#i still don't know what the ice part is all about

[honeyslibrary]

Rookie Card | Jack Hughes

Pairing; Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Fluff, established relationship, little to no knowledge of Costco (I've never been lol), edited once, that's it I think!

Summary; Jack finds out that reader keeps a certain card in her wallet

Word Count; 3.1k

Authors Note: I feel like if this happened IRL he'd be such a little shit about it and would not stop teasing 😭 Also I don't have a Costco membership idk what they sell there and I did not look it up to be accurate 🥴 -Honey

You knew this Costco trip was a mistake the moment Jack grabbed the cart.

"I'm driving," he'd announced with that lopsided grin that still made your stomach flutter after eight months together. That grin had gotten you into this relationship in the first place. The same one he'd flashed at you across the bar the night you met, when your friend had elbowed you and whispered, "Holy shit, that's Jack Hughes," and you'd pretended not to know exactly who he was.

Now that same grin was steering an overloaded shopping cart through the warehouse chaos of Costco on a Sunday afternoon, which felt considerably less charming.

"Slow down," you call out as he narrowly avoids clipping an elderly woman examining a stack of discounted bestsellers. "This isn't the ice, Hughes."

Jack shoots you a look over his shoulder. "I'm being careful! Besides, we need to beat the sample rush. Those little pizza bagel things go fast."

You roll your eyes but can't help cracking a smile. For a professional hockey player who regularly gets body-checked into boards, Jack has an almost childlike enthusiasm for the free samples at Costco. It's endearing, even if his cart navigation skills leave much to be desired.

Two hours later, the cart is piled dangerously high with everything from the mundane essentials you actually came for (paper towels, coffee beans, that specific brand of Greek yogurt Jack insists is the only acceptable post-workout snack) to the impulse purchases that somehow found their way in when you weren't looking (a 2.5lb bag of dried mango slices, a folding camp chair, and what appears to be an industrial-sized container of protein powder).

"Do we really need all this?" you ask, eyeing the mountain of products as you approach the checkout area.

Jack looks genuinely confused. "Which part don't we need?"

"I don't know, maybe the trashcan sized candle?"

"You said your apartment always smells like hockey gear!"

"I meant you should do laundry more often, not turn the place into a Yankee Candle outlet."

He shrugs, unrepentant. "Trust me, I'm doing us both a favor."

As you approach the front of the store, Jack steers the cart toward the self-checkout area.

"The regular lines aren't that long." you comment, glancing at the regular checkout lanes where actual employees could help with the small mountain of purchases you've accumulated.

Jack scoffs. "Self-checkout is way faster. Plus, I'm basically a professional at scanning."

"Since when?"

"I did a grocery store commercial last season, remember? Spent like three hours scanning the same box of cereal from different angles."

You bite back a smile. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't translate to actual scanning skills."

"I forgot you were the expert," he rolls his eyes, smiling as he maneuvers the cart into the self-checkout lane.

The Costco self-checkout is already chaos. The cart is overloaded, the scanner next to yours keeps yelling "place item in the bagging area," and Jack is too busy pretending the jumbo box of Goldfish is a dumbbell to be remotely helpful.

"Four pounds of pure cracker power," he announces, curling the box in perfect form. "Could be a new workout trend. Snackercise."

An exasperated mother with twin toddlers shoots him a look that's half annoyance, half recognition. You've gotten used to the double takes, the whispers, the occasional autograph requests. Jack handles them with ease, always friendly, always gracious, never making it weird. It's one of the things you admire about him, even if you're still adjusting to dating someone whose face is plastered around the city.

Today, thankfully, the mother is too focused on keeping her children from dismantling the candy display to approach. Jack sets down the Goldfish box with a mock grunt of exertion and turns his attention back to you.

"Want me to scan stuff?" he offers, reaching for the box of protein bars you're holding.

"I've got it," you say quickly, having witnessed his "scanning skills" on previous shopping trips. The last time you let him take over at Target, you'd ended up with three accidental duplicates and one item that never made it into the system at all.

You're juggling a case of sparkling water and trying to scan your membership barcode from the app when you groan.

"It's not loading," you mutter, tapping frantically at your phone screen where the Costco app has frozen on a loading icon. "Can you just get my wallet? It's in the pink one, middle pocket of my bag."

Jack perks up like you just asked him to defuse a bomb. "On it," he says, already elbow deep in your tote. "Why do you carry so much stuff in here? Are you secretly a suburban mom?"

"Just grab the wallet," you sigh, shifting the sparkling water to your other arm. The self-checkout machine beeps impatiently, its screen flashing a demand for your membership ID.

"I'm exploring uncharted territory here," Jack narrates, rummaging dramatically. "I may need supplies. Possibly a headlamp."

The employee monitoring the area, a tall guy appearing about your age, wearing a faded Yankees cap, glances over with amusement. You feel a flash of self-consciousness, aware of how you and Jack must look: bickering over a shopping cart like you've been married for decades rather than dating for months. It's comfortable, though. That's what surprised you most about being with Jack, how quickly the comfort came, how easily you fell into each other's rhythms.

Jack pulls out a crushed receipt, a Tide pen, and a tampon like he's on Let's Make a Deal. "Is this a snack bar? Why do you have a Canadian penny in here? What year even is this?"

"Jack." Your patience is wearing thin. The case of water is getting heavier by the second, and the lady behind you is starting to make pointed throat-clearing noises.

"Okay, okay," he says, finally fishing out your wallet and flipping it open. "Looking for the ol' Costco membership—" He hands you the card, "wait a sec."

You pause mid-scan, turning slowly at the change in his tone. "What?"

He's gone still. Smirking.

"No way." His voice cracks slightly as he pulls out a small, glossy rectangle. "Is this? Babe, is this my rookie card?"

Your stomach drops. "Oh my God, Jack. Give me that."

The blood rushes to your face so quickly you feel light-headed. Of all the things he could have found: the ancient gum wrapper you keep forgetting to throw away, the fortune cookie paper with the embarrassingly accurate prediction about meeting a handsome stranger, even the crumpled CVS receipt from when you panic bought three different pregnancy tests after a condom mishap last month (all negative, thankfully), he had to find THAT.

"You carry this around?" he laughs, holding it up like he's found hidden treasure. "In your wallet. Next to your license. And your credit card. I’m literally next to your driver’s license.”

You lunge for it, nearly dropping the sparkling water. "I forgot it was even in there!"

It's a lie and you both know it. The card is in pristine condition, carefully tucked into one of the clear plastic sleeves in your wallet where most people would keep photos of loved ones or emergency contact information. You'd bought it four years ago, back when Jack was just starting to make headlines, back when you would never have dreamed you'd one day be sharing takeout on his couch while he complained about his coach's defensive strategy.

He dodges you like a child on a sugar high, rookie card still in hand. "You've been walking around with literal 18-year-old me in your purse this whole time?" He holds it toward you, pointing at his face. "Look at this haircut! I look like I was just let out of a Boy Scout meeting."

"Stop talking," you hiss, your face fully on fire as the self-checkout voice robotically reminds you to please place item in the bagging area.

The employee at the front is now openly watching your exchange, a slow smile of recognition spreading across his face as he realizes exactly who Jack is, and exactly which card Jack is holding. Great. Just what you need: a witness to your humiliation.

"Oh, this is rich," Jack says, shaking his head. "You, giving me crap about being cocky, but meanwhile? You've got a personal Jack Hughes shrine in your wallet."

You glare at him, wishing desperately for a sinkhole to open beneath your feet. "Do you want me to put that card in the trash right now?"

He snorts, finally slipping it back into its slot with fake reverence. "Absolutely not. That thing's probably worth, like, eight bucks."

"Try a couple hundred," the employee chimes in helpfully, then immediately holds up his hands in surrender when you shoot him a death glare. "Sorry. Just saying."

"See?" Jack grins. "You're carrying around, what, Nathaniel's monthly rent in your wallet? That's dedication." He gestures to the Rangers fan, who apparently is named Nathaniel and who apparently needs to mind his own business.

You snatch the wallet out of Jack's hands, cheeks still burning, and you return to scanning items with aggressive efficiency.

"So," Jack says, leaning against the bagging area with his arms crossed, watching you work with infuriating amusement. "When exactly were you planning to tell me you were a fan?"

"I wasn't hiding it," you mutter, scanning a jar of almond butter with unnecessary force. "I told you I watched hockey."

"Yeah, but you never mentioned having a collection of hockey cards. Of me, specifically."

"It's not a collection. It's one card."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "Mm-hmm. And are there others at home? Like, do you have a special album or something? Holy shit, do you have posters?"

"No," you say, a beat too quickly.

The truth, which you would rather die than admit right now, is that you do own exactly one poster. It's from a sports magazine spread three years ago, and it's been carefully rolled up and stashed in the back of your closet since your third date with Jack, when things started to feel serious enough that you realized having his face on your wall would be deeply weird.

"You hesitated," Jack says triumphantly. "There are posters."

"There are no posters," you insist, though your traitorous complexion is probably giving you away. You've always been a terrible liar, a fact Jack discovered during your first attempt at playing poker together, when he cleaned you out of chocolate-covered almonds (your chosen betting currency) within twenty minutes.

"You know," he says, taking pity on you and beginning to bag some of the scanned items, "it's kind of cute."

"It's embarrassing," you correct him, focusing intently on scanning a pack of chicken breasts.

"Why? You're a hockey fan who happened to start dating a hockey player. That's not weird."

"It's weird if I was specifically a fan of you before we met."

"Were you?" he asks, and there's a note of genuine curiosity beneath the teasing now.

You sigh, pausing your scanning marathon. "I watched your games sometimes. I thought you were good." You look up at him, considering how much to reveal. "I liked how you played, like you were actually having fun, not just doing a job. It was... I don't know. It made the game more exciting."

Jack's expression softens, the teasing glint fading into something warmer. "That's... actually really nice."

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn, but you're smiling despite yourself.

"Too late," he says, tapping his temple. "Already filed under 'Evidence My Girlfriend Thinks I'm Amazing.'"

The self-checkout machine beeps demandingly, reminding you that you've paused too long between scans. You return to the task at hand, but the tension has dissipated, replaced by a comfortable rhythm as Jack bags while you scan.

"You know," he says after a moment, carefully arranging a tub of laundry detergent next to the candles, "I have some of your work saved on my phone."

You look up, surprised. "What?"

"Those illustrations you did for that children's book about the penguin? I downloaded them. They're in a special album." He shrugs like it's no big deal, but there's a hint of vulnerability in the admission. "I show them to the guys sometimes. Demko's kid loves the one with the penguin on the skateboard."

"You... show my work to your teammates?" The thought of Jack's hockey buddies, men whose names appear on jerseys and in ESPN headlines, looking at your penguin drawings is surreal.

"Yeah. I'm a fan." He says it simply, without the teasing edge from before.

You don't know what to say to that, so you just keep scanning, but something warm unfurls in your chest. It's been like this since the beginning, moments of revelation that catch you off guard. Reminders that beneath the public persona and the franchise player status, Jack is just... Jack. A guy who gets excited about Costco samples and saves your artwork on his phone.

Jack leans in, way too pleased with himself, as you scan the last few items. "I'm starting to think you were a fan before you were my girlfriend."

"I hate you," you say, but there's no heat in it.

"No you don't."

You glance at him. He's grinning like an idiot, casually bagging your industrial-size trail mix like this isn't the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"Okay, maybe I don't," you mutter, swiping your credit card.

He bumps your shoulder. "It's okay, babe. I'd carry your rookie card around too. If you had one."

"What would a children's book illustrator's rookie card even look like?" you wonder, punching in your PIN.

"First professional doodle," Jack says thoughtfully. "Maybe that red panda you showed me, the one you drew for your niece's birthday card."

"That was awful. I gave him six toes."

"It had character," Jack insists. "Very avant-garde."

You roll your eyes so hard it's a miracle they stay in your head. "Let's go before you start reciting your career stats to the family behind us."

"Oh, I would never—" He pauses, then turns to the man waiting in line. "Did you know she keeps my rookie card in her wallet?"

"JACK."

He laughs, loud and unrestrained, as you grab his arm and drag him away from the checkout area, your face flaming all over again.

"You're the worst," you inform him as you navigate toward the exit, receipt clutched in your hand.

"And yet, you keep my rookie card with you at all times," he counters, skillfully steering the cart around a display of seasonal patio furniture. "Makes a guy wonder what else you might be hiding."

"My deep regret about agreeing to date you?"

"Nah, that's written all over your face." He grins. "I'm thinking more like, do you have a scrapbook? Did you write my name with hearts around it in your diary? Ooh, did you have one of those fathead wall decals?"

You stop walking, fixing him with your most serious expression. "Jack. If you ever want me to sleep over at your place again, you will drop this immediately."

He considers this for a moment, then mimes zipping his lips. "Dropped."

"Thank you."

You resume walking, pushing through the exit doors into the parking lot. The late afternoon sun hits your face, warm against the crisp autumn air. Jack moves ahead to guide the cart, his shoulders relaxed under his faded blue henley, hair slightly mussed from where he ran his hands through it while deliberating between two different coffee brands for twenty minutes.

"I forgot to ask," he says as you reach the car, "are you coming to the game on Thursday?"

"I have that deadline for the fox book illustrations," you remind him, helping to load bags into the trunk of his SUV. "But I could come to Saturday's game maybe?"

Jack nods, lifting the case of water with ease. "Saturday works. Oh, don't forget, there's that charity thing on Sunday."

"Gala thingy?"

"Yeah." He slams the trunk closed. "Bring your wallet though."

You narrow your eyes, pausing with the shopping cart halfway to the return corral. "Why?"

"In case anyone asks for your autograph," he says with exaggerated seriousness. "After, you can show them my rookie card, tell them you knew me when."

You groan, abandoning the cart to march back to him. "I swear to God, Hughes—"

But before you can finish your threat, he catches you around the waist, pulling you against him. "You're cute when you're mortified," he murmurs, and then he's kissing you, right there in the Costco parking lot, with the orange glow of sunset painting everything gold.

When he pulls back, you keep your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. "I'm never taking you shopping again," you inform him.

"Yes you are," he says confidently. "You need someone to reach the top shelves."

"I can bring a stepladder."

"A stepladder won't tell you interesting facts about protein powder or help you pick out deli meat."

"Those are selling points?"

He kisses you again, quickly this time. "Admit it. Shopping with me is an adventure."

"A nightmare," you correct him, but you're smiling. "A recurring nightmare where I'm trapped in Costco forever with a hockey player who thinks jumbo sized everything is a personality trait."

Jack laughs, releasing you to retrieve the abandoned shopping cart. "Come on, nightmare's over for today. Let's go home and figure out where we're going to put that giant candle in your apartment."

"Your apartment," you counter. "You bought it, you store it."

"Fine, but you have to remind me to burn it. And not burn the apartment down."

You watch him return the cart, the easy grace in his movements, the way he nods politely to an older couple walking past. When he returns, he slides into the driver's seat beside you, immediately reaching for your hand across the console.

"So," he says as he starts the engine, "should I be concerned about any other professional athletes you might have rookie cards of? Am I competing with, like, the entire NHL draft class of 2019?"

You squeeze his hand, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "And here I thought you'd dropped it."

"I'm just saying, I should know if I'm in an open relationship with you and a wallet full of hockey cards."

"Just drive, Hughes."

My Patreon, where you can find exclusive fics not posted anywhere else: HERE

[negrowhat]

Old QL Game

Rules: Think about the oldest BLs you've ever watched. They have to have been released prior to 2020. Now name 5 - 10 iconic scenes that you cannot forget.

Tagged by @ommited-miscellaneously and the OG post is by @brazilian-whalien52

This is going to be fun. I've been in the BL space for a supremely long time. Like I don't want to date myself too much but literal decades so reaching back into the vault is going to be insane. Be prepared for screenshots because I know there are no gifs for most of the scenes I'm going to talk about.

SOTUS S (2017)

Kongpob turning Khaofang down. One of my most favorite things about Kongpob is how straightforward he is when people confess to him. One of his juniors tried to give him her gear and confess her love to him and he immediately told her that he was already taking care of someone's gear. He shut her down gently and kindly and kept it pushing and I just LOVE that scene.

TharnType the Series (2019)

Type asking Tharn to have sex with him. He really just sprung that on Tharn while they were having breakfast. He claimed it was because he didn't want to "owe" Tharn anything but really he was curious. And let's not forget we got the iconic ice scene in that ep.

Takumi-Kun Series 5 (2011)

Takumi tells Gii about his childhood trauma. They had just finished having sex and Takumi finally tells Gii what caused his phobia of people touching him. They sit there in bed and Gii holds Takumi tightly and listens to Takumi tell a horror story involving sexual abuse at the hands of his older brother when he was very, very young. It's a scene that was hard to watch but still very memorable.

I Love You As A Ma AKA Like Love (2014)

An Ziyan tells Mai Ding he loves him. Mai Ding literally runs into An Ziyan's room and asks him if he loves him to which which An Ziyan literally just laughs in his face. Mai Ding storms out of An Ziyan's dorm room and goes back to his which is just next door and angirly lies in his bed. An Ziyan does in fact love Mai Ding and just doesn't want to say it so he sits on his bed too and knocks on the wall they share and the knocks are in the rhythm a person would say 'I Love You' in. It's very sweet and Mai Ding is touched and happy again. If anyone can tell me where I can find that gem of a movie and it's sequel please let me know!

Until We Meet Again (2019)

DeanPharm meet face-to-face in the market. Win and Dean are out shopping for snacks for the swim team where Dean sees Pharm trying to reach for some peas or beans of some sort so he grabs them for him. WHEN THEIR EYES MEET?? And Pharm IMMEDIATELY starts crying!? And Dean caresses his cheek?? They don't know each other but their souls do and it's such a raw reaction and it literally makes me cry every time I see it.

Dark Blue Kiss (2019)

Sun stopping Mork from fighting. Specifically in the noodle shop when they went coffee bean hunting. Some jerk was harassing Mork and Sun and literally threw hot soup on Mork! So when Mork punched him out and almost bashed his head in with a solid wood stool all Sun could do was drag him out of the shop. I think it was a justified fight and Sun should've let the boy bludgeon that dude. One of my fave things from DBK was how Sun was always trying to keep Mork from fighting.

Long Time No See (2017)

Chisoo finds out about Gitae. Loved this part because Gitae really doesn't want to fight Chisoo so Chisoo is giving it all he's got and Gitae is holding back and mostly blocking. Anytime he has an opening to hit Chisoo he doesn't take it. Chisoo somehow rips off Gitae's mask and is stunned to see who he's fighting. Gitae has been a double agent their whole relationship and was hired to kill Chisoo.

ReminderS (2019)

Phun saying he's not worried about Noh cheating. Phun's new friends are asking him why he's not more jealous or worried about Noh hanging out with another man on campus. Phun easily just says that Noh is too stupid to notice anyone's advances and he's not generally worried because of that and because Noh tells him everything. It was such a funny scene. This entire series felt like a fever dream but it brought back PhunNoh to us.

Love Place 1: Hakanaki Kata Omoi (2013)

Doumoto sets Kana up to walk in on him and Souta. Kana is in love with Souta and his boyfriend knows it. Souta and Kana sort of used to date before he came out but she's still in love with him even though they agreed to be friends. Doumoto calls Kana and asks her to go to their apartment to check and see if they left the door unlocked when they stepped out to the store. She's in the middle of strawberry shopping but leaves to do that. Of course they're both still at home and Doumoto makes sure they're right in the middle of sex when she arrives. She is so pissed off that she screams, rips off the blankets, and throws the strawberries at them. A very justified crashout.

2 Moons 2 (2019)

Forth kissing Beam to shut him up. Beam has just accidentally hit Forth in a head with a hammer and they rush him to the hospital. When Forth comes to Beam is there and babbling out his apologies for giving him a concussion and the only way Forth can shut him up is to kiss him. Top tier. A lot of Pavel stans were born from him in 2 Moons 2 so I can't make this list without mentioning my beloved Bi Biker Icon Forth.

I'm tagging @bengiyo @lurkingshan @thisautistic @slonekaru @itsallaboutbl @benkaben @cirphu @babyangelsky @respectthepetty @khaotungthanawat @omarandjohnny @pharawee and whoever else sees this and wants to participate!

[woogilicious]

better luck next time, detective ꒰ woosan ꒱

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pairing: criminal!san x detective!wooyoung. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 2.3k words. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ genre: smut/crime AU | minors DNI. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ warnings: nsfw, rough sex, handcuff bondage, dom!san, sub!wooyoung, criminal/detective dynamic, consensual non-consent themes, manhandling, dirty talk, light edging, brief aftercare, mild blood mention, voyeurism/masturbation mention, language. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ a.n: my first ever smut!! took me awhile, but i think i did pretty well, hehe lmk if you guys like it!

"Don't move!" Wooyoung yells, tripping over a trash can lid as he skids into the alley.

Classic. So classic.

Choi San doesn't move. Not really. He just tilts his head. Slow, deliberate. That signature unimpressed stare boring right into Wooyoung like he's some kind of bug he's considering squashing.

"You again," San mutters, deadpan. "Didn't you sprain your ankle last time?"

"Pulled a muscle," Wooyoung huffs, straightening up and yanking his badge out of his coat like it'll suddenly make him look more intimidating. It doesn't. "This time, I've got you. No escape routes. No subway tunnel tricks. No rooftop jumps—seriously, how did you even do that?"

San shrugs. His hands are in the pockets of his dark jacket. There's blood on the corner of his sleeve, but it's not his. Wooyoung knows that. And the fact that it's not... should be terrifying. But all Wooyoung can focus on is how unfairly good San looks under the flickering streetlight. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp. Like he;s made of ice and doesn't give a damn about anyone's rules.

"You're always two steps behind," San says, stepping forward. Not running—just closing the distance slowly and casually. "You know that, right?"

"I'm getting better," Wooyoung shoots back, lifting his chin. "I almost had you at the train station."

San hums, unconvinced. "Almost isn't good enough."

"Well it was close enough to scare you," Wooyoung says, crossing his arms then uncrossing them because he realizes that just makes him look nervous. "You did run."

A smirk could be seen on San's lips. He actually smirks at that. Which is unfair because that stupid smirk short-circuits Wooyoung's brain for half a second.

"I meant," Wooyoung tries again, flustered but stubborn, "you better start worrying. I'm catching up."

San looks him up and down. "Yeah?" he says, eyes sharp. "Guess we'll see."

Wooyoung tightens his grip on his taser. He's not even sure it's on. "Okay, okay, look. You've cornered. You're caught. Let's skip the part where you do something cool and I eat concrete. Just... hands up. Let me win this one."

San's smile is slow and wicked and infuriatingly attractive. "Let you win?"

"Dude, please. I've lost, like six times. I still have bruises from the museum incident."

"You fell down the stairs."

"You pushed me down the stairs."

San doesn't deny it. He just keeps walking forward. Calm. One boot scuffing softly on the pavement like this is just a casual stroll.

Wooyoung holds his ground. Mostly. His knees are doing a tiny little fear bounce but he tells them to shut up.

And then San stops right in front of him. Barely a foot of air between them.

"You ever think maybe you don't want to catch me?" San says, voice low and soft.

Wooyoung blinks. "What?"

"You keep chasing, and you keep failing." San leans in just a fraction. "And I'm so nice that I keep letting you get close."

"That's not—" Wooyoung swallows. "You think this is what, some kind of game?"

San doesn't answer. Just reaches out and gently taps the front of Wooyoung's coat with one finger. Right above his heart, "You always come running when it's me."

"And you always run," Wooyoung whispers back, eyes locked on his.

"Do I?" San murmurs.

Something presses against Wooyoung's waist. Cold and sharp.

His hands shoots down instinctively—but by the time he gets there, the handcuffs are gone, and so is San.

"Nope nope nope—" Wooyoung spins around, heart thudding like a bass drum. "San!"

He hears laughter echoing down the alley, light and cruel and beautiful, like the win itself is making fun of him.

There's a folded scrap of paper on the ground where San had been standing.

Wooyoung picks it up.

Better luck next time, detective. You're cute when you're mad.

He groans. Loudly. And kicks the wall. Immediately regrets it because ow.

"SON OF A—"

It's almost 3AM when Wooyoung stumbles into his apartment, coat barely hanging on one shoulder, taser dead in his pocket and a half-eaten convenience store kimbap shoved in his mouth.

The alley encounter with San earlier keeps playing on repeat in his head. That look. That smirk. That note.

"Better luck next time." God, is he flirting? Who flirts through petty criminal mind games?

Wooyoung throws his coat onto the couch, drags himself into his room, and faceplants on the bed.

His forehead thumps against the pillow. "Maybe I need a new job."

"You'd be terrible at anything else."

Wooyoung freezes.

He lifts his head slowly. Very slowly.

There's someone sitting on the edge of his bed.

San?

Choi. Freaking. San.

Leaning back, legs crossed, in the same dark jacket. Boots kicked off neatly by the wall like this is his damn house.

Wooyoung scrambles back so hard he falls off the bed. "WHAT THE—"

"You should lock your window." San says it like he's giving actual home security advice. "Not that it would've stopped me."

"You—how did you—why are you—" Wooyoung gropes for his phone. "You're not supposed to be here! This is breaking and entering—urgh! I'm calling backup!"

San doesn't move.

Wooyoung dials. Hits the call button. "Dispatch. I—"

click.

Something tightens around his wrist.

He stares down at his hand. The phone clatters to the floor.

There's a pair of handcuffs. Not his. Shinier. Tighter. Connected to the metal frame of his bed.

His bed.

"...You brought your own cuffs?"

San hums as he climbs over him. "Yours are flimsy."

"You—San—this is a felony—"

"You love when I commit felonies."

"The fuck? I don't—"

"You're hard."

Wooyoung shuts up.

San's fingers trace along the line of his jaw, his throat, his chest. It's infuriating how calm he is, how in control. How he looks at Wooyoung like he already owns him.

"Do you know how easy it is to follow you?" San murmurs, breath hot near his ear. "You go to the same shitty corner store every night. You drink the same energy drink. Your light's always on past midnight. You sigh so dramatically when you jerk off."

"What? I.. I don't jerk off.."

San slides his thigh between Wooyoung's legs and grinds just slightly.

Wooyoung lets out a breathy, involuntary noise and curses himself for it.

"There it is," San says softly. "That sound. I wanted to hear it from you this time."

"You're a criminal—"

"Mm. And you're not stopping me, aren't you?"

San's mouth brushes his. Not a kiss. Just enough to make Wooyoung shiver and lean up into it.

His other wrist gets cuffed.

He's spread open, back pressed to the mattress, cheeks burning, breath shallow. His shirt gets unbuttoned like San has all night to savor the process. And maybe he does. Because Wooyoung sure as hell isn't going anywhere.

"You think I've been running," San murmurs against his neck, tongue flicking just beneath his jaw. "But I've always been circling."

"You talk like a—" Wooyoung gasps when San's fingers slip under his waistband. "—like a villain."

"I am a villain," San whispers. "But you? You're mine."

San says it low, right into Wooyoung's ear as he palms him through his pants, slow. It's barely any pressure but Wooyoung's hips jerk up helplessly.

"Y-you're insane," Wooyoung pants.

San hums, like that's a compliment. "Probably. But you're the one with both wrist cuffed, hard, probably horny for me. So what does that say about you?"

"I hate you," Wooyoung spits, even as he writhes in the hold, chest flushed, breath getting choppier with every second.

"No, you don't, detective," San murmurs, dragging his tongue across Wooyoung's collarbone. "You keep chasing me. You like when I make you lose."

Wooyoung lets out a breathy, frustrated groan, bucking up. "If I wasn't tied up—"

"You'd what?" San's hand finally slides inside, knuckle brushing against Wooyoung's skin. "Arrest me? Tackle me? Ride me while swearing you're doing it for justice?"

"Wooyoung's moan is half choked, head tipping back against the mattress.

San watches him—soaked in moonlight, chest heaving, skin burning under his fingertips. "God, you're so easy, detective."

"Are you going to fuck me or keep yapping?" Wooyoung bites, voice hoarse and wrecked.

San grins. "Say please."

"Go to hell."

San squeezes—hard—and Wooyoung gasps like it knocks the air from his lungs.

"Try again," San purrs, licking the curve of Wooyoung's neck. "Or I'll edge you til sunrise."

Wooyoung's entire body arches. "Fuck—please."

"There's my good boy," San says, low and pleased.

San's hand slides down, unfastening Wooyoung's pants with ease. There's a sharp inhale from Wooyoung as cool air hits his skin, boxers tugged just low enough for San to cup him fully.

"You're so hard," San murmurs, eyes locked onto his flushed, twitching dick. He wraps his fingers around the shaft, slow and deliberate, dragging a moan out of Wooyoung that makes his spine arch against the mattress. "Didn't even have to di anything yet."

"S-San—"

The grip tightens.

Wooyoung harks in the cuffs, the metal clinking above his head. "Fuck—!"

San strokes him, shaft to tip, dragging his thumb across the leaking slit. "Every time I've seen you," he whispers, "I wondered if you'd fall apart like this. So loud and so messy."

"Y-you're crazy—"

"But you love it." San leans in, dragging his tongue from the base of Wooyoung's throat to his ear. "Tell me you don't want this."

Wooyoung's head thrashes. His cock is already pulsing in San's hand, every nerve lit up. "I hate how good it feels," he gasps. "I—ah—fuck, San—!"

San pulls away just long enough to strip, his dick already hard, glistening at the tip. Wooyoung stares, wide-eyed, lips parted, breath ragged. And San smirks.

"You gonna take it like a good little detective?" he taunts, stroking himself just above Wooyoung's bare thigh. "Beg for it."

Wooyoung groans, eyes fluttering. "Please. San—please—just fuck me."

"That's more like it."

He reaches down, slicks his fingers with spit, then presses one between Wooyoung's legs without warning. The first slide is fast, too fast, and Wooyoung gasps, back arching hard.

"God—!"

"You've been thinking about this too, haven't you?" San mutters as he works him open, finger pumping in and out, curling just right. "Jerking off at night, pretending it was me. Wishing I'd break in and ruin you."

"No— shut up—!"

Another finger joins the first, scissoring him open, and Wooyoung's protest melts into a groan. "Fuck—"

"You want it rough? I'll give you rough."

San lines up, presses the tip against him, and thrusts in—hard, fast, all at once. Wooyoung cries out, thighs trembling, eyes wide and desperate.

"F-fuck—San—!!"

"That's right." San hisses through his teeth as he thrusts his dick. "Tight. Fuck, you're perfect."

He doesn't wait.

The thrusts start fast and brutal, each one slamming Wooyoung against the mattress with enough force to rattle the frame. The cuffs clink in rhythm with every snap of San's hips, and Wooyoung's moans get louder, wilder, completely lost in it.

"God—you're deep—"

"Say my name," San grunts. "Let the whole fucking building hear who owns you."

"San—! Ahhh—San—please—"

Sweat slicks their skin. San's hand grips Wooyoung thigh, spreading him wider, angling deeper, until he hits the spot that makes the detective sob beneath him.

"There it is," San growls. "That little sound I've been wanting to hear."

Wooyoung's dick is flushed, aching, leaking over his own stomach. San wraps a hand around it again and strokes in time with his thrusts—hard and fast, overwhelming.

"I'm gonna cum," Wooyoung pants. "F-fuck—I can't take it anymore—!"

"Do it," San snaps.

And Wooyoung does, with a scream, his whole body locking up as he spills across his chest, white-hot and blinding. The orgasm wracks through him, violent and raw, leaving him twitching and soaked.

San fucks him through it, chasing his own release. He buries himself completely one last time, groaning into Wooyoung's neck as he releases his load deep inside him, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

The room goes quiet, save of their gasping breaths.

San slumps forward, lips pressed to Wooyoung's temple.

"You're mine," he murmurs. "Every inch of you."

Wooyoung's too dazed to respond. He just lies there, wrecked, cum scared across his stomach, San's dick still buried deep inside him.

And then—softly, breathhlessly—Wooyoung mutters, "Fuck. I think I need a shower. And therapy."

San laughs against his skin. "You need another round."

San's chest is pressed against his, arm slung lazily over his waist like he owns the bed. Like this is his place. Like this wasn't breaking and entering followed by the most intense sex of Wooyoung's life.

"Are you... cuddling me?" Wooyoung asks, voice still scratchy.

San's voice is sleepy and smug. "Yeah."

"Don't criminals usually, I don't know, flee the scene?"

"Hmm? I already got what I came for."

"Urgh, so annoying," Wooyoung mutters, though he can't help the embarrassed little smile twitching at his lips. "Also, uncuff me!"

"Mmm." San yawns. "Nah. You're cuter like this."

"I hate you."

"Sure you do," San mumbles, burying his face into Wooyoung's neck.

And it's almost—dangerously—sweet. For like ten seconds.

Until, "Detective Jung, report your location. Dispatch has received an incomplete distress call from your number."

The radio on the floor crackles to life.

San blinks.

Wooyoung blinks.

"...Didn't you hang up your phone before?" San asks, slow horror hit his face.

"I THOUGHT I DID!" Wooyoung shrieks, jerking at the cuffs.

"Are you kidding me right now?!"

"I was distracted!"

The sound of distant sirens starts to build outside.

San bolts up, fully naked, yanking his shirt over his head mid-sprint towards the window.

"San—wait!" Wooyoung yells, struggling against the cuffs. "UNCUFF ME YOU ASSHOLE!"

"I literally can't, I dropped the key somewhere under the bed!"

"You're leaving me like this?!"

"I'll come back for you!" San yells over his shoulder, halfway out the window.

"You are such a jerk!"

San smirks as he climbs out. "I'll see you soon, detective."

And just like that—he's gone.

Wooyoung collapses back against the pillow, one arm still stuck, body sore, hair a mess, and definitely not wearing any pants.

He sighs.

"Yeah.. I definitely need a new job."

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/783371904532807680/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs783124392940126208

CRAZY CLIFFHANGER 😞 WHAT HAPPENSSS

part 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what we've all been waiting for!!!!!! get ready. last part soon

au masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

"hey," gabe managed, his voice disrupting the eerie silence around them. when their gazes met it felt like time stopped. neither of them had seen one another since gabe left for new hampshire a few weeks ago and now they stood feet apart teetering on a dangerous line with each other.

it felt weird to not just jump into the other's arms like so many times when gabe's gotten back from an away game. emma stared at the boy in front of her like she couldn't actually believe he came.

her heart was racing, but she managed a smile and waved him over. when he sat down on the step she stuffed her hands into her hoodie so he wouldn't see how much she was shaking due to the nerves.

"hey," emma mumbled and it sounded like her voice was echoing because there was no other side but their breathing.

"hey," gabe said again because he had no idea what to say or where to start. he did not wanna fuck up his one chance to make things right again, so he opted for nothing and let emma lead the conversation since he invited him out.

however, emma was thinking the same thing with nothing to say, so they sat in silence instead. she wouldn't meet his gaze that she could tell was trying to find hers. her eyes locked on the clear sky above them and the faded outlines of downtown in the distance. there was so much to say, but neither of them knew how to say it nor how to begin. the blonde started regretting her rash decision to next the boy, but she listened to samy and drew's voice in her head telling her to hear him out.

"i didn't think you were such a night owl," emma finally broke the painful silence. she still didn't meet his gaze, but she could see him looking at her from the corner of his eye.

"i'm not, really. i kind of just woke up," gabe shurgged a bit.

"so i did wake you up?" he said she didn't.

"i mean..kind of but i've never woken up to texts like that before. it was weird," the hockey player admitted and emma flushed.

"i was really restless and was making rash decisions. sorry i woke you up. i should have waited until like a reasonable time to text."

"don't apologize. i get it. my mind's been racing too," gabe sighed and emma side eyed briefly before he caught her looking.

"big final later?"

"yeah something like that.." maybe he should have just come right out and said he's been thinking about her all week, but gabe hadn't gained that courage yet. he just hoped emma could read between the lines of what he wasn't saying.

she could.

she just didn't know how to say it because it felt like she said everything she needed to. it was on gabe to say what he didn't get to say on that phone call, but she also knew him well enough to know that gabe hated bringing things up first even when he knew he should.

so emma kept talking because it wouldn't go anywhere if she did and maybe she was starting to enjoy his company, "i saw your debut."

gabe's head snapped to hers and emma finally met his gaze.

"you did?"

"the livestream, yeah. it was really cool seeing you on the big stage like that," the blonde managed a tiny smile. that sinking feeling gabe's felt since he came back slowly disappeared hearing the girl say that to him.

even after unintentionally hurting her she still supported him.

god, he fucked up real bad.

"thank you. i-i appreciate it. it was crazy cool. i was super nervous skating out there like that," the new rookie admitted.

"i could kind of tell, but you looked really great out there. you really belong on the ice."

"i love it out there. it's like a second home to me. i can just..forget everything for two hours," gabe found emma's eyes again. they lingered for a bit longer than they should have until she looked away. he frowned and remembered how much hurt he caused still.

"look, i know you don't wanna keep hearing my bullshit, but i'm an idiot for not telling you about all of this. a really huge fucking idiot. i was always so caught up in the moment that every time i thought about telling you, i got scared. i was scared you'd hate me for choosing hockey over school or..thinking i was going too fast..or worse, you'd break up with me because you'd decide you didn't wanna do long distance. i couldn't face that with you or myself, so i just..didn't tell you. i thought i'd man up and tell you before that game, but i never got myself to call you. it's such bullshit, i know, and you have every right to hate me," gabe finally got it out. he didn't look at her as he said it because he couldn't see the hurt on her expression. it'd just make himself even sadder.

emma was silent for a long time. she processed his words, tried staying rational because she knew getting mad like she did on that phone call was not the right thing to do. what samy said had stuck in her mind, "i don't hate you, gabe. i don't think i could ever hate you if i tried."

they met gazes, "you don't?"

"i don't like using the word hate. i'm upset and mad, yeah, but i could never hate you. i shouldn't have said all of those things to you on the phone in the way that i did. i was just..mad and confused..my emotions were talking for me. i should have heard you out more and i'm sorry i acted that way."

"no, no, i deserved it. i was a fucking shitty boyfriend for never talking to you about something that affects both of us. i was shitty for keeping it from you and talking to everyone but you.." gabe argued because if anything he was the bad person here not emma. she had every right to lash out on him like that.

"let's just say there was a lot of things we should have done and said instead on that call. we'll be here all night if we just apologize like that back and forth," the blonde decided and her and gabe apologizing back and forth was not the reason she texted him to meet up and talk. the boy shut his mouth as the silence engulfed them again.

"how long did samy and julianne know?" emma broke the silence and asked the one question she did not want to hear the answer to, but asked anyway.

gabe grimaced, "like..three weeks?" he remembered telling them for sure that he was probably going to sign on after the season was over.

he hated watching the way emma frowned, "and when did you start talking to them about it?"

"probably after new years," gabe's voice was quiet because he knew how bad it sounded to hear that the two of the girls emma had insecurities about knew all of this way before her.

"can i ask why it was easier to talk to them than me?"

"em.."

"please tell me, gabe. i love samy and julianne to death and i know they'd never...but you still chose to talk to them over me," her voice broke and so did the hockey player's heart.

"i guess it felt easier? i don't know. it's not an excuse and i'm not trying to make this one, but i guess...i've known samy, julianne, and hannah since i was like..16. we grew up together and..you know i'd never think of any of them that way. samy's like my sister. we fight like siblings, but i go to her not because i don't wanna talk to you, but just..i don't know how to explain it. it's different with them than it is with you..i guess? that sounds bad. i guess simply, i don't need to do anything to impress them or think about what i'm doing with them. i know i don't need to impress you, but i guess i still feel like i need to.." the dark-haired boy trailed off because he definitely was not making sense and he probably sounded like he was making more excuses for himself.

"it's like...this decision i made was one that was going to affect the future of like everything. you are—were..whatever..i want you in my future. if i told you, i worried i would burden you and make you think you suddenly need to change things around to fit into this future and i did not want you to change anything or feel burdened by this decision i was trying to make so i turned to someone who yes, is going to be in my future but wouldn't be burdened by it. it's like..it's like samy talking to ryan or i about things going on in her life before will sometimes. she doesn't wanna burden him with stuff knowing how much he's already got on us plate. it sounds bad and she's working on it, but..you get what i mean? it's not like i was purposefully talking to her to hurt you. i wanted to try and avoid hurting you even though i did anyway.." gabe continued when emma didn't respond.

the blonde stared at him for a long moment, her frown settling into a more straight face as she slowly understood his words.

"i promise samy or any of them have never meant anything to me in that way if that's a worry you still have. sure, maybe when we were like..fourteen and i didn't even know her i just knew she was luke's little sister, but will's like my brother which means samy's a sister to me. although, i do understand why you have the worry and i'm sorry i've made you think otherwise if i ever have. i never meant to."

the boy apologized so much he didn't have anything more to say so he just waited for emma to talk again. the girl looked deep in thought as she processed everything he just said.

"i think because every guy i've dated has always had another girl waiting for him, i've been trained to think it's the case with everyone..i never doubted samy or you..i think i just..my brain likes to jump to the worst, especially dating athletes, sorry. you're nothing like the stereotype though," emma finally said.

"wow, thanks i guess. i try not to be," gabe chuckled and emma let out a small laugh too. "i'm really sorry you've had negative experiences with guys like that. it sucks when they just continuously prove you right and i'm sorry i did too. i never meant to..hurt you in this way."

"the thing is though you proved me wrong. i'm serious about being nothing like your sports' stereotype. you showed up, you texted, you called, you hung out with me even after a long practice...we just..miscommunicated i guess," the blonde frowned again.

"yeah, i guess we did."

"i get making a decision as huge as signing on wit a professional team is a huge deal. my brother faced the same decision when choosing a college for swimming and i, unfortunately, had to face the decision of if i wanted to continue swimming into college or not. i know how the feeling is and i know how hard it is. i shouldn't have been so fast to be hard on you about not saying anything. i do get it's a major decision and..i wouldn't have been burdened at all, but i do get it. i didn't tell my brother about quitting until i did it."

"i didn't know you swam too?"

"for a long time, yeah, tyler and i swam together. i quit because i lost the love for it and i didn't wanna put my body through something i wasn't enjoying on a harder level, so yeah, i get it. i didn't or i wasn't thinking that night we called, but i get it now and i am sorry for acting like i didn't and making you feel worse than you already did," emma fiddled with the ends of her sweatshirt. gabe wanted so badly to reach out and bring her into a hug, but he resisted the urge knowing it could ruin everything if he did too soon.

"also samy's a really great person, they all are, and i didn't mean to make something that wasn't ever anything. i was really insecure at first and felt out of place, which you know, but after hanging around them at world juniors and just talking more, i do feel a lot better. it's just my anxieties will fester and create something—"

"hey, hey, hey. you don't have to keep apologizing. i'm sorry for not being more reassuring when i should have or done something to not make you feel the way you did when we were all together. they were my friends and..i'm sorry," gabe cut her off because honestly, he did get it and if it were the other way around, the hockey player knew he'd have the same anxieties.

another silence engulfed them after they both stopped apologizing for everything. this was always the hard part because what happened now?

gabe was leaving in two days. emma didn't know when she'd see him next because she was going home for a little bit and she was still deciding if she wanted to go to the lake house. however, did any of that really matter when all she wanted to do was fall back into the arms of the boy sitting next to her?

no. not really.

"when do you leave again?" emma asked as if she didn't know.

"wednesday at 3. i have a game on thursday at 6," gabe said. it was monday..well tuesday morning. gabe had less than 24 hours left.

it was on the tip of emma's tongue but she just couldn't get it out. she knew she wanted him again, but was that stupid on her part? was she being rash again?

"when do you go home?" the boy asked.

"tyler and i fly home thursday morning."

"what are you doing tomorrow..or later today after 3?" there was no way gabe was letting this go without at least trying to get her back.

luckily, emma was really hoping he'd say something like that.

"nothing. what are you doing?" she raised her eyebrow.

"can i take you on a date?" gabe grinned a bit.

for the first time that night, emma genuinely smiled back, "yeah, i'd love that."

[mossyoaka03]

Do you think Tim still occasionally stalks the batfam at night? Like, on a night he's nor scheduled for patrol he grabs his camera and goes out to take photos of his family? Idk, what do you think?

IDK actually, mostly because the poor dude always seems exhausted with W.E. and Red Robining. BUT, assuming he has the energy (and a few extra cups of coffee/energy drinks), then YEAH I have no doubt he'd want blackmailing power.

If Dick wanted him to go socialize when Tim has no desire, then all Tim has to do is pull out the photo of the man flipping incorrectly and landing on his bum. (These photos happen more than Dick would ever admit and Tim laughs in the face of his older brother's occasional bad luck)

If Jason wanted Tim to read a 'boring Jane Austen' (according to Tim) book, then all Tim has to do is pull out the photo of the cheap Robin outfit the man wore when he beat up Tim in the Tower. Tim does not remotely care that he has used this photo for multiple 'get out of reading' cards, because Jason always backs up/feels guilty enough to let Tim go. (tho sometimes Tim just threatens to pull it out and then feels guilty at the suggestion and lets Jason read to him so long as Tim can work on something else at the same time). He likes following Jason just because the big guy gets a sixth sense about it and it irritates him all night that he can't SEE the guy following him. (still hasn't figured out it's Tim yet).

Damian...Tim follows on occasion (read all the time because he worries about his stabby little brother). He enjoys getting the photos of Damian rescuing the homeless kittens and puppies because his little brother is acting like the child he should be in those moments. (Those photos don't end up in the blackmail bin, but the ones where Damian has no clue about a pop-culture reference DO because the bean never admits he doesn't understand something).

Tim follows Bruce too, but the man sometimes realizes he has a shadow and offers cape cuddles at the boring part of patrols. (Tim takes full advantage of these because he didn't have cape cuddles as Robin). Damian does not understand these moments and Tim selfishly snaps photos of Damian's confusion when Bruce offers the younger to join in. However, what Bruce doesn't know, is that Tim lets himself be found. When he really wants to be stealthy, suddenly Bruce has to do all the paperwork for W.E. for the week or Tim gets to do X thing because Tim snapped a photo of him slipping on ice or landing wrong after a jump. (Bruce grunts and lets Tim get away with it because heaven forbid his other children find out he's clumsy sometimes. His training should be better).

[strange-anni]

This is the source El finds in the void and it's twofold. It's the father. In this case it's Neil but he's just a stand-in for Lonnie.

The other source is the Steel Works warehouse BRIMBORN but that's not how it is presented to us throughout season 3.

It reads more like BRIMBORN as a shadow covers up the B pretty consistently, making us unable to read it

Warning for discussions of CSA under the cut

We also get the full address of the steelworks warehouse and it's

Brimborn Steelworks 6522 Cherry Oak Drive

This is how where the MF possessed Billy. Cherry Oak Drive

Lonnie also means oak tree

Max also tells us Billys full address

Billy Hargrove 4819 Cherry Lane

Billy lives on Cherry Lane but he lost himself and got possessed by the father at Cherry Oak Drive. A lane to drive on...

Source

Billy was a Cherry Lane at first until he got corrupted in the Cheery Oak Drive

Billy is short for William and a stand-in for Will

We also learn more about cherries and their availability

Hopper says there is no cherry in the 7-Eleven. Apparently they had only strawberry

That's not entirely true tough as we see with Alexei here. In fact it seems like they have only cherry and cola. But Hopper still drove there even though it was way out of his way. So I'm sure he would have gotten cherry if it were there, right?

Well, maybe it's more like an either/or situation with the Seven and the Eleven in which one number is the cherry and the other is the strawberry . Maybe they are mutually exclusive

As we've already seen though, it's Will who is already associated with cherries via association of Billy which in turn can only mean one thing

Eleven is the strawberry

But

In the end there is no difference. Cherry and strawberry taste the same. They are the same. Just sugar on ice

But what's a strawberry anyway?

Source

First of all of this goes with the Will Byers has DID theory.

For the longest time I was convinced that Will created Eleven on the day he vanished in the woods but I don't think that's what has happened any longer. I think she was there long before. Ready to take over whenever Will needed her to use her superpowers to absorb what he couldn't face.

That's why Eleven is a strawberry. She was there ready to save Will whenever Lonnie sold off his son to buy dr*gs. It's why there is still a cola next the cherry in the 7-Eleven. Coca-Cola or just coke. Other sources also say that a Strawberry is a woman who willingly sells se*ual favors to buy dr*gs. (although willingly is hardly the word I would use here)

In the beginning of the first season El could barely speak and was more like a child who didn't understand anything. This was also done for her protection throughout the years I think. The less she understood what happened, the better it is for her (or so the reasoning goes)

But she still understood the most important part

[artemisbarnowl]

Me, when in the small city where I live: "20 mins to work is TOO LONG"/this place is SMALL and nothing should be more than 15 mins away"

Me, visiting Melbourne: "if I do not get this hot chocolate (one hour away) my life is meaningless and empty"

[cathymee]

hi can we talk about when he gets ethereal. w his vocals specifically. idk if it's just me but when ppl talk about michael that word never gets attached that much. spiritual, otherwordly, angelic maybe but it's like. when it's Michael Jackson it's like a Dominating Presence. in a way that's like Oh My God He's Here That's Him. & there's no other choice but to be keenly aware that That Is Michael. u listen to him sing like that & it's like That's Michael's Voice and it feels like? having to stand in the middle of the road? knowing There Is A Car Approaching Fast so u have to run and move away?? that kind of awareness. his vocals where it's like yeah that's Michael he can do that. w his voice. he can belt out those notes he can growl out those lyrics he can sing like that

but it's like. when it's ethereal it's like that Is Michael but omg Why Is He Like That. scary. beautiful. hypnotic & strange u feel helpless & in awe. Feeling a Presence but never sensing where it's emitting from. hearing him sing & it's like. Are You Real. Where Are You.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ intoxication, sexual content, daddy kink, caretaking, blurry lines of consent.

You’re painfully unaware, though to you, he’s sure it's bliss. 

In your own little world, you stand at the long wooden table, fingers moving across the trackpad of a laptop, a pair of too big glasses sliding down your nose. The left lens is smudged, the smear only getting worse every time you push them up with the back of your hand. There’s a whirlwind of stuff around you, bowls and bags and measuring cups, cracked egg shells and sprinkles scattered across the wood, multi colored icing separated into different containers, and you're so into your work you don't even realize he's in the doorway. 

He almost feels bad for scaring you when he clears his throat. Almost. 

“Oh my god,” you whirl, hand pressed to your chest, half ready to bolt. “S-sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know you were there.” 

Is that anyway to say hi to your daddy sweetheart?

“Good morning.” He eyes the twenty four ounce mason jar to your left. It’s one quarter full, coffee and cream swirling to the bottom. Too much caffeine. 

“Good morning, hi.” You smile, sweet and shy but more emboldened. It’s been a few days since he fed you bites of lemon meringue pie, a few days since he went home and stroked his cock to the memory of your mouth parting for him, eyes half lidded looking up through your lashes. 

Since then, you’ve a bit more brave, encouraged by his careful coaxing, text messages at night and throughout the day to check in, visits in the morning as he heads to base. 

He’s leading his little lamb right into her shepherd’s arms. 

“What’re you working on?” 

“Funfetti birthday cake.” You slide your glasses back up your face. They’re a mess and he can’t resist fixing it, pulling them off, wiping the lenses with bottom of his shirt. You freeze. Little deer in his headlights. 

“Didn’t know you wore glasses.” He places them back where they belong, righting them when they slip, and confirming what he already knew. They’re too big. You need new ones. 

“Th-thank you. I do for reading. And… er, screens. Reading on screens, mostly, though I need them for books too so I guess just… reading in general.” He understands the pause now, the moments when you’ve become self conscious, embarrassed, or you’re looking for the words you need, anxiously trying to piece it all together, step into a skin that doesn't quite fit. 

A rhythm the world doesn't understand. Too cruel, impatient, cold, it has no care for fragile things, too easily reflecting a mirror of his former self. 

He files the bit about you needing to wear glasses when you read, another notation in the long list he’s already memorized, organized, and moves onto his next inquiry. “Who’s the birthday cake for?” 

“Mara. It’s her birthday. They’re…” you make a face like you’ve sniffed spoiled milk, “we’re going out to a pub to celebrate.” He stiffens. On one hand, he’s proud of you. On the other, the idea of you in a pub raises the hair on the back of his neck, has him a bit out of his mind. 

He’s not interested in clipping your wings, but going out to a pub with no one to watch over you? Not bloody likely. “Tonight?” 

“Mhm.” You’re rubbing a stick of butter in a round pan. “Funfetti is the classic birthday cake. You know, the vanilla cake with the sprinkles?” He shakes his head. “Oh. Well, um, it is. It's mostly a kid thing now, but I think it's the ultimate birthday cake. Birthdays are supposed to be fun but you know... they kind of suck when you're an adult. Anyway... funfetti is fun so, that's why...” 

“Maybe you can save me a slice. Where are you going?” 

“Save you…" your brows crease as you try to process what he's said. "Doc’s.” You’ve dropped the stick of butter abruptly, greasy fingers gripping the edge of the pan. Doc’s. It’s a younger crowd, a bit posh, but still a bit dark. Has a bit of an edge. 

It’s been a few weeks since he’s gotten a pint with Kyle and Johnny anyway. 

He smiles, strokes the backs of his knuckles down your cheek, satisfied when you lean in for more, disappointed the few minutes he had to drop in are now over. “I’ve gotta go baby, be good for me.” Your mouth drops open so wide he thinks he might be able to fit his cock in it. 

“Oh, okay. I- I will.” 

What did you forget?

Daddy. I will, daddy.

“That ‘er?” Kyle motions with his beer bottle towards the table where you stand nervously at the edge, floral flecked dress swaying just above your knees. You've looped a white ribbon through your hair, the beacon of a gentle soul that seems to be calling out to every muppet in the building, every wandering eye fueling a fire burning in his blood. 

“Yeah.” His stomach is sour. Even a neat pour of whiskey and pint didn’t settle him. 

You’re trying so hard. Smiling and nodding and listening to everyone, clutching your drink like it’s a lifeline. Mara seems to understand the grace you need, but no one else in the group gets it, and some of them give you weird looks, or worse, look at each other when you’re not paying attention in annoyance. Your only friend at the table catches a few of them and shoots stern glares as she shakes her head, but it doesn’t change much. 

“She looks uncomfortable,” Johnny grunts, his scrupulous eye never missing a thing. Someone asks you a question, and you stumble over your answer, looking away to the wall when a girl to your left blatantly smirks, and then sneers directly in your face. Simon’s blood boils. 

“She’s different from them, it’s hard for her.” It's the easiest way to explain it. You’re one in a million. His one in a million. 

The table laughs at something, and you frantically flick over each person’s face, trying to pick up on a joke you clearly did not understand. Eventually, you just settle for another smile, resigned to watch it all from the outside as conversation flows from person to person, but never towards you. 

Sweet girl. He wants to take you home where you’re safe and happy and carefree, where you can be yourself and not have to worry about trying to keep up or facing everyone’s judgement. Where he can hold your perfect and precious heart in his hand and protect it. Where he can fuck the memory of this night right out of you, bounce you on his cock until the only thing you know how to do is come for him, over and over again. 

He misses the exact moment the cake appears among the stacks of shot glasses. Your anxiety ramps up as everyone starts to eat their slices, shoulders high beneath your ears, fingers knotted together too tight. It’s an eternity before the first person looks at you, mouth half full and thrilled, their enthusiasm alleviating some of the weight that's been sitting on his chest, and yours. Whatever they say seems to lessen the weight because you’re smiling again, excited, and as more people turn your way, the smile turns to a full on beam, your words from the other night echoing in his ears. 

I like feeding people. 

Another hour passes before he decides to call it, the group now spread across the pub, scattered around different tables, at the bar, outside smoking. You’re in a corner with your back to the room talking to Mara, and when he appears in her line of sight, she spots him immediately, grabbing your arm, mouthing something he doesn’t catch. 

You turn- 

And light up like a fucking Christmas tree. 

“Captain Riley!” The alcohol has made you bold, slow synapses firing less rapidly, providing a longer lead time, somewhat preventing you from second guessing or withholding yourself. 

“Hi baby.”

“I’m just gonna…” Mara tries to move away but you reach for her. 

“Happy Birthday Mar. Thanks for inviting,” you hiccup, “me.” She gives you a squeeze. 

“Thanks for coming, and for the cake, it was amazing. Made me feel like I was kid, ya know? When birthdays really mattered.” Sadness flickers in her eyes, and then disappears in a glaze of intoxication. “Anyway, see you Monday?” 

“Yep.” She gives you one more hug before slipping away, and you sigh. 

“She loved her cake.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You’ve got this dreamy look on your face, sleepy and sweet, a little kitten who’s ready to curl up for a nap. 

Cast a line. See if you’re biting. 

“How’re you gettin’ home?” 

“An uber?” You lick your lips. “Or… uh. A Lyft?” You lurch to the side and he darts forward to steady you, movement too fast for you to track, all of it ending up as a surprise, like you weren’t even in your body for a moment. “Th-thanks.” You study his hand, where it sits on your arm. “You know you’re so big?” His lips twitch to the side of his mouth. 

“Yeah sweetheart. I’m big.” You’re still staring at his hand. “D’you need a ride home?” 

“Huh?” He's held this in the back of his mind all night as a possibility, built a tentative plan for this opportunity too golden to pass up. No fucking way are you going home in a rideshare or with anyone else. 

“I’m taking you home.” You shrug at the declaration with little trepidation and take his hand. 

So sweet and full of trust. 

He never specified which home. 

When the gravel of his driveway crunches under the truck’s tires, you don’t stir, and you don’t wake up when he turns it off or opens the passenger side door, your head lolling against your shoulder. 

“Sweetheart,” He keeps his voice low, reaching across your lap to unbuckle your seatbelt, brushing against your breasts, soft exhales puffing little clouds across his skin. “We’re here.” 

“Hmm?” you crack an eye open and then shake your head, “no ‘m sleeping.” Your cheek is warm in his palm, and he kisses it, trying to rouse you, gauge your reaction. Your awareness. Your nose wrinkles. “Stop.” 

“C’mon, you'll be more comfortable inside.” You whimper when he jostles you, pinning a palm to your temple. 

“My head hurts.” Poor baby. 

“I know,” he pulls you up out of the seat and into his chest, carefully supporting your balance. He’s taking liberties now, wrapping an arm around your waist, curling his fingers along the nape of your neck, brushing his lips across your forehead when you whine, high pitched and crackled, broken under the weight of too much alcohol and need for more sleep. “I know baby, Let’s get you into bed.” You lay your cheek on his chest and sigh. 

“Okay.” 

“Spit.” He holds the cup under your lips and you do as he asks diligently, bubbly white toothpaste getting caught on the corner of your mouth. 

Getting you upstairs and into his room went just as he anticipated. A little anxiety, a little uncertainty, all of it gently soothed until you were sitting on his bed and he was taking off your shoes, reassuring you, promising everything was okay and you were right where you belonged. 

“You’re safe with me sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you.” 

Now, you’re perched on the closed toilet lid in his bathroom as he finishes brushing your teeth, sleepy and serene, naked thighs peeking out from beneath the hem of his t-shirt. 

You’re completely unguarded, vulnerable, another layer peeled back, another piece he lays claim to. 

His sweet little fawn. 

He knew all along this was underneath the weight you carried. That when you finally felt safe and cherished and cared for, you’d bloom, be yourself without the pressure of everything else. Deep down, beneath the expectations of how everyone thinks you should talk, or act, or behave, behind all the coping mechanisms you’ve taught yourself, buried under mountains of complexity, is his precious little girl who needs her hand held and her tears wiped. Who’s brilliant and beautiful and different, and has never had the space to just be. 

Now, you'll be able to do just that while he takes care of the rest. He'll decide. You’ll have boundaries. You’ll have rules. You’ll have daddy and he’ll take away the endless pressure that closes in on you from all sides, he'll ensure you get what you need. There will be less worry, less fear and unlimited opportunities to be. 

“My face.” You tilt your chin back with your eyes closed, and he chuckles. 

“What about it?” 

“My,” hiccup, “makeup.” He turns the tap on warm, testing the temp until he’s satisfied, and soaks a washcloth. 

“Keep your eyes closed.” You sit still as he works, dabbing away everything on your eyelids and lashes, wiping underneath to catch anything he missed. “There we go.” You sway in his grip and slur.

“Bed now?” 

“Last thing.” There’s a glass of water and naproxen on the counter, and you swallow them without question. He hides his grimace. That will need to be addressed in the morning. When you try to put the glass back on the counter, he shakes his head. “All of it,” you manage to get the rest of the water down, and he squeezes your hip. “That’s my girl.” 

“You’re warm.” Your arm is slung over his middle, a cold foot tucked between his knees, mouth half open on his pillow. Completely uninhibited, nearly asleep. 

His cock is hard against his stomach beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, aching with a fullness he can’t relieve. He’s been hard since he undressed you, peeled your bra off and held you to his chest as he unhooked it, felt your perfect, pretty breasts and nipples against him as he tugged his shirt over your head. You were bashful, buried your face into his neck with a trembling giggle, but refused to let go, sunk your fingernails into his biceps as your hands shook. His sweet, shy girl. 

He rubs your back, works his fingers in the knots between your shoulders, watching your lashes flutter as you try to fight sleep.  

“Tomorrow…” There’s a last minute flash of uncertainty, and he presses his lips to your forehead. 

“It’s okay, we’ll talk at breakfast sweetheart. It’s time for bed.” Tomorrow. You'll be fighting a battle tomorrow, a hangover, anxiety, an endless spiral of confusion and doubt, but he'll be here to guide you through it. 

The only way out is through. 

It will be a lot easier on both of you if you're able to get some sleep. 

“Yeah, ’s past my bedtime.” You whisper with a hazy, playful smile on the wisp of a giggle. "We should have pancakes for breakfast." Your easy, peaceful state encourages him to go a step further. Cast a line, see if you’re biting. 

"If you close your eyes and go to sleep, Daddy will make you pancakes in the morning." You nod with a yawn, tucking your face between the pillow and his shoulder. 

"Mmkay then. Night." It's not a protest, it's not a flinch, it's not a moment of disgust, and satisfaction roars, rips through him like bullet, this instinct and desire long honed finally settling in the place where it belongs. In you. 

"Goodnight baby." He stares at the ceiling as you disappear into dreams and plans his mission. Plots his checkpoints, sets his objectives. Lead, decide, control. 

Bring you home. Permanently. 

[madlori]

My ankle journey

I am sharing this with all you good people on the dash because I am so fucking mad it took so long for me to learn it and if I can spare one (1) person the agony it will be worth it.

So for like...oh, 8 or 9 months, I've been struggling with pain/inflammation/tendinitis in my left Achilles tendon. I don't know what caused it. It just started up (welcome to middle age, this shit happens). It wasn't severe enough to be debilitating, but it was annoying and limiting. It was also intermittent, in that some days it would be very painful and other days hardly at all. The kind of shoe I was wearing affected it a lot.

Now, I have bone spurs on both heels (it's just a thing that happens as you get older sometimes). I'm also aware that heel pain is usually the result of tight calf muscles that pull and irritate the tendon. I tried stretching that calf muscle. You know the stretch, this bitch right here:

I did it all the time. I also iced the ankle after walking for awhile, hoping to avoid inflammation. Results were...unsatisfying.

I went to:

A chiropractor

A podiatrist

A physical therapist

A bodywork coach

They all gave me some variation on the "strengthen your calf muscle, stretch your calf muscle" advice. I continued doing this without results.

I was getting frustrated, and a little afraid that this was just my life now. Finally, I thought...maybe some targeted massage might help. I asked for rec on a local FB site and was pointed to a woman who specializes in therapeutic massage including cupping, etc.

I went to her a week ago.

She spent over half our first session working on my left lower leg. Within about 10 minutes of making my eyes water, she uttered the sentence I did not know I had been waiting to hear:

"Oh, it's your soleus."

Excuse me, what?

"It's your soleus that's the culprit. It's all tied up and stiff." She started digging into it and I felt literal sparks run up my leg as she released adhesions and got the muscle moving a little. When she finally put the leg down, it felt like it was on fire with all the blood rushing into it.

She said, "You'll need to stretch your soleus. It'll clear up, but it'll take a bit of time - tendons take ages to heal."

But I HAVE been stretching.

"No, you haven't. The usual straight-leg calf stretch only stretches the gastrocnemius, that's the big belly muscle in your calf. That's not your problem. That stretch doesn't stretch the soleus. Don't worry, I'll show you how to stretch it."

My mind is spinning.

So here are the muscles in question:

The gastroc (as the pros call it) just attaches down the back but the soleus runs underneath it from the knee around the side to the heel. The lower part above the ankle is where it typically gets tight and forms adhesions.

To stretch it, you do the same calf thing where you put your foot back and press your heel to the ground, but you have to do it with your KNEE BENT:

The bent knee keeps the gastroc from engaging. It's one of those selfish muscles (like traps) - if you give it an inch, it'll just take over and prevent other muscles from working or stretching. There are other ways to stretch the soleus but this is the easiest and you can literally do it anywhere. I've been doing it while standing and waiting for things (the elevator to come, the toast to toast). You just put the heel back and bend the knee. It's kind of like curtseying.

The minute I did this stretch, I could FEEL where it was pulling on my tendon. I knew that THIS had been the problem.

The massage therapist also told me to stop icing my heel. She said icing is for an acute injury, but a more chronic aggravation needs heat, to increase blood flow for healing. She recommended elevation with heat every day (I've been doing it in bed during "phone before bed" time).

I have been doing the soleus stretch at least half a dozen times a day for almost a week, and the ankle is at least 70% better. It is still a little tight and tender, but the improvement is significant. I think a few more weeks will have it feeling normal.

I am...blown away by this. This massage therapist was able to pinpoint an issue in only a few minutes that eluded all the other professionals I saw. I can't wait to go back to her and have her solve all my other problems, tbh.

[2c75ff]

tag dump;

General:

— ic ▸ what's so foolish about wanting to have a little fun? — ooc ▸ we're gonna hit you with the aftermath — inbox ▸ and what do you want now? — memes ▸ nobody is as strong as i am — headcanons ▸ a part of the game — drabbles ▸ you're hitting your limit while i'm just getting in it — countenance ▸ am i giving you a hot flash? — my art ▸ you ain't seen the best of me yet — crack ▸ your sensors must be malfunctioning — saved ▸ too much is not enough

Supplementary:

— musings ▸ my whole life all i wanted was a change of pace — aesthetics ▸ break out the gate with a rock in your walk — fashion ▸ talking the talk; put up or shut up — interests ▸ you know it ain't easy running out of thrills — audio ▸ we make it loud

Verses:

— main; post cell ▸ i still don't fuck with the in crowd

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

Last | Master Post | Next...

"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[mrsbarnesblog]

i've got you

part 2

masterlist

summary: after getting a terrifying message from you manipulative ex, you lock yourself in the Camerons’ guest bathroom, spiraling into panic as everything starts to fall apart. what you don't expect is Rafe walking in and completely losing it when he realizes what’s going on.

word count: 2k

warnings: SA (non-consensual recording and sex while being drunk), blackmailing, panic attack, protective Rafe

The guest bathroom in the Cameron’s house felt like the safest place at the moment, and the second you closed the door, you collapsed on the floor, constantly buzzing with your phone still in your hand. 

It’s been like that for the last hour—endless messages from your ex, Ethan, who hasn’t wanted to leave you alone since you two broke up a few weeks ago. But when you were sitting with Sarah in the kitchen while she was cooking something on the stove and your phone lit up with a message, a video of you from him, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your hands started shaking violently, tears blurred your vision, as you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was just a preview, just a few seconds, but it was enough to understand. It was you on the bed, the dress from a few months ago when you went out with Ethan and some friends was gathered around your waist. You remember being drunk, barely conscious when he took you home, and then the next morning with pain all over your body. 

You didn’t remember having sex.

Sarah was oblivious to your breakdown, and you quickly managed to slip away from the kitchen, mumbling to her that you needed to use the restroom. 

You sat on the floor, back against the wall, staring at your phone screen with your heart thudding so hard it echoed in your ears. A consuming panic washed over you when messages kept coming from him.

Ethan (1:08 PM):

You really think I won’t do it? You think I won’t show them what you let me record? And i have more

Ethan (1:09 PM):

You looked so sweet in that video. Moaning for me like a slut. I bet Sarah’s brother would LOVE to see it.

Your blood turned to ice.

You don’t remember agreeing to anything. You would never have let that happen. He must’ve taken the pictures and videos without you knowing. You’d trusted him, loved him, been so fucking stupid—

It must be a nightmare. It should be, right? Ethan was bothering you, trying to convince you to go back to him, but straight up blackmailing you? You curled into yourself tighter, digging your nails into your thighs, as hiccups and cries shook your whole body. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop your mind from racing because there was nothing you could do. No one who could help. And if those images were released? If they were sent to Rafe? You would be done for. 

The door cracked open before you could even register it, and the person whom you wanted to see the least in that state stood in the doorway. 

“Yo,” Rafe said casually. “Sarah said you were—“ Your head whipped up in panic at his voice, eyes growing wide, before you started desperately wiping at your face to hide the flow of your tears. But he froze when he saw you on the floor, looking so small and helpless. 

“The fuck—“ He muttered, stepping inside slowly, cautiously. “Hey, what the fuck’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothing.” You croak, voice raspy. “I’m fine. Just— just leave, Rafe.” 

“You’re crying. You don’t look fine.” 

“I said I’m—” You started to snap, but your voice cracked halfway through, and then you choked back a sob, curling in again.

“Fuck.” He muttered again under his breath, kneeling in front of you. “What happened?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if it would make the situation not real. But you couldn’t hide the way your face scrunched as if you were in pain or hide the bubbling feeling of pure panic, and Rafe saw that. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who hurt you, hm? You can talk to me, I promise.” His voice was smooth and soft as never before. When he raised his hand to softly brush the side of your face, it was slow and cautious to not scare you even more. You open your mouth to lie, to say that it was just stress, or your parents, or your period, but your phone, lying face up on the tiles, lit up with another message, and your whole body went rigid.

Rafe’s eyes flicked down, instantly seeing the name, then looked back at you with curiosity and a hint of defensiveness. He knew the story between you and your ex. He saw how he treated you, saw you struggling to keep it all together, and he was the first one to congratulate you when you finally announced your breakup. 

So seeing you react like that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Let me see.” It was not an order, but his words were firm as he took hold of your wrist. You shook your head violently, wanting to hide your phone and downplay everything. 

“No— Rafe, don’t look!” 

He snatched your phone away before you could even process it, fingers moving quickly to unlock it. 

The heavy silence filled the room when his eyes scanned your screen, seeing the message you didn’t even read yourself. “What. The. Fuck.” He looked up at you, jaw clenched, eyes wide with barely contained rage. “Is this real?”

He suddenly stood up, his actions almost frantic and panicked, and you jump up from the floor right after him as if automatically. You wanted to rip your phone away, but there was no point anymore—he saw everything, and you were way too tired and exhausted to fight anyway. 

The silence that hung in the bathroom was suffocating, crushing, pulsing with the weight of everything that had just been revealed. Rafe stood there like a statue, gripping your phone so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, and his chest rose and fell with each sharp, shaky inhale, like he was barely containing an explosion. His jaw was clenched so hard you thought he might grind his teeth to dust. You could see the way his whole body was vibrating with fury, and when his eyes lifted from the phone to meet yours, they weren’t just angry. They were wild. Dark. Protective in a way that made your throat close up.

“What the fuck is this?” He spat, low and dangerous, his voice barely more than a growl. “What the actual fuck am I looking at right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You weren’t even crying anymore, you were just frozen. Humiliated. All you could do was curl your arms around your body tighter as the shame flooded you, soaked into your skin, and made you want to disappear. Rafe’s eyes dropped back to the screen, and you followed his gaze as he was staring at the first image. It was you, lying on Ethan’s bed. Your head turned to the side, half-lidded eyes, a soft expression that you now recognized as tipsy, barely coherent. The straps of your tank top were pushed down around your upper arms. No bra. The thin sheet pulled across your body did nothing to hide your exposed chest. One of the other photos was taken from behind with you on your stomach, bare, the lower half of your body completely visible, the shape of your thighs and your ass captured without any shame.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice cracking and dry, and it felt like you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I swear to God, Rafe… I didn’t know he took them.” You didn’t look up, feeling shame and embarrassment washing over you. “H-he sent me a video.” You whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure if you said it aloud at first, your eyes zeroing on the floor as your whole doby went numb. But Rafe heard you. He tensed instantly, hands stiffening around your phone still in his hand.

“A video?” He repeated, slowly. Carefully. His voice was like the calm before a hurricane. “What video?”

You nodded, trembling. “Of us. Of me, mostly. I—I was drunk, and he filmed everything. I don’t even remember it, but h-he sent it to me today.” 

You broke again then, sliding down on the floor, helpless, sobbing so hard your body curled in on itself, your hands covering your face, unable to bear the thought of Rafe picturing you like that—not just naked, but used. Taken advantage of. 

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, phone still gripped in his hand like he was about to smash it against the wall. Then, slowly, he lowered it on the countertop, and something in him cracked. Your cries, how desperate and sad they sounded, made him lose his mind, made him want to destroy everything and everyone who hurt you. 

His hands ran through his hair roughly as he looked away, trying to keep it together, despite fuming from the inside. But it wasn’t working. His entire body was tense, like a live wire ready to snap. He pounded his fist into the bathroom wall so hard that you heard a crack, and you jumped from the loud sound. The last thing you wanted was for him to hate you or to see you in a different light after those pictures.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said immediately, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers twitching like he didn’t know how to touch you to not scare you even more. “I’m not mad at you. I swear I’m not. I’m just—I’m losing my fucking mind here, baby.” That word slipped out like it was natural for him, and your breath hitched. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks, his blue, wild eyes looking for yours, while he tried to wipe your tears.

“That motherfucker is dead.” He hissed, voice rough with emotion. “I’m not even fucking joking. I will kill him. He touched you when you were barely conscious? He fucking recorded you? Sent that shit to you as a threat? Threatened to show me?”

“He knows what you mean to me. He wants you to see me that way so I wouldn’t have any choice but to go back to him.” You whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I just—fuck, Rafe, I feel so ashamed. I feel disgusting. I didn’t want you to see this version of me, not through his eyes.”

“You think I give a single fuck about how you look in those videos or photos? About what you did with him?”

You looked down again, shaking, unable to meet his eyes.

“I do care.” He said, softer, lifting your face up again. “But not because you were naked. I care because it wasn’t your choice. That wasn’t you, baby. That was him taking advantage of you. And that makes me want to destroy every bone in his fucking body.”

You finally met his gaze again. His jaw was clenched so tight you could hear it grind, and his eyes were glistening with the kind of rage that came from caring too much.

Rafe leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His hands were on your thighs now, still shaking slightly. “You’re mine. Even if we’re not together yet. ” He said, barely above a whisper, like it was a truth he hadn’t even realized until that moment. “I wanted you for too long, let that scumbag treat you the way you didn’t deserve. But you’re fucking mine, and I swear to God, I’m not letting anyone hurt you like that again.” You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I’m gonna take care of this.” He muttered, so close you could feel his breath. “You don’t have to do a thing. You don’t even have to see that piece of shit again. I’m gonna make sure he never gets near you, never gets the chance to make you feel this way. Nobody will ever see that stuff, you hear me?”

“Rafe…” Your voice cracked again, barely holding together, tugging him closer by the shirt, seeking more comfort.

“Shh.” He whispered, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you.”

part 2

[444lotus]

how i manifested (+revised) my dream body ౨ৎ

This is my first post on my new account, though I am NOT new to the law and NOT new to loablr either. This post is specifically about how I manifested my dream body instantly with no technique besides knowing :)

PART ONE - the old story

In the old story, I was so fixated on my body and my weight all of the time, I was tracking my calories and weighing myself and my food obsessively and constantly gaining and losing weight. Back then, my beliefs were that 1) Excess food causes weight gain, 2) If I don't track my food and weigh myself, I will become too fat/skinny, and 3) There is something wrong with my body, and I need to diet/exercise to fix it.

Noticing these beliefs were key to changing the way I viewed food and my body, and therefore changing how I knew food to effect me and how I knew my body to be.

When I was overweight, I knew my body was too big, I knew I was eating too much, I knew excess calories made me gain weight. When I was underweight, I knew I had no appetite, I knew I was too bony, I knew that exercise makes you gain muscle which is why I had none, etc. I had to identify the limiting beliefs that made me know my body was a certain way.

PART TWO - writing the new story

Once I identified the beliefs that were holding me back and kept me from my goals ("I know I eat too much, even if I affirm I'm skinny, I'm still going to gain weight."), I could then change them. I wrote down a list of these beliefs, like I did above, and came up with reversals. For example;

"I overeat, so I will gain weight" -> "Calories aren't even real, so I can eat whatever I want and stay the same weight."

"I eat junk food, so I'll never be skinny" -> "I love how fast my metabolism is, I can eat junk all day and still stay so skinny." or "Junk food is just like other foods. Raspberries can't make me fat so neither can hamburgers."

"I don't exercise enough to be toned" -> "It's crazy how I'm naturally so toned and fit without trying."

The key for me was changing key beliefs that kept me dieting and exercising to lose weight, to sever the tie between calories consumed and weight, and hours exercising and muscles. These are limiting beliefs. We literally create our reality. Not ice cream, not soda and chips, none of that can overcome YOU as a divine creator. It sounds silly when you spell it out like that, doesn't it?

PART THREE - how i did it

Okay, now we understand that the secret is to change the rules of our own reality to allow us to know a higher truth (my higher truth? I am a skinny legend). So how do we put this into practice?

All you have to do is know. You set these rules, so you know they are true, reality is bound to them. You must know you are successful, know that reality is in the 4d, and feel truly satisfied in that realm. You can do this using whatever method you need to, but personally, I just knew deep within me that I was my ideal weight, and that nothing could change that, that is simply the reality, that is simply the way things are. I thought about old pictures I took of myself, and remembered how skinny I looked in them, I thought about the last time I saw my friends and how much littler they said I'd gotten, I thought about the last time I stood on the scale and how it read the exact weight I knew myself to be. And I just knew, deep within me, that was simply how things were.

And the last step, for me, was to feel truly joyful at this realization. To feel satisfied it came into fruition. Without seeking confirmation, because I already KNEW.

And what do you know? Pictures of myself in my phone from weeks ago, they were my ideal body. The girl I saw in the mirror when I stood up from my meditation? She had my ideal body. My clothes? XS and S, all of them. I had revised my ideal body all the way back to the day I bought them. And confirmed this by checking pictures I took in the dressing room.

I'm telling you right now it is possible if you know in your heart you've always had your desire. It's always been fulfilled within you. You make the rules because you are a divine creator. Nothing outside of you can change what you know to be true.

That's all for now ౨ৎ

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another Clone Danny x batfam au, Danny was also full dead before he's shoved into a clone body, but it's not really relevant in this part.

[Pt2: here]

Danny isn't a hundred percent sure how he got here. Last thing he remembered was running away from the GIW and his parents. They got a lucky shot on him, and he was losing ectoplasum fast. He's pretty sure he was about to fully End. He remembers being mildly amused over his parents' inventions killing him twice, before it all goes dark.

He woke up as a baby. A clone baby by the looks of his environment, an underground lab(?). His creator(?) is staring at him as if he's a miracle, and given the fancy sci-fi screen thingy (a tablet? Or ipad? He's not sure how he knows these terms) in front of the cloning tank say "attempt 99", he probably is this guy's miracle.

Danny doesn't see anyone else around, and this guy, a teenager about Jazz's age (?), seems happy on a personal level to see Danny wiggling in the tank. So it's not likely he was forced to do this. Whatever this is..

"I did it...? Holy shit! I did it!" The teen cheers before freezing, "I'm a parent now.. I did not think this through... welp, I'm a parent now."

The guy checks his vitals before draining the tank. Danny is handled as if he's the most precious, yet breakable thing in the world to this kid.

"Hello, I'm Tim, your dad, I guess." The kid, Tim, introduces himself, and Danny giggles at him because if Danny was a normal baby, he'd have no idea what he was saying. "You're the clone of my dead best friend. He was half kryptonian. I promise to do my best to help you learn your powers and culture. I'll break into Clark's ice fortress if I have to to do it."

Danny has no idea what any of that means, but Tim seems determined, so Danny isn't too worried. He's more worried about the power thing. Are they going to be completely different from his old ones? Does he still have access to his ghost powers?

His little baby body can't handle his big emotions, and he starts crying. Tim panics, checking for mess, before realizing he doesn't have baby supplies. He clearly didn't think his cloning attempt would work with how unprepared he is. And that's valid if Danny really is his 99th attempt.

Tim bundles Danny up and rushes them to the nearest store that has baby supplies. Danny is clothed and fed promptly and given a wolf plushy. Danny isn't sure about the wolf thing, but the stuffie does sooth his baby instincts, so he rolls with it.

"Alright, baby. I... I didn't think of a name for you. I originally was trying to make a clone closer to Kon's age and figured they could name themselves, like Kon did." Tim sighs, slightly rocking Danny in his arms. "Man, I must seem insane talking to a baby. A baby I made because I couldn't deal with one more person in my life being dead or gone."

Danny notes the interesting wording.

"Okay. Can you understand me at all? I forgot to adjust the knowledge download to a year old's level, but that doesn't mean your baby brain absorbed any of the info."

Ooooh, that explains why he knows things that didn't exist where he's from.

Danny blows spit bubbles and attempts to nod. It's a bit hard, his baby muscles not developed enough for the action. Tim understands, though.

"Okay, okay." Tim looking both scared and relieved. "How about you pat me once for yes and twice for no? At least for now. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Danny lightly smacks a hand to Tim's face. They both giggle over it.

"Alright, so I'm going to list off names, and you can tell me yes or no, okay?" One pat. "Okay, let's see."

Danny wonders if he can get a new name that can still let him have Danny as a nickname.

"Jasper" No

"Darin" No

"Dugu" No??

"Presh?" No! Tim? Where are you getting these names??

"Ratan" No

"Cicil" No

"Matthew" No

"Theo?" No

"Alihan" No

"Atiya" Nope

"Tesher" No

"Senai" No

"Uuum... Habwat?" No

"Geoffrey" No

"Amari?" Nope

"Jordan" ... huh, technically could get Danny from that, but still. No.

"Riley?" No

"Drew?" Nope

"Nova" Oooo so tempting, but no

"Esteban" Nope

"Izar" No

"Aedan?" You know what, good enough. That's Danny's new name.

Tim looks misty eyed when Danny finally agrees to a name.

"Alright, welcome to the world, Aedan Drake." Danny blows bubbles at him. "We'll visit adding Kent and getting you a proper kryptonian name when you can actually speak and understand what those names mean. Kon's human name was Conner Kent, and his kryptonian name was Kon-El. It translates to abomination of the house of El. He was a clone of Kal-El and wasn't treated well for it. I won't let the Els treat you as they treated him."

Tim looks pissed on his friend's behalf and cradles Danny protectively.

"The Els don't matter anyways. You will always be a Drake. And Drakes protect what they claim with viciousness." He kisses Danny's forehead. He then moves to the fanciest computer Danny has ever seen, and with the hand not supporting Danny's body, starts designing what appears to be a bulletproof and stabproof baby carrier. "I should have waited til after I finish hunting for clues to get Bruce, he's my adoptive father, out of the timestream. My siblings think I'm crazy, which creating a clone isn't helping my case over, but I know he's alive. I found evidence, just not enough to prove it to them."

Danny starts nodding off. Tim's ramblings are soothing and his hold gentle, Danny's tiny baby body doesn't stand a chance at staying awake. He's sad he's missing out on all the dad lore because of it.

Once the carrier is ready, Tim starts going out and taking Danny with him. Danny is actually pretty safe on these outings. The carrier is bulletproof, stabproof, has tinted bulletproof glass so Danny can get sun without people seeing him, it's temperature controlled, well ventilated, and has plenty of cushion. Seriously, Danny is sure the whole thing is like 60 pounds with him in it, but Tim gives zero fucks. He's determined to keep Danny safe.

It's super touching. And Danny swears to one day return the favour. The day is closer than he thinks when a creepy old fucker crawls out of the woodworks. Danny hates him instantly. Tim explaining the creep's relation to Tim's family doesn't change Danny's mind. In fact, it probably makes his opinion on this Ra's Al Gul even worse. And once he sees how that pedo looks at his sweet new dad, he plans to be an absolute menace.

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

synopsis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(