoo Joonghyuk is not one to mix up their laundry. They’ve never accidentally taken each other’s clothes. 

Kim Dokja smiles and Yoo Joonghyuk looks away, his ears turning red. “Joonghyuk-ah,” he says sweetly in a way that Yoo Joonghyuk knows is a threat.

“I don’t see why I can’t have some of your clothes if you have mine.”

“My clothes don’t fit you! And besides, isn’t it strange for us to be sharing clothes?”

“No. You should wear my clothes more often. You look good in them.”

Kim Dokja has no response to that. He freezes, then ducks his head, trying to hide his quickly warming cheeks. 

Yoo Joonghyuk, the bastard that he is, doesn’t let Kim Dokja hide. He wraps an arm around Kim Dokja’s waist and pulls him closer, hard enough to send him falling against his side. “Stop being so shy and wear my shirts while I’m around.”

“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?”

“I got bored and left early. I prefer being here with you.”

“Don’t think sweet talking is going to make me forget about you stealing my sweatpants.”

“Oh?” Yoo Joonghyuk runs a large hand down Kim Dokja’s spine, making him shiver. “What should I do then?”

“Nothing!” Kim Dokja hits his chest, but makes no moves to put any space between them. He is not going to be thinking about why. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should go to sleep since you spent hours at that tournament. Congratulations on another win, by the way.”

Smiling, Yoo Joonghyuk leans closer, forcing Kim Dokja to bend back a bit, putting more of his weight on Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm. “You were watching?”

“I always watch when you compete. What’s the point of having a popular gamer for a roommate if I can’t brag about him?”

Without another word, Yoo Joonghyuk collapses on top of him, crushing him against the couch.

“Hey!” Kim Dokja flails, then smacks Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. “What’s that for!”

“You’re right, I am tired.”

“Then go to bed!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip on Kim Dokja’s waist, then nuzzles into his neck. The feeling of his hair brushing against his neck makes Kim Dokja shiver, not quite tickling him but just enough to have the sensation send sparks down his spine. 

He sighs softly, and feeling it against his skin brings a deep blush to Kim Dokja’s cheeks. “I’d prefer to stay here for the night,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Kim Dokja grumbles about being squished beneath the heavy weight of his body, but ultimately decides to indulge himself and stay. 

They stay like that, sleeping on the couch, all through the night. They both wake with stiff necks in the morning, but Kim Dokja doesn’t mind at all when it lets him stay in Yoo Joonghyuk’s embrace a little longer.

Things change after that. 

Kim Dokja wouldn’t call them friends, per se. Not before That Night. Roommates, yes. Acquaintances who get along well, yes. Friends? No. 

But now, he’s not too sure what to call their relationship. They live together so they have to spend some time together, but school keeps them both busy and Kim Dokja often spends his time at the library with Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah while Yoo Joonghyuk streams and goes to tournaments. 

It’s more accurate to say they exist in the same space, than to say that they spend time together. 

They get along well enough, which is why they’ve renewed their lease together for another year, but somehow, after That Night Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly… sticky.

He’s constantly making food for them. More so than before. He asks for Kim Dokja’s preferences instead of just silently handing him a plate?

Kim Dokja stares at the box of pasta in his hands. He doesn’t understand why he’s grocery shopping with Yoo Joonghyuk, but he’s gone with it for too long and can’t ask any questions now.

“Did you want pasta?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, appearing behind him without warning. Kim Dokja jumps a little, then glares at him, annoyed by how amused he looks.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I can just buy instant noodles.”

Scowling, Yoo Joonghyuk grabs the box of pasta from his hands and adds it to the cart. “Absolutely not. I’ll make noodles for you later.”

“You can make noodles from scratch?”

“It’s not hard.”

Kim Dokja would marry Yoo Joonghyuk right that very second if asked. He also doesn’t understand why Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly spoiling him, but he’s not going to question a good thing. He’s going to get as much as he can out of this, because who knows when it will end?

So he bumps his hip against Yoo Joonghyuk’s with a smile as they walk down the aisle, and asks, “Can we get ice cream?”

Yoo Joonghyuk does not answer for a long minute, then glances at Kim Dokja’s hopeful expression and sighs. “Fine.”

He really is getting spoiled.

Kim Dokja fully intends to use this knowledge for evil.

Another thing that’s changed: clothes. 

Since Kim Dokja didn’t complain enough about his sweatpants being stolen before he fell asleep, Yoo Joonghyuk decided he could just take Kim Dokja’s most comfortable sweatpants and wear them whenever he wants. So what if he looks really good! They’re still Kim Dokja’s and he will hold this grudge for as long as he needs to. 

He intends to steal more of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts as revenge, except he doesn’t need to steal anything. Because Yoo Joonghyuk just leaves his shirts in Kim Dokja’s room. So he wears them and tries not to get flustered when Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him each time he walks out of his room wearing something Yoo Joonghyuk left him. 

It’s a losing battle.

On the bright side, he no longer has to hide it. It’s still embarrassing, but he’s getting more and more used to lounging in the living room in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts. 

The hungry look Yoo Joonghyuk gives him is also nice to see. 

Kim Dokja may be the king of denial, but even he can’t lie to himself with how obvious Yoo Joonghyuk is being. Nor can he pretend that he isn’t doing this for that exact reason, or spending more time at the apartment to be with him. 

They’re both pushing in little ways, but it’s not enough for him to be willing to push their relationship out of the cloud of ambiguity its currently in. 

Before he knows it, half his closet is Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes, and he has to go to Yoo Joonghyuk’s room to grab a pair of sweatpants to study in because all of them got stolen. The rude bastard really has no shame. 

“Why don’t we just keep our clothes in the same room?” Yoo Joonghyuk suggests after Kim Dokja complains to him about this. 

“Whose room?”

“Mine. Just take all your things into my room. I’ll make space for you.”

And so Kim Dokja suddenly finds himself sharing a room with Yoo Joonghyuk. And then sharing a bed. And then waking up with him to his absurdly early alarm. 

They’re not dating, and he says as much to Han Sooyoung when talking about this; she just rolls her eyes and calls him and idiot for not realizing what’s going on. 

She has absolutely no room to talk, being in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Yoo Sangah instead of just asking her out on a date like normal people would. 

They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja leans into him when they watch a movie together after rejecting a party invite. They’re not dating, but Yoo Joonghyuk kisses his cheek each morning before he gets up to make breakfast. They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja will settle into Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap while wearing nothing but one of his shirts to finish a reading for one of his classes. 

They’re not dating, but he certainly wants to. 

However, Kim Dokja would sooner pass away then actually talk about his feelings, so he bottles it up, greedily hoards all the affection he gets from Yoo Joonghyuk, and hopes he makes his move soon because Kim Dokja is starting to get impatient.

In the meantime, he’ll steal another shirt and pretend he didn’t do it on purpose just to get Yoo Joonghyuk to look at him. 

[miekasa]

break up with your boyfriend, i’m bored

+ pairings: um… armin x reader…. but, spotlight on jean—just... read it to understand, please

+ genres and warnings: college au what’s new, fluff… you’re just going to have to work with me and trust me on this one alright

+ notes: free colt he ain’t do nothing wrong i just needed someone outside of their immediate friend group to blame i am so sorry justice for my boy colt and falco too

+ more notes: longer levi fic still in progress, so have jean thee comedian in the meantime

“I think I have a crush on someone.”

Jean crosses his arms and makes it a point to huff even louder than before so that you can accurately assess his annoyance at moment; going so far as to slump back into your not so comfortable couch to really sell it.

“And that is why you manhandled me all the way to your apartment on a Tuesday afternoon?” he asks, voice flat and eyes hooded.

You groan and roll your eyes. Jean’s eyebrows are pinched together with more judgement than confusion at your current state of distress when you sit next to him on the sofa, a knee bent in his direction.

“Jeanie, I don’t think you’re understanding the severity of my issue.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” he drawls, “But, please, do enlighten me. It’s not like I have an essay to write or anything.”

“I have a crush,” you reiterate, hands mapping out every syllable in your sentence, “On someone who is not my boyfriend.”

“I see,” he nods, but his voice remains flat, “And, pray tell, what exactly is my role in all of this?”

“You’re supposed to use your philosophical psychoanalytical bullshit to tell me what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.”

“Philosophy and psychology are two different disciplines.”

“They sound the same to me.”

“That’s because you’re a single-celled chem major.”

“I think it takes more than a single cell to study chem.”

“Oh, is that what they tell you guys, now?”

“You’re not fucking helping.”

“Yes, I am,” he tuts, “It’s called talk therapy.”

“It sounds like you’re just taking shots at me.”

“Best friend talk therapy allows for a few digs here and there.”

“Jean,” you pinch his arm. He flinches, and yelps loudly, immediately raising the affected arm to counter with a flick to the center of your forehead. You glare, the palm of your left hand covering the sting on your skin, but concede, “Well played.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “I learned from the best.”

“Okay, now that you’ve gotten your ego boost for the day, can we worry about my problem, please.”

He shrugs, crossing resting his left ankle atop his right knee, “Sure.”

“Thank you.”

“What exactly is the problem, again?”

You sigh, and lean your head on Jean’s shoulder, “I have a boyfriend—”

“We’ve been over that.”

“—and the person I have a crush on is not my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he pauses, “Are you going to do anything about this crush?”

“Well, I… no,” you ponder, “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” he repeats, “So, then why are you so worked up about it?”

“Because!... Because… I don’t know, it’s… wrong? I’m in a relationship with someone else—isn’t this, like, emotional cheating?”

“Maybe,” he says, “I don’t know a whole lot about relationship psychology.”

“Come on, Jean.”

He sighs, “I’m serious, I don’t know, (_____).”

You whine, sounds muffled by the fabric of Jean’s sweater where your cheek lay pressed against his shoulder. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

“You’re not, stop it,” Jean answers firmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “You’re not horrible for having emotions that are difficult to work through.”

“Okay, then, I’m just a horrible girlfriend.”

“Maybe.”

“Jean.”

“Sorry,” he winces, patting your head for extra encouragement. It’s meant to be comforting, but it makes you feel like a patronized six-year-old, at best. It’s quiet for a while, with you mulling over Jean’s words, and him trying to pull you into the worst side hug in all of existence.

“Do you think,” you break the silence, “Maybe I should I break up with him?”

“Yes,” his answer comes too quickly, and much too enthusiastically.

You lift your head from his shoulder, unamused, but Jean doesn’t even try to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him.”

“No,” he pauses when he catches glimpse of the disbelief on your face, “Okay, yes, I don’t like him. At all.”

“Jean—”

“But maybe this is your subconscious telling you that you don’t like him either, and that you should, instead, go after your crush.”

“Oh, so now you want to use your psychobullshit on me?”

“If it means I don’t have to pretend to like Colt anymore, then yes,” he replies, a stupid, shit-eating grin on his lips.

You scoff, arms crossed against your chest, “You don’t even pretend to like him now.”

Jean shrugs, “I pretend to like him to his face.”

“No, you don’t,” you insist, “You’re probably the worst at it, in fact.”

“I’m not worse than Connie.”

“You called him an asshole. To his face.”

“Connie poured tequila on him.”

“Connie was drunk. You were completely sober.”

“Connie would have done it sober and you know it.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but the words fall silent in your throat. Connie probably would have done it sober. “Okay, fine, whatever, you don’t like him,” you wave away the subject, “Do you really think this crush is my subconscious telling me to break up with him, though? I mean—it’s just, crushes are kind of fleeting right?”

“Sure, but—”

“What if I break up with him, and then I get over my crush, and realize I made a mistake.”

“Then you learn and grow, and find a new crush.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he insists, “You’re beating yourself up pretty bad over this mystery guy—”

“—It could be a girl.”

“Is it a girl? Oh, is it Mikasa? Are you still hung up over her—you know I’m sure she’d make out with you asked. I think you both could relieve a lot of tension that way, actually.”

“You’re the worst person to walk this planet, you know that?” you sneer, annoyed by the smug grin on Jean’s face. So what if you had a tiny crush on Mikasa? Most people did, Jean included.

“Look,” Jean continues, “You and I both know you’re not a cheater, but you and I also know you’re just like Eren when it comes to things like this.”

“Just like Eren?”

“Falls too fast, too hard,” he clarifies, “I get the feeling you’ve had these feelings for a while, and that they’re not fleeting.”

You pout, and Jean knows that he’s right. “Okay, so say I do break up with Colt—”

“Which you should do, regardless.”

“—If we break up, then what? I still won’t know what to do with my left over grief. It’s not like I can just... go ask this guy out right away.”

“Yes, you can,” Jean presses, “In fact, you should.”

“No, I can’t,” you insist.

“Why not?”

“Well for one, I’ll look like a heartless whore.”

“You’re not a heartless whore for asking a guy out.”

“I am if I do it right after breaking up with my boyfriend.”

“Your internalized misogyny is showing,” he sing-songs, “Come on, you’re not a whore for doing what you want with a guy, you know that.”

“Okay, fine, not a whore, whatever,” you roll your eyes, “But I still couldn’t ask him out.”

“It’s the twenty first century, just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t ask him—”

“Not because of that, dumb goose,” you glare, “I meant because—it’s, well, it’d be really sudden and kind of… awkward?”

“It’s not like he’d know you just broke up with someone, unless that’s one of your conversation starters.”

You sigh, a hand on your forehead. “Yes, he would, Jean.”

“How could he possibly—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mock, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you resume your previous sulking position, head leaning against his shoulder with your right cheek squished against his sweater.

“(_____), I’m honored, but you’re not really my type. I’d be willing to help you get over him though.”

“It’s not you, you fucking long-necked pigeon, it’s Arm—,” you cut yourself short, hands clamped over your own mouth.

“Oh my god!” Jean all but screams, propelling his body away from you with just enough distance to extend his arm, finger pointing directly at your chest, “You like Armin!”

“Shut up!”

“You have a crush on Armin!”

“Shut up, Jean!”

“You have a big, fat crush on Armin!”

“Shut up! I said shut up, you pasty fucking giraffe looking ass bitch!”

“Oh my—okay, you have to break up with Colt, immediately,” Jean rushes, “I can’t believe this—if you think Armin wouldn’t go out with you, then you really do have the intelligence of a single celled organism.”

“What in the ever loving fuck are you talking about.”

“We’re talking about the same Armin, right? Armin Arlert, about this tall,” Jean raises his hand significantly lower than Armin’s actual height, “Studies astrophysics, follows you around like a lap dog—”

“He does not,” you scoff.

Jean guffaws, “Didn’t he take you on a tour of, like… the NASA museum for your birthday? With the super high-tech planetarium that people die to get into?”  

“Actually, it was their headquarters, but it’s only because he gets special privileges for being an intern.”

“Didn’t he name a star after you?”

“Anyone can name a star after anyone,” you roll your eyes, “It’s really not that hard.”

“People do not fucking go to NASA and ask for stars for just anyone!” Jean screeches, hands flailing wildly.

“Armin does!”

“Yeah, for you!” Jean emphasizes, “Come on, do you think if anybody else called him right now and asked him to get a star in their name, or even just fucking take them to headquarters of the most renowned space organization in the country, that he would actually do it?”

“I mean, maybe, if like… Eren asked.”

Jean opens his mouth to refute, but freezes half way with a head-tilt and pursed lips. “Okay, yeah, maybe—whatever, doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to tell him.”

“I don’t need to tell him shit.”

“You’re seriously choosing Colt over Armin? Who willingly stays with some greasy prick with the world’s most annoying younger brother, over a handsome, straight-A astrophysics student with a penchant for marine biology, and, like, really clear skin.”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know Bertholdt was studying astro.”

“I wasn’t talking about Bertholdt.”

“It sounded like you were talking about Bertholdt.”

“I mean, Bertholdt’s got great skin, but it’s no where near as clear as Armin’s. He glows.”

It’s quiet again, as you eye Jean with a raised brow that’s all too familiar. “Are we sure that you’re not the one with the crush on Armin?”

“Shut up, you’re avoiding the point.”

“What’s the point, exactly?”

“That you’re in love with Armin, who is miles better than your current boy toy, so you should ask him out immediately.”

“I have a boyfriend, not a boy toy.”

“Ah ha!” he yells, “You didn’t deny that you’re in love with him—oh my god, you’re in love with Armin!”

He’s standing now, practically bouncing off the the walls at the revelation. You take to smacking him with the nearest pillow. “I’m not in love with him! I just—just really like him, okay!”

“Very convincing.”

“Shut the hell up, you’ve been pining after you know who for seven eons at this point.”

“You bitch,” he growls, “We’re not supposed to bring him up.”

“Well, you keep bringing up Armin!”

“We never established that Armin was on the list of he’s who shall not be named.”

“Well I vote that he should be.”

“Your vote has been vetoed,” he grins, “Look, I’m completely serious when I say that Armin is just as in love with you as you deny you are with him.”

“That sentence hurt my head,” you pout, resuming your signature brooding position.

“It’s okay, your single brain cell has been through a lot in the past fifteen minutes,” he pats your head again, earning him a glare that he simply chuckles at, “All it means is that you love Armin, and I assure you that he’s equally, if not more, in love with you.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. Now, up, up, up,” he tuts, pulling at your biceps until you’re standing, only to immediately start ushering you to the door, “You have a shitty boyfriend to go break up with.”

“What—Jean, come on, I didn’t mean right now!” you exclaim; but he’s stronger than he looks, and continues to propel your body out of the open door.

“No time to waste!” he insists, “Every hour you stay with Colt you lose another brain cell.”

“I thought I only had one to begin with,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

It makes Jean’s grin triple, “Exactly, so go, not another hour to waste!”

“Jean, wait, I—,” you begin, only to be silenced by the silver door shutting in your face. The lock clicks soon after, and it’s only then you realized what he’s done.

“You knobby kneed bitch, this is my apartment!”

[celestialevie]

Birthday surprise // Niall Horan x singer! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Since it's officially my birthday week and Niall's has just passed, I decided to write this very self-indulgent fic (even though I can't sing, but a girl can dream </3). I mostly wrote this for myself because I adore this human with my whole heart. Anyways hope someone will enjoy this fic just as much as I did writing it.

Finishing the first two songs, you chat a little with your fans. Noticing some of the signs they brought with them to get you to notice them, some of them making you laugh, while some of them made your heart clench with love. Sitting down at the piano, starting to play 'champagne problems'. While you were in the happiest relationship to date now, you still had some issues with your past relationships, where you were made the villain and them a victim when in reality it was the literal opposite. Niall was the blessing you were praying for. So what if you were fucked in the head? Niall loved you just the way you were.

Your birthday was coming up, and you were going to spend it while being in one of the cities you absolutely love touring in – Dublin. Although you were heartbroken because this will be the first birthday you were going to celebrate without your boyfriend, Niall. Ever since you've known him, you celebrated both of your birthdays with one another. His tour lead him to being in America during your birthday, which really sucked. You were both bummed out about it, he even offered to reschedule that concert, so he can be with you in Dublin, maybe even visit his family whilst already being in Ireland, you told him no. You didn't want to be selfish just because it's your birthday. Talking on the phone with him right from the moment he was awake (which was already in the afternoon for you). '' It feels weird to not be with you on your birthday, how will I survive without my birthday kisses and hugs from you? '' you ask while pouting. Niall chuckled and mimicked your put. '' I will give you your birthday kisses and hugs as soon as I see you. With extra ones for each day between your birthday and the day we see each other again. I promise. '' he gives you a smile. And you just pout harder. '' I really miss you. I can't wait to see you soon. '' checking the time, you realize it's almost time for you to start getting ready. '' Hey baby, I have to go start getting ready soon. I'll make sure Jenna calls you to FaceTime and shows you at least some concert if you're not busy. I love you and I miss you. '' as you say that, you hang up and quickly text your makeup artist, she can come over. Two minutes later, her and Jenna (your assistant and close friend) are in your dressing room, and you're getting ready. An hour later, you were done with your makeup and hair and all that was left was to put on your outfit. Ten minutes later, you were slowly making your way towards stage. Quickly texting Niall another I love you, and wishing him good luck on his own show later, you were off on the stage, the intro of your song' dress' starting to play as you were brought onto the stage. Let the fun begin.

After champagne problems, one of your favourite songs you wrote was next.

''... Don Perignon you brought it, no crowd of friends applauded

your hometown sceptics called it, champagne problems.''

'' A lot of you might not know, but this next song was inspired after I was done watching the amazing spider-man 2 for the millionth time. My love for Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield is unmatchable. Just ask my boyfriend, who's been hanging out with Tom Holland, how both of them are feeling betrayed by my love for both Amazing Spider-man's movies. This is How you get the girl. '' The intro of the song started playing and so were the screams of people.

Singing two more songs, you go get changed into a different outfit. Going back onto the stage, you're surprised that your manager Anna is standing there with a grin on her face.

'' Stand there like a ghost

Shaking from the rain

She'll open up the door and say 'are you insane?'

Say it's been long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want...''

'' Uh-oh, manager is grinning, prepare yourselves guys, it's not going to be good. '' The crowd laughs while Anna rolls her eyes and smiles at you. '' We have a small surprise for you. '' as she says that, she points on the big screen behind you, when you turn around you are surprised to see a familiar face of one of your closest friends, Lewis Capaldi, wishing you a happy birthday and saying you guys need to go clubbing again soon. Laughing as his face fades away and the next one shows up, your very close friend and sometimes co-writer Taylor Swift, again wishing you the happiest birthday and saying how much she adores working with you and that she loves you very much. It went on for a while, all your friends and even your parents were there. Tears were falling down, and you didn't care it ruined your makeup. And then at the end there he was. My favourite face to see. Niall. '' Happiest birthday to you angel. I wish I could be there with you, just like we are always for our birthdays, but unfortunately I am not there to give you all the birthday hugs and wishes. I love you so much angel, keep rocking the world, and I will see you as soon as we can. '' At the end you were full on sobbing happy tears, hugging your manager and your band. The best surprise ever. '' I am very sorry for being a mess so publicly '' wiping your tears and thanking to whoever invented waterproof mascara for being the reason your makeup is not that ruined. '' Anyway, the show must go on, so let's go. '' picking up your acoustic guitar, adjusting it, you announce the song. ''You are in love. Let's go.''

''(...)

As the show is slowly coming to an end, and you're about to play a song that is about your boyfriend, that he inspired you to write. And Taylor helped you co-write it.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

You kiss on side walks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love. ''

'' Sadly, the show is slowly coming to an end. You guys were the absolute best and I adore spending my birthday with you all. This next song is literally one of the most accurate songs I've written about any of my relationship. When I got inspired by my loveliest boyfriend, I had to invite Taylor to help me write it, as we all know she is the lyrics master. Lover is one of my many nicknames I use for Niall, and I know that he's probably watching this or will watch it later, so hi Niall. '' you wave to one of the camera's while the crowd laughs. Gently, you start playing the guitar.

What you didn't know is that your boyfriend is a liar and is actually hiding with your assistant Jenna, waiting to come on the stage to surprise you. Of course, he wouldn't miss your birthday, even if he has to reschedule the concerts. You were absolutely worth it. As he waits for the part of the song he's gonna crash in, Jenna and Anna are making sure you don't accidentally notice Niall before time. The plan is for Anna to quickly distract you on one side while Niall comes out on the other side of the stage.

'' (...)

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover '' as you sing that part, you notice Anna waving at you like a maniac, distracting you and mouthing something to you. As you're trying to figure out what is she saying, the crowd starts screaming, and you freeze as the familiar voice starts to sing the next part of the song

''Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand...''

The song soon comes to an end, and you're bringing Niall into another hug. He just smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. '' Happy birthday, angel. I hope you don't mind me crashing. '' You just shake your head while holding him as close as you can. '' You are always welcome to crash my show. The next song is your song anyway, so you might as well stay and sing with me. '' he pulls away and looks at you. '' Let's go finish this show, so I can give you all the birthday kisses and hugs you want. ''

You turn around with your hand on your mouth, as the man himself makes his way towards you. You're in absolute shock because this man is supposed to be in America. He only laughs at your reaction as he pulls you towards him in a tight hug while still singing. Hugging him back, not wanting to let go of him. Slightly pulling away, looking him directly in his beautiful blue eyes while singing.

'' I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover ''