#i guess it would be better to frame it as whether it would be better to be independent/in control or spiritually fed

[abbyslvrrr]

Ultraviolence dark!abby Anderson x fem!reader

So I had this fics in the works before I posted this little Drabble thing, I just wasn’t sure if people wanted it! I really hope that this is good, I honestly haven’t written much dark stuff so I’m sorry if this is actually asscheeks. Anyway hope you enjoy!! Love u angels 🤍

Cw: dark!abby she’s abusive and toxic. Reader is kidnapped and held in a basement. Abuse. I guess reader lowkey being starved. Literally basic human necessities taken away from her. Abby is manipulative.

Songs to listen to if you want: ultraviolence by Lana

𝜗𝜚 Abby, who kidnaps you and holds you captive in her home on the outskirts of the city where no one really comes.

𝜗𝜚 The first couple of weeks you fight, you scream, you do everything to get away from her. She entertains it, but why the 4th week does she get fucking irritated

𝜗𝜚 After a failed escape attempt, she throws you down the dark basement and locks you there for however long it takes to break you and to make you depend on her fully.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE, YOU BITCH!” Your throat is practically raw at this point from all the screaming. There was a small dirty mattress, pillow, and blanket there, a bucket, and a small window that had iron bars on it so you couldn’t escape through there. She would come back for you, right?

You were wrong, the only time she would come down was to give you food, and the food wasn’t much. Just a sandwich and water for the whole day, it’s safe to say she was depriving you of basic human necessities. You tried to stay strong the first week, talking to yourself, sleeping most of the time, anything to keep you grounded, but after that week when Abby still didn’t come to get you is when you start to freak out. You so desperately wished someone would talk to you or touch you.

God, Abby’s touches you missed, whether it had been because she was beating you black and blue or helping you change clothes, you just missed them lots. You needed her, you needed her praise, her degradation, you needed her to validate you as a person.

The second week in is where you break, You get scared, very scared. You scream for Abby, not stopping, but she does not come get you, little do you know, she’s behind the door listening to your screams and cries and relishing in the fact that you are breaking down bit by bit.

By the third week, all you can do is curl up in a ball and hope that Abby will take mercy on you and come back.

——————————

After a while, the basement door opens and Abby walks in, your eyes open. You don’t know whether to believe what you’re seeing, you feel a hand on your cheek brushing away a tear you didn’t know you let out.

She’s really here

“A-Abby?…” You call out to her weakly, more tears spill out. She doesn’t say anything but picks you up and takes you to the living room, where she sits on the couch with you in her lap. She wraps a fuzzy blanket around you.

All you can do is bury your face in the crook of her neck and cry, she rubs your back in a comforting manner.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, angel?” She questions as she lifts your head up to look at her. Nodding your head ‘yes’ puts a smile on Abby’s face, she knows she’s broken you, and she couldn’t be happier.

“None of that escaping stuff anymore, okay? You’re here to stay with me, angel. If you’re a good girl, everything will be fine, and you’ll get rewarded. If you disobey me again, I’ll punish you ten times worse, got it?” Her face is serious and scary, which makes you let out a small whimper. You don’t have a choice in the matter anymore, it’s better to just be good and obey, right?

By now you’ve also forgotten the fact that you were kidnapped by Abby and that your face is all over the news. Your family is distraught that you’re gone, but hey, Abby thinks the missing person poster would look so cute framed in her office!

“Mhm, I get it, Abby. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Sorry this fic is actual ass it’s so BORING

𝜗𝜚 Tags! @livvietalks @rhyrhy @cstbdf @kaykeryyy @h2pinky @dollaches @killerbait @frillydolle @ch-4-eri

[godlovesdykes]

life is very stressful rn.

realised today that i can’t go back to any sort of organizing/leadership role in the chapel and that nothing seems to have changed in the year i was gone. trying to decide where to live this year (kind of feels like deciding whether it would be worse to be lonely or overworked).

crushing in a way i’ve never crushed before and planning to ask her out on friday. thinking about my future and how she could fit into it and worrying because although our personalities seem so perfect together, our life trajectories are going in total opposite directions.

and i still haven’t applied for student loans.

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

13.3k words

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.” Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[ineffectualdemon]

(AO3 link)

Shang Qinghua arrived back to Cang Qiong and headed to report to the Sect Leader only to find himself pulled into an impromptu meeting with his fellow Peak Lords.

With a noticeable absence and more notably addition. 

"Zhangmen-shixiong, may this one inquire as to what is happening?" He asked nervously as he the yelling from his fellow peak lords explained nothing and Luo Binghe stood still with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight, but silent.

"Lord Luo seems to think we have hidden Shen-shixiong away," Yue Qingyuan replied with confusion clouding his eyes.

"Which is nonsense! Qingqiu is sitting in the next room plain as day!" Liu Qingge shouted, one hand on the hilt of his sword the other pointing to a side room.

"And as this Lord has explained that thing is not Shizun." Luo Binghe replied with the slow carefulness that precedes great violence.

"We all here have seen and spoken to Shen-shixiong daily while Lord Luo was dealing with demon matters this past week. We have seen nothing amiss. Maybe he just tires of your company." Qi Qingqi really liked digging the knife in which was a huge mistake.

Shang Qinghua watched Luo Binghe's hand clench his fist tighter as his demon mark grew in brilliance.

"Alright thats enough! I can confidently prove whether or not Shen Qingqiu has been replaced!" He said loudly, his casual tone cutting through the noise and tension better then the volume.

Before he could think better of it Shang Qinghua walked briskly over to the side room and walked inside, shutting the door behind him.

Hardly any time at all passed before he was back in the room, the door closed firmly shut behind him and sealing and silencing talismans stuck to the outside.

"Shen Qingqiu has been replaced." He stated firmly. The room went eerily quiet and Luo Binghe, thought not smiling, relaxed as his posture took on an amused lilt.

"How can Shang-Shixiong be so sure?" Someone spluttered.

"He said I was his closest friend." Shang Qinghua said grimly.

"...but you are?" Liu Qingge said, his eyebrows tight as if he was puzzling over paperwork.

And he was right. Everyone knew Shang Qinghua was Shen Qingqiu's closest friend and confidant. Something that pissed off and confused everyone close to Shen Qingqiu to some degree. 

Shang Qinghua huffed.

"Of course I am! I know that! You know that! Everyone knows that! Even Shen Qingqiu knows that! But would he ever say it?"

That got everyone to pause.

No.

No he wouldn't.

Potentially not even on pain of death.

"Then what is it and where is Shizun?" Luo Binghe demanded, pushing past Liu Qingge who just mad a disgruntled sound.

"This one's guess? It's a Cuckoo Spirit. They're a type of dream demon. They hunt by reading the inner thoughts of their victim and replicating their mannerisms and behaviours as closely as they can based on dreams and so on. They then keep their victim asleep and assume their life. Feeding off both them and the people around them. This one guesses Qian Cao has had a lot of people on Qing Jing come down with fevers or are strangely lethargic recently." Shang Qinghua turned his attention away from Luo Binghe at this last and directed it as Mu Qingfang who looked troubled. 

"For the last three days. And four days ago Shen-shixiong complained of feeling tired when we had tea, but his meridians seemed clear. The imposter also stood up to scrutiny when this one examined him." Mu Qingfang explained.

Shang Qinghua nodded.

"Did Mu-shidi feel ill after the exam at all?" Shang Qinghua asked, even as he pushed past the sect leader and the demon emperor to pull out paper and ink and start scribbling quickly. 

"...yes actually, a headache." Mu Qingfang quickly crossed to join Shang Qinghu, tension tight in his frame.

"It used it's abilities to change your memory and perception." Shang Qinghua looked to his upset Shidi and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. 

"Don't be too upset with yourself Shidi! They are very dangerous creatures and extremely rare. The most important thing is Shen-shixiong is still alive. They can only maintain form if they still have a living connection." Shang Qinghua turned to look at Luo Binghe who had joined him on his other side.

"Meng Mo agrees and is impressed with your knowledge, he wouldn't have guessed or caught a Cuckoo. He thought his clan had wiped them out. He actually seemed afraid of them." Luo Binghe was still tense but knowing his Shizun was still alive was keeping him together. But it wasn't a surprised that the dream demon feared the creature. They had a terrifying ability, to make dream illusions work in the waking world. 

Their original feeding grounds were the dream demon clans, because who was easier to fool then those who were always half in a dream? 

In PIDW he had meant their inclusion to be a real horror movie moment but also a chance for character growth as Luo Binghe was forced to contend with something that shattered his confidence in his dream magic and made him face reality. 

In practice it was used to make a recent wife who was married "for political reasons" admit she actually did love her husband and wanted his pillar. 

Maybe Bingmei didn't need to know that. 

"If it hadn't flubbed so bad I wouldn't have caught it." Shang Qinghua admitted to distract himself before picking up his papers and turning around.

"Right. First off we must find Shen Qingqiu. Junshang? You search for disturbances in the dream realm. Something that feels off. But do not attempt to interact with it yet! Just use that to help us locate Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge? Mu-shidi? I need you to get these ingredients and turn it into an incense. Everyone else search every cave and grotto and outbuilding on this mountain to find Shen Qingqiu. If you find him do not touch him! We must break the bond first and we have to do that quickly before it realises we know. Right now this one has told it that Luo Binghe is unstable and we need to confine "Shen Qingqiu" for his own protection. It objected like Shen-shixiong would but not strong enough." Shang Qinghua was a little surprised they just let him take charge like that but Yue Qingyuan nodded.

"That Shang-shidi left the room on his own two feet after suggesting such a thing and Shen-shidi didn't break down the door and take Lord Luo and leave is even more proof than it calling Shang Qinghua its closest friend." Yue Qingyuan kindly pointed out for Luo Binghe's benefit, who was looking a little murderous. 

After that things moved swiftly. Shen Qingqiu was found in an old storage room on Qing Jing with help from Luo Binghe. One plastered with talismans to block the Emperor from tracking his blood.

Once the sleeping Shen Qingqiu breathed in enough of the cure to break the demon's hold dispatched the thing quickly, while the smoke from the same incense kept it from using its normal tricks to escape.

Shen Qingqiu once awake and finally devoid of a crying Demon Lord, due to said Demon Lord baking something, asked to speak to Shang Qinghua.

"Binghe said you convinced everyone but didn't say how." Shen Qingqiu, looking pale but mostly alright, asked.

"I walked in and asked if it knew who I was and 'you' rolled your eyes and said: 'um my best friend? Who else would you be you dumb hack author!' and I immediately knew because you'd never admit that." 

Somehow Shen Qingqiu looked more ill that before Shang Qinghua explained.

"Ew? Why would it so that? Bro no offense but I would rather kick in you in a well of dead fish then say we're friends." 

A different man would be offended but Shang Qinghua just chuckled. That's his tsundere Cucumber Bro! 

"I know bro "

Shen Qingqiu shifted in his seat at that, like what he said left a sour taste in his mouth and sand in his shorts.

"You're not..." Shen Qingqiu started before hiding behind his fan, "You're not not my best friend though." 

Shang Qinghua blinked at him before tearing up.

"Bro!'

"NOPE! I NEVER SAID ANYTHING!"

"You love bro!"

"I HATE YOU!" 

Shang Qinghua smiled as Shen Qingqiu loudly protested their friendship while also nudging his favourite treats towards him.

Ah, friendship was sweet when it was with your number one anti fan! 

[thefanficmonster]

Never Beating the Allegations

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A compilation of Colby and Y/N being far too obvious with their feelings for one another for the entire world to see. Basically, a YouTube documentation spanning several channels that marks the history of this goofy relationship

"It's fucking nighttime already, dude! We're running two hours behind schedule!" Sam complains through a smile, shaking his head at Colby who's trailing behind him with bags full of snacks. "All because someone spent those two hours scouring a store!

They're currently in Canada following the filming of a couple investigations for Hell Week with Kris and Celina. As Sam said, they were supposed to be two hours along the road back home already - a very tiny portion of their roadtrip back, seeing as how they didn't get to buy plane tickets on time. So, they settled for a two day roadtrip and the adventure it would bring on.

Colby, not at all bothered by Sam's accusations, smiles at the camera, "I promised Y/N I'd bring back signature Canadian snacks for her. There is no chance in hell I go home empty-handed. She'd kill me." As if to prove he is serious about his quest, he lifts the two heavy looking bags for the camera to get a better shot of them.

Sam's smile falters, replaced by a highly offended frown, "So you're telling me we're not gonna eat any of those snack on the road?" Colby - folding with laughter, mind you - shakes his head. "Are you fucking ki-...."

* * * * *

"I'm almost done!" Y/N calls out from her spot in front of the mirror where she's been stuck for the past thirty minutes trying to even out her winged liner.

A groan comes from a far distance but is still picked up by her phone microphone and is heard by the audience of Y/N's Instagram live, "You keep saying that!"

Not ten seconds later, the door is thrown open, provoking a laugh from the girl. She lowers her hand and takes her attention away from her reflection to pay her roommate proper acknowledgement. "Give me a second, sheesh! Can't a girl make herself pretty in peace?"

Although he never enters the frame fully, the live chat is already flowing with cheers of Colby's name. Whether it was wishful thinking or an educated guess on their part is a mystery. Regardless, they're entirely correct, their suspicions confirmed when they hear his voice and see his arm come into frame, his hand cupping Y/N's chin to tilt up her face.

"You're always pretty." He says, causing her to roll her eyes. At that, he boops her nose with his pointer finger before withdrawing his arm, "You have five minutes to wrap things up."

Y/N's gaze lingers on him until he's out of sight. She shakes her head and catches the camera's eye in the mirror reflection, "The audacity on that man. Tsk

* * * * *

@_y/n_dragonfly Fuck Valentine's Day @_colbybrock

Needless to say, the comments went wild, running with this post on Y/N's Instagram as unofficial proof of the ship the fandom seems to hold so near and dear to their hearts.

Hope dies last, after all. Maybe one day their ship might set-sail.

* * * * *

"Ok, so, update..." Colby chuckles, looking away from the camera he's currently holding blogging style to make sure he doesn't trip on anything, "We were supposed to go grab food before starting the investigation, but then...." He flips the camera to show the backyard of the abandoned house they'll be exploring tonight, "Y/N found a trampoline in the backyard."

As the camera focuses, both Sam and Y/N come into clear view - the former laughing at the latter who's too busy to care. She's too occupied having the time of her life on this raggedy looking trampoline, reveling in childlike joy as she hops around.

Colby sets the camera on the tripod Sam had left nearby, wanting to capture this wholesome moment, even if it didn't make it into the final cut of the video. Though he doesn't see why it wouldn't.

After adjusting the camera, he turns to find Sam has joined Y/N on the trampoline, far more hesitant than she is, though.

"You guys are ridiculous." He remarks as he approaches them, shaking his head with a bright smile on his face.

Y/N lands on her knees so she can be at least halfway at eye-level with her friend, offering him a beckoning hand, "Come be ridiculous too. Don't be a bore."

Colby scoffs and rolls his eyes. Still, he accepts her hand but instead of using it for support to climb up to join his friends on the trampoline, he tugs on it. Y/N lets out a little yelp as she's enveloped in his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, unwilling to have a rather unpleasant encounter with the ground.

"Colby! Put me down!!" Put her down he most certainly doesn't, instead opting to spin her while securely holding her in his arms, eliciting mock terror-filled screams from her.

Eventually, he does get persuaded into joining her and Sam on the trampoline.

And the whole fiasco eventually makes it into the final cut and onto the internet.

And, inevitably, in edits.

* * * * *

It's an innocent, wholesome TikTok they filmed in the garden of the Conjuring house. Yes, the Conjuring house, no biggie.

Sam is the cameraman who much to his relief didn't even need to orchestrate anything. He just pressed the record button on his phone to capture the tomfoolery going on. The lighting is perfect, provided by the few remaining rays of sunlight before dark befell them. A little lighthearted fun was more than needed before they'd have to go back in the house to chat with spirits for the night.

The video captures Y/N in her natural element - dancing goofily with the pair of headphones they use for the Estes method on her head. The caption under the video reads: 'When the spirits drop a sick beat' and is quite the perfect depiction of the trio's dynamic.

Sam documenting the chaos. Y/N being the chaos. And Colby observing her chaos with heart-eyes from the sidelines.

Although Sam hadn't originally noticed his best friend's awed gaze accidentally captured in the video, the fans most definitely noticed. And, as per usual, they ran with it.

*sigh* These two are never beating the allegations.

@benbarnesprettygurl @jessy-shine @mushycore @richardsamboramylove55 @smuttiest-smuttt @honey-bees-13 @rei-ito

[kolyasangel]

soft skin

content: fem!reader, fluff, vv sweet, slightly suggestive

synopsis: you see your boyfriend shirtless for the first time and of course, he doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease you about it.

"Nikolai! Guess what I just—"

It was like the oxygen had left the room the moment you saw him, your words abruptly cut off by a lack of breath.

Oh.

Oh.

Nikolai's bare back was the first thing your eyes landed on.

The room suddenly felt warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. You barely registered the book in your hand slipping out of your grasp and and landing on the floor with a soft thud as if incapable of handling the sight before you as much as your heart was.

The muscles in his back flex with every movement, drawing your gaze further down to where the fabric of his sweatpants dipped dangerously low on his waist. You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure before he eventually turns around and catches you in the act of staring.

But it's so difficult to abide by when the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window pours over him in an angelic glow, highlighting the curve of his spine as he turns to face you with a questioning look in his eyes and a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Hm?"

Nikolai clearly didn't expect the sudden intrusion, but he wasn't complaining about it either. In fact, he loves that you happened to walk into the room at such perfect timing.

You have to wonder if he's doing it on purpose—all to see your reaction, just to see the flustered look on your face that you know he takes so much pleasure in. You try to form words, but all that comes out is a soft gasp, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts when you watch beads of water drip from his loose hair onto his bare chest, rolling down his skin until they reach his v-line.

You don’t even realize you're staring as hard as you are until Nikolai clears his throat, jerking his head at you in a teasing gesture. Caught off guard, you quickly avert your gaze and try to compose yourself, but the flirtatious glint in Nikolai's eyes tells you he enjoys the attention far too much to let it slide, as expected.

“You’re staring real hard, pretty,” he drawls with a lazy grin, mismatched eyes filled with mischief roaming over your figure.

"Sorry," you apologize and try to leave the room as quickly as you could to avoid any impending teasy remarks, but you suppose you were too slow for him because you already found yourself entrapped by a pair of strong arms.

"You're not going anywhere just yet," Nikolai murmurs, his breath warm against your ear as he pulls you closer. Yeah, you're not sure what demon possessed you for a second to make you believe he would let you get away from him so easily—you would end up like this either way, whether you stayed in the room or not. "What did you want to ask me, sweet dove?" he asks as his arms snake themselves under your arms and around your waist.

The closeness sends a shudder to channel through your entire body. "Nothing important anymore," you hum and close your eyes, secretly relishing in the contact.

He laughs and ruffles your hair before placing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Oh come on," he insists, fingers deftly moving some of your hair aside as if parting curtains to let in sunlight, keen to get a better look at your flustered face. "Tell me?"

With a hint of reluctance, your shy eyes open to finally meet his. "I finished the book I was reading.. you know, the one I told you about."

His eyes light up with an excitement that makes your heart flutter. "That means you have to tell me all about it now!" he pries eagerly, genuinely interested in hearing your opinion.

"I can't," you mumble, the words tinged with timidity.

His lips stick out into an exaggerated pout, feigning hurt, resembling a kicked puppy. "Why?" he asks with a dramatic flair.

You feel embarrassed to be in this position, your back flush against his chest as his arms squeeze your frame like you're his personal stuffed animal. He dips his head, leaning in to get closer to your face. "Too distracted?" he asks, his voice low and sultry, rich like velvet.

"Something like that," you admit, nodding shamefully while feeling the heat on your cheeks deepening as his lips graze over the shell of your ear. "Maybe a little."

"Look at me," he tells you, fingers grabbing hold of your chin gently to tilt your face upwards to make you look up at him. His voice is sweet but also firm, one full of power. "I want you to focus on me," he says, his eyes locking with yours. "I want to be the only thing on your mind right now."

His eyes are so intense and love-filled, making it nearly impossible to part gazes. Out of all things, this wasn't something that you ever expected from him when you two started dating, though you suppose you're not exactly sure what you ever expected.

However, there is one thing that you are sure of and expect nothing less of from him—him and his new ways that, without fail, always keep you on your toes.

"You don't have to be so shy," he giggles before spinning you around to face him this time, drawing you impossibly closer. All you experience is Nikolai—every sense overwhelmed and full of only him. He'd just hopped out of the shower, so his skin is still slightly damp, and the freshly applied lotion on his skin smells so good. A combination of the fragrance entwining with his natural scent fills your head with delightful dizziness, your cheeks warming up from both the contact and how you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

Your eyes are fluttering shut again yet they aren't quite closed, lashes barely brushing the tops of your cheeks. As you inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself while reveling in this closeness, Nikolai chuckles softly as his arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace, practically smothering your face with his chest.

"You're allowed to look at me, you know," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. "Look at me, touch me." He tenderly takes one of your hands in his, kissing your palm ever so softly before placing it on the upper portion of his chest, slowly moving it downwards, almost guiding you in a way where he wants to feel your touch, an invitation of sorts. "Do whatever you want to me."

The sheer vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart, making you realize just how much he trusts you—a trust that deepens with every touch and melding of skins. It's overwhelming yet euphoric, the feeling of intimacy that grows and further solidifies your bond as you trace every inch of his body with your fingertips. His skin is incredibly soft as you run your fingers over his body, smoothness occasionally interrupted by the roughness of his scars that you'd only ever felt under the fabric of his clothing—but you adore all of him, even the rough parts. You run your knuckles along his sides, eliciting goosebumps to rise on his skin, warmth radiating from him to you like a gentle current.

His other hand travels from your waist to cradle your cheek, packed with all the care in the world that it almost makes your heart skip a steady beat. "Are you charmed by me yet?"

"You don't even have to try.." you huff out in embarrassment. A bead of water drips from his damp bangs onto your nose, causing a small shiver to course through you from the chill. "Aren't you cold?" you ask him, voice becoming whispery as you melt into his embrace.

His arms tighten around you, a small smile tugging on his lips at your question. "How can I be cold when you're right here?" he replies with nonchalance as if the answer couldn't be more obvious, using his thumb to wipe the water off your nose, replacing it with a gentle kiss to seal the moment altogether.

hihi thank u for reading. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

[applestorms]

on another note. it genuinely kinda surprises me how many people interpret ivan to be the type of person to Repress and Deny his feelings when, from all the evidence we actually have, he actually seems to be quite open about it?

he does do the dumb stare and watch from afar thing that till does with mizi, yeah, but even there i don’t know if i would necessarily interpret that as ivan like. pushing his feelings away. compare the difference between how till and ivan are framed in these two shots:

in till's, we are pushed way farther back, seeing his full face and a good deal of his body as he slouches back. the colors are bright, fitting in with most of the happier mizisua angst memories, and you can read till's expression pretty clearly, even with his face beaten up. it's cute and mostly innocent, the kind of thing that makes you want to gently push him out from behind the wall to watch him stutter and get all embarrassed but reach out and play with his friends.

in ivan's... jesus. i mean, he looks like a freak (affectionate). you can't read his expression, despite the fact that we are zoomed in much more closely, only really seeing his eye as the placement of his hand covers his mouth. there is very little body language to convey the same type of sweet, childhood Yearning that till has in his staring shot. instead, for ivan, it all comes down to the Eye, how intently he stares as he watches till and mizi. it almost doesn't even feel like he wants to join in at that moment, or not yet, like watching alone is enough to feed the starvation.

don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of Yearning and Angst in that boy-- round 3 alone is enough to demonstrate that. but what i think people sometimes forget to account for is the fact that ivan acts like that specifically because he has already been rejected.

up until [whenever this moment happens in the timeline] ivan seemingly has absolutely no qualms about getting all up close and personal with till. we see this in plenty of the round 6 flashbacks:

he is plenty comfortable getting all up in till's personal space, whether it be to beat him up or just exist near him.

i also like how in this shot (below) we can see him specifically stand up and move seats, just so that he can bother till during lunch and have his little vampire weirdo moment (aww).

ivan's behavior only really shifts after till has already rejected him-- which, i'd also like to note, seems to genuinely catch ivan off guard. perhaps he genuinely didn't even consider the possibility that till would ever push him away?? i guess it's hard to know the specifics of what he was feeling or thinking in that exact moment, but at the very least this speaks to the ease with which they existed around each other previously.

thus: ivan doesn't begin with the belief that till could never love him. he only starts to doubt whether or not his feelings are requited after he has already been rejected, after he pushed too hard and too quick.

after the failed meteor shower date, his affections become a lot more subtle-- sneaking around to take care of till when he needs it, but only when his eyes are closed. the love and obsession and watchfulness is all still there, but he takes more care to hide it better now. until... well, y'know.

he lets the selfishness win. :]

[heich0e]

he’s not paying attention because he wants to.

itachi respects shisui enough that, if it were up to him, he’d have no knowledge of what had just transpired in the shadows of the courtyard outside of their office. he’d be better off not knowing. they both would.

and you would too. 

but itachi has a perfect view into that shadowy corner where you and shisui had been sequestered—too intentionally concealed and too near to one another to be doing anything polite—from his desk up on the fifth floor. probably the only one in the building with that kind of vantage point. and he’s too observant to have not noticed the movement from the corner of his eye while he was working on finishing up his case report.

shisui probably didn’t expect anyone to notice them. didn’t think anyone was still in this building this late too possibly spot it.

but he’s not that surprised when he walks into he and itachi’s shared office and sees him there either.

“itachi-kun,” he greets his partner warmly, no trace of guilt or deception in his familiar tone. “you still working on that?”

itachi doesn’t look up from the documents in his hands, but nods. he hears shisui drape his uniform jacket over the back of his desk chair across the room before lowering himself into it with a tired groan.

“good work today,” shisui speaks again as itachi’s pen scribbes a note onto the corner of a report form. “you ought to head home soon. you’ve been here almost 15 hours.”

“i only have a bit more to finish,” itachi replies. he wants to get this report done so that when he’s due back at the station in a mere 7 hours he can get started on the rest of the mountain of paperwork he has waiting for him. it seems never ending.

“you should take a break once and a while, it would do you good.”

itachi pauses, his pen mid stroke in the middle of a word.

he looks up.

“shisui-san,” itachi says, and his senior meets his eyes from across the room. “we’re not supposed to get romantically involved with victims.”

he’s not sure how he expects the older man to respond, but the easy grin he shoots him from across the room is surely not the reaction he anticipated.

“figures,” shisui says with a light laugh, “the minute i saw your desk light was on i knew you spotted us.”

“you weren’t being particularly covert.”

that’s not necessarily true—itachi is probably the only one who did, or could, notice.

“relax,” shisui says with a carefree wave of his hand. “she’s hardly a victim anyway. she just happened to witness the robbery.” 

“she works at the establishment that was robbed.”

“establishment?” there’s a bit of mirth in the elders tone. “you can call it a host club, itachi-kun. it’s not a bad word.”

it doesn’t feel like a particularly civilized word either, considering the kind of business conducted there.

“she asks about you, you know,” shisui goes on to say, and that startles itachi. the older man must recognize the surprise in his face because he conceals a laugh under his fist. “you must have made quite an impression on her that night.”

itachi had been the one to interview you at the scene of the crime. had wrapped a jacket around your shoulders because the night air was cold and all you wore was a slinky black outfit that provided too much exposure to your skin. he remembers how you trembled a little, clutching at the sides of the coat as you held it around your frame. remembers how the streetlights caught in the shine of your glossy lips as you recounted what you’d witnessed in the club that evening, all while he took detailed notes down in his notepad. 

he doesn’t know how long shisui has been seeing you. or what seeing you even entails—whether business, or pleasure, or in your case something between the two. itachi’s mind wanders for a moment.

shisui laughs again from the other side of the room, and there’s something frustratingly knowing in the sound.

“then again, considering you recognized her from half a kilometre away, even in the dark, i guess you aren’t the only one who must have made an impression that night.”

[alaia777]

every valentine’s day, without fail, a small note would appear beneath your window, never signed.

for years, you wondered who it could be. you tried everything—staying up late, keeping watch from your window, even sneaking outside in the middle of the night. but every time, you either fell asleep or missed them by seconds. once, you almost caught them. you saw the blur of a figure slipping into the shadows, the edge of a hoodie that looked so familiar. but it was dark, and maybe you were just imagining things.

eventually, you stopped searching. maybe it was easier that way—easier to leave it as a mystery, easier to pretend it didn’t make your heart race.

but still, every year, the notes kept coming.

“hope you smiled today.”

“the stars were extra bright tonight, just like you.”

“i wonder if you ever think about me too.”

you had mentioned it to isagi before, casually bringing it up in conversation. he’d always listen, nodding along, but whenever you tried to actually talk about it, he would steer the conversation elsewhere.

“you think they’ll ever tell me who they are?” you had asked once, twirling the latest note between your fingers.

“maybe,” isagi had shrugged. “or maybe they’re just waiting for the right time.”

“and when’s that?”

“dunno,” he had muttered, suddenly very interested in tying his shoelaces. “probably when they stop being a coward.”

it wasn’t until this year that you finally caught them.

you hadn’t been waiting for them, not this time. you just happened to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling restless. with a sigh, you rolled over, planning to go right back to sleep—until you heard something. the faintest rustling outside your window.

curiosity got the better of you. you sat up, pushed your blankets aside, and tiptoed over to peek out.

and there, standing just outside your window, carefully slipping an envelope beneath the frame—was isagi.

your heart stilled.

he didn’t notice you at first, too focused on making sure the note was perfectly placed. but then he hesitated, as if second-guessing himself. before he could change his mind, you tapped the glass.

his reaction was instant—he stiffened, his whole body going rigid. slowly, he turned his head toward the window, eyes wide, face pale like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then, in the most pathetic attempt at playing it cool, isagi very slowly shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, clearing his throat.

“…hey.”

you blinked. “hey?”

his face turned red. “so, uh. crazy coincidence, huh?”

“isagi.”

you stared at him. he stared back, looking like he was debating whether to bolt or dig himself into the ground.

and then, because you couldn’t help it, you started laughing.

he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “shut up.”

but you only laughed harder, leaning against the window frame. “isagi, what the hell—”

“okay, yeah, fine, it’s me!” he blurted, voice rising slightly in panic. “but in my defense, i was gonna tell you! i just—i don’t know, maybe after we were, like, eighty or something.”

you smiled, warmth bubbling in your chest. “so you’ve been writing me love letters for years and just never planned on saying anything?”

his ears went red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “i—listen, it made sense in my head, okay?”

you shook your head, still grinning, as you climbed out your window and stepped onto the cool grass beside him. he looked at you, nervous, shifting on his feet.

“so, uh, are you mad?”

you exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “not even a little.”

his shoulders sagged in relief, and after a beat, he chuckled, soft and a little embarrassed. “so, does this mean i can finally sign the next one with my name?”

you hummed, pretending to think about it before tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, pulling him just a little closer. “we’ll see.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

What about smth for JD (heathers) with an s/o who's equally as possessive and protective over him, maybe even more so?

I fucking love it when the reader perfectly matches the characters energy omg

Jason Dean with an s/o who's just as possessive/protective as he is

Warnings: gender neutral reader, both the reader and JD are possessive and protective to an unhealthy extent, JD and the reader are a match made in hell (which means they're naturally perfect for each other), codependent relationship to the max here, swearing, dark humor, mentions of murder/death, mentions of gun use, some smutty/nsfw stuff

As much as JD likes to mess with you, he actually does appreciate just how much you seem to love and care for him. Far too often has he been in relationships where it seemed as though he was the only one who was putting in any effort that he eventually began to lose hope he'd one day find someone who loved and worshipped him as much as he does for them

Then you showed up, and everything in his life seemed to get ten times better. He actually started attending school more often just so he can see you, especially if he knows you won't skip

However- that doesn't mean that he won't push your buttons, because he absolutely will. Believe me when I say that he's going to have at least a little fun at your expense

He'd never actually cheat, as he's way too clingy for that (unless he got really pissed off and wanted to teach you a lesson or something, but even then he'd probably end up killing the person afterwards) but he does find it amusing to see your reaction to him flirting with other people

It doesn't even have to be anyone he actually likes, in fact, he purposely goes out of his way to flirt with people he hates and actively talks shit about in front of you because he knows how mad you'll get. He's an asshole, what can I say

The look of silent rage that appears on your face whenever you see him walk up to any random guy or girl gets him chuckling everytime. He'll stay over there and flatter said random person until you storm over and drag him away from the conversation

Don't think that just because he flirts with other people that you can, that'd be crazy. How dare you talk to anyone other than him? What do you have, a death wish or something? (You flirt with other people anyway because he's not the boss of you and you can do what you want)

It's all in good fun though, because neither one of you would ever let anyone else lay their hands on the other, whether that be in a violent or sexual manner (or both). In fact, you guys even joke that if one of you ended up cheating on the other all three people involved would die, because there's no way the cheater or the person they'd cheated with would be allowed to live and the other couldn't live knowing their beloved was gone (it's actually not that much of a joke, but since you guys are so attached to each other that would probably never happen)

Speaking of committing murders, you guys do! All the time! :D (I don't know why I'm saying this like it's a good thing lol) Anytime someone does something to piss either one of you off, the two of you turn it into a date where you both kill the person, frame it as a suicide, then go back to your house for sex while the adrenaline is still pumping fast through your veins

Jealousy sex/make-up sex happens fairly often, by the way. You two may love each other, but because your personalities are so similar they're bound to end up clashing at some point, which leads to explosive arguments that typically end in "hate sex" (it's not really hate sex since you guys still love each other but given how much you both curse each other out and literally say "I hate you" during it I guess it could qualify)

Neither one of you really have any friends, not that you'd need them when you have each other. In fact, the only time you ever hang out with anyone else is when you're purposely trying to get JD riled up, and vice versa

I know he acts pretty aloof but I like to think that deep down he's actually really flattered to have someone who's crazy over him the same way he is over you. To someone as clingy and obsessed as him, it's almost like the highest honor, y'know?

End notes: I'm finally working on old asks yippeee

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[serenedash]

ok so as a khux Understander do you have any idea how long the span of time between the beginning of the mobile games (foretellers era, daybreak town) and the mainline kingdom hearts games (1,2,3, the "10 years after bbs" stuff) is? i'm halfway through watching the khux story cutscenes comp and the uncertainty is driving me nuts.

First, I'm honored to be known as a khux understander thank you. Second, sorry but there's no concrete reason as of now. If you squint there's some evidence at a time frame but literally shit has been retconned already which is crazy. So I'll just tell you what I DO know!

I can tell you with certainty that all of khux takes place over the course of about 4-5 years because in the later part of union cross there's a cutscene that literally says "4 years ago." iirc khx/chi takes place over the course of one year while unchained chi/union cross takes place over 4 years.

Besides that though, it's an undetermined amount of time between khux and the start of missing link. Here's a piece of dialogue from the finale of dark road:

This is a great indicator of time between khux and khdr but unfortunately this was literally like immediately taken out with an update so it's unclear whether or not this is canon, which would probably make the span of time between khux and khdr about 100-ish years I guess? (if you want to read more about this script change go look at Kat's post, but maybe after you finish khux/dr since you said you're in the middle of it)

And on top of this, Xehanort and Eraqus are about 15 in dark road and during BBS it's been confirmed they're both in their 80s. With certainty I can 100% say that dark road is about 70 years before bbs but that's the only concrete mobile game answer I have. But you could estimate with the original screenshot and this that there's about 170 years between khux and bbs. Again just an estimate, nothing canon, and I'm sure that one edit must've been made due to the development of missing link. Hopefully khml will give us a better answer on time frames!

Hope this helps (as unsatisfying and unconfirmed this is) and feel free to come back with any more questions I love talking about khux :]

[t-lostinworlds]

Spider & The Slayer | Peter Parker

PAIRING: peter parker x vampire slayer!oc TROPE/GENRE: meet cute; coffee shop au; fluff SUMMARY: Where Peter meets a girl who isn't who she seemed to be. WARNINGS: cursing, nwh spoilers i guess, vampires, i think that's it? it's pretty tame. WORD COUNT: 5.2k+

A/N: hello! here's a fic commissioned by @theslayerofthevampires ! thank u so so much for trusting me with this. this was definitely something new for me bc i've never done oc's before. but anyways i hope you're satisfied with it! and i hope u guys enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ P. PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was fascinating how changing one small thing of a routine could have a profound impact on a person's life. You could leave the house a minute early and the series of events that would happen henceforth would be different than if you had left the house a minute late. Whether that was for better or for worse remained unknown.

As for Peter, it was him coming into the café later than when he usually did.

Later in the afternoon once he was finished with his morning errands was when he typically showed up, that way he could go straight into patrolling for the night after finishing a warm coffee or two. But since the night before was much more taxing compared to the others, he found himself sleeping past his multiple alarms.

It only became a domino effect after that.

He showed up late at his morning job, which caused him to clock out later than usual to appease his manager. As a result of that, rush hour caught him so getting to the train station took far longer than usual.

Peter knew of MJ's schedule at the café, so he knew he could still catch her on time, even if it would only result in seeing her for only a few minutes. What he didn't take into account was her getting off early and missing her entirely.

He only found out the second he got inside the café. Because instead of the familiar girl with a certain head of curls standing behind the counter, it was a big, bald, burly man who he knew was the owner of the place. Peter was so used to MJ taking his order that he ended up just staring at the man for a few seconds or more.

"Are you going to order or what?" the man gruffly said.

Just as Peter was about to speak, he was interrupted by the chime of the front door's bell followed by heavy and rushed footsteps.

During the months he'd been keeping tabs on MJ and Ned under the guise of being a regular customer, he had never seen her before.

Beautiful brown eyes with dark brown hair framing her pretty face even though her features sported an annoyed look more than anything else. The red dress she wore complemented her skin tone prettily. She also wore some black tights, knee-high boots and a long black coat—to keep her warm, most likely. Apart from finding her cute, her silver necklace with a cross also had him intrigued.

At first, Peter thought she was just a customer rushing in to seek warmth and to hide away from the coldness of the outside. Yet aside from the sharp glare the man was sending her way, she walked directly past Peter and straight into the back room.

The man turned to Peter and said, "We will be with you in a moment."

The moment the man disappeared into the back, an argument ensued. 

It wasn't a screaming match per se—the voices were muffled more than anything else—but it was loud enough for some words to echo into the front counter. Either way, Peter was only able to discern their exact conversation due to his enhanced hearing.

"You're supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!"

"The traffic was shit, Larry, what'd you want me to do? Fly?"

"This isn't the first time you've been late, young lady!'

"I'm earlier than my usual shift!"

"If this happens, again—"

"What? You're firing me?"

Peter heard a beat of silence followed by some grumbling.

"That's what I thought. You're already short-staffed as is," the girl scoffed. "Now can I go and do my job?"

There was a few more grumbling before she finally came back out to the front.

Peter caught her heavy eye roll before she locked gazes with him.

As if knowing that he overheard everything, her whole demeanor suddenly turned shy. Or perhaps Peter simply didn't master his poker face yet. He probably looked too concerned for someone who wasn't supposed to hear anything.

"Sorry about that," she said with a timid smile.

"You don't need to apologize," Peter responded, trying to reassure her as much as he could.

She nodded, her smile turning a little more relaxed. "Same as usual?"

Peter looked at her confused.

Sure, he frequented here often but he didn't think anyone else would be aware of his order considering it was always MJ who took it.

Noticing his confusion, the girl in front of him let out a soft yet awkward laugh.

"I usually work at the back but I do notice how you come here often," she explained, looking away immediately after as she waved her hand. "Not in a weird way or anything! I-I mean like, I'm not a stalker or uh, a creep or something—"

"Don't worry," Peter reassured her, chuckling. "I mean, I come here often and I barely know who else works here? It's kinda my fault for noticing you."

The girl became even more flustered than before, so Peter decided to divert the subject and asked for her name.

"Isabella," she said, smiling with her hand out. "But you can call me Elle."

"Parker. Peter," he fumbled, cheeks turning hot as he shook her hand with a chuckle. "Peter Parker."

"Nice to meet you, Peter," she giggled in return. "Now, what can I get for you?"

•••

It was only a week later that Peter found out that MJ had already resigned from the café. He shouldn't have been surprised considering school was starting back up again. Sure, August was still a few weeks out but he figured she decided to go there early to be able to familiarize with the city. He assumed Ned did the same thing too, since he also hadn't seen him around the café since then.

A part of him wished he could've seen them one last time before they got to Boston. But the other part of him was saying this was for the best. Besides, what was he even going to say? It would've made things weird if he said goodbye because at the end of the day, to them, he was just a random customer that frequented the café.

Yet despite the fact that the two main people he always checked up on—the main reason he visited the café in the first place—were no longer in New York, he couldn't stop going.

He told himself it was simply out of habit. After all, he had been going to the café every single day for the past couple of months. It had been ingrained in his routine that not stopping by at least once simply felt wrong in some way.

Yet deep down he knew it was probably something else or rather, someone.

In only a short amount of time, Elle had intrigued him more than he'd like to admit.

Peter wasn't sure yet as to what exactly it was.

He'd like to think that he was simply making a new friend. But would a simple and innocent friendship—if the mentioned friendship didn't have any underlying feelings—make you feel conflicted? 

Even though he was very well aware he was doing absolutely nothing wrong, Peter somewhat felt a sense of guilt hanging out with Elle.

He kept going back to the promise he made to MJ, about finding her and making her remember. But then again, he'd been visiting the café for months yet there was never any progress. And every time Peter thought they were getting somewhere, that hope would immediately be snuffed out once he realized that she only recognized him as a regular customer and nothing more.

Now, she was hundreds of miles away and chasing after her to Boston wouldn't be a good idea. Apart from coming off as a stalker by appearing at every place she was at—New York needed Spider-Man.

Maybe he should've tried harder when she was still here. Maybe he should've just told her the truth right off the bat.

Or maybe it was time to move on.

Not that he would ever acknowledge all of these feelings any time soon, obviously.

For the past few weeks, he'd been justifying his urge to spend time with Elle as a mere curiosity. Because there was just something about her that he couldn't quite put a finger on. And the only way to find out was to be in her company.

Peter only wanted answers to the questions floating in his head.

That was what he kept telling himself, at least.

•••

It sort of worked.

And by that, Peter meant he learned much more about Elle the more they spent time together.

She was the same age as him and an only child of divorced parents. She was originally from a town just outside of Los Angeles and had only recently moved to New York once she was legal to do so. Now, she found herself working full-time at the café to make ends meet.

They weren't at a stage of knowing each other's numbers yet and they mostly hung around the café—as if it was their own little bubble, almost. But the hours Peter spent in his usual nook in the corner had definitely increased.

If she noticed, she never said a word about it.

Better yet, whenever he would study there for an upcoming GED test, she would sometimes sit with him and help him out whenever her boss wasn't looking. She also was generous enough to give him free refills during moments he would stay later in the night.

Peter would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel some type of way.

His cheeks would heat up whenever their gazes would meet from across the room. A certain warmth would settle in his heart whenever he'd hear her laugh, its pace beating that little bit faster whenever it was him who'd made her laugh. He would find himself grinning unconsciously whenever he would catch a glimpse of her smile, the corner of his lips lifting higher whenever that very smile was directed at him—that type of way.

Something that only seemed to grow on the one-month mark they'd known each other—and hadn't stopped growing since then.

It was easy to say that he was starting to really, really,likeher.

He had also learned to simply let things play out—to go with the flow, if you will. So, he tried not to be too hard on himself and just let himself feel what he feels and see where it goes.

After saving the world countless times and this city even much more, he could at least indulge himself in talking to a pretty girl, right?

Still, there was something else that also piqued his interest. Because the more he got to know her, the more questions seemed to keep popping up.

It made him even more curious.

Other than the fact that she seemed like such a nice sweet and funny girl, quite upbeat when you catch her in a good mood, was able to match his sarcasm very well, funny as well as pretty, he could feel that there was more to her than meets the eye.

Peter was noticing things that simply seemed off.

Aforementioned things weren't necessarily odd in a bad way. They could pass as benign at best. Peter would be able to leave it alone, if she didn't react the way that she did.

But that was the thing, her reaction to being questioned was odd.

Like that one time Peter asked her about a cut on her eyebrow. It wasn't too deep, and he could see that it was on the path of feeling. Still, when he'd seen her the day before and the cut didn't exist then, it was normal for him to ask about how she got it.

Peter expected her to shrug and say something simple like bumping her head against the door or some mishap that was caused by clumsiness more than anything else. But then she started to get nervous. She was stammering an explanation he didn't get to catch because she was already rushing away, throwing in an excuse about some delivery she needed to prepare before disappearing into the back room.

He tried to ignore it but then things just kept getting weirder.

•••

"As if New York hadn't been through enough," said an older, scruffy man as he took a sip of his black coffee.

"Yeah, I don't get why we're always the center of shit," a lanky guy with glasses responded. "Why can't it be Indiana's turn or something?"

"Well, heard there's some shit going on in that town, too."

"Huh, you're right."

The two men chatted as they sat at a booth just beside Peter's. They were two construction workers from across the street, taking a break from their night shift.

It wasn't that Peter was nosey—okay, fine maybe he was, I mean, who isn't'?—but he was unable to tune them out as he waited for Elle to come back with a refill of his coffee.

Besides, their conversation was starting to get interesting.

"You'd think the Avengers would've handled it by now," lanky-boy added. "The number of victims is coming up to double digits."

"Do you really think the Avengers would waste their time on animal attacks?" the old man scoffed. "That's way below their pay grade."

Peter found himself agreeing.

Besides, Spider-Man was there. It's not like he couldn't handle whatever these mysterious attacks were—definitely not tooting his own horn.

Either way, Peter was already aware of the situation. He had been keeping up with the reports on the radio and each one has left him confused more than ever.

He'd tried to catch whatever it was that was behind these attacks but he never seemed to get to the scene of the crime on time. It was always already taken care of. The police would already be swarming the place, so it was safe to assume that they'd been called. Journalists would then follow suit, trying to cover the story as best they could.

Peter would watch from the rooftops as they interviewed the very few witnesses. But what truly raised some questions was that they always describe a woman that stopped these creatures, there for one second and then gone the next.

Was there another new vigilante in New York?

"Sorry that took so long, the machine was acting up again."

Peter turned to Elle with a bright smile, "Why are you apologizing? Are you trying to get me to leave quicker or something?"

"Yes, your ass is about to burn an imprint on that seat," she retorted sarcastically.

Raising a brow, Peter leaned closer to her, smirking. "Why are you thinking about my ass?"

Her eyes widened in shock, pretty lips opening and closing with no words escaping them.

Peter couldn't stop his laugh from bursting out.

"Shut up, Parker," she scoffed, kicking his foot under the table. Though she couldn't stop her giggles as she poured him more coffee.

"There's not even an explanation as to where these animals are coming from," old man grumbled, continuing their conversation.

"But what if there is?" glasses said. Lowering his voice, added, "What if they're not exactly…animals."

"Not that rumor again, Bob—"

"Come on, Luke, it makes sense!"

Peter's heard about that rumor, too.

The people who were attacked by these 'animals' were found to have two punctures on the neck. There was also the case of severe blood loss which didn't make sense from a scientific standpoint because it's impossible for such tiny holes to cause that amount of bleeding in little time. So, theories started going around as people drew their own conclusions. It was probably a way for them to soothe their own fears because knowing what it was would enable them to prepare. That was much easier than trying to fight the unknown.

"Really?" Luke scoffed. "Vampires?"

"I mean, what else could it be?" Bob pushed. "Do you really think a wild animal will survive New York city? It would've been hit by a car by now!"

"Vampires are just a fairytale," Luke brushed off, tone turning teasing as he said, "Or that one shitty movie you love."

"Twilight is not shitty," Bob grumbled before sighing, "Look, Thor was a fairytale once! The Hulk is real but you draw the line on vampires?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Bob."

"Okay, then what about the woman?" lanky Bob continued. "Why would people on the street call her The Vampire Slayer if there aren't any vampires?"

Peter was snapped out of his eavesdropping when Ella let out a panicked yelp. It was only then he realized that coffee had spilled over his mug and splattered all over the table. His concern only grew when he saw the way she was clutching her hand.

"Shit, shit, shit," she hissed.

Peter immediately got out of his seat to stand in front of her. He took her hand in his as he grabbed some tissue from his table. He gently wiped her hand clean and started checking how badly she burned herself. A sigh of relief escaped him once he saw it wasn't severe. Peter didn't know that it was but he couldn't help but pull her hand up to his lip and started blowing cool air on it.

The second he looked up, their gazes met.

Peter didn't know how long they were staring at each other, but he found himself not minding it. But the emotions that flickered in her eyes, from shock to embarrassment had her looking away.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tad bit disappointed. He would've stayed looking into her eyes for much longer if he could.

"You okay?" he asked, softly caressing her tender skin with his thumb.

"I—" She blinked. "Y-Yeah! Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean your hand—"

"Is completely fine!" she squeaked, pulling her hand away and hiding it behind her. "Don't worry about it."

"Everything okay?" Peter frowned, confused. "You seem spooked."

"Why would I be spooked?" she let out an awkward laugh. 

She never had a mishap before. If there was one thing about her, she was quick on her feet. Peter has seen it countless times from catching a plate before it hits the floor without even looking, or dodging a cupcake with her back turned when a baby had decided to toss it across the room. So, her spilling coffee, on her hand at that, seemed uncharacteristic.

Maybe she was distracted?

Judging from the proximity of those men, she probably heard about what they were talking about or, more or less, was reminded of it since it was the only thing the news had been covering lately. 

"Are you scared about those animal attacks?" he asked in genuine concern. "I could always walk you—"

"Me? Pfft, no. I'm not scared," she quickly brushed it off, waving her hand around. "It's all rumors anyway."

"What, you don't believe in vampires? I mean, punctures in the neck, the evidence is already there," Peter attempted to joke to alleviate the tension but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

The way her eyes widened before rushing to the back and stammering about cleaning up told him as much.

Again.

Weird.

•••

Peter wished he could say it stopped there but what he found tonight brought him some sort of an epiphany almost, a thing that made him slowly connect the dots.

It was the same as any other night of closing the shop, yet as they started to bid their goodbyes, her phone started to beep, loud and fast.

She hurriedly pulled it out of her jacket, took one look at it, and started sputtering her a reason he didn't catch and rushed off, gone before he could even do as much as a wave goodbye.

It was then that he realized that she had dropped something.

At first, he thought it was one of those defense weapons women usually bring with them when they walk at night—a long cylinder-shaped stick with a sharp end. But the more he examined it, the more questions he seemed to gather.

Why is it made of wood?

Is this a wooden stake?

Now, Peter had his moments but he wasn't completely clueless. The animal attacks, the rumors, her sudden nervousness about it, the silver cross necklace, the wooden stake, some woman saving people in the night—could it be?

Surely not…

Right?

•••

It's not creepy if I'm only making sure she's safe.

That was what Peter kept telling himself as he once again followed Elle as she made her way home. He'd been doing it for a couple of nights now, especially since the attacks had only increased. Right after helping her in closing the cafe, they would go their separate ways. Peter would bid his goodbyes as he returned her sentiment about getting home safe.

Yet he was not on his way home.

It might have been wrong to lie, but it was to keep her safe.

But more often than not, Peter somehow would always lose sight of her. Whenever he would look away for a split second, she would be gone. It was either she was quite fast on her feet or she knew how to vanish from thin air.

It only added to the list of odd things he had discovered about her.

Fine, he was making sure that she got home safe, and maybe he was trying to get answers, too.

Both things can be true at the same time, right?

There were simply too many coincidences for him to ignore.

Even more so when he caught her suddenly turning towards an empty alley.

But not for long.

Peter felt like his heart was about to jump out of his throat when he saw four men follow in right behind her.

He swung as quickly as he could, heart beating faster and louder at the thought of her being hurt…or worse.

But whatever scenario he was conjuring in his head, from good to bad to worse outcomes—he never expected this.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement.

It's not every day you see the girl you'd been crushing on take down one guy at a time, flawlessly and effortlessly, as if she could do this in her sleep.

She was mesmerizing.

Her strength was unmistakable as Peter watched her send a guy flying across the alley with a simple kick, swiftly swerving the other perpetrator behind her in one move before hitting them square on the nose and knocking them out.

Peter was awestruck.

Does she have powers?

The fight was already over when he got to her, landing just beside the building that covered any source of light.

Yet Peter's questions only seemed to grow as he watched her pull out a wooden stake from her coat—similar to the one she dropped—and started stabbing each unconscious man. He would've been shocked and scared by the brutality of her actions, that until these…men started turning into dust.

So the rumors were true, then?

"Who's there!"

Peter slowly came out of the shadows with his hands up in surrender, showing her that he wasn't a threat. Yet the second she saw him under the light she lowered her weapon.

"Spider-Man."

Peter tilted his head. "You know who I am?"

"Well, duh? New York's greatest defender? You've made quite a name for yourself," Ella said, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised a brow. "Should've just introduced yourself, you know, instead of following me every night."

"I—uh," he chuckled shyly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that—"

"What? You think I wouldn't notice?" she snorted, amusement painting her features. "I'd like to believe I'm not that oblivious, given my line of work."

"Of course not I—" Peter didn't know what it was, but he decided right then and there that he might as well just go for it. "Elle, right?"

He expected her to be surprised. But instead, she merely narrowed her eyes at him as if to examine him.

"How'd you know?"

"Well…" he trailed off, grabbing the top of his mask and then pulling it off.

He flashed her a shy smile. "Hey.'

"Peter…" she breathed out, blinking for a few times before her grin widened. "I fucking knew it!"

Peter blinked.

"What?"

"That makes so much sense!" she added gleefully.

"Okay, wait no," Peter shook his head, glaring at her playfully as he crossed his arms. "Don't you dare say you had your suspicions."

"Oh I absolutely had my suspicions," she giggled, all adorable and proud. "Besides, Spider-Man following me home immediately after I say goodbye to you after closing the café?"

Peter let out a defeated sigh.

"Yeah, you aren't as slick as you think you are, Parker."

"You're not as careful as you think you are either," he retorted, tossing her the wooden stake she dropped a couple nights ago.

She caught it effortlessly.

"Huh, so that's where it went," she mused, laughing shyly. "I guess we both have our moments."

"So you're the slayer person?" Peter asked, walking closer to her.

"Vampire Slayer," she corrected.

Once he was close enough, he swiftly yet discreetly scanned her form to check if she was hurt, grateful that he didn't seem to see any visible injuries.

Still, ever the observant person—or maybe it was one of her powers, who knows—she still caught him. "Are you checking me out, Parker?"

"I'm making sure you're not hurt."

She blinked at him, surprised. She probably didn't expect him to be so blatantly honest.

"I'm not hurt," she reassured with a soft smile.

Peter mirrored her grin with a nod before narrowing his eyes. "What does 'Vampire Slayer' mean, exactly?"

She raised her brow at him. "It's literally on the name."

Peter deadpanned.

"What?" she giggled, reaching a hand up to settle his hair, made unruly by his mask.

He couldn't stop his heart from doing a silly little dance inside his chest, its warmth slowly seeping onto his cheeks.

"You know," he hummed, daring to place a hand on her waist. He couldn't stop his smile when she leaned a little closer. "You had me worried there for a second, thought you were in danger when I saw those men follow you in. Turns out, you didn't really need any help."

"Well, I'll have you know I'm not some damsel in distress," she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes.

"Never thought you were," he chuckled. 

"Besides, you're not the only one who has powers in this neighborhood," she said, grinning.

Peter didn't exactly know where the sudden burst of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was from the fact that his feelings for her were definitely confirmed by the fear he felt at the thought of her being in danger or hurt. Maybe he was just feeding off of her high energy and adrenaline. Either way, he didn't hesitate to shoot his shot.

"How about you tell me all about it over dinner? My treat."

"Is this your way of bribing me to spill my secrets?" she said with narrowed eyes. "Or are you so enthralled by my skills that you're asking me out on a date?"

"Why not both?"

"Shut up," she giggled. "About time you asked though. You can be kinda slow with hints sometimes."

Peter looked at her genuinely confused, "What hints?"

"Seriously?" she snorted. "I don't just give free coffee refills to anyone, mind you. It's technically not even allowed."

He grinned, placing his other hand on her waist and giving it a gentle squeeze. "What are you trying to say here exactly?"

"Uh…" She turned shy, then, eyes casted down. Peter could see she was trying to gain the courage to just say it out loud.

"That you like me, too?" he supplied instead, her eyes snapping back up to meet his.

"Too?"

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's slow when it comes to hints."

Peter felt his heart stutter at the way her smile brightened.

"So, pizza at my place?" she hummed, giggling. But then realization dawned on her face. "Oh wait. I still need to patrol."

"Same here. How about I come with," Peter offered. "Then we get pizza after."

"The Spider-Man needing my help?" she teased. "I thought I'd never see the day."

"Shut up" Peter rolled his eyes. "Now, hold tight."

"Why?" she asked confused, yet did so, anyway, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It made Peter feel warm, simply from the fact that she trusted him and his word enough.

Once he put on his mask and made sure she was secured, Peter didn't say another word as he hoisted them up and started swinging, her shrieks and expletives marrying with his boisterous laugh.

After roaming the city of New York and stopping any petty crime they came across—and killing two more vampires, a sight Peter still needed to get used to—they stopped at his apartment to get some stuff before crashing at her place for the night solely because it was bigger than his.

They might have skipped a few steps compared to any normal relationships—they were barely even there, frankly—but then again, nothing about them was normal to begin with, anyway.

For the rest of the evening, as they sat on her living room floor with two boxes of warm pizza sitting on the coffee table, Elle told Peter her story, and in return, he also shared pieces of his.

She got chosen—ironic since there wasn't even much of a choice—as a slayer when she was fifteen, and Peter shared that he got bitten by a radioactive spider at that age, too. She shared how she was given these powers that basically made her an enhanced individual which led to a playful arm wrestling match to see who was stronger. Peter ended up losing solely because he was too scared to hurt her, especially when he himself wasn't fully aware at what level his strength truly was.

She got all pouty about it but it was immediately pushed aside when Peter said she looked so cute when she was pouting.

He got a pepperoni in the face when he wouldn't stop teasing her about it.

But aside from the witches, vampires and demons alike—which was how Peter learned Wanda was actually a witch instead of a mutant—the two of them are surprisingly so similar in some ways. They already clicked before, and now, they seemed to have a lot in common when it came to their second life as well.

They also shared sentiments as to how lonely this life could be sometimes and it was like a breath of fresh air for Peter to have someone understand him. Maybe not to the fullest of extents since whatever this was between them was new, but understand him, nonetheless.

It was safe to say Peter was glad he came into the café later than when he usually did that day.

Fascinating how changing one small thing in a routine could have a profound impact on a person's life, huh?

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading hun! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated <3

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[jiangfamilytherapist]

All reader reactions to character interactions are colored by said reader’s life experiences, but to me it seems this is especially the case with parent/child dynamics. For this reason, I believe There Are A Lot Of Valid Takes on YZY and JFM’s parenting, and all of them have to do with lived experience— you don’t need to have had an abusive/neglectful etc. parent/guardian for your own familial frame of reference to become an interpretive lens, whether through comparison or contrast. We all do it.

So here’s what I see:

It takes two to tango, sure, but I can’t pretend that I see Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian as equal agents in the dynamic that emotionally scars their children. That is to say JFM’s Neglect ≠ YZY’s Abuse. And actually, I think terminology is important here, because truly JFM is not neglectful, he is emotionally unavailable, specifically to Jiang Cheng. JFM does in fact ensure that all of JC’s needs are met or exceeded, minus emotional connection. This is not me absolving JFM; emotional distance and feelings of inadequacy learned from parents can fuck with mental health, but in my view JFM is mainly at fault for being a bystander where he should have been a protector. He fails both boys in this. This is a common occurrence where one parent is abusive, and is part of the broader cycle of abuse. It’s not a simple thing.

As for the emotional distance, I don’t think Madam Yu helps. Maybe JC reminds JFM of his mom a little bit (and it’s worth mentioning that JFM doesn’t actually hate YZY by all indications) but it seems pretty dang evident that the bigger problem is her constantly shoving JC in front of JFM and being like WHY DO YOU LOVE YOUR SON LESS… I feel like that would potentially strain any attempt at father/son bonding. It can’t just be JC who hears those words echoing in his skull. Even if it isn’t true, the accusation’s out there and that is awkward to get past at best, not to mention requiring more emotional intelligence than either father or son possesses. It’s a hurdle they’d both struggle to clear.

Honestly, if I had to guess why JFM is better at dealing with WWX (which I find a little funny since at that age most people would find WWX to be way harder to deal with than JC), I’d say that WWX’s constant cheerful masking means that JFM doesn’t have to deal with all those icky complicated negative emotions with him. From a disciplinary standpoint, WWX is definitely the problem child, but again the masking means that from an emotional standpoint he is the “easier” child to deal with, because at that time of his life he hadn’t really let his mental or emotional health be anyone else’s problem since he was little.

I don’t have data to back this hunch, but I think all parents give their kids at least some issues unintentionally. There are also parents whose behavior is overtly damaging to their kids’ present and future wellbeing, like Madam Yu, and there are also parents who hurt their kids—inadvertently—by omission or inaction. This is all to say that I don’t personally think that the accusation that JFM didn’t love JC, or that he loved him less, is really in evidence (especially as portrayed in The Untamed). Nothing I see indicates to me that he is actually disdainful or apathetic towards JC, but the shortcomings in his parenting really did deeply hurt Jiang Cheng, and I find that hurt to be wholly understandable.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Thank you for all your hard work (all of the mods!)

I am considering giving a human version (like in an alternate universe) of a non-human character a cleft lip. as the regular version of him has a similar condition, at least visually, though he is not made of… uh, flesh and blood? And I’m not sure if he was born with the condition or acquired it later. Would it be wrong to give the human version of him a cleft lip in this case? (It’s not framed as tragic or anything, he’s just vibing and going about his business.) If it is something that would be appropriate, I was wondering whether it was realistic for an adult in modern day to have a cleft lip (probably not palate, just lip), when, from what I understand, that is usually corrected* as an infant? If it is not realistic, are there alternative facial differences that may affect one side of the upper lip/mouth? I am trying to avoid another “character experienced The Accident and is now disabled/has a facial difference,” so I was hoping for something congenital, but given this character’s line of work (machinery, chemicals, sharp things, fire) it would not be unreasonable for him to have been injured either.

*I am unsure if “corrected” is the proper term here, please forgive me if it is not

Thank you for your time and for helping me to readjust my thinking in so many matters already. I want to keep learning to do better

Hey!

If the character isn't originally A), an actual monster or B), a rabbit/hare kind of creature*, I don't see any issue with their human form having a cleft lip. I guess there could be some kind of non-fleshy creature that could be unfortunate as well, but I can't think of any to be honest.

*that's because of the outdated term “hare lip” that was used in the past, which is currently considered offensive. Only applies if you specifically give them a cleft lip, other facial differences are fine.

In places like the US or Western Europe most children will have a surgery on their cleft lip, but that's not necessarily the case for areas where a surgical center (or any kind of medical facility) might be inaccessible or just plain non-existent. There's a ton of adults and children who haven't had anything done about their clefts right now; this claims that “vast majority of [children with cleft lip and/or palate] will never receive [reconstructive surgery]”. So yes, it's certainly realistic for a character to not have had surgery depending on their background. [note: I don't really like how the article talks about facial differences, but medical sources will medical source.]

Other facial differences that could affect the upper mouth could be;

a birthmark (a red port wine stain, or a black and hairy nevus, or one of the other billion combinations),

an overgrowth (like in neurofibromatosis t1 or any other overgrowth syndrome, or even things like lipoma or a cyst),

a scar (could be traumatic, from a surgery, from an illness, many options), it could also have be of different kinds - keloid, hypertrophic, etc.,

facial paralysis (could be that their upper lip doesn't move at all on one side - could be a stroke, congenital, traumatic, brain damage, progressive, infection...)

a burn scar, though it would be very specific to only have it in the upper lip and nowhere else - but I think that something like a boiling or chemical droplet falling on their face would make sense,

a whole bunch of things that I’m forgetting.

With choosing which facial difference you want to give that character, I'd keep in mind that they have symptoms other than just the visuals, and it would be good to consider whether or not you want it to reflect the original version of the character. Many people with cleft lip, especially if it's uncorrected, may have a speech disability or trouble with eating (and, subsequently, might have malnutrition problems). So if the character has very clear speech, it would be good to maybe mention that they were in speech therapy, things like that. If you don't want to get into symptoms and treatments (past or present), going for a birthmark would probably be the easiest.

I hope this helps. Thank you for your willingness to learn :-)

mod Sasza

[crownofefflorescence]

How does the one bed trope go over with the RO's?

GASP.

My favourite romance trope!

The "empty reply" tumblr invitation is a temptation this time, lol...

Unfortunately I can't put just anything because this ask does lie in the realm of spoilers. However, not in the way you might think! If you've read the intro post for Garden of Bones you'll be able to guess why this could be a very alarming situation for the ROs...

That's all I'll say for now, although you may get a chance to experience this trope - depending on how you define "one bed" - in the game.

But fret not, Anon!

I'll answer to the best of my ability, because whether platonic or romantic, it really depends on your MC's personality and how they choose to respond. Are they awkward about it? Flirtatious? Flustered? Eager? You're going to get a different response from both of the ROs...

Because this is usually a romance trope, not a friendship trope (and more's the pity because it has so much platonic potential!), we'll frame it as a flowering romance with some mutual trust established, and I'll choose whichever MC personality I think would be the funniest.

ヾ( ˃ ᴗ ˂ )◞ • *✰

Thank you so much for the fun ask!

U + Bold MC + One Bed Trope

With a shy MC, U might be more inclined to press their advantage and manipulate the situation somehow, but with a bold MC who has openly flirted before, U's face turns a slightly deeper shade of its usual moon-kissed bronze.

They immediately strip the blankets and one of the pillows, claiming the empty mattress, and will toss MC the rest to make a nest on the floor, thinking to avoid a display.

U is not so lucky.

Your MC now has a chance to make a compelling argument for sleeping in the same bed. If it's flirtatious enough, MC might end up inadvertently sending U into a corner with a single pillow - undignified (they will protest against this description) but far better than the alternative.

If MC's argument is more practical, entrapping them with logic, and U doesn't see a way to disagree without looking weak or cowardly, then MC has the privilege of falling asleep beside a motionless U who glowers silently at the ceiling...

...and awakening the next morning to find they haven't moved - never closed their eyes once! NOT EVEN TO BLINK.

An amused MC inquires if U slept well, struggling to maintain a straight face, but their mouth is irrepressibly curling upward: U has no choice but to answer truthfully or refuse any answer at all.

They turn their golden glare to MC. "As well as could be expected with such intolerable company."

It is up to MC to interpret what 'intolerable' implies.

U is used to handily maintaining an element of control in every situation, and now you, MC, have taken that away from them.

How dare you.

Z + Shy MC + One Bed Trope

A [REDACTED] Z thinks this is hilarious from the start.

They lead your flustered and red-faced MC on a wild dance through all possible sleeping scenarios, very calmly, entertaining every option and taking every single one of their suggestions onboard with hums and nods of agreement, and all the while their sparkling eyes never stray from MC's countenance as it turns many rare and delightful shades of crimson.

At last, when you are both 'overwhelmed' with dozens of possible solutions and your MC is quite out of breath, Z says with an exaggerated sigh, "This is far too much fuss over something so simple. I think we have overlooked the perfect solution, MC."

MC looks up (or slightly down) at them hopefully. "What's that?"

Z sits on the bed.

Pats it.

Flashes a very toothy smile.

"We'll simply have to sleep together."

If your MC doesn't pass out on the spot, then Z has the added pleasure of watching them find increasingly absurd excuses not to go through with their 'perfect solution,' until they begin to think it more pitiful than entertaining.

"I won't touch you," they promise. "I swear it."

From anyone else it would be empty words, but for Z it's a binding oath. Fortunately or unfortunately, if you manage to fall asleep together, you wake up with Z's arm thrown across your face at the very least and tangled together at the 'worst'; they certainly didn't mean to intrude on your personal space, but they are not a peaceful sleeper! Now, how to remove yourself from this increasingly awkward situation?

Good morning and good luck, flustered MC.

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

SAFE AND SOUND || MICKEY ALTIERI X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: after getting a call from the supposed killer on campus, you call your boyfriend mickey to help you feel better.

warnings: gender neutral reader, pet names (babe, baby), ghostface!mickey with oblivious!reader, fluff I guess?? but not when you think abt it lol

word count: 1.1k

a/n: mickey altieri my beloved <33 I wrote this a couple a days ago and I’m gonna start w requests now, so if you’ve requested something it’s hopefully coming soon :)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

As you step out of the police car outside your dorm building, your head is still reeling. You can’t help but replay the phone call you received merely an hour ago, where the supposed killer on campus called your phone and described - in detail - all the sick ways they were going to make you scream. You’d thought it was a joke at first, but when the caller was able to recall what you wearing in perfect detail - your boyfriend’s old Star Wars shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants - you knew that whoever the freak was, they were really watching you. It made you sick to your stomach.

The nausea still hasn’t completely resided, and as the cops tell that you’ll that they’ll look into it and to call them if you’re contacted again you simply nod your head, dazed.

They drive off, leaving you alone in the dark outside your building. You know nobody’s stupid enough to try anything now, not when the police are still close enough that if you scream, they’ll come driving straight back. Still, that doesn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder when you enter the building or nervously fiddling with your keys as you go up the stairs.

You open your door and call for your roommate, but you’re met with nothing but silence. Sighing, you make a beeline for your bedroom, shrugging off your coat and kicking of your shoes before practically diving onto your bed.

You breathe in.

You breathe out.

You’re fine. The doors are locked, the windows are locked and you’re completely safe inside here.

That doesn’t stop you from feeling on edge, though.

You pick up the phone on your bedside table and dial the number you need from memory.

“Hello?” Mickey says after a few rings.

“Hi Mickey,” you murmur, your voice shaking.

“Oh, hey babe,” he pauses a minute, assessing your tone, “what’s wrong?”

And that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears, your voice indiscernible through the sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Mickey says firmly. “I’m coming over, okay? Just hold on for ten minutes.”

You nod your head - although you know Mickey can’t see you - before he hangs up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

He’s true to his word and almost ten minutes later there’s a knock at your front door. As soon as you open it Mickey envelops you in a hug, strong arms wrapped around your frame. You’d mostly stopped crying now, but that didn’t mean you felt any better.

“It’s okay,” Mickey soothes, “I’m here now. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

You pull away and lead Mickey to your bedroom, sighing as you sink onto your bed.

“The killer called,” you start, “he called and said that he could see me - and he could - and he said he was gonna gut me like a fish before he slit my throat and-“

“He what?” Mickey questions, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. “Babe, why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was going to, but I called the police straight after and then they took me in for questioning, so…” you trail off, avoiding your boyfriend’s gaze.

“Hey, I’m not mad,” he says clearly, his expression softening. “I get it. I just can’t believe somebody would do that to you.” he looks away for a moment, almost as if contemplating whether or not to continue. “Do you think it was the real thing or just some stupid prank?

You laugh bitterly. “Yeah, real funny prank. And even if it was just a joke, they could see me, Mick. They knew what I was wearing, they used my name - they still could’ve hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” He says it gently but with undeniable force behind it as he leans over to cup your face. “I’d fucking kill them if they tried to lay a single finger on you.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you mutter, causing Mickey to smile and press his lips to yours. He’s gentle - like he has been throughout the rest of the night - as if he’s worried like you’ll fall apart at any second.

“I love you,” you murmur into the kiss, and you mean it. Ever since you’d started to get close to Mickey, he’d been your rock. You’d been inseparable a mere few weeks after meeting, once you got over his initial abrasiveness. Because once you really got to know him, he was a great friend -and an even better boyfriend.

“I know,” he replies, pulling away and settling for laying his head on your shoulder instead. “See, Star Wars reference!” he points out, gesturing to your - well, his - shirt. God, your boyfriend was such a nerd.“That was my favourite, by the way. Am I ever getting it back?”

“Nope,” you tease, popping the “p”. “I’m too attached.“ You absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair, twisting brown strands around your fingers.

“Damn it.” mickey says quietly, making a show of fake-pouting.

You both sit there in silence for a while, Mickey’s head still on your shoulder. It isn’t awkward - it never is with Mickey - and you both just lay there on the bed. You’re feeling better about the phone call you’d received earlier, but you can’t help but remain curious.

“Mickey?” you question. He hums in response and you go on.

“Do you think the caller would’ve gone through with it? With the threats, I mean?”

He lifts his head up to look at you, his expression near unreadable.

“What makes you ask that, baby?”

“I don’t know. It’s just-“ you sigh in frustration. “Why call me? I haven’t done anything to anyone, so why go through all of the effort to threaten me and scare me if he wasn’t gonna kill me? I mean, that guy in the movie theatre was stabbed through the head. This killer, he’s- he’s brutal. By that logic, I should be dead.”

“But you’re not,” Mickey says as he squeezes your hand. “Maybe he wanted to rile you up, make it so you would be constantly looking over your shoulder. Maybe he was just trying to live out his bullshit fantasies. Maybe he just was too much of a fucking pussy to do anything to you. Who knows?” he shrugs. “Point is, you’re still here, and that’s all that matters. You can’t let this sick fuck get to you, alright? You’re better than that, and it’s probably exactly what he wants.”

You sigh once more. Mickey’s right. Of course he is. There’s no point of pondering over all the “what if’s” now.

“Stay with me tonight?” you ask your boyfriend. “It’d make me feel better.”

“‘Course,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know you’re safe here with me.”

“I do,” you affirm as you twist your body so that your head is on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat now, steady and strong. “You know I do.”

Mickey laughs once more before he laces his fingers with yours, his firm grip the last thing you feel before your eyes flutter closed and you start to drift off into sleep.