#i saw something somewhere which said this

[chunibyo-x-sorcerer]

Daichi is ready to fight until Eito chirps, letting him know that the spirit, or rather spirits are not hostile. The flame sorcerer lowers his hands.

"Hold on! You're...on the posters. The missing kids!" Daichi said. The children nodded before the boy speaks,

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...'

Daichi blinks to which Eito tweets. "I see. I'm glad Mr. Choko is there for you guys." He smiles.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..'

Pink-haired guy with tattoos. Wait...Sukuna?!

"And there's a lady with tattoos as well. She plays tag with us with her big cat wolves ." That sounds like Kinie Ger. "She told us to talk to you guys in your dreams so that way you will stop having bad dreams about what happened." Said the boy as the kids nodded with a smile.. But then the boy turns sad, "Though...I did see my parents but I want to see them one more time before I go.."

Daichi kneels down hearing this, "I will tell your parents..." He said as he went to pat on the Zilla plushie, "Thank you for coming here and telling us that. I-" He has no words what to say to them. "You didn't scare us. We were scared but not because of you. We were scared of the bad things that meaning was doing." He said, referring Meko to as the meanie. "Now it's over, your nightmare is over." He said. "That said, thank you." Daichi smiles. "I think that place you're going to is going to be better place than here."

"Yeah, what's up?" Daichi looks over to see something. Eito tweets as he notices this too. He looks over to see the Zilla plushie that looks pretty old and it was set down.

"Uh...did I bring a Zilla plushie here by accident? I think I did, right?" He asked Megumi. Eito tweets. "Wait...are you saying there's something with Zilla and there is some cursed energy in it?"

"..I..don't think you did. Didn't they give you guys new ones?" Megumi said remembering.

Then he blinks to see Zilla tilt his head, "What is that?"

The Zilla plushie didn't move before some energy was showing around and growing now. Megumi was about to summon the rabbits to stop whoever it was. Maybe a curse was lingering around them. Was it a danger?! However, he got his answer seeing a little boy. It seems to be holding the Zilla plush but he saw the Rabbits to bend down looking at them. The Rabbits blinks looking at the spirit before the little boy waves at them.

".....Wait....isn't that one of the kids?" Megumi asked but saw the boy look at Megumi and Kisho while hugging the Plush. That's when a few more shows up showing the other kids. Some boys and girls.

"?!?"

'Ummmm.....please don't be scared.....we....we wanted to say something before we went to rest for the last time......' the boy said but he saw the other kids looking at them.

'We...We wanna say thank you again..for setting us free. It was scary after that meanie...did to us but...we are all now free and being watched over by Mr. Choko. He said we would find you guys here....to say thank you...' he said softly. His brown eyes were dull but the others were nervous.

'Though...we...he said we will be taking a long nap and maybe go to a better place after....we all can't wait to go somewhere new....but....a good nap does feel nice.....' he said before hugging his plushie.

'We even said sorry to your friends.....we didn't mean to cause trouble for you all....we were scared...but we are sorry for it..' a little girl said hiding behind the boy. 'We hope you can forgive us for scaring and hurting any of you....we didn't mean to. That's why we are saying sorry to you to show we didn't mean it. I just hope we didn't scare the others...though, the pink haired man with tattoos on his face was really nice. He was even kind to read us a story when we visited a few hours ago..' she said speaking of Sukuna.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Red Nose

A Christmas gift for @leafostuff

Despite me hoping onto the Chaehyun train late I think you solidified a lot of my love for this particular idol and while our realms and ideas don’t intersect. I wish you well.

I bumped into Chaehyun while she was wandering through the throng of guests, her eyes scanning every face anxiously. It was a little odd to see her here, knowing how hard it had been for both of you since the fallout. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, which only made me feel worse for her.

“Oh, Tiger, what’s wrong?” I asked, suppressing the urge to slip away to the guesthouse for a little longer. I wasn’t exactly eager to get involved, but her expression tugged at something in me.

She startled slightly at my voice, then relaxed when she saw me. “Oh, Rexy, it’s nice to see you.” Her tone was soft, like she was trying to mask something—whether it was nerves or sadness, I couldn’t tell. “Have you seen Mikey?”

I frowned. That was the last question I wanted to answer, especially from her. “No, I haven’t,” I admitted reluctantly. “But he was invited, so he’s got to be here somewhere, right?” I tried to sound reassuring, but even I wasn’t entirely convinced.

Chaehyun nodded, though it was clear my words hadn’t done much to ease her mind. “Could you… help me look for him?” she asked hesitantly.

Internally, I groaned. Babysitting an ex at a party was not on my evening’s agenda. But there was something in her voice, a vulnerability that made it impossible to say no. “Yeah, alright,” I said with a sigh, gesturing for her to lead the way.

We wove through the crowds, her small frame darting through gaps that I had to squeeze through. Chaehyun was quiet, her eyes darting around as if you might materialize out of thin air. After ten minutes of fruitless searching, she slowed, her shoulders slumping.

“You know what, Rexy? This was a mistake,” she said quietly. The weariness in her voice made my protective streak flare up.

“No, it’s not, Tiger,” I said firmly. “Let’s look a little longer.” And then, as if the universe finally decided to cut her some slack, I spotted him across the room. “Damn it—there he is.”

Chaehyun froze, her eyes following my gaze. When she saw him, her breath hitched. You were just leaving the bathroom, looking more polished than I’d expected—maybe you were hoping to run into her too. your eyes met, and everything around them seemed to blur, the noise of the party fading into silence.

I chuckled, stepping aside. “Go get ’em, Tiger,” I said, giving her a gentle push forward. She stumbled slightly but caught herself, throwing me a quick, grateful glance before she closed the distance between the two of you.

For a moment, I watched y'all, the air between you two charged with unspoken words. And then I turned away, heading toward the guesthouse. I figured I’d earned that quiet moment now.

Chaehyun looked at you nervously, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes as if she was summoning all her courage just to speak. Finally, she said softly, “You look nice.”

You nodded, your expression neutral. “You do as well.”

There was a beat of silence that stretched between you, thick with unspoken tension. She shifted on her feet, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Then, taking a deep breath, she asked the question she dreaded but had to hear the answer to.

“Why did you storm off like that?”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at her boldness. For a moment, you hesitated, weighing your words, but frustration from that day bubbled to the surface. “Hunny, you were cheating on me with Dinozen,” you said bluntly, your voice edged with a hurt you thought you’d buried.

Chaehyun blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Cheating?” she repeated, almost incredulously. Then something clicked, and her face softened as the memory came rushing back. “No, not cheating. He was helping me get you a Christmas gift.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in your expression. “Really? Prove it,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

She smiled faintly, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. “Here,” she said, holding it out to you. “Go through the texts. They’re all there.”

You took the phone warily, scrolling through the messages. What you found wasn’t what you expected. Line after line of texts between Chaehyun and Dinozen, discussing nothing but Pokémon strategies, trades, and gift ideas.

“Why do the two of you talk so much about Pokémon?” you asked, bewildered.

Chaehyun’s lips quirked into a sheepish smile. “I wanted to surprise you for Christmas by learning one of your favorite games,” she explained. “In all its forms—cards, games, whatever. Dino was helping me get a quick grasp so I didn’t look like an idiot. Also, can I just say that Pokémon is way more expensive than I thought it would be?” She sighed dramatically as if the memory of the prices alone was enough to drain her energy.

For a moment, you just stared at her, the tension in your chest loosening with every word. Then, unexpectedly, you burst out laughing—a warm, genuine laugh that made Chaehyun’s worried expression melt into relief.

“You’re serious?” you said, still chuckling. “You went through all of this just to surprise me?”

She nodded, her cheeks pink. “I wanted to make you happy. Dino was just helping me figure it all out.”

You shook your head, the last remnants of doubt fading away. “I can’t believe I let myself think the worst,” you admitted, the weight of the misunderstanding lifting from your shoulders.

Chaehyun reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against your hand. “I should’ve explained sooner,” she said softly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You gave her a small smile, turning your hand to gently take hers. “And I should’ve trusted you,” you replied.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the two of you laughed together, the cracks in your relationship beginning to mend.

Chaehyun smiles as your hand finds her. "Can we go back home?" she asks softly. You notice her cherry nose and say,

"Sure Rudolph" the two of you head to your car that's covered in snow. Chaehyun ever determined hops into the driver seat and expertly navigates your way back home. When the two of you arrive. Chaehyun pounces on you excited beyond belief. You are a bit taken aback as she fervently kisses you up and down as the two of you enter your home.

"I need you," Chaehyun groans as she pushes you to the floor "NOW!" she growls as she lifts your shirt off and dives into your pants.

"Wow, the tiger really came out to play," you say before you watch Chaehyun tear into your pants.

"I HAVE NEEDED YOU FOR TWO WEEKS!!" she growls before freeing her sizable breasts from her bra and forcing you to grab onto them. As always she is delicately soft and pliant under your touch as you knead her mounds. She moans as she sinks into your cock. She groans as she begins to ride you. You moan as her walls clench you tight.

"Fuck! Did you get bigger?" she asks in the throes of pleasure, you chuckle then say,

"I think you got tighter," Chaehyun was about to scold you before you thrust into her causing you to hit her g-spot. She cums on the spot squirting all over you. When she recovers. she calms down and happily gets up. Her legs are a little wobbly but you steady her.

"let's continue this in the bedroom," she says

You smile and say, "Lead the way"

[lisired]

love jones

pairing: photographer!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, strangers to lovers, hollywood!au, photographer!haechan, model!reader, unprotected sex (don't be silly wr- [gets hit by a car])

summary: After breaking off your engagement to your fiance, you move to Los Angeles to pursue a modeling career. There in the fairytale land where stars go to shine you meet Haechan, an aspiring photographer with a penchant for mischief and flirtation.

word count: 13.1k (/25.5k)

a/n: inspired by love jones; the song by leon thomas featuring ty dolla $ign and the movie by theodore witcher. this is the second/last installment of a repost; it is also the prequel to supermodel, which you do not have to read. installment one can be found here. as always, feedback is appreciated!

When you completed all of your errands, you had the taxi drop you off at Haechan’s place and bid Chaewon goodbye. According to your new beau, he should have been there waiting for you. Plus you saw his sleek, black motorbike parked out front. No doubt he was somewhere inside. 

You took a couple of deep breaths before ringing his doorbell.

Haechan was quick to announce he was on the way, and the sound of his voice on the opposite end of the door tempted your lips into a smile. He opened it with hastiness, flashing his teeth when he saw you. “Hi, baby. Come on in.”

You matched his radiant smile and stepped inside, letting him lock the door behind you. Meanwhile, Haechan was subtly checking you out. You were dolled up, compared to this morning. How you were so beautiful at both your morning glory and when you dressed up was something he would never comprehend. 

To say nothing of himself. You loved the image of his naked back that was permanently etched behind your eyelids, but your mouth also watered at the sight of him in his signature ripped jeans and leather jacket.

“This way,” Haechan said, shaking the thought of you out of his head.

You followed him upstairs, briefly scanning his place. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Either he was very tidy or he was definitely trying to be impressive. 

Within a couple of seconds, you were led through a doorway that was obviously the entrance to his bedroom. You took a little scan. He had posters for days, to say nothing of the vinyls mounted on his wall. There was a shelf full of photo albums just shy of his desk and you were curious to look through them.

“Not bad,” you told him after realizing you’d been silently gazing about. 

“Thanks,” Haechan replied, removing one of his Michael Jackson vinyls from the wall with extreme caution. 

You watched him retrieve it with a respectable amount of vigilance and hand it to you. Though you were way too glad to finally have it in your hands, you couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right, even though you’d earned it fair and square. 

You met his eyes. “Why are you giving me this?”

Haechan arched his brow, surprised, but whispered, “Because I told you I would give it to you if you went on a date with me and I’m a man of my word.”

You shook your head. That couldn’t be all. “Yeah, but there’s no way you wanted to go out with a girl you barely know so bad you were willing to trade a signed Michael Jackson vinyl. These don’t come a dime a dozen.”

Haechan didn’t miss a beat. “Neither do girls like you.”

Your heart was doing somersaults and you didn’t appreciate the effect he had on you. Too much too soon. You could think of approximately a million reasons why this was a terrible idea, but the good outweighed the bad somewhere. 

A smile gracing your lips, you opted to reply, “Well, in that case, thank you, handsome.”

Handsome. That was a first. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes. 

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped. 

With a chortle, you shifted your attention to his desk. There was a camera sitting there and you picked it up in favor of momentarily forgetting the signed vinyl you’d been gifted. Haechan watched you with curious eyes, wondering what in the hell you were doing. 

Rather than linger on the thought, Haechan began to strike some silly poses that were guaranteed to send you into a fit of giggles. He was terribly good at making you laugh and it made you sick.

Then, a mischievous thought struck you. “Take off your clothes.”

Haechan was baffled. “What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Haechan laughed incredulously. Then, he realized you were serious, watching him expectantly. 

His hesitation made you roll your eyes. “I’ve already seen everything. You weren’t shy about showing off last night.”

That was true. You had literally sucked his dick and given him the most mind-numbing blowjob of his lifetime. More than once. So, he gave in, putting on his model face while he unzipped his leather jacket in no hurry. As if he was giving a strip tease. 

While he was shredding the layers of his clothes, you were snapping photo after photo, heat stirring in your thighs the closer he came to nakedness. He was a little too sexy for your liking. It wasn’t good for your health. 

Now in nothing but his boxers as he threw his tee over his head, Haechan decided you’d had your fun and called it quits. “Okay, that’s enough of the camera.”

You frowned, though set the camera down respectfully. “Why - you don’t trust me?”

For whatever reason, Haechan didn’t answer you verbally, instead opting to sit at his desk and gesturing for you to approach him with his fingers. Of course, you came to him obediently, straddling his lap as if he were a motorbike. With how bare he was, it wasn’t difficult to feel your warmth on his body and it drove Haechan absolutely mad. You had no business being this fine. Cute, too. You made his head spin. 

“You are the most dazzling thing I’ve ever seen,” Haechan whispered darkly under his breath. “Shouldn’t I be taking pictures of you and not the other way around?”

Leaning into his ear, you purred, “You can take all the pictures you want of me.”

Your true intentions were too obvious and Haechan chuckled a little, because he knew exactly what you meant by that. Out of nowhere, he swallowed your lips in a heated kiss, hands flying to your blouse while you both made out. You could feel the room heating up with every second, degree by degree. Haechan was like fire to the touch, your palm flat on his naked chest. Your little pants were making his dick stiffen in his boxers and you could feel it calling your name.

Not a minute later, you were just as naked as Haechan, sitting on his desk with your legs thrown open and his head between your thighs. You grinded into his mouth, muscles flexing with want. Fuck, you were jonesing for him. 

Haechan brought you to tears of climax over and over again for no other reason than him being downright smitten with you and it was maddening. You screamed more than once. Like you wanted the whole world to give him his flowers. Fuck, he could eat pussy. A little too good. I will never get used to this. 

Months went by at the speed of light. The more you hung out with Haechan, the more you became smitten. A part of you thought this would be a one-and-done situation, but you and your new beau were joined at the hip and displayed no signs of wanting to be unjointed. 

Every now and then, he would invite you to get-togethers with his clique too. Sometimes Chaewon would tag along, more than mingling with Mark. The eight of you combined were a vivid splash of personalities, but for the most part, you’d locked eyes on Haechan. 

He started taking you on actual dates. You went to bury your feet in the sand at beaches or meander along boardwalks. You had informal photoshoots, mainly where you were his muse, or took pictures of the blazing city. You hooked up in between but never took the next step of penetration, like you were saving it for a special moment. 

Haechan liked snapping photos of you on your dates and by now he was probably due for another photo album. There were so many memories being made that it made your head spin. Pictures of you painted in frosting. Of you embarrassedly walking back to your seat after not striking a single bowling pin. Every now and then you snuck an off-guard photo of Haechan when he wasn’t looking. 

There was a knock at your door. You paused dead in your tracks, surprised, because you weren’t expecting anyone. Your brain immediately wondered if it was Haechan there to take you on an impromptu date, and, giddy with excitement, you sprung up to answer the door. 

Your smile dropped when you saw who was there. “Jaehyun,” you greeted forbiddingly. 

Jaehyun stood there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Hey, baby.”

Now your mood was officially spoiled and you were exasperated. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shh, baby. Listen, I just want to talk,” Jaehyun said, flashing a smile. “I just want to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about together,” you hissed, shutting the door, but Jaehyun stopped it with his foot. 

Jaehyun grabbed the doorknob and met your gaze with those honey brown eyes you’d fallen for once upon a time. And they served as the perfect distraction from his lips. No wonder you never noticed that his lips didn’t tell the truth. “Baby, please,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “Five minutes.”

“I swear.”

After a couple of seconds of mulling it over, you made what was regrettably the largest mistake of your life. You sighed and let him come inside. 

Jaehyun grinned triumphantly and set the bouquet on your table, shutting the door behind himself. You had no idea how he found you and you were somewhat terrified of asking. 

Before he could open his mouth, you pointed your fingers at him and declared, “Listen to me, if you’re trying to win me back, I’m insulted that you think I’m as easy as some fucking flowers.”

“I don’t think you’re easy, babe,” Jaehyun whispered in his velvety voice. “You’re hard and I love that about you.”

You rolled your eyes and barked irritably, “I’m hard and you couldn’t handle that, so you went and stuck your penis in some easy whore.”

When you stood and walked into the kitchen, Jaehyun followed behind you desperately. “Oh, c’mon. Look, baby, I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I just...”

Arms folded, you watched him expectantly, gesturing for him to continue. 

“Shit. You know that I’m not good with words,” Jaehyun sighed, pulling something out of the inside of his suit. “Look.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that?”

“It’s a boarding pass. I want you to come back to New York with me so that we can be together.”

“You had all of that and more, and you didn’t know what to do with it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun was persistent. “Well, I want it again.”

You shook your head, maddened. You couldn’t believe him. You snapped, “I don’t understand why you think you can just waltz on up in here trying to woo me with flowers and shit and whisk me away to New York. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jaehyun - mine sure as hell doesn’t anymore. That’s your problem, you know. You think everything is about you!”

Your ex-fiancé groaned, “What - are you seeing somebody else? Did you find a job?”

“Your five minutes are up,” you snarled, glancing at your wrist. 

“Well, I have to go anyway. I’m meeting my mother for lunch,” Jaehyun said, setting the boarding pass down on your table. 

“Tell I her I said, ‘Hello.’”

Jaehyun nodded, fixed on you. You didn’t meet his stare, too busy feigning indifference, but you could feel him burning holes through your body. He tapped the counter. “Think about it.”

“Leave, Jaehyun.”

Your ex heaved a breath, then begrudgingly walked outside your front door. 

On Saturday, Haechan came over to help you set up your album shelf because he’d sweetly volunteered a couple of days ago. Which was very kind of him. Truth be told, you knew nothing about putting pieces together and reading manuals made your poor brain hurt.  

For about half an hour you both were hard at work, constructing and organizing while sparing time for kisses and giggles in between. When it was finally done, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The vinyls were arranged specifically in the order you wanted them to be without a single one missing. 

A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned away from Haechan to hide yourself. Still, Haechan noticed immediately and swung his arms open for you. “Hey, come here.”

You crept into his arms without a second thought, letting him cradle you there. Though you wanted to chide yourself for tearing up in front of him, his arms felt like a safe place. Where you belonged. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, drying your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What for? This is all you, baby. It takes a lot of commitment to do something like this. I respect the hell out of your dedication.”

You chuckled and slipped away, sitting at your bed, but pat the spot beside you. Haechan took the invite and crashed at your side, lowering his head into your lap and staring into your eyes. You threaded your fingers through his hair, just meeting his stare and matching his affection. 

Then, Haechan asked the dreaded question, “What made you want to start a record collection anyways?”

That made you stiffen. Haechan instantly noticed something was off and parted his lips to apologize, but you were quicker. “I didn’t start it. It was my grandfather’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Leukemia.”

“Shit. My bad,” Haechan apologized. 

You brushed him off, though there were a lot of emotions stirring inside your chest as you spoke. “It’s fine. It was years ago. He had a whole list of vinyls he specifically wanted. I’m just finishing what he started.”

In spite of your attempts to be nonchalant, Haechan could tell you were heavily affected by your grandfather’s passing. “That’s really sweet,” he told you sincerely. “I know he’s really proud of you.”

I hope so, you thought to yourself, wistful. “Yeah. Enough about me, though. What’s the deal with you and motorcycles?”

Haechan started laughing, probably at good memories, because you knew the feeling. It was your only option when it came to outweighing all the negative feelings. “My mom is a photographer and my dad is a reformed biker. She always got these cool shots of him on his bike. Growing up peeking at them through the garage door, I think it was just kinda natural I developed a passion for both.”

“Sounds like a happy family.” No envy was present in your tone, just genuine curiosity. 

Haechan bobbed his head, then leapt up to grab his photo album and crossed his legs. “These are a couple of the shots my mom took of my dad.”

You watched him flip the pages, photos of him as a boy flickering past until he stopped at the pictures of his dad on his motorbike taken by Mrs. Lee. Many of them were taken in different settings, but the most eye-catching of them all was the one of his dad in the city, helmet catching in the neon lights. 

It was like you were instantly enamored. The shots were beautiful. His mother had a great eye and you could clearly see who he got it from. 

“Wow. These are one of a kind,” you gasped. 

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yeah. You should meet them. I think they’d like you.”

Your heart started beating so fast you nearly had a heart attack. “You sure don’t waste any time.”

“I mean, not right this second,” he added, realizing he was moving at a quick speed. “I was just suggesting it for some time in the future.”

Meet his parents, huh? That meant he must’ve really planned on sticking around.

Rather than reply, you acknowledged his response with a pat and grabbed his photobook, carefully dropping it on your desk. You reached for his shoulders and straddled him, brushing your lips against his ears before asking, “How many hearts have you broken?”

“One,” Haechan replied, planting one hand at your waist and steering the other to your ass.

“Honesty.” That surprised you a little. Though Haechan had been nothing but honest with you. 

Haechan shook his head. He was tempted to kiss you, but he would settle for feeling your warmth on his lap. For now, at least. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I broke her heart, she broke mine. We’re even.”

You weren’t jealous, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Do you still talk?”

Haechan immediately snorted. As if. “Nope.”

“Hm.” You were looking at his dumb handsome face, wanting to kiss him, but wanting to be stronger. 

You had Haechan’s undivided attention, because he was studying you, hands rubbing you up and down. Your breath picked up in speed the longer he continued and he fought a stupid smile. “Have you ever been bad for someone and they were bad for you?”

With a frown, you gave him a nod. That hit a little too close to home. “Mutually bad? Yeah. Been there. Done that.”

Haechan was sobering, getting a little vulnerable with you for once. “It’s true, what they say. Two wrongs don’t make a right. That’s why it didn’t work out. Both trying to make something right while both being wrong as hell. We took turns being at fault.”

“Sounds toxic,” you replied with a grimace.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, snickering. “What about you - bad history?”

You shifted a little. It was a reminder that you had spoken nothing of Jaehyun to Haechan. Why would you anyways? He was history. Thanks to all those months with Haechan, you’d forgotten all about Jaehyun until he randomly entered your life again. Never in a million years did you once imagine you’d go so long without your ex-fiancé back then, but Haechan made you forget. 

The feeling of Haechan’s body warmth gave you a little push. Playing nonchalant, you replied totally deadpan, “Oh, you know. Nothing crazy. He was sweet in the beginning and talked about getting married and having kids. Then, we started arguing, but he would always make up for it and I would forget. Then I found him balls deep in another girl.”

Haechan winced. “Damn.” He pointed over to your desk. “That ring from your mystery lover?”

You quickly frowned. For whatever reason, Jaehyun never demanded it back, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Though Chaewon had been very adamant you throw it off a mountain never to be seen again. You cloaked your melancholy with humor, “Nothing gets past you.”

“So, you were engaged.”

“Not when you hit on me,” you said, knowing immediately what he was referring to. That night at the bar. You almost laughed. Oh, how the tables turn. “So I guess you were right about my vibes.”

Haechan chuckled, but he was a little in his head now. Your engagement had to be recent, he realized. It made a lot of sense.

Temporarily discarding those thoughts, Haechan reached for his camera with his hand coiled around your waist, making you furrow your brows at him. “What are you doing now?”

He pointed it at you. “For the photobook. One more before it’s full.”

“Should I pose?” 

“Just be sexy.”

You scoffed, “I’m always sexy.”

“Exactly, baby,” Haechan replied, back hitting the mattress while your legs were still draped over either side of him. 

When Haechan pointed his camera at you, you smiled for the picture. It printed out the polaroid immediately, which Haechan took and handed to you for approval. You looked it over and beamed with acceptance. Your smile was different there. Not one of those forced model smiles. It was like you were smiling at Haechan rather than the camera.

“Your photo album is complete,” you announced, leaning over to kiss his neck. 

Haechan quickly tossed everything to the side in favor of clasping your hips in his hands again, because it felt natural to hold them. Your breath tickled his neck, not to mention your lips on his throat.

He grinned wildly and whispered, “Thanks for being the finishing piece.”

You giggled and finally kissed his lips, having exhausted all of your self-restraint. Haechan kissed you back just as feverishly, as if you’d both been waiting for each other to snap but didn’t want to forfeit. 

First it was just harmless kissing and touching, until your bodies became restless. Haechan tested the waters, so to speak, nimble fingers unbuttoning your blouse until it fell. He made short work of your bra, unclasping it and tossing it aside. 

You were exposed to him, though he’d already seen everything you had to offer. Many, many times. But there was something different about the way he looked into your eyes and how your heart raced when his fingers brushed against you.

Haechan kneaded your breasts, resulting in you having to suck in your breath. Your soft sounds made his dick twitch in his pants. He could feel that the air was thicker too, the two of you suffocating beneath the weight of your own desire. 

You’d had enough of being teased by him and pulled his lips back onto yours by his collar, throwing his shirt above his head all the while. All you wanted to do was kiss and taste him. And maybe fuck him.

Scratch that. You definitely wanted to fuck him and your body wanted him even more. “Haechan,” you grumbled, clawing at his jeans. “Take it off.”

There would be no need to tell him twice. Haechan gently steered you off of his lap and sat up to remove his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, but you were quick to take care of that situation. You didn’t waste any time freeing his hard cock from his boxers, much to his amusement.

“I want you,” you told him, finding his eyes with a fixed stare. “Inside.”

Well, that left no room for misunderstanding. Haechan’s brain shut down at the thought of being inside of you, though he played it cool. “How do you want me?”

Bringing your hand under your skirt, you tugged your panties past your ankles and threw your legs open, smiling coyly. “Come and get me.”

Haechan growled, “Woman, you drive me crazy.”

You giggled, but the noise faded out when Haechan crawled over you, kissing you again. Neither of you could stand to be apart from each other for three seconds. All you wanted was to feel him so deep inside you that he could never leave.

Haechan realized something and pulled back with a groan. “I don’t have a condom.”

You arched a brow, stifling a laugh. It was very unlike him. You’d seen the inside of Haechan’s wallet more than once and he kept a condom, though he hadn’t brought it with him. Probably because he wasn’t expecting to need anything. “I have an IUD,” you said. 

The realization on Haechan’s face was laughable. “You mean?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you really want me to…”

“Yes, Haechan,” you repeated with a groan. “I’m not about to beg you to cum inside me.”

“Maybe you should,” Haechan suggested, the grin back on his plush lips. 

You rolled your eyes. Then, a thought struck you, and you half-joked, “You’re not a bastard that’s stuck your dick inside half the girls in the city, right?”

“If you wanted to know my body count, all you had to do was ask,” Haechan retorted.

“You haven’t asked about my body count.”

Haechan kissed the corner of your lips and told you frankly, “Baby, I couldn’t give less of a damn what your body count is.”

Well, that was good to know. There were a couple of guys you’d been with that would freak out if they knew you’d hooked up with more than a couple of boys. 

“Unless you’re a serial killer,” Haechan added lightheartedly. 

You were caught off guard and snickered, corners of your lips upturned. No matter the time, Haechan could be counted on to make you laugh. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“Good.”

You peered up at him and joked, “Promise not to give me chlamydia?”

Haechan snorted. “You’d be the first girl I’ve hit raw.”

You believed him, but it surprised you when Haechan held out his pinky. You rolled your eyes, prompting a laugh out of him, but intertwined your pinky with his. It was kinda cute. 

The mood completely shifted from that moment on. His dick lined up at your entrance, the tip teasing your hole. All you wanted was to feel every inch of him buried inside of you. He was slow and steady, taking his time to fill you, inch by fucking inch. 

Some noises left each of you when you’d swallowed his length whole and he slinked down against your velvet walls. His hands left your waist in favor of your hands and he slipped his fingers through yours affectionately, squeezing them as he wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner. 

The same thought was heavy on your mind, though you had no regrets. Neither did Haechan. For whatever reason, it felt a billion times more special now compared to if you would have hooked up earlier. 

It felt like you were making love.

“Haechan,” you cried out, all the heat in your body gathering at your core. It felt like he was stretching you open. 

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Haechan sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Shit, baby. You’re so damn perfect.”

Haechan was so deep that you could feel him in the pit of your stomach, keeping the butterflies that had made a home out of your gut company. You felt at ease with your hand in his and his warmth enveloping you from head to toe. 

It was over when Haechan started to set that steady, comfortable pace. It wasn’t too slow, but he thankfully wasn’t jack-hammering you either. The rhythm was just right. He glanced down at you, a weight on his eyelids, and asked sweetly, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, lips twitching into a smile. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his, desperate to feel him everywhere. You could taste yourself on his tongue and inexplicably, it made you feel a different breed of insatiable. 

Haechan kissed you back even harder in between grunts and curses, typically followed by your name more often than they were not. You were making him dizzy. You were making him entirely dependent on you, as if there was no him without you in his arms. 

Sweat stuck to your skin, little beads of moisture dripping down your back and breasts in numbers. Your whole body was alive, craving him like no other. Your thighs tensed, heat spasming in your palms. Your hips moved to their own accord, trying to match Haechan’s thrusts because you wanted to feel the euphoria to the max. All the pleasure turned you into a madwoman.

Haechan pulled back, the heat of you reworking the wires in his brain, and asked, “Do you mind if I take pictures of you?”

The question did a little more than catch you off-guard, though the more you mulled it over, the more your thighs tightened with want and arousal. You were entertained by the idea, that was for sure. It was like nothing you had over done before, in spite of the fact that you modeled for a living. Maybe it was the heat getting to your head, but you were inclined to agree. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Haechan said, noticing your hesitation. 

You shook your head, grinning at him with tiny little stars in your eyes. “I want to.”

Haechan’s lips twisted into a beaming smile of their own and he plucked the camera from wherever he had tossed it to, pointing at you once more. Rather than getting a shot of your face, he was snapping photos of your heaving chest. 

Then, it was your stomach, the print of his dick visible against your tummy. Followed by your neck and collarbone, decorated by the necklace he’d gotten you a couple of weeks in advance.

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan hissed, lowering his head to kiss your breasts. You sighed softly at the feeling, content. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he handed you back the polaroids for self-approval, pussy tightening around his stiff dick. Which he couldn’t help but notice and grinned slyly. 

You tapped his forearm and asked, “Can I see the camera?”

“Sure,” Haechan said, handing it to you. 

You knew maybe a thing or two about how to work a camera, courtesy of your industry, and navigated to the self-timer without any need for his assistance. Then, you sat it down, and pulled his lips onto yours by his hair again. 

As if he hadn’t already known, that single-handedly confirmed that you were the one.

You were getting closer by the minute. All of the kissing, touching and sucking (and photo-snapping) was making short work of the both of you. Haechan had internally worried about busting too quick when you permitted him to go bareback, but you weren’t far behind. 

All of it was making you mad with lust. The heat and the sounds and the pressure. Your whole body was overloaded, writhing with pleasure. 

Haechan was whispering sweet praises in your ear partially to get you off just in case, because he was going to unravel any moment now. His finger thumbed your clit, and with just a look at your face tense with bliss, he was getting closer. 

“I’m gonna… Haechan, fuck,” you moaned, barely coherent. It was hard to speak with him strumming you to climax, and the weight of him on top of you. It was game over. 

You’d come to notice the signs of Haechan’s impending orgasm and they were all staring you down right now, so when he let out that final, high-pitched moan of your name preceded by a string of curses, it wasn’t even somewhat shocking when you felt his fingers find yours and tighten around them again, his release painting your walls. 

That was all it took to break you, his hot cum spilling inside the tightness of your cunt. It was a wordless orgasm, but an intense one, looking into his eyes with all the pleasure and wanting in the world as you shuddered with climax. 

For a long minute, the two of you just took a while to gather your bearings. Then, you took one look at each other, and burst into a fit of giggles. Your heart was taut with something bittersweet. 

A couple of hours (and rounds) later, Haechan was still at your house. You both took a long, hot shower together with the excuse of saving water and walked back inside your room. 

You sat on your chair while Haechan took the bed, just staring at each other for a minute. “I’ve really been having a good time these past couple of months.”

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped, a bottle of beer in hand. 

You chuckled. 

Haechan could feel a shift in the air and it was somewhat unnerving. He asked, “Why do I get the feeling that there’s about to be a really strong but here?”

Your laughter turned nervous. Which was noticed. After a while, Haechan started to pick up even the slightest of changes with you. That was what he did. “I’m, um, going to NYC next week for a little bit.”

And there it was. “Oh, yeah?” Haechan hummed, nonchalant. “For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks, I think. I don’t know. Probably just a couple of weeks, if not less,” you said, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, what’s going on in New York?”

“I’m just…,” you trailed off, fighting the nerves in your gut. “I’m just poking around, you know? Looking for some gigs. And I also have some… unfinished business to take care of.”

Your response was vague as ever, which told Haechan everything that he needed to know. “Your ex.”

You frowned. Haechan was many, many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that you could play him for a fool. “Haechan, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I really care about you, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”

There was a moment spent in silence as Haechan processed your words. “Well, I appreciate your honesty,” he said after a moment. “But aren’t we just kickin’ it?”

Your eyes flickered. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Pfft. Hell no,” Haechan said, feigning indifference very skillfully. “I’m not your man. I don’t have a ring on your finger or anything like that. Go on to New York and do whatever you gotta do. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”

“Right,” you mumbled, but there was something dark lingering in your chest. “Well, I’d like for you to meet me at the airport next week, if you want. Kiss me goodbye maybe.”

Haechan chuckled lightly. “Is it goodbye or see you later?”

“See you later,” you replied sheepishly. “I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“I’ll stay by my phone.”

You smiled thinly.

Then, the night came for you to fly to New York. 

“Because if he knew what he was doing, what the hell am I doing in the picture then?”

Jaemin nodded. “Riddle me that.”

Haechan continued, “Why am I hitting it?”

Jaemin acknowledged Haechan with a raise of his drink. 

Lifting his own drink, Haechan scoffed. He’d been in out of his head and was realizing that he might have been a fool for you. He was conflicted. First of all, you’d started acting a little distant a couple of weeks before when up until then, things had been sailing smoothly. 

He figured you were stressed from work and didn’t press you about anything, until the other night revealed your true feelings. You were going back to the man who’d disrespected you and your relationship and he couldn’t understand why.

But it wasn’t for him to understand, so he was going to pretend as if he didn’t care about you. If you wanted to run off to New York City and get fucked over by a dickhead again, that was your decision. Why the fuck should I care? He grumbled to himself. 

On the one hand, he’d made countless memories with you all in the span of two months and thoughts of a future with you were like a whirlwind in his mind. He thought you felt the same, but on the other hand, he realized he was nothing but a pit-stop along the way. Like he was in the backseat of the joy ride and none of it mattered because it was harmless fun. 

“Let me tell you the real deal,” Haechan began, settling down his drink. “The real deal is I don’t think she can handle it.”

Jaemin chuckled. 

Haechan threw his head back. “Jaem, I put it on her. Boom.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“Now she’s fucking gone.”

“I feel you, man,” Jaemin said, dispatching messages from his girlfriend before turning his phone screen-side down. “But wait a minute. I thought you two were just… you know, um… kickin’ it.”

“That’s not the point, Jaemin,” Haechan groaned, running his fingers through his hair. 

“So, what’s the point, my friend?”

Haechan bristled. “I’ll tell you the point. Have you been listening? I’m gonna tell you the point. Matter of fact, I’m gonna feed you the point. The point is…”

Jaemin cocked his head, glancing at Haechan expectantly with a wry smile on his face. 

“Man, fuck this, that’s the point,” Haechan barked irritably. “I’m gonna find me a fine ass woman and we’re gonna have some fine ass sex on this fine ass night.”

Jaemin retorted, “You’re gonna wake up with a fine ass hangover and get a fine ass ass-whooping.”

“Whatever, man. You should get laid, too. Tell Winter I said what’s up,” was all Haechan said before marching over to the bar. 

He got another drink and sat there for a while, completely in his thoughts. Most of them about you, obviously. No matter what, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d obviously fallen hard in spite of whatever bullshit he fed his friends, because you were all he could think about. 

Distractions, distractions, I need a fucking distraction, Haechan hissed to himself. Then, he turned around, and briefly made eye contact with a woman who’d been fucking him with her eyes. 

If you wanted to play, Haechan was down for the game. And he had plenty. 

All the while, you were across town. Walking around the airport, you were nothing short of antsy. For good reason. 

Are you coming? 

Sent two hours ago. There was no telling if Haechan had seen the message, considering his read receipts were off. Maybe he was just ignoring you. That could have been it. He told you he’d let you know if he could make it tonight or not, but the last time you heard from him was the night you’d dropped the news. 

An instagram notification popped on your phone and you accidentally clicked it, being taken to Jaemin’s story. And you frowned when you saw a picture of him and the boys - all of them - out drinking. 

Then, your flight was called, and rather than wallow in all of the bad feelings, you sucked it up and got on that plane. 

Days passed. Nothing from Haechan. All coming back to New York did was remind you why you left in the first place. First of all, Jaehyun was adamant that you didn’t pursue any of the gigs you’d come there for. Something about him being a provider and some other bullshit you weren’t exactly keen on hearing. 

When you instead ventured around the city, meeting up with some old friends and the like, it only made things worse. You walked by all the places Jaehyun used to visit with you once upon a time, before each of your worlds clashed and you realized it wouldn’t work. 

Maybe a couple of months ago, it would have made you sad. Now, you just wanted to get the fuck out of here. You felt like you were wallowing in memories you had no intention of ever bringing up again. This just wasn’t your home anymore. 

Sharing a bed with your ex-fiancé at night didn’t help, because all you did was dream of zipping through Los Angeles at night on the back of Haechan’s motorbike. You imagined speed and restlessness. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair and his hands on your waist. 

“I’m home,” you grumbled one day, kicking off your shoes at the front door. 

Nothing. Much to your surprise, Jaehyun didn’t say a word. Almost like he wasn’t even there. Which was strange, because his car was parked out front and according to his schedule, he should have been back by now. 

You were getting flashbacks. Being home earlier than expected, slipping inside the house unheard like a thief in the night. He had the audacity to have you sleep in the same bed he’d probably fucked countless other girls in. 

Fighting off the thought, you heard a noise in the kitchen and followed the sound. Jaehyun was looking through the cabinet, seemingly not noticing your presence until you tapped on the counter and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun repeated, then pointed to the cabinet. “Where are my Frosted Flakes?”

“Oh, I finished the box this morning.”

Jaehyun groaned, “Oh, you couldn’t just eat the damn Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, setting your purse down on the counter. 

Jaehyun was bristling. “Look, I’m sorry I had a bad day today.”

“Well, I had a bad day, too,” you retorted, taking off your coat. 

“So, you wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” you hissed, hanging your coat on the coat rack in the living room.

“Baby,” Jaehyun called out behind you, following you to the couch. “I hate to see you, you know…”

“Wasting my time,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun gave you a little nudge, fixing you a stare. “You know that’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that I can provide for the both of us. I don’t want you to deal with…”

“Getting a job?”

“Rejection,” Jaehyun hissed. “And stop finishing my sentences.”

You laughed humorlessly, turning away, and blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What?”

You raised your voice, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“No, I heard you,” Jaehyun said, clearly upset now. Again. “After all these years together, you don’t know why you’re here?”

Now, you were getting irritated. Because this was how it always went. You looked him in the eyes again and exclaimed, “No, I don’t, Jaehyun. And you wanna know why? Because even after all these years together, we still don’t know how to make this work, and it never fucking will.”

Jaehyun couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Rather than try to hash things out with you, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for some fucking Frosted Flakes. You’ve lost it.”

Then, he left. Like he always did. 

You heaved a breath, irritated. All these years, he said. All those years wasted. All those years that you could have spent on something worthwhile and yet he’d stolen time from you. You just couldn’t put up with this bullshit anymore. 

That night, you slipped your engagement ring on his pinky finger and crept outside of the bedroom to dial a number. 

“Hey, I know it’s late, but can I stay the night? I need to book a flight.”

As soon as the next day, you were back. Again in the Los Angeles air, you felt like you could breathe again. That suffocating feeling that you got after Jaehyun popped up in your life out of nowhere completely dissipated. It felt more like those two months of relentless happiness you’d felt prior to his unannounced appearance. 

Months of happiness thanks to Haechan. Something about the thought of him made butterflies flitter about in your belly, but an acute pain spread throughout your chest like wildfire. You hadn’t called him like you said you would. And you didn’t really know why. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how he wasn’t there. You didn’t see his message until after you got off the plane, a thoughtless response. Couldn’t get out of plans. Sorry. Ttyl. 

You faced reality and accepted that it wasn’t that he couldn’t be there. He just didn’t want to be. 

And then the unthinkable happened. Sitting in the corner of the cafe sketching, you glanced up when you heard the jingle of the bells announcing that somebody had walked in. You didn’t notice whoever walked inside, your eyes fixed out the window you’d accidentally brought your attention towards. 

All you could feel was a burning when you saw Haechan holding hands with some girl that was leaning against him, hanging on his every word. You didn’t even realize you were on the verge of breaking your pen until a friend you’d been there to meet tapped your shoulder, cocking you a worried look. 

It was a full-blown war. 

Not many days later, you were in the park, snapping pictures of the scenery. If Haechan wasn’t there to take you out on dates, you would take your damn self. Like hell you needed him to do anything. 

Then, you heard somebody call out your name, and spun around. “Oh, hey, Jeno.”

Jeno dug his hands into his sweatpants pockets, shooting you a grin. “Whatcha doing?”

“These are flowers. This is a camera. I’m photographing the flowers,” you deadpanned, obviously not in the best mood. Then again, that was just your usual bitchy attitude. 

“Ah.” Jeno crept closer, eyes giving you a quick scan. Not too close, but not too distant. “You like savoring the beautiful things in life?”

You snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

When you least expected the action, Jeno gently took the camera out of your hands, earning a half baffled and half curious glance from your part. You hid your face when he pointed the camera at you. 

Your voice was muffled. “Jeno, what are you doing?”

“Savoring the beautiful things in life,” Jeno replied smoothly, just giving you that angelic smile of his as he continued to snap photos of you. 

Jeno pulled your hands away from your face and brushed a stray hair out of the way, looking at you with the gentlest touch but the least subtle eyes. “You are incredibly gorgeous,” he purred in the deepest tone.

Though you were tempted to roll your eyes, you had a moment of realization. There was a flash of rage that shot through your body like lightning. All you could see was those memories of Haechan’s endless flirtation playing back in your mind and it made you bristle. 

Rather than beat him, you joined Jeno, lashes fluttering. “You think so?”

“My eyes never deceive me,” Jeno said, looking you up and down with obvious want. 

“What about Haechan?”

Jeno seemed almost irritated at the mention of his friend’s name, gently pulling you just a bit closer to him. “He might have found you, but where I’m from, we play for keeps.”

You met his bold stare. “And you wanna keep me?”

“To say the least.”

You snickered. 

“Do you like steak?”

“I love steak.”

“That’s perfect, because I know a place. Five stars,” Jeno whispered huskily. “I’d like to take you out to dinner Friday night. What do you say?”

You pretended to mull it over, when in reality you’d been thinking about it for the past five minutes at length. Jeno had never been subtle with his flirty quips from the day he met you, in spite of the fact that you were Haechan’s date. Apparently there was no brotherly code. 

That, or he had absolutely zero regard for whatever it was. 

You chirped, “It’s a date.”

Even more days passed. Nothing from you. Haechan figured you were still in New York searching for work and whatnot, and, knowing how passionate you were about your job, didn’t dare disturb you. 

Though he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss you. 

“She’s back,” Jaemin said, sitting down at the table. 

Haechan furrowed his brows, asking, “Who?”

“Your girl, man,” Jaemin replied. “She’s back in town and she’s been going out with Jeno.”

Mark winced from across the table. “Damn.”

Haechan’s voice was low, almost like a mumble, “She didn’t tell me she was back.”

Jaemin patted him on the back. “I just thought you deserved to know, man.”

“You move too fast, dickhead. You probably scared the poor girl away,” Ryujin shot without looking away from her phone, playing a heated round of cup pong with Mark via iMessage games.

“She’s kinda right,” Jaemin agreed. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Haechan took a much needed shot of liquor and grumbled, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Jaem. The whole reason Winter rejected your ass was because you were doing too much too fast.”

“And I revised my plan and made her mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” Jaemin asked, gaze flitting over to Winter. 

Winter giggled, leaning into his touch. “Right, baby.”

“You two make me sick.”

Winter quipped, “Jealous much?”

“Never in a million years.” Haechan grimaced. “I’m not drunk enough to put up with this right now.”

Ryujin exclaimed out of nowhere, “You limp dick bastard!” 

Mark was in the midst of a fit of giggles, laughing his ass off. “It’s one thing to suck at cup pong in real life, but you suck online, too?”

“I’m this close to deporting you back to Canada,” Ryujin hissed. 

Everybody froze when Jeno walked up to the table, taking a seat in front of Haechan. The whole spot was quiet. “What’s up, Haechan?” he asked. 

Haechan cocked his head. “What’s up, J? You been doing anything lately?”

“Fuck, yeah, man. I been doing a whole lot,” Jeno replied offhandedly. 

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan questioned. “Like what?”

Jeno shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Oh, you know. I’ve been out in the sun and shit. Getting things wet. Wallowing in the heat. Got a new boat.”

Winter grimaced. 

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeno repeated, locking eyes with Haechan. “See, I’ve been riding the wave lately.”

Haechan set his jaw, but played it cool. “That so?”

“You bet it is. Just been… cruising.”

“I think I test drove that model,” Haechan said with a little nod, picking up his glass. “Took it for a spin and all.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A couple of times.”

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jaemin and Winter got up to dismiss themselves with the excuse of wanting to be alone, while Mark and Ryujin sat there quietly, exchanging thoughts telepathically. Then, Jeno’s phone started to beep countless times. 

“I tell you, I hate when this happens,” Jeno sighed, taking out his phone and grinning slyly when he looked at the screen. “You know?”

Haechan quipped, “Mom keeps texting you, huh?”

“Not this time,” Jeno retorted. “This is one of my boating buddies.”

“Mm,” Haechan hummed, bristling at the thought. His whole body was cloaked in heat, a bite to his next words. “Well, I hope you don’t get thrown overboard. You’ve never been good at staying anchored.”

Jeno retaliated darkly, “You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Hyuck?”

Haechan lifted his shoulders. “Nah, you know me. I’m the captain. I invite the passengers on-board and I dismiss them. You tend to step on unfamiliar territory and get walked off the plank.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged identical glances. What the fuck are they talking about?

“But it’s okay. You can’t help it,” Haechan added, setting down his drink and rising to his feet. “Yo, Mark, Ryu, I’ll get with you guys another time. Later.”

Jeno chuckled. 

Ryujin cocked him a glance. “Aren’t you a little too old to be fighting over some babe?”

“Never, Ryu,” Jeno replied, laughing a little. “Plus, I can’t help it if I’m the chosen one.”

“Chosen one, my fucking ass.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “You know you’re foul, right?”

Jeno groaned. “Foul for what, man?”

“Dude, come on. That girl shouldn’t even be anywhere on your radar. It’s like you were waiting for Haechan to slip up,” Mark replied with obvious disdain. 

“Whatever, man,” Jeno scoffed. “She chose me, alright? Take that up with god.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged looks. 

A few dates with Jeno to forget the gaping hole Haechan had left in your heart ultimately came back with a bite. Jeno was sweet and all but you couldn’t feel a connection with him, something Haechan had made you feel within moments of your first date together. But you were still bitter. 

With that in mind, you kept up the act, all the while wondering if it was torture for him as much as it was for you. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jeno. The dinners gave a nice first impression and he had an interesting personality. But no matter how much there was to like about Jeno’s indulgences and mesmerizing looks, he wasn’t Haechan. 

After a couple of weeks of dating, Jeno invited you to a party on a whim without much specifics and you spent the rest of your Thursday afternoon choosing an outfit. Maybe you wanted to look extra cute in case you made a special appearance in somebody’s Insta story and Haechan happened to see. 

It never crossed your mind that he might’ve physically been there. 

You locked arms with Jeno as you stepped into the party, allowing him to guide you throughout the house, weaving in and out of crowds of people. 

“‘Sup, guys,” Jeno greeted his clique when you both walked up to them.

You counted four faces and every single last one fell at the sight of you, their incessant chatter instantly ceasing. The lack of Haechan was very noticeable, but at the time, you were more concerned with how apparent it was that absolutely none of them knew you’d been invited. 

Clearing your throat in humiliation, you asked, “Um, where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs to the left,” Ryujin answered, but her face had yet to shift from that grim look. 

You thanked her and excused yourself, quickly fleeing up the steps and wishing some kind of chasm would open between them, swallowing you whole. 

Jeno glanced at Mark. “What up, Minhyung?”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “Like I said. Foul.”

“Man, come the fuck on. Give me a break,” Jeno grumbled, irritated. This conversation was exhausting and it didn’t help the more it was had. 

Jaemin was wearing a reproachful frown, chastising, “That’s some fucked up shit, man. And you know what you’re doing is fucked up.”

“Pfft. Whatever.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes and stood up straight. “Whatever?”

“Don’t,” Winter said swiftly, putting her hands on Jaemin’s chest. 

Ryujin crossed her arms, wearing the most withering scowl known to mankind. Her eyes cut at Jeno. “I’m disappointed in you.”

In that same second, Haechan stumbled from around the corner with a victorious smile that fell instantly once he caught a sight of Jeno. 

Mark scratched his head. Awkward, he mouthed to Ryujin.

She blew out a breath. 

Jeno scanned Haechan, smirking at him. “Yo, Donghyuck.”

Haechan mumbled a greeting, glancing away from Jeno. 

As if this whole ordeal didn’t already make you want to chew glass, it went from worse to worst the second you skipped down those stairs and stood next to Jeno, making eye contact with Haechan whose brows furrowed in shock. Your heart raced. This was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

You tapped Jeno on the arm. “You and me. Outside. Right now.” You brushed past him without waiting, immediately heading for the door. You couldn’t bear to be there for another second. Not like this.

Jeno eventually came outside the front door, calling out your name behind you as you ran down the stairs.

“Take me home now,” you demanded, pointing to his car parked right out front.

Jeno caught up to you, having the audacity to pretend to be confused, and asked, “Come on. What’s wrong?”

You gave him an incredulous look. Like you couldn’t believe he had the nerve to play dumb. “You just made a fucking fool out of me and I don’t like that shit. If you and Haechan wanna have a dick measuring contest, I want no parts.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jeno apologized, reaching out to console you.

You snatched your arm away from him. “Don’t touch me. Just grab your keys and take me home.”

Jeno switched on a dime, hissing, “Like you didn’t think for one damn second that he was going to be here.”

You snapped, “No, because you gave me all of two seconds in advance to prepare and didn't have the decency to give me details!”

“And that’s my fucking problem how?”

“Jeno,” you snarled, taking a deep breath. He was really testing the last of your patience. “Are you gonna take me home or what?”

Jeno scoffed, “Hell the fuck no.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” you said, turning on your heels and stomping down the sidewalk. You were disappointed, but not surprised. 

“Walk!” Jeno exclaimed, turning around and heading back inside the house. 

Haechan glanced around when Jeno walked back over without you, baffled. “Where is she?”

Jeno exhaled a breath, stuffing a hand inside his pockets. “I don’t know,” he lied. 

Jaemin gave Jeno the utmost repulsive look. “You just left the woman outside? Don’t you know what kind of freaks walk around at night?”

Haechan didn’t bother to interrogate Jeno in spite of his questionably stupid actions, because even after all the weird shit going on between you two lately, he still had the decency to want to make sure you got home safe. He grabbed his coat and made a break for the door. 

Winter and Jaemin were shooting Jeno matching scowls. She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him away wordlessly. Meanwhile, Ryujin had her arms folded snugly across her chest, clearly not pleased either. 

Jeno glanced down at her and barked, “What? You got something to say to me, Ryujin?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you,” Ryujin hissed, following behind the couple. 

Which left Mark and Jeno. “You’re an asshole, dude,” Mark said. 

“Fuck you, man.”

Ryujin came back to grab Mark, leaving again this time with him in tow. 

All the while, Haechan was chasing you down the sidewalk, jogging to catch up to you. It was chilly outside, and he saw you wrap your arms around yourself to shield your bare skin from the nipping cold. 

Haechan called out your name. You could hear his footsteps just behind you. “Slow down.”

“I’m not in the mood to chat, Haechan,” you said, not glancing back. You couldn’t look into his eyes again. It nearly killed you the first time. 

“If you slow down, I can call you an Uber or something,” Haechan insisted.

All of your emotions hit you tenfold in that moment and you whipped around, exclaiming, “What do you want?”

“First of all, calm down. I know and you know that you don’t wanna be outside this late in this cold ass weather stomping down the street like somebody stole your fucking bike,” Haechan said even louder than you.

You scoffed, tightening your arms around your body. 

“Look,” he started, leaving a good distance between your bodies. “All I wanna do is get you home safely. No extra shit. I’ll call you an Uber and then it’ll be over.”

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. For fuck’s sake, Jeno - who had been your ride -  left you in the cold to die and you didn’t know your way around this area of town. With that in mind, you begrudgingly agreed. 

It was silent for a good while after Haechan called you an Uber. Neither of you said a word to each other, and you both stubbornly made sure that was extra space between your bodies while you waited. His leather jacket now being draped over your shoulders didn’t bother you in the slightest. 

Well, maybe that was a lie. You were bristling with sudden longing. Obviously, it smelled exactly like him. You were breathing him in even though he was what felt like worlds away from you. 

Haechan tried to resist his temper, but the dam ultimately broke and he snapped, “What the hell are you doing going out with Jeno? First you take flight to New York to see some dude, and then you’re fucking on one of my boys?”

The mention of New York and Jeno only fueled your flames and you shot back, “All you had to do was tell me that you were seeing somebody.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not seeing no one.”

“I saw you with her outside the fucking cafe next to the record store.”

“I’m always by the fucking record store,” Haechan exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes. You had enough of men playing dumb with you for one night. Thankfully, the Uber pulled up just in time, and you sneered just as you got in the backseat, “You know what the hell I’m talking about.”

Haechan watched you get driven off, puzzled. Like you were speaking an entirely different language. And then it hit him. “Ryujin’s friend. Shit. God-fucking-dammit.”

He took out his phone and opened your text messages. Fuck, he hadn’t texted you in forever and a half. At least text me when you get back home so I know you’re safe. 

Haechan shoved his phone into his pockets, doubting you would reply. Imagine his surprise when his phone buzzed only a couple of moments later. Okay.

Sure, it was one word, but he would take it. One was better than nothing. Right now, he had to think of a way to salvage this relationship. 

The first thing you did when you were safely back inside your condo was text Haechan that you were back home safe and block Jeno’s number. Then, you took off all your makeup and prepared to take a long, scalding shower. You didn’t even realize Haechan hadn’t asked for his jacket back until you went to undress yourself. 

Many thoughts were weighing on your mind as the hot water hit your skin. You felt like an idiot. For going to see Jaehyun, for entertaining Jeno’s fuckboy tendencies. But worst of all, for wishing your feelings for Haechan would go down the drain. 

You had finally come to terms with the fact that your heart wanted Haechan, even if it took a long time to accept and even if you were in denial that you couldn’t have him. You worried that you had already fucked things up too much. And you worried that you never had a chance to begin with. 

There was very little room for misunderstanding in the fact that you were easily replaceable. It was borderline offensive how quick Haechan was to pop out with a new chick while you were away. Like all of those months together meant nothing to him. Your biggest fear was that they were only special to you. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You’d lost the game. Again. Maybe you were just bad at love. You figured you would probably do everyone and yourself a huge favor if you stopped involving your heart and focused on your career like you always wanted.

So, you decided that that was what you were going to do. 

Neither you or Haechan spoke to each for weeks. Sitting on your bed, you wondered if he was thinking about you and what went wrong. If he was as fucked up and heartbroken as you were.  Maybe you did it to yourself. Something told you not to fool around with Haechan too much, after all, but you still kept him close because you were human and you wanted to be loved. 

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay here, sitting in ruins over a boy you couldn’t have. When Jaehyun cheated on you, you felt dirty and lacked the strength to rouse out of bed in the mornings. You couldn’t let yourself steep to that point of misery over something you couldn’t even call a break-up. 

You glanced at your phone. Should you have called him? Maybe you should have at least texted him, since you didn’t do either when you came back from New York. 

Almost worlds away from you, Haechan was sitting by his phone with the same thoughts wearing him thin. You were wearing him thin. He wanted to call you, but if you thought you were stubborn, Haechan gave you a run for your money. 

You said you’d let him know when you were back and Haechan waited and waited. You never called. Not one fucking time. So why should he have called you?

Because you love her, hissed the voice in his head that made Haechan roll his eyes in annoyance. He was past denying the truth, but he was terrified of confronting it. Loving you made his blood chill with fear. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you loved him back. It was if you loved him enough to make it work.

His emotions were all over the place. First of all, he was spiteful and wanted to hate you. He was angry. For fuck’s sake, you went out with Jeno for what - to make him jealous?

But on the other hand, all those memories you’d made with each other weren’t simple to forget. Every time Haechan closed his eyes, he saw you. Your gorgeous smile and twinkling eyes. He could taste your chapstick on his tongue and feel your warmth in his arms, as if you were some lingering ghost that was haunting him in spirit. He could hear your laughter ringing in his ears as he told you a stupid joke solely to make you laugh. 

Jesus fucking Christ. Haechan had been in love, but never like this. Your love was mind-numbing. No girl had ever made him feel this many emotions all at once. You made him want to scream and shout, but you made him want to smile. You made a void ache in his chest. 

Haechan’s phone started to ring. He scolded himself for immediately hoping that it was you finally calling him like you should have weeks ago, but was disappointed when he saw it was Chaewon. But his curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, Haechan,” Chaewon greeted somewhat somberly. 

Haechan could immediately tell that something was off. He could hear it in her tone. “What’s up, Chaewon?”

“It’s about your girl,” Chaewon said, sullen. She was obviously very worried. “She’s going away for a few months. She got a deal out of state and they’re flying her out.”

Haechan set his jaw. You were leaving - again. And he had to find out about your whereabouts through somebody else. Again. “Oh. Good for her, I guess,” he replied indifferently. 

Chaewon snapped, “Don’t give me that nonchalant bullshit, Haechan. You know and I know that you both care about each other. Now, listen. She’s my best friend and the love of my life, but I understand that she hasn’t been making the best decisions lately.”

Haechan interjected, “So what? I should go clean up her mess? I’m not her man and I’m damn sure not her fucking daddy, Chaewon.”

“Don’t start getting an attitude with me,” Chaewon hissed. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that her flight leaves today at four. I just thought you deserved to know that. It’s not your job to finish what she started, but if you still want to, you know where to find her.”

Haechan heaved a breath. 

Chaewon added, “It’s up to you. I think you two could set things straight if you communicated with each other for once. But if you don’t want that, then forget I said anything. I just thought with how adamant you were on pursuing her that you would be the last person to give up on her. Maybe I was wrong.”

Haechan sighed. Again. His head was throbbing. “I’ll think about it,” he finally exhaled after a moment or two. 

“Okay. Bye, Haechan.”

Haechan spent all of three hours debating whether or not he should have come to see you. He was still bitter over the lack of communication, but after a moment of pondering in silence, realized that was why you two were in this predicament in the first place.

If he would have been honest about how he felt about you going to New York, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe you would’ve never left. Never entertained Jeno. You would’ve stayed in his arms where you rightfully belonged. 

After all this time, he realized something. His open arms would still be waiting for you when you were ready to come back to them. Fear corrupted Haechan when he had a thought. The fear of you never coming back. What if you went away for months and met a different guy that you liked? What if you never came back?

He wasn’t ready to lose you, he quickly realized. He wasn’t ready to give you away either. The first thing he thought when you told him about your ex was that that guy was a dumbass for kicking you to the curb. 

And if Haechan thought he was stubborn, his heart was going to put both of you to shame. 

Haechan grabbed his keys and burst out the front door like lightning, immediately mounting his bike. Even the damn bike reminded him of you as he probably broke the law with how quickly he was speeding. On a motorcycle, we get to dodge all the traffic.

He looked everywhere for you. Every corner he turned, there were people living their day-to-day lives, giving the guy running through the airport like he was playing Subway Surfers a brief, baffled look. Haechan didn’t care. He didn’t give a flying fuck who thought what about him, unabashedly in love with you. He would shout it out in front of all of these strangers if that was what it took.

Finally, he saw you, closing in on your terminal. He shouted your name loud enough to disturb some people and earn a couple of disdainful glances from onlookers. 

You turned around, recognizing that voice before you saw his face. 

Your heart raced when you saw Haechan jogging over to you and for a moment you were pleased to see him, but then you remembered how ruined you were because of him. You pretended not to care and sneered, “If you’re here to get your jacket back, you’re out of luck. I already checked in and I don’t have my luggage.”

“Damn that jacket,” Haechan hissed, his blood pumping a billion times per second. Only half it was because of how fast he ran. “I can’t let you leave like this. Not when we have so much unfinished business to work through.”

You barked, “Me and you are nothing. We have nothing.”

“Really?” Haechan asked, staring at you in disbelief. “All those months together meant nothing to you?”

Those words reminded you of that night at Jaehyun’s place, as well as the fact that Haechan couldn’t have cared about you, which only made you bristle. You lied through your teeth, “Nothing.”

Haechan switched on a diming, changing tactics, and hissed, “Bull-fucking-shit. I spent so many nights waiting for you to call. You never did. I could have got at least a fucking text or something. But you know what I got instead? Nothing. A whole lotta nothing! I had to find out from somebody else that you’re back and then you go out with Jeno.”

All you could do was give him an ugly scowl. How dare he march up in here to shout in your face? Like you were the villain. “I waited for you to show up. You never did! You said you were busy, but you were at the fucking club. Don’t even lie because I saw Jaemin’s story.”

Fuck, you saw that? “So, I go out and have a couple of drinks and you decide you want to fuck Jeno?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you seethed. “All I wanted was for you to kiss me goodbye, but you stood me up so that you could drink and get laid. I saw you outside the cafe with the girl. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

Haechan softened in realization, understanding that he had fucked up more than he thought. Still, he kept riling you up. It was the only way you both would get answers. 

“You went off to New York to fuck your ex,” Haechan reminded. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal that I got laid too.”

You exclaimed, “I didn’t want to go to New York!”

“Then, why the fuck did you?”

You ran your fingers through your hair. He was just so good at getting under your skin. You confessed morosely, “Because when I had sex with you, it felt like we were making love. I was in denial about loving you, because I didn’t want to take the risk of getting my heart broken again.”

Haechan wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. He was positively stunned to silence.

“Jaehyun asked me a couple of weeks before that to come to New York. And I wasn’t going to, but I was conflicted. And you acted like you didn’t care, so,” you explained yourself rapidly. “I went there to see if I still loved him, but all I harbored when I got there was resentment.”

God, I am a fucking idiot, Haechan hissed to himself. He swore he wasn’t going to fuck this one up. 

“Then, I started going out with Jeno, thinking I could get back at you while also proving to myself that I wasn’t in love,” you whispered. “But he wasn’t you. That was when I knew you’ve ruined me.”

“You’ve ruined me too,” Haechan said softly, approaching you a little further. “She’s not you. I want you to know that. I only hooked up with her because I was upset and I wanted to distract myself from you.”

You were silent. His words weren’t exactly comforting, but you were both finally being honest with each other. And yourselves. 

Haechan grabbed your hand in his, locking eyes with yours. “I fucked up. I should’ve been here the first time, but I wasn’t.”

Your eyes watered and no matter how hard you blinked, you couldn’t battle the tears. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me going to New York? It would have mattered.”

“Because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to control you,” Haechan replied, a well of regret and self-loathing. “I was trying to respect your decision.”

You chortled through your tears. “A gentleman to your core.”

Haechan shook his head, frowning. “In retrospect, there are so many things I could have done better. Maybe I was moving too fast for you, baby, and I’m sorry. I get a little overzealous.”

“Trust me, Haechan. You’re just the right amount of zealous.”

Haechan snickered. Leave it to you to make him laugh even during a moment like this.

Now that you both had cleared the air, you felt like there was a weight off your chest. You could understand each other and rationalize the other’s actions. You should have just talked a long time ago. 

“I didn’t fuck Jeno,” you blurted. “Or my ex.”

Haechan hung his head. “I’m sorry for accusing you of that. And for not being honest about my feelings.”

“I forgive you,” you spoke softly. “I’m sorry for not calling you and for going out with your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Haechan said like he was repulsed. “You helped me see that, so I forgive you.”

Your lips broke into a grin when he wiped a tear from your eyes. 

Haechan’s expression suddenly turned sober and he declared, “I wanna start over.”

“Haechan…,” you started.

He shushed you. “I’m not the easiest person to get to know but half of it is because nobody ever gives me a chance. People look at me and see what they want to see. They think they’ve got me all figured out.”

That was true. You knew it, because you had been one of those people. You got your heart broken by a fuckboy once and Haechan made it way too easy to assume he was the same. 

“Even if I broke your heart, I wanna put it back together again,” Haechan continued. “Will you let me do that?”

God, your whole being was consumed by. The love you had for this boy was all-consuming. You just wanted to be with him for the rest of your life. “Yes. You already know I will.”

Haechan smiled triumphantly. All he knew was you. If he couldn’t have you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. 

“But I’m literally leaving for three months,” you reminded him, a frown on your face. 

The reminder jolted Haechan back into reality, but he knew better than to ask you to stay. He knew you loved your work and he wouldn’t dare come between that bond. “You remember what I told you on our first date? About dating long distance?”

Your frown got bigger. “Yeah. That you didn’t know if you could make it work for me, but you would at least try.”

“I changed my mind,” Haechan told you, looking at you with all the love in the universe. “I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make it work. I don’t care how hard I have to try. I love you and I’m willing to sacrifice everything for us.”

All you could do was stare into his eyes. Those three words made your head spin. He loved you. “Really?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “I’ll call you every day. I’ll text you good morning when I wake up and goodnight before I go to bed. But you have to meet me halfway.”

“I’ll meet you in the middle,” you said in a heartbeat. “I’ll text you every time I think about you. We can watch stupid romcoms then talk about them over the phone. I’ll call you and tell you how my days are going.”

“I want to hear all of it. The good days and the bad ones too. I wanna be there for you,” Haechan whispered tenderly.

“You can do all of that.”

“You promise?”

You nodded. “It’s gonna take some effort, but… I know we can make us work. You just have to accept that I need space sometimes and I don’t always make sense.”

Haechan snorted. Like he didn’t already know that. “No offense, but I think we just had a crash course on that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight it anymore and smashed your lips against his, bringing him in for a kiss. They called for passengers to board. Haechan’s hands were quick to grab your waist, holding you tight like he didn’t want to let you get on that plane. But he once heard that if you love someone, you’ll let them go. So, that was what he was going to do. 

When you pulled back, Haechan said, “Promise when you get back we’re gonna watch a really cheesy movie together and dance to MJ.” 

You chuckled, slipping your fingers through his and squeezing. “I’ll save the date.” 

Haechan smiled, letting out a breath. “Bye, baby.”

“See you later,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want to go. But you knew you would regret not getting on that plane. “I mean it this time.”

Haechan snorted. Finally, after exchanging one last kiss, he let you go. 

He watched you slip away. There was a familiar feeling taut around his heart, but he toughed it out. You’re gone again, but that’s okay. Because this time, I know you’ll come back. 

“I’ll wait for you,” Haechan whispered to himself, turning away once you were out of his sight. 

[enemiestolovershoe]

hey :) .. i‘m in desperate need for a very fluffy fic with chris and bsf!reader where reader went to the triplets house earlier that day and ever since she was off. she crashed on the couch and as chris went to the kitchen to get some pepsi he saw that the lights are still one and reader is still up. crying. he askes whats wrong (you make something up) and chris is comforting her in the end and they end up cuddling falling asleep on the couch. :) thank you so much

Shattered Trust

Christ Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: After Y/N’s world shatters from betrayal, Chris offers her comfort and support, helping her navigate the painful path of healing and rediscovery.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt, Mild swearing, Crying, Emotional Distress, Betrayal

The glowing screen of your phone illuminated your tear-streaked face as you typed out a message. Your hands trembled, but you forced yourself to hit send:

Hey, Chris, are you busy?

It only took a few seconds for the reply to pop up.

Not at all. What’s up?

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth or to brush it off as nothing. The thought of sitting in your room, replaying the betrayal over and over, was unbearable. You needed a distraction, somewhere to go, people to be with—people who felt safe.

Can I come over? you finally typed.

Chris’s reply came faster this time.

Of course. We were just about to pick a movie. You coming over for our movie night?

You blinked at the screen. You’d completely forgotten tonight was one of your monthly traditions with the triplets. Normally, the thought would’ve excited you, but now it just felt like a lifeline.

Yeah, movie night sounds good. Be there in 15.

Chris stood in the living room, holding his phone with a faint smile. "Y/N's coming over," he announced to Nick and Matt, who were sprawled across the couch, arguing about which movie to watch.

"Finally," Nick grinned, tossing a piece of popcorn at Matt. "I was about to call her myself. It’s her turn to pick the snacks anyway."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure she doesn’t just want to escape from her crazy family? Remember that time she showed up because her mom and sister were having a screaming match over hair dye?"

Chris shrugged. "I don’t care why she’s coming. She asked, so she’s welcome."

As you drove through the quiet streets, your mind drifted back to the moment everything shattered.

Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself—had always been charming, maybe too charming. You’d never questioned his late nights or the way he sometimes avoided your gaze when your sister was around. You’d trusted him completely.

But a week ago, you’d come home early from a canceled lunch with friends, only to find the two of them tangled up on the couch. The image was burned into your memory, along with the sound of their voices stumbling over excuses.

"Y/N, it’s not what it looks like," he’d said, his voice dripping with guilt.

"Seriously?" you’d spat, unable to even look at your sister. "How long has this been going on?"

Your sister had said nothing, just stood there, avoiding your eyes. That silence had hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

Pulling into the Sturniolos’ driveway, you wiped your eyes and practiced a smile in the mirror. The triplets didn’t know what had happened, and you weren’t ready to tell them. Tonight needed to be about something else, anything else.

Chris opened the door before you could even knock. "Hey, you made it!" he greeted, pulling you into a quick hug. "You okay?"

You nodded, forcing your practiced smile. "Yeah, just needed some company."

"Well, you’re in luck," Nick called from the couch, waving the remote. "We were about to watch something, but Matt refuses to watch anything fun. Save us."

"Hey!" Matt protested. "At least I pick movies with actual plots."

"Sure, if by 'plot,' you mean boring dialogue and depressing endings," Nick shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ignore them. You want something to drink? Snacks? Or just want to settle in and pick the movie?"

You hesitated, but the warmth of their familiar banter started to thaw the icy weight in your chest. "I’ll take snacks and the remote," you said with a weak laugh.

"Now that’s the Y/N we know," Chris said, his smile softening as he led you into the living room.

You flopped onto the couch with a sigh, curling into the corner as Nick and Matt argued over yet another movie choice.

"Okay, but why would we watch Inception right now? It’s like three hours long, and my brain’s not ready for all that," Nick said, waving his hands in exasperation.

"Because it’s a good movie," Matt shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, but good doesn’t mean fun, and I’m in the mood for fun," Nick retorted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, your first real laugh in what felt like days. "How about The Hangover?" you suggested, cutting through their debate.

Three pairs of eyes turned to you.

"Classic choice," Chris said with an approving nod.

"Finally, someone with taste," Nick said, glaring at Matt.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Fine. At least it’s better than whatever Nick would’ve picked."

"Excuse me, my taste is immaculate," Nick replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in Matt’s direction.

Chris handed you the remote and stood. "I’ll grab some snacks. Pepsi okay?"

"Perfect," you said, your voice soft but grateful.

A few minutes later, Chris returned with a can of Pepsi and a small bowl of your favorite chocolate. He placed them on the table in front of you, giving you a brief, searching look.

"You good?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that Nick and Matt wouldn’t hear.

You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. "Thanks, Chris."

He didn’t push further, just gave you a small smile before sitting down next to you.

As the opening credits of The Hangover rolled, you settled into your corner of the couch. Nick had sprawled out on the floor with a blanket, Matt took the recliner, and Chris sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

The room quickly filled with laughter as the movie’s chaotic antics unfolded. For the first time in a week, you felt a little lighter, the ache in your chest dulled by the comfort of their company.

"Okay, but how does no one realize there’s a tiger in the bathroom until it’s too late?" Nick asked between bouts of laughter.

"Because they were all blacked out, genius," Matt replied, tossing a kernel of popcorn at him.

"Still. I would’ve noticed a tiger," Nick said with mock seriousness.

You smiled, shaking your head. "No, you wouldn’t. You’d be too busy freaking out over a missing tooth."

Chris chuckled beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. When you glanced over, he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the screen.

It happened again a few minutes later during one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You caught Chris watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression soft, almost worried.

"Chris," you whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

"Yeah?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

"You don’t have to keep staring. I’m okay," you said, forcing a small smile.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I wasn’t staring."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice lowering. "I just… You seem different tonight."

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you quickly shook your head. "Just tired, that’s all."

Chris hesitated but nodded, letting it drop. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know," he said softly.

"Thanks, Chris," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the movie continued, you tried to focus on the humor, on the familiar warmth of being with the triplets. But Chris’s quiet concern lingered in the back of your mind, making you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he saw through the smile you were trying so hard to keep.

As the credits of The Hangover Part III rolled, Matt stretched with a dramatic yawn and stood up.

"Alright, I’m done," he announced, rubbing his eyes. "If I watch one more scene of Alan’s nonsense, I might lose my mind."

"You lost it a long time ago," Nick quipped, earning a glare from Matt.

"Whatever. I’m going to bed. Night, Y/N," Matt said with a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

Nick was quick to follow, gathering his blanket and pillow. "Yeah, I’m out too. Y/N, make sure Chris doesn’t make you watch some artsy indie movie if you guys stay up," he said with a wink.

"Goodnight, Nick," you replied with a soft laugh.

As their doors closed, Chris turned to you. "It’s pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "You sure you’re okay to drive? You could crash here if you want."

You hesitated, but the idea of going back home, back to the empty room where every corner reminded you of betrayal, was unbearable. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you guys."

"Y/N," Chris said firmly, his eyes meeting yours. "You could never bother us. Stay."

You nodded. "Okay. I’ll take the couch, then."

Chris got up and grabbed a blanket from the hallway closet. He draped it over you carefully, his hand lingering on the back of the couch for a moment. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, alright?"

"I will. Thanks, Chris," you said quietly.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

"Goodnight."

As soon as he was gone, the silence of the room felt overwhelming. You curled up under the blanket, the warm fabric doing little to shield you from the cold ache in your chest.

You pulled out your phone, hoping for a distraction, but the sight of an unread message made your heart sink. It was from your sister.

Why are you ghosting me? We need to talk.

Your breath hitched as the words blurred on the screen. She had the nerve to text you, to act as though everything could be fixed with a conversation. Fresh tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your sobs. The last thing you wanted was for the triplets to hear. They didn’t know, and you weren’t sure you could bring yourself to tell them.

In his room, Chris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him. You’d been quiet, more than usual. The message you sent earlier had been short, almost hesitant, and now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week.

Chris frowned, running a hand through his hair. He hated seeing you like this—guarded, distant. It wasn’t like you to pull away, not from them.

He turned onto his side, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But it was no use. His mind kept replaying little moments from the night—the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, the way you flinched when he asked if you were okay, the way you seemed to deflate the second Matt and Nick left the room.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he was sure of it.

Back in the living room, you wiped your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears kept coming. The betrayal, the pain, the gnawing guilt of not telling the triplets—it all felt like too much.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your sister’s name on your screen, her message taunting you, demanding an answer you couldn’t give.

You wanted to tell Chris, Nick, and Matt everything. You wanted to spill it all, to let them comfort you like they always did. But the words felt trapped in your throat, too heavy to say out loud.

And besides, they were probably asleep by now.

What you didn’t know was that Chris wasn’t asleep. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, still thinking about you. And something told him he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep tonight.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed, staring at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Sleep just wouldn’t come. His thoughts kept drifting back to you—your forced smiles, the way you’d seemed a little too quiet all night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

With a sigh, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noting the time: 2:37 a.m.

"Great," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He decided a Pepsi might help, so he padded quietly out of his room and into the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The kitchen and living room were joined, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you.

As he opened the fridge, the faint sound of a muffled sob reached his ears. Chris froze, his hand hovering over the soda can.

He turned his head toward the couch, his brow furrowing. The room was dim, but he could see your figure curled under the blanket, your shoulders trembling.

"Y/N?" he called softly, stepping away from the fridge.

You stiffened, biting your lip to keep any more sounds from escaping. But it was too late—he’d already heard you.

Chris approached the couch slowly, his heart sinking at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Without a word, he sat down beside you, the couch dipping slightly under his weight.

You turned your head away, wiping at your face furiously, but Chris wasn’t having it. Gently, he laid a hand on your head, his fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

"Hey," he said softly. "What’s wrong, hm?"

"Nothing," you whispered, your voice cracking.

"Y/N," he said firmly, though his tone remained gentle. "Please. Tell me. We both know something’s hurting you. You can tell me anything, I promise."

You shook your head stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Chris sighed but didn’t pull away. "Okay," he said after a moment. "How about this? If you don’t want Matt or Nick to know, I won’t tell them. Whatever it is, it’ll stay between us. I swear."

You hesitated, his words making the weight on your chest feel just a little lighter. Taking a shaky breath, you sat up, letting the blanket fall to your lap. Chris stayed close, watching you carefully, his concern etched across his face.

Your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Jason cheated."

Chris blinked, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

"And it wasn’t just with anyone," you continued, your voice breaking. "It was with my sister."

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Chris stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

You looked down at your lap, your fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence felt suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Finally, Chris found his voice. "Y/N..." he started, but his words trailed off, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

Chris sat there for a moment, stunned into silence. His mind reeled at your words, trying to process the betrayal you’d just revealed. But as he looked at you—your trembling hands, the tears that streamed down your cheeks—his shock quickly gave way to something else: protectiveness.

Without hesitating, Chris moved closer, sliding an arm around your shoulders. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threatened to spiral.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say… but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Not from him. And definitely not from her."

His words broke something loose inside you, and the tears came harder, pouring down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt. You buried your face in your hands, your body trembling as you let out the sobs you’d been holding back for days.

"How could they do this to me, Chris?" you choked out between sobs. "My own sister… she knew everything—everything Jason and I had been through. And she still—" You couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Chris felt a sharp pang in his chest. Seeing you like this—completely broken—made his blood boil. He wanted to storm out, to confront Jason, to demand answers from your sister, but he knew none of that would help you right now. Right now, you needed him here.

"They’re both selfish," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "They didn’t think about you at all, and that’s on them. That’s not your fault, Y/N."

You shook your head, tears still streaming. "But it feels like it is… I keep thinking, ‘What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?’"

Chris grabbed your hands, gently pulling them away from your face. "Hey, stop that. Don’t do that to yourself," he said, his tone more intense now. "Jason cheated because he’s an idiot who doesn’t know how to value someone amazing when he has them. And your sister…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She’s the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not even a little."

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the shame—was too much.

Chris seemed to sense that. He didn’t say anything more, just pulled you into a hug, wrapping both arms around you tightly. Your head fell against his chest, and he rested his chin lightly on top of your hair.

"Just let it out," he murmured, stroking your back in soothing circles. "I’m right here. You don’t have to hold it in anymore."

The dam broke. You clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely, your tears soaking into his shirt. Chris didn’t flinch or pull away. If anything, he held you tighter, his hand continuing its steady rhythm on your back.

"It’s okay," he whispered, his voice soft but firm. "Cry as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t. Chris stayed there, holding you like you were the most fragile and important thing in the world. Even as your sobs wracked your body, he remained calm, offering the kind of quiet strength you desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like time stood still. Slowly, your crying began to subside, your breaths becoming less ragged. But Chris didn’t let go, not until he was sure you were ready.

The warmth of Chris’s embrace began to steady your breathing, though your body still felt heavy with exhaustion. Slowly, you pulled away, your hands resting in your lap as you avoided his gaze. Chris leaned back slightly, giving you space, but his concern didn’t waver.

Your eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, your cheeks streaked with drying tears. Chris reached out, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear that lingered.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s try and get some sleep, okay?" he said softly, his voice warm and steady. "It’s been a lot tonight, but it’s going to get better. I promise."

You nodded wordlessly, lying back down on the couch and pulling the blanket up to your chin. The headache from crying so much throbbed behind your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how tired you felt.

As you settled in, you expected Chris to stand and head back to his room. But instead, he surprised you. Without saying a word, he shifted to lie down behind you, sliding in close and wrapping an arm protectively around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, startled by the gesture. "Chris… you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to," you protested, your voice soft and hesitant.

Chris’s hold didn’t falter. He rested his chin lightly against the top of your head and hushed you gently. "Shhh," he murmured. "I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

His words, spoken with such quiet determination, made your chest tighten. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, though this time they weren’t from sadness.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Chris." Your voice cracked slightly, but you meant every word.

He gave your waist a small squeeze. "Always," he said simply, his tone carrying a weight of sincerity that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in days.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his arm around you, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going to leave finally allowed your body to relax. The headache and emotional exhaustion took over, and before you knew it, your eyes fluttered shut.

Chris stayed awake a little longer, watching over you as your breathing evened out. He held you close, his heart breaking a little as he thought about everything you’d gone through. But more than anything, he was determined to be there for you, no matter what it took.

Finally, a small, tired smile crossed his lips as he rested his head against the pillow, letting sleep claim him too—right there with you in his arms.

The morning light crept through the blinds as Nick shuffled groggily into the living room, his eyes barely open. He stretched with a yawn, heading toward the fridge for something to drink. As he turned toward the couch, he froze mid-step.

At first, he blinked a few times, convinced he was still half-asleep. "What the…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes dramatically. The sight before him—Chris curled up behind you on the couch, his arm draped protectively around your waist—was not something he’d ever expected to see.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to no one in particular. After a moment of staring in disbelief, he turned and bolted down the hall.

"Matt!" Nick hissed, bursting into his brother’s room.

Matt groaned, burying his face in his pillow. "Nick, if this isn’t an emergency, I swear—"

"It is!" Nick interrupted, shaking Matt’s shoulder. "You need to see this. Like, right now."

Reluctantly, Matt sat up, his hair a mess and his expression sour. "This better be good," he grumbled, throwing the blanket off and following Nick back to the living room.

When he caught sight of the two of you on the couch, his annoyance vanished, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.

"Is that…" Matt started, leaning closer to get a better look.

"Yup," Nick whispered, his tone somewhere between shocked and amused.

"Did he finally make a move?" Nick asked, tilting his head.

"I don’t know," Matt replied, scratching the back of his head. "But… doesn’t she have a boyfriend?"

Nick frowned, looking at Matt. "Yeah, she does. At least, I think she does. So… what’s this about?"

Matt shrugged, his brow furrowed. "No clue. But they look pretty cozy."

Nick pulled out his phone, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Should we ask them? Or should I just take a picture for evidence?"

"Definitely a picture," Matt said, smirking.

Nick nodded, holding his phone up and aiming the camera. Just as he was about to snap the shot, his fingers fumbled, and the phone slipped from his hand.

The loud clatter of the phone hitting the floor echoed through the room, and both you and Chris stirred.

Chris blinked awake first, squinting against the light and taking a second to register what was happening. He glanced down at you still in his arms, then up at Nick and Matt, who were both frozen like deer in headlights.

You woke up a second later, groggy and disoriented. "What’s going on?" you mumbled, sitting up slightly and noticing Chris’s arm still loosely around you.

Nick recovered first, quickly scooping up his phone. "Uh, nothing! Morning! Just… you know… didn’t mean to wake you guys!"

Matt, however, wasn’t as subtle. "So… are we gonna talk about this, or…?" He gestured between the two of you, his brows raised.

Chris rubbed his face, clearly trying to think of a way to explain. "It’s not what it looks like—"

Matt snorted. "Really? ‘Cause it looks like you two were cuddling all night."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we not do this right now?"

Nick crossed his arms, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. "Oh, we’re definitely doing this right now."

Chris’s body stiffened as he quickly sat up, his expression suddenly serious. His protective instincts kicked in, and he shot a sharp look at Nick, his voice firm. "No, Nick. Seriously. Drop it. It’s not the time."

Nick froze, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in Chris’s tone. He wasn’t used to hearing his brother so... intense. But before he could ask anything more, his gaze shifted to you.

You had your face hidden in your hands, your shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. That’s when it hit Nick. It wasn’t just a casual morning moment between friends. Something was wrong.

Matt’s playful smirk faltered, and his eyes softened as he noticed the tears trailing down your face. His teasing nature immediately gave way to concern. "Y/N…?" he began, but Chris cut him off before either of them could say anything else.

"Look, this is serious," Chris said, his voice still low and full of emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he turned toward Nick and Matt. "You guys don’t know what happened."

Nick looked at him, unsure. "What happened?" he asked, his voice quieter now, sensing the weight behind his brother’s words.

Chris glanced over at you, his heart breaking as he saw how upset you were. He didn’t want to push you, but he also knew you needed support. "Y/N gave me permission to tell you guys," he said softly, then turned to face Matt and Nick fully. "Jason—her boyfriend—cheated on her. With her sister."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Matt and Nick both looked at each other in stunned silence, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Wait, what?" Nick whispered, shaking his head in confusion. "He… cheated on her with her sister?"

Chris nodded, his jaw tight with anger. "Yeah. And I know she’s been trying to keep it together, but it’s been eating her up. She didn’t deserve any of this." His voice cracked slightly, the weight of what you were going through becoming even more apparent as he spoke.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the sting of their stares but too drained to care. Chris’s hand remained on your back, offering what little comfort he could, but you could tell this was a lot for Matt and Nick to process.

Matt was the first to speak up again, his face hardening. "That’s messed up," he muttered, clearly frustrated. "She doesn’t deserve that." He glanced at you, his expression softening. "Y/N, I’m sorry."

Nick nodded in agreement, though his voice was still filled with disbelief. "I… I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sniffed and looked up, finally meeting their eyes. "I didn’t know how to. It hurt too much. I didn’t want to drag anyone into it." Your voice trembled, but you tried to hold it together. "I just needed some time to figure out what to do."

Chris gave your back another reassuring rub, silently telling you it was okay to let them in. He looked up at Matt and Nick, a heavy sigh escaping him. "She needs our support right now, not questions. So please… just… give her space if she wants it."

Matt nodded solemnly, his usual teasing nature now completely gone. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice softer than before. "You’ve got it, Y/N. Whatever you need."

Nick hesitated for a moment, then gave you a small, almost apologetic smile. "We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone."

You nodded weakly, still feeling the sting of everything that had happened. But for the first time in what felt like days, you felt a small flicker of hope. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, maybe things would start to get better.

Chris’s arm tightened around you once more, offering the quiet comfort of knowing that, for now, you weren’t alone in this.

The room fell into a quiet calm, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. Matt and Nick gave you the space you needed, no longer pressing you with questions. Instead, they offered small, reassuring smiles, letting you know they were there—ready to support you however you needed.

Chris, still sitting close beside you, rubbed your back comfortingly, his presence a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave your side. The warmth of his touch brought a small, but much-needed sense of peace.

After a few moments of silence, you took a shaky breath and finally looked up at Chris. "I don’t know what to do… or where to go from here," you admitted, your voice still thick with emotion.

Chris met your gaze with understanding in his eyes. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now," he said gently. "We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words sink in. Maybe you didn’t have the answers yet, but you weren’t alone. With Chris, Matt, and Nick by your side, you knew you had the support to get through this.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice breaking again, but this time with gratitude.

Chris smiled softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Always, Y/N. You’ll never have to go through this alone."

As the day began to unfold, you and the triplets spent the rest of the morning together. No more talk of Jason or your sister—just the comfort of knowing you were surrounded by people who cared. Slowly, the pieces of your heart that had shattered started to heal, one moment, one breath at a time.

And for the first time in a while, you felt a spark of hope for the future, knowing that with time and support, you’d find your way through the pain.

[randomcreator-09]

Small Heath's Songbird: Christmas Eve Special (Thomas ShelbyxOCY/N)

(GIF ain't mine > I forgor ack pls dm me if it's yours)

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS SCENE MADE ME WANNA EXPLODE XD

Part One - Part Two

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨Pure fluff, Lil Angst, No Grace, Smut >:D [pnv (wrap it before you tap it), slight choking, bottom!dom Tommy, switch!dom reader, overstimulation(m&f)] Happy Ending ^^ (cuz I've had enough bad endings irl TvT)✨

🐧Hoe Hoe Hoe all of us HAHAHAHAHAHHA XD. I hope ya'll getting laid this Christmas Eve cuz, I aint X"D. Anyways you do not need to read part one... this can be just a one-shot itself, but fair warning you might not understand who our OCY/N is so... yeah... go read part one XD Tried to make it as short as possible since it's just a special but seemingly failed :"D but ey... Merry Christmas ^^!!!🐧

Own character description but it's Y/N POV

3.2k words

REBLOG TO SPREAD ADDICTION and kudos are appreciated too thank you ^^

Enjoy reading ^^

Part One - Part Two

-----

It has been more than a week since your last encounter with the owner of Arrow House, Thomas. Your first kiss with him last December 15th was something that kept you giddy to work as soon as the morning sun rose and before Miss Florence could knock at your door to wake you up, your room was already empty.

You went with your usual routine of sweeping off dust on paintings and sculptures, careful not to break or tear anything. This wasn't the first house you became a personal maid for someone, you've basically worked as a royal made once before getting kicked out by the head maid for "Eloping" with her man (which you didn't. The man was just accusing you because you said no to all his advances, which ended up with you on the whore house with 'Missus'). Humming as you cleaned and twirled, Miss Florence saw you and turned away with a smile.

-----

However, as fast as you were giddy that day, it was also punched right out you when you were called to attend to one of Thomas's whores.

"Ah! Y/N?" She slutterly (is that even a word??? XD) mentioned your name as she walked around you with the same dark coat Thomas had placed upon your shoulders to keep you warm yesterday.

"Yes." you muttered between gritted teeth, trying not to yank the coat away from her filthy body.

"Mmm... Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name in our session." She said with great despise. That information had your body in tingles. 'My name? in sex? in a normal convo? with another woman?' this came up to mind as the whore walked away after wafting her hair and up the stairs to Thomas's room, possibly to regain his favours to her.

Questions bursts out your mind to the thought that was left behind. "...Mr. Shelby kept mentioning that name..." but why?

-----

After that day, you have never seen Thomas again in Arrow House. Miss Florence said he was on a business trip somewhere and would not be back till Christmas. That gave you time to think and to reflect on the kiss. AND to that whores last comment on their 'sessions'. Weird enough you thought that maybe she just heard it wrong, if not wrong then... why?

That had your mind busy for the rest of the week. Although with all the chores in hand, it made you forget Thomas easily. Suddenly remembering that the audition to the Garrison bar was going to be held on Christmas Eve. You had asked Miss Florence to be excused for that day, which she allowed.

-----

"Y/N!" a familiar voice called out to you through the swirling snow. You turned and saw ‘Missus,’ bundled in her thick, patched-up coat, her breath visible in the cold air as she waved enthusiastically.

“Missus,” you greeted her with a smile, tugging your own coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. Despite the chill in the air, her warmth was contagious.

“Still don’t know why you’re wastin’ that voice of yours on dusty houses. Tonight’s your chance, love. Show ‘em what you’re made of!” she declared, stepping closer. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or the drink she’d likely had before venturing out, you couldn’t tell.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you teased lightly, though you were secretly glad to have her there.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, let’s get inside before we freeze to death.”

The two of you entered the Garrison, the warmth and chaos of the pub hitting you like a wave. The air was thick with smoke and laughter, and the smell of ale lingered heavily. At the center of it all was a rather tone-deaf singer, standing on the makeshift stage, belting out a rowdy tune. Her pitch was so off that even the drunkest men in the room winced occasionally.

The pub owner, Harry, stood near the bar, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough! Off you go!” he barked, waving her down.

The woman staggered off, her cheeks burning as the crowd erupted in laughter and went back to their conversations. Harry rubbed his temple, muttering to himself as he reached for another pint.

Missus nudged you forward with her elbow. “Go on, love.”

You hesitated, your nerves getting the better of you, but Missus had no patience for second-guessing. She marched you straight to Harry. “Oy, Harry!”

The man turned, clearly unimpressed. “What now?”

“She’s here for the audition,” Missus announced proudly, gesturing to you like you were already a star.

Harry raised a skeptical brow, his eyes raking over you lazily. “You sing, do ya?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firmer than you felt inside.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a shrug. “You lot are all bloody awful anyway. The men are drunk enough, so go ahead—ruin my ears like the rest of ‘em.” He waved a dismissive hand toward the stage.

Before you could argue or even steady your nerves, Missus grabbed your arm and practically dragged you toward the stage. “That’s my girl!” she shouted, her voice echoing over the clamor of the pub. She plopped herself down at a table near the front, pint in hand, cheering you on with the enthusiasm of ten people.

You stood on the small stage, feeling the weight of every eye in the room—except for the ones you wanted most. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Thomas and his brothers seated in the far-right corner, engrossed in their own conversation. Thomas was leaning back in his chair, cigarette in hand, his expression unreadable. His brothers were equally disinterested, laughing at some joke you couldn’t hear over the din.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to the piano and sat, your hands trembling slightly as you placed it on the notes. The room began to quiet down, curious about the new face on stage.

>>>>MOOSIC<<<<

As the first notes of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” left the piano chords, the pub seemed to hold its breath. As you started to sing though that's when everyone was in awe. The soft, ethereal melody floated through the room, starkly different from the raucous atmosphere moments ago.

"It came upon the midnight clear,

that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth

to touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, good will to men,

from heaven's all-gracious King."

The world in solemn stillness lay,

to hear the angels sing."

You glanced around as you sang. Some of the patrons were swaying gently, their mugs forgotten for a moment. Harry stood behind the bar, his usual gruffness replaced with a look of mild surprise. Missus was, of course, beaming at you, her pint raised high in salute.

And then your gaze landed on Thomas. He was no longer leaning back in his chair, his cigarette halfway to his lips, forgotten. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the pub had melted away.

His brothers seemed to notice his sudden silence, exchanging glances before following his gaze to the stage. But Thomas didn’t move. He simply watched, his expression a mix of curiosity and something deeper—something that sent a thrill through you as you hit the chorus:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

from Heaven’s all-gracious King..."

Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as the room continued to listen in hushed awe.

"Still through the cloven skies they come

with peaceful wings unfurled,

and still their heavenly music floats

o'er all the weary world;"

Your voice rang clear and steady now, weaving through the smoky air like a hymn in a sacred hall. The clamor of the pub had ceased entirely, save for the occasional clink of a glass or the creak of a chair as someone shifted to get a better view.

"Above its sad and lowly plains,

they bend on hovering wing,

and ever o'er its Babel sounds

the blessed angels sing."

Your eyes swept across the room as the words spilled effortlessly from your lips, each note carrying a haunting beauty. The drunkards, their mugs poised mid-air, watched you with wide eyes. Missus raised her pint higher, tears glinting in her eyes as she mouthed along with the words, clearly as proud as any mother watching her child’s first recital.

But it was Thomas’s gaze that kept pulling you back. He was leaning forward now, his elbows on the table, his piercing blue eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your heart falter mid-note. His brothers were as amused as Thomas was, their quiet singing along going unnoticed by him as he remained transfixed.

The pub faded into a blur around you, and for a moment, it was just you and him. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, not quite a smile, but something softer, something rare. It made you feel both seen and exposed, like he was peeling back every layer of your soul with just a look.

You closed your eyes, letting the final verses of the carol guide you.

"For lo! the days are hastening on,

by prophet bards foretold,

when with the ever-circling years

comes round the age of gold;

when peace shall over all the earth

its ancient splendors fling,

and the whole world give back the song

which now the angels sing."

The last note hung in the air, delicate and trembling, before dissolving into the stillness.

The room erupted in applause, shattering the quiet spell you’d cast. Missus was on her feet, cheering loud enough to make up for anyone who wasn’t clapping. Harry nodded approvingly from the bar, a rare grin on his face.

And then there was Thomas. He didn’t clap, didn’t cheer, but his eyes said enough. There was something unspoken there, something electric that left you breathless as you stepped off the stage.

Missus grabbed you the moment your feet touched the floor, pulling you into a bear hug. “That’s my girl!” she hollered, spinning you around.

-----

As the noise swelled back into the room and the drunken revelry resumed, you glanced toward the far-right corner one last time. Thomas was no longer were he was, you looked around to see his brothers were eyeing you. John was grinning from ear to ear as he tipped his hat to you, you gestured with a soft smile. Arthur, visibly high from whatever he took, winked at you, making your soft smile widen a bit at the gesture as you shook your head continuing your drink with missus.

"Got a voice young lady, you ain't no whore like missus here ain't you?" Harry asked as he passed you your glass of water (you don't drink, taking care of your voice).

"No sir," you said in a hushed tone as missus and Harry glared knives at each other, clearly having a mental fight.

"Alright! you got the gig, every Saturday at noon. Don't be late." he huffed as he tended to other customers on the pub.

You beamed as you silently squealed with Missus. You now had enough jobs to be able to earn and go for an adventure; now it's just time to earn until-

Your reverie was cut short when a sudden familiar voice lingered behind you.

“Looking for me, darling?” His voice carried that familiar gruffness, the edges softened by something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned, startled but delighted. “Thomas,” you breathed, standing instinctively. His sharp blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, the entire pub seemed to dissolve around you.

“You’ve got a voice, Y/N,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “Had the whole pub hanging on your every note. Even Arthur stopped his nonsense to listen.”

A faint blush crept up your neck at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze falling briefly to the floor.

“I mean it,” he pressed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. If I’d known, I’d have dragged you to sing long ago.”

You smiled shyly but then felt the weight of a lingering question pull you back. Gathering your courage, you glanced up at him. “Thomas... about something the other day…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out before your nerves could catch you. “That woman. Back at the Arrow House. She said you... mentioned my name. During her... visit.”

For the first time, you saw Thomas falter. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat, glancing away. “Ah, bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well?” you prompted, your heart pounding.

He sighed, cursing himself softly before meeting your gaze again. “I did,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “She said somethin’ about loyalty or... some nonsense, and your name just... slipped out.”

“Slipped out?” you repeated, your brows arching.

“Can’t help what’s on my mind, love,” he said with a sheepish grin. “After our kiss in the kitchen that night I couldn't stop thinking about you, I couldn't possibly have you on your knees all of a sudden," he paused as he huffed another batch of his cigar. "You-your were a lady when I first saw you. Not a personal maid, so I fell for your soul and well voice now too and it’s going to be bloody distracting now that I have these in mind.”

He paused yet again, seemingly trying to recall all his thoughts, which were now visibly in jumbles. "I like to get to know you," he said as he stubbed his cigar dead on the ashtray. "It seemed like I've known you for years when we had just met that very day, and I won't be able to stop thinking about you now."

Your cheeks burned at his confession, and you averted your eyes, a small, flustered laugh escaping your lips. “Well, I... I suppose I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either,” you confessed, your voice barely audible over the noise of the pub.

His grin widened, the rare softness in his expression making your heart stutter. “Then we’ve both been fools, haven’t we?” he murmured, stepping closer. “Let me make it right. Take you out. Like a real lady.”

Before you could answer, Missus yanked you back by the arm, her eyes narrowed. “Not so fast, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at Thomas. “I’m takin’ her home, since you two might start shagging when she goes back to Arrow House today.”

“Missus!" shocked by her boldness but not surprised as she was already dragging you toward the door.

“Tomorrow, then!” Thomas called after you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

-----(Present Day, December 25th)

The warmth of the fireplace cast a golden glow over the living room as your daughter sat cross-legged on the floor by the Christmas tree, her curious eyes fixed on you. “But Mommy! Missus says she did no such thing!” she exclaimed, giggling.

You shot a playful glare at Missus, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair by the fire, sipping her tea. “Oh, did she now?” you teased, shaking your head.

Missus laughed, her graying hair framing her face. “Don’t listen to her, love. I was just keeping your mother out of trouble.”

The room filled with laughter until a familiar voice interrupted. “Baby, Daddy needs Mommy for a while, yeah? Why don't you go and play with Missus for a while.” Thomas said, stepping into the room.

Your daughter lit up and nodded. “Okay, Daddy!” she chirped, running over to Missus with her toys in hand.

Thomas extended a hand to you, his expression as unreadable as ever but his eyes warm. As soon as you were in the hallway, he leaned closer. “What were you tellin’ her?”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Just the story of how we met. You know, the softer version.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Softer version, eh? Did you leave out the bit where I killed Luca Changretta for your hand?”

A laugh bubbled from your lips as you shook your head. “No, it’s a bit too brutal for a five-year-old, my dear Tommy.”

He smirked, his hands sliding over yours. “In time, then,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “But for now…”

Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly toward the stairs.

“Thomas!” you squealed, laughing loudly as you clung to him.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered, his grin widening as he carried you up, your laughter echoing through the house.

-----(Thomas's POV)

Thomas scooped you into his arms, holding you close as though you were the most precious thing in his world. He started up the stairs, his steps steady yet unhurried.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Oh, I do. You’re my princess tonight—and every night.”

Your cheeks flushed as you playfully swatted his shoulder. “You’re so cheesy, Thomas.”

“Only for you,” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your forehead.

As he entered the room, he nudged the door shut with his foot and gently placed you on the bed. The golden glow of the fairy lights illuminated your face, making you look ethereal. He slowly placed you down onto your shared bed and paused, taking you in as if committing the moment to memory.

“You’re staring,” you teased, your lips curling into a soft smile.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’re breathtaking.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a look of vulnerability. “You make me feel that way,” you murmured.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “That’s because it’s true,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

He began to trail kisses along your cheeks and down your neck, his movements slow and deliberate. “Tell me if I ever do too much,” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and comforting.

“You could never do too much,” you replied, your voice steady but filled with emotion. “I trust you.”

His lips curved into a smile against your neck. “I’ll make sure you never regret that,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with love.

As your connection deepened, you let out a soft laugh. “You’re so gentle, Thomas. It’s like you’re afraid I’ll break.”

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, his voice a mix of playfulness and sincerity. “I just want you to know how much I adore you—every part of you.”

As he said those words, his lips were now down to yours. Tickling your lower abdomen with soft kisses and slowly licking your clit from top to the bottom, making you hiss in pleasure.

He couldn't get over the taste of you, finer than the whisky he drinks and the cigar he smokes. He can forget Ophium, when you are one addicting woman.

"Fuck... I love you Y/N" He mutters as he laps his wet tongue through your slit and holds your hips as you were twitching heavy. His thumb on your clit drawing circles slowly and at rhythm to his tongue.

When he hears you scream his name like a prayer his pants suddenly felt tight and he couldn't let it wait any longer, he had to make you cum on his mouth now or never.

"Cum for me baby. Please... Oh God Please let me taste you" as he enters his tongue in you and his nose nuzzled on your clit and fingers twisting your nipples, fast.

"Th-Thomas! I-I'm Ah!" and release you did. However that didn't stop him and he kept his ministering to you until you could feel that satisfying release on the depths of your stomach.

"Thomas! I... I might make a mess..." You plead him as you trashed on his grasp without avail for his biceps were locked on your hips and legs. "Then make a mess. I'd love to see you make a mess for me, love"

And you squirted on his mouth. As he slowly pulls himself away and smirks looking at your majestic image, "Fuck, love you look gorgeous".

He was about to come back down and devour you once more but you won't let that happen this Christmas day. So, when you took control, he couldn’t help but smile up at you as your fingers traced the sharp angles of his face. “You know, I don’t think I say this enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips as he gazed up at you, completely captivated.

“I love you,” you said simply, your words carrying the weight of your feelings.

His eyes softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “You don’t have to say it all the time. I feel it every moment I’m with you.”

When you finally lay side by side, your breaths still mingling, Thomas turned to you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re my everything, you know that?” he said softly.

You smiled, your eyes glistening. “You’re mine, too,” you replied.

He chuckled, his voice warm and low. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas, Thomas,” you whispered back, as you kissed him softly on his lips.

Thomas groaned, a low sound of pleasure, as you shifted your position, straddling him. Inserting his cock to yours, His hands instinctively found your waist, holding you steady as you began to move. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and adoration.

“You’re going to be the end of me,” he murmured, his voice strained yet teasing, as his hands tightened slightly on your hips, guiding your rhythm.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I think you like it this way.”

A chuckle escaped him, though it quickly dissolved into another groan as you continued. His head fell back against the pillow, exposing his neck as he surrendered entirely to you. Your fingers slid to his jaw, tilting his face back toward you.

“Look at me,” you said softly, your voice firm but full of affection.

His eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours as your hand moved to his throat. You applied the slightest pressure, watching as his breath hitched and his gaze darkened.

“Is this okay?” you asked, pausing briefly to ensure he was comfortable.

Thomas’s hands slid up your sides, his grip reassuring. “Perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

You continued, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment as much as he was. His hands roamed your body, occasionally tightening as he got closer to the edge.

“I’m not going to last,” he murmured, his voice strained.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back, baby.”

Moments later, the tension in his body gave way, and he groaned your name, his voice heavy with release. You followed shortly after, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

Breathless, you collapsed onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. Neither of you spoke for a while, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths mingling together.

Thomas finally broke the silence, his voice soft and full of contentment. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers drawing lazy patterns on his skin. “Merry Christmas, Thomas.”

----

🐧Hopefully I ended that well :"D aha... mhen :"D I just wanted it to be cute and all since its christmas aha~ so merry christmas everyone ^^ have a happy holiday ^^🐧

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Part One - Part Two

[sisterspooky1013]

A Christmas Story, Chapter 1/2

2409 words | Rated X | Read it here on AO3

The opening chords of Jingle Bell Rock are barely audible beneath the din of a dozen conversations, but it’s at least the third time the song has played, by Mulder’s count. He’s managed to stay in the same spot for the majority of the evening, holding the same half-empty bottle of warm beer and making the same glib conversation with Maggie Scully’s church friends, who all raise their eyebrows knowingly when he introduces himself as Dana’s coworker. That’s something he’ll have to ask Scully about later.

Scully herself has been milling around the room explaining time and again that no, she isn’t married yet and no, she’s not seeing anyone special. In return, each congregant, aunt, or cousin tells her how lovely she looks and how easily she could find a nice man to settle down with, and Scully smiles politely before changing the subject.

Mulder isn’t even sure she wanted him to come, but Maggie issued the invitation directly and he didn’t feel right saying no when it’s not like he had somewhere else to be. And a month ago when he got the invite, things between him and Scully were different than they are now, which he couldn’t possibly have anticipated. Not different enough that her saying she isn’t seeing anyone special is hurtful, but different enough that when she said it within earshot, she glanced at him to gauge his reaction.

He catches Scully’s eye across the room and throws her a reassuring smile, to which she draws in a deep breath and then takes a gulp from her wine glass. She’s refilled it at least as many times as Jingle Bell Rock has played, by Mulder’s count.

“Are you having a good time, Fox?” Maggie asks, appearing beside him and giving his arm a squeeze.

“You definitely know how to throw a party, Mrs. Scully,” he says sincerely, and she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind his artful avoidance of the question.

Maggie surveys the room and clucks her tongue.

“Would you mind helping me round up some of these empty glasses and bringing them into the kitchen?” she asks in the rhetorical manner that a mother does, and Mulder dutifully abandons his beer so he can make himself useful.

He has four champagne flutes and a teacup in his hands when he crosses paths with Scully in the hallway, and she smiles at him affectionately with pink cheeks and shining eyes, markedly more relaxed than the last time he saw her.

“Is Mom putting you to work?” she asks, taking the teacup.

“I’m happy to have something to do,” he assures her, taking advantage of their relative privacy to give her a long look from head to foot. She’s wearing a velvety green dress he’s never seen before with opaque black tights underneath, which isn’t objectively sexy but does give him a little thrill, given that he rarely sees her in anything but a suit or pajamas. “You look really nice,” he says as his eyes wander back up to her face. “Did I tell you that already?”

Her dress has a V at the front that he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to appreciate, and her lips are stained red from wine. He meets her eye and she just looks at him for a beat before slowly shaking her head. Something hot coils in his lower belly, threatening to embarrass him, and he swallows hard.

If his hands weren’t full of champagne flutes, he’d kiss her. If they weren’t at her mother’s house surrounded by people, anyway. And if they weren’t in public. But if they were at his apartment, or hers, and she was looking at him like that, he’d absolutely kiss her.

“Dana, come say hello to the Campbells,” Maggie calls from the far end of the hallway, and Mulder makes a run for the kitchen before he spontaneously combusts and ruins her nice carpet.

Two Jingle Bell Rocks and as many glasses of wine later, he’s on the back porch separating the recycling and enjoying the cooler, quieter atmosphere as the party begins to wind down.

“There you are,” Scully says with a thick tongue, and he looks up to see her peeking around the open door with a wide, wine-drunk grin on her mouth that he can’t help but return. She shivers and scrunches her shoulders up as she leaves the warm house, quickly shuffling over to him. “It’s freezing out here,” she says, stepping up close, and he immediately wraps his arms around her.

“Then why’d you come out?” he teases.

Scully tips her face up to look at him. The weak yellow porchlight doesn’t allow him to read her expression, but he can smell the sweet wine on her tongue and feel the press of her chest against his sternum as she leans heavy into him. From inside, he hears the sound of breaking glass followed by a round of applause.

“Because you’re out here,” she says, and the white vapor of her breath blinds him just enough that her kiss is a surprise.

They have yet to do more than kiss, but Mulder is far from complaining; Scully kisses with such diligence and intensity that it feels like a sex act. And drunk Scully, he’s currently learning, makes kissing feel downright pornographic. She sucks on his lips and tongue, hums into his open mouth, cants her body forward and back. When he feels her fingers fumbling with his belt buckle he panics and breaks the kiss, taking a step away from her.

“Whoa there,” he says lightly, very aware that he’s at least half hard. “Danger zone.”

He cringes at his own ineloquence, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She steps forward to close the space he created and touches the waist of his jeans at the hip.

“There’s nobody out here,” she whispers with a smile in her voice, then kisses the corner of his mouth.

“That’s not—” He sighs and lets her kiss the other corner, and then his cheek. “You’re drunk, Scully.”

She shivers, and he wraps his arms around her again.

“Only a little,” she slurs coyly, and he feels her fingers creeping back toward his fly.

His brain knows he can’t let her do this, but his dick has no such moral misgivings and she’s dangerously close to learning that firsthand.

“You have no idea how much it pains me to turn you down,” he tells her gently. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

Scully groans in frustration, which does absolutely nothing to help his situation below the belt.

“I won’t regret it,” she says, a bit petulantly.

He’s about to tell her again that it’s a hard line for him, all puns intended, when two things occur almost simultaneously: Scully slides her open palm down the front of his jeans, and Maggie steps through the back door with a bag of trash in her hand.

Mulder lets out a sound that’s part gasp, part moan, and snatches Scully’s hand by the wrist, pulling it away from his body. Maggie mumbles a surprised, “Oh! Sorry,” and the door closes again before either of them have an opportunity to address her.

For several agonizing seconds, nothing happens. Mulder keeps hold of Scully’s wrist, and she stares at his chest, not speaking.

“Scully—”

“Excuse me,” she says urgently, shaking free of him before she rushes unsteadily back inside.

Mulder stands on the porch until he can no longer feel his extremities, then finally bites the bullet and returns to the heat of the house. He can hear Maggie’s voice from the foyer saying goodbyes, so he ducks into the bathroom and spends a few minutes collecting his thoughts. If not for the fact that he drove Scully here, he would probably just sneak out and hope the whole thing blows over by Monday.

“Fox, is that you in there?”

Reluctantly, Mulder leaves the bathroom and finds Maggie in the kitchen washing dishes. There’s no sign of Scully.

“What can I do to help?” he asks, and Maggie briefly looks at him over her shoulder.

“Dana went to lie down,” she says. “I think she had a bit too much wine. She’s upstairs, if you’d like to check on her.”

Mulder takes her direction and quietly creeps up the stairs, making his way to the bedroom at the end of the hall he knows once belonged to Scully. The door is open a crack and it’s dark inside, so first he just listens, though he’s not totally sure what he’s listening for.

“Scully?” he says softly, but there’s no response.

He pushes the door open a bit wider and light from the hallway falls over her velvet-covered hip on the bed. She’s curled up on her side with her back to him, and he watches her even breathing until he’s confident she’s asleep, then heads back downstairs.

“She’s out cold,” he says, reentering the kitchen. “Is it okay if I let her sleep it off for a bit?”

“I think that’s for the best,” Maggie says ambiguously, and Mulder takes over washing while she dries.

They work quietly, and the silence makes him think that she is also replaying what happened outside over and over in her head. He’s not sure exactly what she saw, but lord knows he isn’t going to ask her.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt something…new,” Maggie says, apropos of nothing, and Mulder freezes for half a second.

Scully feeling him up actually was new, but he doesn’t imagine that’s what Maggie means. He also doesn’t imagine that Scully would appreciate him filling her mom in on their budding romance, private person that she is.

“Uh, no, not quite,” he says. He feels his face getting hot, so he keeps his eyes on the dishwater.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Maggie says. Another loaded silence. “Dana has never been very forthcoming about her personal life, but I’ve always wondered…” Mulder keeps his head down and keeps scrubbing. He can’t even explain the nature of his and Scully’s relationship to himself, much less could he begin to explain it to her mother. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to. “Well, for the record, I think it’s wonderful. I’ll just leave it at that.”

Gratefully, she doesn’t bring it up again. Mulder helps her get the house back in order, including taking the chafing dishes to the basement, and they’re watching It’s A Wonderful Life with steaming mugs of tea when Scully comes plodding down the stairs in her party dress and stocking feet, pillow lines on her cheek and her hair fluffed up on one side.

“There she is,” Mulder says affectionately.

Scully stops in her tracks and regards him with surprise, though she quickly tries to mask it.

“Hi,” she says demurely, smoothing her hair down with her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to wait around for me.”

Mulder shrugs dismissively, but Maggie doesn’t pass up the opportunity to give her daughter a hard time.

“It’s lucky he was here; the girl who was supposed to help me clean up got drunk and passed out in my spare bedroom, if you can believe it.”

Her delivery is so flawless that Mulder snorts in his attempt to suppress a laugh, and Scully glares at him half-heartedly.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I have a raging headache, if it’s any consolation,” she says miserably.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol,” Maggie says, standing and giving Dana a pat on the arm as she leaves the room.

Scully stares intently at the TV screen, which makes it fairly obvious she’s avoiding looking at him, given that the movie is paused.

“Hey party girl,” he says, and she cringes before she reluctantly turns her head. “You okay?”

Scully sighs and looks at the floor. “Technically, yes,” she says, “though I think my ego may have suffered irreparable harm.” She slowly lifts just her eyes, looking at him woefully from beneath her lashes.

Mulder just smiles at her, because she looks so cute, all sleepy and embarrassed, and because the idea that her getting drunk and frisky would negatively affect his opinion of her is so outlandish it’s laughable.

“Here you are, dear,” Maggie says as she returns and drops two Tylenol into Scully’s hand. “We’ll have to take a raincheck on the rest of the movie, Fox.”

Mulder takes the hint and brings his teacup into the kitchen. He can hear the murmur of their conversation in the living room and does his best not to eavesdrop, but when they move into the foyer the acoustics make that difficult.

Mumble mumble not my best moment mumble mumble

Mumble mumble not the first time I’ve walked in on you with a boy, Dana

Mumble mumble Mulder mumble mumble mistake

Oh, honey, don’t mumble mumble mumble

Mumble mumble mumble

I’m sure it’ll be fine

Mulder’s heart sinks. He makes a point of clearing his throat as he rounds the corner into the hallway, and the conversation abruptly ends.

By the time they reach the end of Maggie’s street, Scully is resting her head against the window with her eyes closed. Mulder knows she isn’t really sleeping, but he plays along. He even pretends to wake her up when they pull up outside her apartment building, and she pretends to be surprised that they’ve already arrived.

“Thanks for driving,” she says, already pulling on the door handle.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out to touch her arm.

Scully stills, then sighs, then looks at him.

“Do we have to talk about it?” she asks reluctantly.

Mulder cracks a smile. “I was just gonna ask if I could kiss you goodnight.”

She heaves an even bigger sigh, which means something else entirely. He’ll have to catalog them someday.

“To be perfectly honest, between the wine, the vomiting, and the four-hour nap, I think it’s in your best interest to take a raincheck on that, too,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Aw, Scully,” he says, pity on full display, which he knows she hates. “You’ve got a toothbrush up there, don’t ya? Let me walk you up.”

She gives him a long look and he decides not to push it any further. He just doesn’t like the idea of her spending the rest of the weekend feeling like she committed some kind of unforgivable faux pas.

“Okay,” she finally acquiesces, and Mulder does his best to conceal his delight.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[reginalusus]

Babe, please spill any angsty headcanons you have for Jason and Harvey!! I'm especially curious about Harvey's drug use.

Idk why, but I just love seeing my favs go through it💞💖💞💖

Ohhhh, of course, lovie, mwuhaha.

Now, I don't know if you mean Harvey and Jason as separate characters or together as a duo, so I shall do both. I'll put it under the cut since there may be triggering stuff.

Jason - He wants someone to be proud of him. Jason has always been one to strive to do what he thinks is best, and it's not that he expects thanks for it, but after trudging through his own version of Hell and reforming himself into a questionable saviour of Gotham despite everything that has been hammered into him as Robin, he'd just love a proud smile, a nod of acknowledgement. From someone. Anyone. To let him know he's doing something right. To let him know that he at least kept some semblance of the boy he was. - Said it before on the animation post, but, Jason will crawl into dark shadows when he's having a PTSD episode. Bruce always told him the shadows are somewhere that he could recover, that he was safe there. - "He took me away from you. So why couldn't you have done it for me?" - Jason feels like an anachronism whenever he is around the rest of the Batfamily. He's there with them as Red Hood, but they want him to be Robin - his Robin is from a different lifetime, a different era - so his placement feels wrong. He's in none of the recent photos, none of the memories on the walls. He's 'wrong'. - Jason's chest tightens at rising voices. He still looks for the nearest table to hide under sometimes, even if he'd do no such thing anymore. - While he was being tortured by Joker, he called out for his dead mother, not just Batman.

Harvey - Harvey has BDD, which developed in his early 20s. The tabloids who were against his running for DA/Mayor would use the 'Apollo' title to render him to a 'pretty boy lawyer'. It bordered on objectification. The scarring only made things worse. He still runs his hands along his face and tries to see what they saw.

- Because Harvey's DID is not normal, and he and Scarv alt between one another quite quickly sometimes, Harvey is burdened with physical pain the majority of the time. Headaches and jaw tension from the switching, and a dry, sore throat from the voice. He practically eats painkillers, and keeps them absolutely everywhere. - Additionally to that, Harvey may have an addiction problem with them. It hurts to hurt. But it hurts even more to not hurt - it's what he's used to. - "Anytime someone lays a hand on me, a touch of love, a gentle graze, I can feel it: they're trying to rip the Harvey Dent out of me. They're trying to bring a dead man back to life." - In his childhood, even after his father beat him to half-death in a drunken stupor, he'd still try to hug him. - Uhhhh, I don't wanna just come outright and say he hurts himself. He already does that in different ways. But he does it bluntly for a slightly different reason. Like. I feel like I explained it in my fic decently enough:

And that actually breaks us neatly into...

Harvey and Jason - Jason has a hard time time accepting that Harvey isn't going to live forever. He thinks of this in the same way that kids do when they start to realize that their parents won't be with them forever. That void in them starts to form, and they prepare for it to stay empty. - Jason will routinely help out Harvey during depressive episodes by doing menial things that Harvey is too exhausted to do i.e. clearing out the ashtrays when they're full of butts, always keeping a spare pack of ibuprofen on him just in case, hiding drugs etc. (and he's a Drug Lord, so he knows exactly how to do that efficiently). - Harvey wishes Jason would call him 'dad'. Even just once. - Jason wants to do 'normal' things sometimes, rather than the usual crime shtick (their jobs, essentially, which is what their dynamic revolves around). Normal, boring things rather than cigarette breaks, like watching TV together, maybe going to the cinema etc. Harvey would like to have public outings with him too, but refuses. Everyone knows who he is. Jason can sort of get away with appearing normally in public. Harvey can't. And Harvey hates himself for it. - Sometimes Jason will accidentally call Harvey 'Bruce' during PTSD episodes. - Although they very rarely, if ever, hug or come into physical contact with each other, Jason finds the scent of Harvey extremely comforting in those moments they do hug because it's consistent: he always smells like tobacco, bourbon and expensive, heavy aftershave. Think of it as a child finding comfort in holding and taking in every sense of their parent's clothes after they've passed. - That kid is not your son. You're right. He's OUR son. He wants you gone, he sticks around cuz' it's useful. If it makes him happy. - Harvey will joke about killing Jason a second time, and about how fitting it would be to kill him in his second life, but he dreads there ever being a night where an outing may go wrong and he has to be the one to mourn over his second death. - Jason wishes Harvey was happy. - Harvey wishes Jason was happy.

[nerdanel01]

No. 7 - the marriage proposal from Love Is A Stranger

Several things—bizarre, inexplicable, and world-shattering things—all happened at once then, in a stupendous and stupefying sequence.

Firstly: that Emmrich let go of Eric— willingly, without fight. Agnes had somewhat suspected she’d never be able to part them without physically prising Eric out of his father’s arms ever again. He unwound their child from his waist, and placed him, delicately, onto his stomach, back on the heavy blanket they had set out upon the floor.

Secondly: that—in fully the weirdest, most off-putting display of necromancy Agnes had ever seen Emmrich commit (and he had done some weird shit)—with a gesture and a bit of wordless magic, he had summoned a macabre joinwork of skeletal hands waving on skeletal forearms, ensconcing Eric with enough room for him to roam on hands and knees, but without the possibility of him wandering far and hurting himself, or getting filthy, or putting something in his mouth he oughtn’t. Effective, perhaps—but also, nightmare-inducing. Eric—who was too young to recognize bone matter when he saw it, and lacked even the cognitive wherewithal to know what a bone was —found the entire trick delightful, and was giggling gleefully from his osseous confines.

Thirdly: that Emmrich was stalking towards her with a look of starved determination, like a wolf in winter on the doorstep of death.

Fourthly—and the last thing she noticed, before her world inverted and shook her about like a piggy bank from which it was trying to extract, not so much coins, but the hope of coins, coins imagined, stuck somewhere in ceramic recesses; and the violence of that shaking was such that Agnes was not entirely sure it had really happened—she swore she heard him muttering indignantly under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like,“what I must do…”

Then he snaked an arm around her waist, tilted her chin up to his face, and kissed her full on the mouth.

She had been prepared for this morning, for this confrontation—this negotiation of Eric’s future—to go any number of ways, but this had decidedly not been one of them. She went utterly limp with shock—like a corpse freshly dead, before rigor had begun to set—and would have fallen to the ground completely, had it not been for Emmrich’s grip around her, holding her fast against him. 

He kissed her softly, gently, and her heart pounded madly against her ribs like a rabbit trying to escape a trap; it made no sense. He had said he wanted nothing to change between them. He had said….

He pulled his mouth away from hers to breath into the space between them, to brush the words against her lips, much too kindly, much too patiently:

“Was that so loveless to you?”

Loveless? Love? Was this love? Her heart afire like it was going to fail, a panicked sweat breaking out across her brow, her stomach performing world-class circus acrobatics. Oh, heavens—would she even know love if she saw it, now? It had been a stranger to her from the death of her mother, through the long and lonely years until the birth of her son. And the love she felt for Eric never made her feel so feeble and frightened, as she did now, like a cornered animal.

“Emmrich….”

Both low warning and plea.

“Nessa, forgive me,” he said—hearing him call her by that old endearment felt as warm and comfortable as sinking into a hot, just-drawn bath—and his long-fingered warm hand came to cup her face, and she thought, ‘what for? It is I who absconded with your firstborn.’ But his next words sent icy chills down what little spine she had left. 

“All this time, I did not see. I have been an utter fool. I had no idea.”

He spoke with such sober, sagacious understanding, and Agnes was terrified: terrified of what he had seen in the blank spaces between her words, in all the things she had not said. Her heart felt as though it was about to arrest. He kept his forehead kissed to hers, and his thumb stroked away the sudden tears spilling down her cheek as he spoke:

“Already you are the mother of my son. Be my beloved; be my wife; and be assured there will be nothing loveless about it. Lay down beside me each evening in this waking life, and let those who outlive us lay your bones beside mine in death, or else suffer my wrath at being parted from you. Agnes Gallatus, my brave and brilliant companion, marry me, and grant me the privilege of loving you for the rest of our mortal and eternal days.”

…Agnes had accused him of insincerity, but now, Emmrich smacked of sincerity. He was the very picture of sincerity. The sincerity and warmth and affection in his brown-flecked green eyes was, quite frankly, both astonishing and a little embarrassing for Agnes to behold, and it rendered her utterly mute.

He had measured the black hole of her heart by its perimeter alone, though she had never made mention of it. He had seen in that pit everything she had never said, so transparent, so see-through, so paper thin was she to him after all these years. He had seen it, plucked it free, and he had spoken it aloud—voiced her heart’s most sacred, impossible desire, as though doing so did not threaten to rend her to shreds—and all but promised her that she could have it. 

After all these years, he had unmade her in an instant, ripped away all the walled protection she had built around her heart to keep her sane, to keep her safe.

And then—with infinite grace, for which Agnes might have kissed him herself if she could have managed to make her mouth obey her thoughts—Emmrich gave it all back to her. He gave her a choice.

“Or don’t,” he said, simply, and stepped away from her, leaving her heady and jelly-legged and propped against the kitchen table behind her. “Tell me no. You owe me nothing, and I will not resent you if you prefer a… different path. I want you, but only willing; and if you do not want me, I will not abandon you to the whims of my father. I will support you in finding a way for this to work for both of us—most of all, for Eric.” 

Agnes felt the world re-solidify beneath her feet, only for the whole if it to go wobbly and uncertain again when Emmrich concluded with his final coup: 

“But do not deceive yourself nor dishonor me ever again, Agnes, by implying either directly or indirectly that I would have married you merely out of convenience. Out of obligation, or duty.” His mouth—his mouth which he had very recently and most unexpectedly pressed against her mouth, her mouth which still burned with the memory of his upon it—twitched beneath his dark mustache into a wistful smile. 

“You are—have always been—much more to me than that.”

…was this love? This roaring of her own blood in her ears, this incoherency? This breathlessness as she fisted her hand in his shirt and drew him near to her again, whispered his name—

“Emmrich…”

—as he whispered breathlessly back, “yes…?”

Agnes kissed him softly—tentatively—almost suspiciously, with her eyes still open; the faintest, most virginal brush of her lips against his. His eyes fluttered closed when her mouth met his; before he could blink them open again she pressed a bolder kiss to his lips; then another.

And he did not run. He did not stop her. He did not change his mind. He did not bargain or plead or try to negotiate with her. When she withdrew, Emmrich only looked at her with infinite patience—looked at her mouth with gentlemanly restraint, with thinly veiled hunger. 

Agnes parted her legs; Emmrich sidled his lean body between them. And she kissed him, then, properly: open-mouthed, eyes closed.

And he kissed her in a way he had never kissed her before—none of the guilt, nor the shame, nor the restraint that had dogged and chained him when they had first collided so many months ago—full-bodied, groaning obscenely into her mouth. Agnes (who had not been touched with desire since that night, and—since Eric’s birth, and the utter mangle it had made of her body—had rarely since even touched herself) felt herself go wet at the sound alone. Her hands gripped his hips, pulled him nearer, and Agnes cried aloud, piteously, nearly undone at the irrefutable evidence of his enthusiasm pressing hot and urgent against her thigh. It did not seem prudent, to be rutting with Emmrich on her kitchen table with their infant son mere feet away... but each incredulous, half-gasped moan of pleasure that Emmrich poured hotly into her ears went straight to her gut; sent tingles down her spine; sent her back arching off the table—it would not take her long, she would not last—

The table shuddered beneath them.

The hot pot of half-burned porridge began to roll off its trivet.

Emmrich was faster than Agnes. With a half-muttered curse, he grabbed the pot, bare-handed—swearing again as his skin made contact with the hot iron, setting the precariously wobbling pot upright before it came away an ugly, raw, red. When he met her eyes again, he did so with an embarrassed laugh, a blush sweetly coloring the high points of his cheeks.

Agnes took his hand between hers, pressed a kiss to his fingertips as her magic washed over him—simple, elementary healing magic, the kind Emmrich had taught her how to master—soothing the burned skin, then repairing it entirely. Long past the point when his hand was renewed, she kept brushing her fingers over his palms, her eyes locked on his.

“When I return to the Necropolis today,” he told her, deep-voiced and throaty but smiling all the while, “do I have your permission to share the good news with Johanna?”

“What good news?” she teased him, pressing a coy kiss to the tip of his nose before ducking out of his arms, sweeping Eric out of the morbid playpen Emmrich had erected to contain him. “And put that ghastly display away, now, will you?”

With a gesture, the bone crumbled to cremains. Lovely. Agnes would have to beat the blanket out in the sun, to launder it heavily before she let Eric anywhere near it again. Before she could berate Emmrich for this, he slipped his arms around her waist, tucked his chin over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and told her the good news:

“That you are to be my wife.”

Agnes quirked her lips in a bashful smile, glad for the way his head was tucked against her shoulder, for it hid somewhat the girlish look she was wearing from gaze. 

“I don’t recall agreeing to your offer.”

“Are you refusing, then?”

“...No.” 

Agnes turned in his arms, Eric nestled safe and warm between them. And her cheeks were really aflame now. And she could not help it; and she did not care.

“Andraste preserve me, I don’t know how I’ll ever have the heart to refuse you anything now, Emmrich Volkarin,” she told him, in a tone that might have been chiding, if it were not so saturated with fondness. “You have won. I will love you; I will be your wife; I will gladly be wholly and utterly yours.” [read full chapter] --- I’m really proud of all the writing I did this year! So for the last ten days of 2024 I’m going to be reblogging my 10 favorite pieces that I wrote.

This is excerpted from my accidental pregnancy/Dad!Emmrich fic. I'm proud of Love Is A Stranger in general—I basically wrote it on a whim because two people enabled me—but this is probably one of my favorite passages in the whole fic, where all the miscommunications are finally getting resolved and Emmrich finally gets to be full devastatingly passionate and charming.

[classicanalyzer]

What If Season 3 - What If... Agatha Went to Hollywood? Thoughts

"Everyone has a story worth telling. Even two lost souls on the wrong path. But sometimes, all it takes is a trip to the movies to remind you that anything is possible, even a happy ending. Then again, who doesn't love a cliffhanger." Uatu

This episode goes so hard. I really love the dynamic between Agatha and Kinko. Howard and Jarvis are a comedic blast. It's such a fun episode playing around with three diva characters who would've been around by this point of the timeline. The episode is also a love letter to cinema and the history of 1940s Hollywood with little details sprinkled out. This is What If at its best.

I love how this AU results from Agatha learning of Tiamut's existence. I also can't believe and love how What If also connects to Agent Carter since Howard did try to become a movie director (with mixed results to say the least). I think they also brought back Bernard Stark when Jarvis was trying to shoo away a flamingo from the set.

The dance choreography goes so fucking hard. I love musicals, so to see a musical dance number in the MCU is pretty great. The Hollywood and Bollywood dancing and music styles meshed really well in this episode. It was a pretty smart idea to acknowledge Agatha's power absorption powers would make it relatively easy for her to take the Eternals' powers. The real goats are the dancing teams of Agatha and Kingo for improvising so well during their fight lmao. Howard mentioning the Hinderberg is pretty funny since Agatha All Along said Agatha was suspected of causing the Hinderberg's destruction.

Agatha is amazing. Kathryn Hahn really loves playing this character and you can tell it. Whoever had the idea of pairing her up with Howard, Jarvis, and Kingo deserves a raise. I really love how she really leans into the actress role so much that she loves it by the end. Her Celestial design is simply beautiful. Her costumes are also great. Agatha becoming a Celestial would've been so in-character for her if she knew about them like we saw in this universe. There's something funny and cathartic about Arishem the Judge calling Agatha, a witch who lived through the Salem period, a heretic, then Agatha proceeding to beat the shit out of Arishem, that was a great historical joke.

I really love Kingo in this episode as well. While the Eternals was flawed, it had a great cast and worldbuilding. I love how Kingo was able to reach out to Agatha by appealing to an empty void inside of them until they did film. I really love his speech to Agatha. Stories whether that be film, games, etc inspire other people like me and I really connected with what he meant. It just reminds you that Kingo has a lot of depth to his character. I will say Kingo turning on Arishem in exchange for a three-picture deal is pretty hilarious (and other requests including his friends being freed). All the Eternals had to do was offer him that lmao. Kumail Nanjiani did an amazing job playing this character.

Jarvis eventually accepts the insanity and chaotic nature of the cast, which is pretty funny to see. He's such a comedic riot in the episode alongside the rest.

This episode really is one of the best episodes. This really showcases What If using its premise to create stories we never thought we needed until now.

"At some point, somewhere in our lives, the world made us feel small, so we set out to show them. But, Agatha, you never needed all this power. Because you've always had the only magic you'd ever really needed to leave your mark on the world." Kingo

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. And what magic is that?" Agatha Harkness

"The movies. The movies are magic, Agatha. Hell, they're better than magic. Because they change the world by changing people. By making them feel something real. And with that kind of power, you don't have to be feared. Because you can be adored." Kingo

"You can't possibly understand how long I've worked for this." Agatha Harkness

"Well, I've been on Earth for thousands of years, so I kinda do. And if you're anything like me, maybe all this time, you've just been looking for the right collaborator. So, what do you say? Wanna change the world? For real?" Kingo

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.”

The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-FIVE EXCERPT:

The two memories played over and over again in Tom’s mind. He couldn’t even process how close Harry had gotten to losing his life or where the hell that truly horrific voice he’d heard had come from or how dark magic had tainted Harry only for it to disappear moments later—no, he couldn’t focus on any of those things.

No, it was these memories; they haunted him. They taunted him. He heard that monstrous voice on loop. ‘Come to die.’ He heard the nameon loop. ‘Harry Potter.’ Again. Again. And with every replay in his mind, the more questions Tom had.

One memory had come from the mind of a murderer. A baby in a cradle, a red haired woman who screamed to protect her son… That tiny child had been unmistakably Harry, which meant that woman had to be his mother—his mother, who’d been dead since Harry had been a baby.

So, why did Harry have a memory from the murderer’s perspective?

As for the other memory, it had been undeniably from Harry’s point of view. He’d been the Harry that Tom knew, except the monstrous man without a nose called him by a different name.

Harry had once been a Potter.

He’d been right.

“I saw something in your mind,” said Tom in a low voice, “by accident when the dementors were attacking.”

Harry swallowed. The blood drained from his complexion, a glimmer of true terror flooding through his eyes. “Did you?” he whispered.

It cut through Tom’s heart.

“Where—” Harry tore his face away and Tom stopped short. Harry heaved in a deep, shuddering breath. He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “Harry, where—”

“Don’t,” hissed Harry. “Don’t ask.”

Tom paused. The memories flooded his mind once more and he couldn’t let it go. “You can’t ask that of me,” he said quietly.

“I said no.”

“Harry—”

“I’m tired,” snapped Harry, abruptly pushing the covers aside and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll sleep somewhere else—”

Tom snatched him by the wrist. Harry’s head whipped back, brows pinched in irritation. He tried to pull his arm away, but Tom held on tighter.

“The fuck—”

Tom jerked Harry onto the bed; he landed on his back and bounced once, snarling. Harry struggled against him, scrambling wildly to get up and trying to shove Tom out of his way. Tom rolled over and straddled Harry’s chest, slamming his hands onto Harry’s shoulders and pinning him down.

“Ow!”

“Harry—”

“Get the fuck off me!”

Tom gripped Harry by the chin, forcing him to hold still and meet his gaze. Harry glared up at him. “Where did you get that memory?” he demanded.

“Fuck you—”

“How did you get the memory from your parents’ murderer?” snapped Tom. “Where’d you get it? How is such a memory in your head? And why did you change your name from Potter, a well known pureblood family, to Evans, an obviously common muggle name? Why would you hide your lineage like that? You should’ve kept your family name!”

Tears flooded Harry’s eyes; his face crinkled into a snarl. He fought against Tom with the rage of a feral animal, shoving at his face, chest, shoulders, twisting and turning beneath his weight—but he couldn’t throw him off. Tom’s grip on Harry’s chin tightened.

“Tell me.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “No.”

‘Come to die.’

That cold, high pitch voice echoed once more in his mind.

A monster had lifted his wand against Harry, wielding the very same wand that had murdered his parents. The wand’s hilt was of an unusual design, easily recognized. There was no way to ascertain the core, but the wood was simple enough. Tom’s own wand was also made of yew. Perhaps, he could interrogate wand makers for information about the hilt design in the future.

And the forest… it had looked similar to the Forbidden Forest, but that was impossible, though. Harry couldn’t have been in the Forbidden Forest. Dumbledore, at least, would’ve known if the Dark Lord was in the forest.

Except…

That monster wasn’t Grindelwald.

Tom had seen plenty of pictures of Gellert Grindelwald in the Daily Prophet before. He looked like a normal man, if not a large, very tall, and imposing man. Grindelwald backed up his magical prowess with immense physical strength as well. On the other hand, the monster Harry had faced had been nothing like Grindelwald. Though still rather tall, he’d been slender and sickly pale, waifish even—half the size of Grindelwald. He’d had snakelike slits for a nose and terrible red serpentine eyes—he’d been inhuman. Tom hadn’t heard of anyone like that.

Harry had lied.

Grindelwald hadn’t killed his parents.

However, not quite…

‘Yeah, well… that’s what happens when your parents are murdered… by a Dark Lord.’

He told Orion on the first day that his Dark Lord had no nose. He’d joked about it.

Harry had never specifically said Grindelwald had kill his parents. Merely ‘a’ Dark Lord. He’d dropped hints all along the way. How very Slytherin of Harry. And the memories were unmistakable: Harry’s parents had been killed by a Dark Lord and that same Dark Lord had attempted to murder Harry yet again more recently.

So, who was he?

“Why have you lied?” whispered Tom.

[deeptrashwitch]

Secret santa's gift!

Alright, in Discord we made a secret santa event and I was assigned... *drumrolls* @revnah1406!!! I made this little one-shot about Abby and Woods during christmas, I hope you like it. Merry chirstmas, darling 🎆✨🎉🎁

December 24th, The Vault

Abby was looking at the snow in silence, just thinking while she stared at the starry sky of december. Her eyes followed the movements of the stars and she murmured the names of some of them to herself. At some point a voice startled her from behind, making her jolt in her place with a yelp.

“What’s with you?” Frank Woods asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Goddamnit, old man, you’ll give me a heart attack!” She exclaimed, then looked at him and huffed. “Where’s the nurse?”

“Nurse Batshit? Who cares? Probably somewhere around here” He said, moving his wheelchair nearer to the window. “You didn’t answer the question, kid.”

She sighed softly and stayed silent for a second. “Just thinking…”

“About?”

“Many things. Do you think my parents…well, my mom, will make it on time?”

Woods just glanced at the clock on the wall in silence, noticing that it was almost past midnight. He sighed softly and simply went to get something from a nearby drawer.

“I’m not sure if Alice will make it, but you know David would like to be here.” 

“But he can’t because of his missions, I know, I know.”

For a second, Woods noticed Abby’s expression saddened before she went back to look out the window. 

“Listen, I’m not supposed to give you this before tomorrow, but screw that.” He murmured, giving her a package neatly decorated and wrapped. “Here, merry christmas, Abs.”

“Thanks, old man.” Abby smiled softly and opened the package. 

Inside, a neatly folded map of the stars and constellations awaited her along with many pairs of socks, each one with sillier patterns than the ones before. She laughed softly and started to look closely at the pattern.

“Oh, this is amazing! But, why plain brown ones? I don’t get it.” She asked, curiously.

“Unfold them, I know you’ll like them.” Woods said with a knowing smile.

Once she unfolded the pair of socks, she couldn’t avoid a laugh when she saw them right. The pattern made them look like hoofs, with the details and everything. It made her face light up with a huge smile, still giggling at the socks.

“These are great. I’ll go put them on now.” She said with a bright smile. “I’ll be a fucking faunus! Hell yeah!”

“If you will, do it quickly, I need your help in the kitchen.”

“Oh? What for?”

“What else for? Cooking, kid.” Woods said, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Move your ass, we’ll make your favorite for tonight.”

“Really?! Like, for real for real?! Then I’ll leave the socks for later, hehehe.”

“Yeah, now move it or I’ll change my mind.”

Abby laughed and cheered, but nodded and jumped off the window ledge to follow Woods to the kitchen.

“Will you ask the nurse for help?”

“Fuck no.” Woods said almost immediately, making Abby snicker and smirk. “Oh, look at that, are you mocking me, kid? Really?”

“Nooo, of course not.” She said, holding back her laughter. “What kind of granddaughter do you think I am?”

“Haha. Yeah right, and that smirk means nothing. Suure thing.”

“Exactly!”

Woods chuckled and shook his head softly. “You little troublemaker…”

“I learnt from the best, don’t you think?” She asked with a soft hum, proud of herself as she walked.

“Maybe too well.”

She just smiled in silence, but Woods kept smiling as well. Once they reached the kitchen, Woods started to read out loud the recipe, with him making some parts of the food while Abby made the others, sometimes adding her own touch of flavors when Woods wasn’t looking. It was a moment where they joked sarcastically with each other, also with Woods retelling for the nth time one of his stories, which Abby loved to hear, simply paying attention while she cooked.

When the food was ready, Woods just could chuckle at Abby’s happiness at the sight of the dish. He turned his face away since it smelled strongly.

“Dammnit kid, this is like a nuke itself. Why do you like it so much?”

Abby shrugged and poked out her tongue mockingly. “It's delicious. It’s not my fault you can handle it, so more for me.”

“How funny…you know I’m an elder, I can’t even try to think of eating that.” Woods said dramatically, huffing softly.

“Sooo, should I make you some bland-ass chicken with broccoli and some oatmeal?” She asked mockingly.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Abigail.”

Abyy laughed loudly, but nodded calmly. “Alright, alright, stop the drama, old man. I made you some more normal, ehem bland, food so you can eat without problem.”

After a while, they went to eat together while the snow kept falling outside, with Abby humming Christmas carols while she ate. Woods chuckled softly when he noticed Abby’s face was all red because of the spice, but when he offered her some water, she shook her head and kept eating despite the hellish spice. 

And when they finished and Woods sent Abby to sleep, she just huffed but nodded. She smiled a bit and sat beside the wheelchair instead, that was near the fireplace. 

“Seriously?” Woods asked.

“I’ll go to sleep, don’t worry, buuut not yet!”

Woods shook his head and put his hand over her hair with a huff, simply hearing her ramble about everything and anything. He made noises of surprise and commented sometimes, smiling at Abby’s happiness as she spoke, and like that the minutes ticked away. Slowly, Abby started to doze off a bit lulled by the heat of the fireplace, resting her head against Woods’ knee.

“Hey Abs.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t tell your parents I gave you your gift early, alright?”

Abby chuckled a bit, mumbling softly. “I promise, merry christmas. G’night gramps…”

She sighed softly and fell asleep next to Woods, who only caressed her hair gently before he looked at the fireplace in silence.

“Goodnight Abby, rest well, I’ll be here when you wake up.” He said with a soft smile, grabbing a book from the nearby table to pass the time until sleep got him as well.

[princess-charlie-of-hell]

Unpopular opinion (I think?)

The fandom needs to accept that Lilith is allowed to be flawed mother, wife and person without being treated like a monster

How was she supposed to perfectly know how to be a mother, she never had any parents from which she could learn to be one. Even parents who grew up in perfectly healthy families aren't perfect parents. She never was a child and therefore doesn't know how hard it is to go through puberty and other parts of growing up

She literally was one of the two first humans and i can image that neither Lilith nor Lucifer knew what it means to be in a super perfect relationship, Adam, Lilith first partner, literally demanded Liliths submissions which caused Lilith to meet Lucifer in the first place. So how is she supposed to know what a healthy relationship is supposed to be.

And from what we know so far fell Lucifer in depression after their fall and this can be hard for a relationship even if it was a healthy one. There was not really therapy invented to this time and for the next like thousand years or more. So how is she supposed to know what the perfect things are to do in this situation so maybe she did things which she thought would be right for him even if she it was wrong because she doesn't know better

We also don't really know how everything which happened affected her yet, we know that she motivated hell but that doesn't mean that she can't be traumatized as well

But from what we know what happened to her, it is just tragic

First she was trapped in a relationship with a misogynistic man who demanded submission from her

She found love with Lucifer and they tried together to give Eve and humanity freewill by giving Eve the apple

But that caused evil to find it's way and Lucifer and Lilith were banished to hell

Lucifer then fell in depression while Lilith motivated Hell with her voice

But that caused then the exterminations to happen in the first place where regularly sinners get killed, so I can image that Lilith was after that maybe not in the best head space

Ruling over hell is also a challenge itself and we don't know how Lucifer and Lilith split their work as being depressed can cause a person to be not able to handle that responsibility in Lucifers case, so maybe she did the main work while he just couldn't do it

The same with parenting Charlie, having a child is straight up exhausting whatever if the child is a human and or Sinner/angel hybrid. And if Charlie is now at least 200 years old how long took it till she was an adult?

We can't really say how she was as a mother but from what we heard from Charlie i can't image her to be cold and distant to her daughter. Charlie believes that Lilith would be proud of her if she saw her right now, she thinks that her mother is doing something important and in the pilot Charlie calls Lilith who disappeared for 7 years rather than her father (again not blaming Lucifer, he just was in shitty situation as well). Sure it could be a red hering so that it is more shocking that she evil but the same could be said about the last scene where we see her on the beach to make us believe that she is a villain despite her having a good reason for everything she does

Despite her being in heaven, we don't know why she is there, maybe she just couldn't take it anymore in hell, maybe she just saw an opportunity to be somewhere without her responsibility as a queen, the deal between her and Adam is unknown so we won't know the exact reason why she is there until later in the show

And honestly even if she is just in heaven for selfish reasons doesn't automatically mean that she is an unredeemable monster, this show afterall is about persons facing their flaws and personal problems to get redeemed so why should Lilith be the exception?

[bumpscosity]

Actually all gravity falls shipping wars in back when the show was airing were hilarious. i once saw two ppl arguing abt wether pinecest or stancest was better like guys i think its better if we just throw both of you into the bottomless pit forever

[seaofreverie]

GUUUYYUYSSSD !!!!!

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KIMONO MY HOUSE VINYL!!!!!!

Also funny story which is that when my brother took these to the cashier he said something like "oh... Sparks... they were here one year ago"

[twpsyn-who]

Soulmate AU in which when you touch your soulmate you swap bodies. It needs to be skin on skin contact and is instant. The only way to get back in the previous body is to touch again, otherwise you're stuck like that.

No matter the body all psychological and physical damage stays with you. That means if you get hurt then swap bodies, you will still feel it despite no longer having the wounds. This is only the case of existing wounds prior to swapping ; if new wounds happen to the hurt body after the swap you won't feel them, but the person in the body when it happens will. A very complicated way of saying that you can't get away from pain by swapping bodies with your soulmate as it will follow you.

There's no known consequences to not changing bodies back once swapped, though some might get sick for a few days after swapping back if they waited a long period of time to change back (say over a month, even longer depending on individual)

Now this but, you know... JeanMarco. And of course they find out during their time in the 104th Training Corps, because there's no way their skin didn't touch at least once in +3 years of training and being as close as they are. It isn't until break when they're able to visit home that they learn what it truly means ; up until that point they used it to swap chores (is the only reason why Jean didn't try to kill Eren during their shared chores- because it was actually Marco all along). At that point they knew each other perfectly.

Of course the whole situation was a little bit awkward for both of them when returning. They probably would end up avoiding each other for a bit because teenager boys and stuff, all until someone finally got the guts to mention the tension and ask them what's wrong- which forces them to talk and stuff. Doesn't matter, this is not what I want to talk about.

But the beautiful battle of Trost and what if, hypothetical speaking of course, they touch skin after Jean gets another ODM? And they're so used with each other by now, they don't even notice until the mission is nearly done anyway. And I don't know man, the idea of Jean dying while in Marco's body? Marco (in Jean's body) saying "I need to find Marco" once the mission is a success and research for his soulmate, just for him to not find him?? Not find him until 3 days later when some of them are assigned cleaning duty in Trost and he finds his own fucking body bitten in half???

The realization that it should've been Marco who died that day, but didn't because he was in Jean's body. The realization that not only his soulmate is dead, but he's stuck living his life. He's stuck living the life Jean can't because he died in Marco's place.

SEEING YOUR DEAD SOULMATE EVERYDAY WHEN YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Poor Marco would most likely avoy any reflective surface for a very long time, unable to see Jean's face looking at him.

The guilt of lying to everyone, because how does one even begin to explain what's going on? Him lying to Jean's mother to protect her from the harsh truth of the reality- that her son actually died and the one in front of her was a fake.

And the sad truth is that no one would notice because they've been doing it for months already. They knew how to act like each other to perfection. Even if Marco slipped at some point no one would question it because they got many traits from each other already.