#if you’re like me and that answer is ‘no and if it was written i dont fucking care it is wildly out of character’ then i suppose that and

[hmusunoo]

DIET PEPSI | K.TH

SYNOPSIS 》 Homework, exams, parents expecting the world from you and more, you just wanted a break. Better yet, you needed one. And who better than getting the resident campus bad boy plug Taehyun to help you out with that.

PAIRINGS 》 plug!taehyun x goody two shoes fem!reader

WARNINGS 》 plug taehyun, drug use, reader is really awkward and innocent she know's nothing about drugs, brief mentions of overbearing parents, unprotected sex, dry humping, car sex, corruption kink, loss of virginity, taehyun is a little bit of an asshole, cowgirl, slight hair pulling, not really proof read.

WORD CNT 》 6.3k

LIBRARY & BOOKSHELVES

You sit at your desk, the glare of your laptop screen searing into your eyes as you attempt to focus on yet another problem set. The numbers blur together, taunting you with their complexity. To your right, your history textbook lies open, mocking you with its dense paragraphs of information you’re supposed to have memorized by tomorrow. The clock ticks steadily in the background, a relentless reminder that time is slipping away. Your parents’ voices echo in your mind, a cacophony of expectations. "You have to be the best. We’re counting on you."Their words are like invisible weights, pressing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe.  

You don’t remember the last time you felt truly free. Even when you’re not studying, the guilt lingers. Shouldn’t you be doing more? Shouldn’t you be better? The questions swirl in your head, their answers always out of reach.And so, you sit there, the cursor blinking impatiently on your half-written essay, while your stomach churns from too much coffee and too little sleep. The thought hits you suddenly: This isn’t sustainable. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes, but the words and numbers are still there, painted on the insides of your eyelids.

You need to breathe. You need to escape.

The idea comes to you like a whisper, soft but insistent. Remembering what Sakura told you earlier in the day, about the one guy in school you never thought to talk to before. Kang Taehyun. He was no good, he was what everyone around town and campus called a waste of space. You had half a mind to text Sakura asking for his number. The thought feels almost rebellious. You didn’t know a single thing about weed or how to smoke it. All you knew was that he was the one person around here you could get it from. 

Would he even sell it to you? You didn't know, but you were going to try. You grab your phone before you can second-guess yourself. You sent her a quick tentative text swelling with anxiety at the questions you knew awaited you. 

It seemed your anxiety was for nothing though, as a short and sweet text from Sakura popped up on your screen not even a minute later: ‘I knew you’d cave (; here 999-000-3456’. You knew as soon as you saw her you'd be bombarded with a multitude of questions but for now you will be thankful for the solace she gave you. 

You didn't know the proper etiquette of ordering? Weed, so you didn't think it would be best to call Taehyun. You decided a simple text would do just fine. 

You: hi, how much for weed? It’s Y/n L/n btw. 

Taehyun: wtf? 

You: Sorry, can I buy some weed from you? 

Taehyun: i dont sell that. You have the wrong number. 

You: what? My friend Sakura gave me your number. She said you would have something to help me. 

Taehyun: Are you a fucking cop or something? 

You: No???

Taehyun: Whatever. if you're serious, meet me at lakeland park in 15 minutes. If I see any weird shit I'm leaving. 

Lakeland park was nearly a fifteen minute walk from you. He was giving you no time to overthink it instead grabbing you coat in a rush and bolting out the door. You pull your coat tighter around you as the wind bites at your cheeks. A fifteen minute walk isn’t far, but on a cold, dark night like this, every step feels heavier, the shadows stretching longer. Your breath clouds in the air as you walk, the rhythmic crunch of your boots on the frost-covered pavement the only

sound accompanying you. You’re not the kind of girl who sneaks out at night, let alone to meet someone like Kang Taehyun. He’s reckless, arrogant, always in trouble, the kind of boy your parents warned you about since middle school. But tonight, the weight of the day of every perfect grade, every strained smile, every pesky exam and desk filled with homework has crushed you into doing something reckless. Something that doesn’t feel like you. The park looms ahead, its iron gates blackened and wet with the mist that clings to the air. You hesitate at the entrance, fingers curling around the cold metal. It’s not too late to turn back, you tell yourself. But that same voice whispers that turning back means retreating to the suffocating predictability of your world. Straight-A student. Perfect daughter. Reliable friend. You just couldn't do that, you needed this. Bad. 

The park is deserted. The streetlights cast pale orange pools of light onto the pathways, but the spaces in between seem darker than they should. You clutch your phone in your pocket, your thumb hovering over the power button. Just in case.

The sound of a car engine idling pulls your attention to the far side of the park. There, parked near the frozen pond, is Taehyun's car. Its headlights are off, but the faint glow of the dashboard light outlines his silhouette. You almost stop in your tracks as he leans out of the driver’s side window, his dark hair tousled, an annoyed look on his face. 

“Didn’t think you were serious” He said as you walked up to the car. “Get in.” 

You hesitate, your hand brushing the cold handle of the passenger door. Pulling it open before you could allow yourself to overthink it. “I was told you could help me.” The inside of the car is warmer than you expected, the faint scent of marijuana smoke and leather wrapping around you. 

Taehyun shrugs a bored expression on his face as he leaned his head against the leather seat. His stance made you nervous. You could feel words bubbling up inside of you waiting to jumble out in a heap just like you always did in awkward silences like this. “I Just have a lot of stuff going on with school and my parents and-” 

Taehyun snorts, his amusement cutting sharper now as he interrupts the beginning of your rambles. “Well, don’t expect a medal or anything.” He leans back in his seat, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night. What do you want? How much?” 

“I have twenty dollars..” You trailed off your voice smaller now. 

Taehyun sent you a curt nod reaching down to the glove department between the two of you. He pulled out a bag filled with a green substance, assuming it was the weed. “Here.” He tossed the bag down in your lap lazily. You picked it up in your hands inspecting it with keen eyes. 

“Do..do i just eat it?” You asked him as you began to open the top of the baggie. 

“What?” He asked leaning forward, the nonchalant expression he once held was gone, now a look of shock in its place. “No. You smoke it.” 

“Oh.” Was the only response you could muster up. A red sheen coating your cheeks with embarrassment. “I-i don't know how.”

Taehyun laughs sharp and cold. “Little miss perfect has never smoked before what a fucking shocker.” His tone had a sarcastic lit to it. One that made your stomach churn with uneasiness. 

“I’m not a junkie.” You spit out at him. “I just need help with some stress.” 

“Are you implying that I'm a junkie?” His asked with raised eyebrows and an expression that spelled ‘i dare you to say that i am’

“N-no” You stuttered “I’m just making a statement about myself.” 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. “What’s next, huh? Gonna jay-walk across the street on your way home? Or maybe—and this is a real stretch—you’ll leave your dishes in the sink overnight.” He grins, wide and mocking. “Oh no, the horror.” 

Your face burns, but you refuse to look away. “I’m not as boring as you think.”

“Sure you’re not,” he says, dragging the words out. He sends you a smirk. “Let me guess—late night study sessions? Babysitting? Volunteer work at the animal shelter?” 

You cross your arms, your nails digging into your sleeves. “I came here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and it’s adorable,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re like a puppy trying to bark. Cute, but not exactly convincing.” 

The jab stings more than you’d like to admit, but you steel yourself. “At least I’m trying to do something different.” 

“Oh, you’re different, all right,” Taehyun shoots back, his grin widening. “Most people would’ve bailed by now. But not you. You’re too stubborn to realize when you’re in over your head.” You fiddled with the baggie still in your hand “I mean look at you, you thought you had to eat the fucking bud.”  

You glare at him, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you even care? If I’m so ‘adorable,’ why not just drive off and leave me here? No one is forcing you to sell to me ” 

Taehyun shrugs, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful—but no less infuriating. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe watching you squirm is more fun than anything else I’ve got going on tonight.” 

“Whatever.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. 

“So now that we've established that you do indeed smoke the weed and don't eat it. I’ll take that twenty and be on my way now-” 

“Can you teach me how to smoke it?” The words fell from your lips like spit fire before you could even think about them. 

“Seriously.” Taehyun sent you a deadpanned look. “Do I need to like, hold your hand while we're at it?” 

“Well no..” You trailed “I’ve just never done it before..” 

“I can tell,” He said, annoyed. “Whatever I have got nothing better to do.” 

He reached back into the saame glove department that he got the weed baggie from, pulling out a small pack of papers in his fingers. 

“These are wraps” He explained handing you the wraps. “We’ll put the weed into it before we smoke it.” 

“You're going to smoke with me?” You asked Taehyun, mulling the wraps in your hand as you carefully analyzed them. 

“Yeah, im not doing this shit for nothing do i look like a fucking teacher to you.” He snapped. Taehyun reached his hand out, yanking the baggie of weed out of your hands and although he did it with minimal force the action still shook you. He really was such a stark contrast to who you were. He was rough, arrogant and cocky. You were shy, timid and very inexperienced in everything he was comfortable with. This was a recipe for disaster. 

Taehyun continued by showing you how to ground up the weed then stuff it into the little paper carefully. You watched as his lips poked out, licking the paper to seal the week inside. Really, it shouldn't be something you're finding hot but you do. 

“This is a blunt” He explained. You watched him with careful calculation soaking in everything he said to you. The blunt dangles lazily between his fingers, the faint ember glowing like a tiny, taunting beacon in the dim light of the parking lot. He’s leaning against his beat-up car, all leather jacket and sharp jawline, looking like he stepped out of a 90s music video. You tried to steer the thoughts away. Just mere minutes ago you were rolling your eyes at him for poking fun at you, now in the dim light of the overhead dash coupled with the hues of the park street lamps you had thought he looked..well, beautiful. 

“Alright, princess,” Taehyun says, his tone as sharp as the smirk tugging at his lips. “You begged me to teach you, so here you go.” 

And there you were back to rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t begging,” you snap, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. You know your voice sounds weak even as you say it, and his smirk deepens, like he’s already won some unspoken argument. The nerves for what you were about to do finally really creeping in on you. 

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, handing you the blunt like it’s some kind of sacred ritual. “Just don’t go crying to your choir group when you cough up a lung.” You take it with more confidence than you feel, holding it between your fingers the way he does, even though you’re certain it doesn’t look half as natural. You leaned slightly forward in your seat, over the glove department that was between the two of you. 

For a quick fleeting second you could have sworn you saw his eyes flicker downwards catching the flesh of your exposed skin. You wore a hoodie half zipped down to reveal your black tank top with tiny little lace on the top. Your cleavage was slightly visible at this angle and he surely noticed it. 

“Now, put it in your mouth,” he instructs, deadpan, and you glare at him because you can hear the barely contained laughter in his voice. 

“Do you always have to be this crude?” you mutter, but you follow his instructions anyway, the filter feeling foreign and dry against your lips. His eyes flicker over you, quick but deliberate, before he leans closer. You freeze, the scent of leather and marijuana smoke filling your senses as he reaches up to flick his lighter. The flame catches, small and precise, and his hand shields it as he tilts it toward you. 

“Breathe in—gently,” he says, his voice softer now, almost serious, though you swear there’s a hint of amusement dancing on his face. You inhale, maybe too sharply, because the burn hits the back of your throat like fire, and you’re coughing almost immediately, doubling over as your eyes water. 

He barks out a laugh, loud and shameless, but there’s something about the way his hand hovers just shy of your back, like he’s deciding whether or not to steady you. “I told you to go easy,” he says, shaking his head. “What, you thought you were gonna look cool on the first try?” 

“I hate you,” you choke out, still coughing, and he grins like you’ve just made his night.

“Cute.” He mutters. “That’s cute.” he says, and for a second, you think you catch something softer in his expression—like he’s a little proud of you for trying. 

You straighten up, glaring at him through watery eyes. “Let’s go again,” you say, more determined than ever. 

He raises an eyebrow, surprised but impressed. “Look at you, all rebellious now,” Taehyun teases, taking the blunt from your hands, putting it to his lips and effortlessly inhaling. You wish you could say it wasn’t so erotic looking, the way his lips envelop the blunt, sucking in and then blowing out like he's done it a million times over. Because well, he has. He looks over at you again, eyelids narrowly heavy. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, though, like he’s seeing you differently. But before you can dwell on it, he’s all smirks and sarcasm again, holding out the blunt with a mock bow. “Alright, princess. Round two.” 

And as you fumble your way through another attempt, you can’t help but notice the way his expression turned darker, almost lustful as he watched you bring the blunt back to your lips tentatively.

The second drag is smoother. Not by much, but enough that you don’t hack up your lungs again. It still burns on the way down, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue, but there’s something else now—a strange kind of lightness creeping into your chest, like you’re not quite tethered to the ground.  “See?” Taehyun says, his voice smug. “Not so hard, is it?” 

You roll your eyes, but the edges of the world are starting to blur, the space inside the car feeling smaller and softer all at once. “It’s weird,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “But… kinda nice?” 

Taehyun chuckles, resting one arm over the back of his seat as he watches you. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Just wait. You’re gonna feel like your brain’s floating soon.”And he’s right. A few minutes later, the buzzing in your chest has spread to your head, leaving you light and a little disoriented. You can’t stop yourself from giggling, the sound spilling out before you can catch it. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, arching a brow. He took the blunt from your hands, taking a drag from it. The smoke flew out of his lips in ‘O’s’ like some kind of party trick. 

Unfamiliar heat pooled in your belly at the sight, your thighs fidgeting in your seat. “I don’t know,” you say, leaning your head back against the seat. “Everything feels… floaty. Like I’m a balloon or something.” Your eyes felt heavy as you stared at him with a dopey smile on your face. The softness of the lights from the overhead light casted down on his face like a glowing frame of his face. It was a beautifully confusing feeling this way. You had found yourself wanting something from him you've never had before, something way worse and more irreversible than smoking for the first time. 

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re high as hell,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. A sharp keen to his eyes as they darken at the sight of you, leaning back against the seat, head turned towards him. Your glassy eyes staring up at him doe eyed.  

Your gaze lingered on the way his fingers tap absently against the steering wheel. “You’re not as much of an asshole as you act, you know,” you say, your voice unfiltered and soft. 

His head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You act all tough,” you say, shrugging. “But you’re still here. Putting up with me. Teaching me. You could’ve just told me to screw off.” 

“If I recall, I did do that when you texted me.” Taehyun says slowly, his speech becoming slightly slurred. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze flickers over you, like he’s trying to decide if you’re messing with him or not. Then he shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle, the sound sending a bolt of electricity through you and straight to your core. It was an unfamiliar feeling for you. You had never felt such intense heat and want for someone. You didn't know whether to blame the weed or your hazy mind, either way you weren't sure you minded. 

“Guess the high’s getting to you,” he says, but his voice has softened, the sharp edges dulled. His own lust lingered heavily in the compactness of the car. You are both hyper aware of the shift in the dynamic of the car. You smile lazily, sinking further into the seat. The hum of the moment feels bigger than either of you, like the space between you has shifted somehow. He handed the blunt back to you but with a shake of your head you refused it, already feeling relaxed. Your body is like jelly as you slumped against the seat of the car. 

You tilt your head to look at him, his profile is sharp in the dim light, the amber glow of the lighter from earlier still dancing in your mind. “Why are you staring?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. 

“I’m not,” you lie, even though you can feel the weight of your own gaze on him. 

“Yeah, you are,” he says, leaning back slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. “What’s going on in that good little head of yours, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. The buzz in your chest has spread, making everything feel too big and too small all at once. You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are to him, how the scent of smoke and leather clings to the air between you. “I don’t know,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you with that same unreadable expression. And then, like the space between you is pulling him in, he leans forward, just a fraction—enough to make your breath catch. “You’re high,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself. “That’s all this is.” His breath fanned against your lips close enough that even a mere inch forward your lips would be touching. 

You shake your head, though the movement feels sluggish. “It’s not just that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. 

Taehyun’s hand twitches where it rests on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he looks almost unsure, like he’s teetering on the edge of something he can’t pull back from. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want this.” 

“I do,” you insist, your gaze locking with his. The pull between you feels magnetic now, impossible to ignore. The heat in your belly felt like fire only being fueled by the constant darkening of his eyes and his pure adultured need for you. You may be inexperienced and naive but you were stupid, he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. 

He lets out a low, almost defeated sigh, his fingers running through his messy hair. “You’re gonna regret this Tomorrow.” But he doesn’t move away. 

You lean forward first, closing the already minimal space between you. It’s tentative, the barest brush of your lips against his, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull back. But then he doesn’t. 

Taehyun’s lips press against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing the waters. There’s a hesitance in the way his hand hovers near your cheek, as though he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. But when you don’t pull away—when you lean into him instead—he seems to let go of whatever was holding him back. 

The kiss deepens, his hand finally coming to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your skin. There’s nothing rushed about it, no desperation, just a quiet intensity that sends your heart racing. You don’t know if it’s the blunt, the high, or him, but the world outside the car has completely disappeared. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this strange, unspoken pull that you can’t quite explain. 

“You’re gonna blame this on the high,” he murmurs with a groan. “If we don’t stop, I don't know how far it will go, princess.” 

You shake your head, your eyes still closed. “Don’t stop.” for a moment, neither of you says anything, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. 

He doesn’t move away. If anything, he’s closer now, his hand sliding from your jaw to cup the side of your neck. His thumb brushes just under your ear, and the touch sends a shiver skimming down your spine. “How far have you gone before?” 

You shake your head “Nothing further than kissing.” 

He pulls back a small look of bewilderment on his face “Are you sure about this?” 

You nod, disconnecting yourself for a second to look at him, although your mind was hazy nothing about the decision to go further with Taehyun was, you were sure you wanted this. “Yes” You spoke with a surge of confidence. “I want this, so bad.” 

Taehyun reconnects your lips in a messy entanglement of lips and teeth, his hands grabbing at your waist to pull you closer to him even in the confines of his car. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. It’s not a demand—it’s a plea, barely restrained, like he’s fighting himself and losing.

You don’t tell him to stop. You can’t. Instead, your hands find their way to him, one resting on his shoulder, the other fisting the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll pull away if you let go. “I’m not going to,” you whisper, and your voice shakes, but not with fear. 

He kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s been holding himself back and can’t anymore. There’s nothing hesitant about it now—his lips press firmly against yours, and you meet him with the same urgency, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment longer than either of you is willing to admit. 

Taehyun’s free hand slides to your waist, gripping you just hard enough to make your breath hitch. The space between you feels nonexistent, every inch of him pressing into you in a way that’s both overwhelming and addictive. You’re not thinking anymore—not about where you are, not about how this started, not about the million ways this could go wrong. All you know is the way his hands feel against you, the way his lips move like he’s memorizing the shape of yours, the way your entire body feels like it’s on fire. 

You tug at his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. Taehyun’s fingers dig into your waist, grounding you even as the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. The high from the weed makes your skin a buzz and your mind spin. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Taehyun mutters against your lips, his voice rough and raw, like the confession slipped out without his permission.It makes you want him even more. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion you can’t put into words into the way your lips move against his. Your hips raise slightly, searching for some semblance of friction. 

The small space of the car feels suffocating now, the air thick and heavy as his hand slides up your side, brushing just beneath the hem of your sweatshirt. His touch is searing, leaving trails of heat in its wake, and you arch into him instinctively, a soft sound escaping your lips.

“Careful,” Taehyun murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something else there, too—a flicker of restraint, like he’s holding himself together by a thread. “You don’t know what you’re starting.” 

“Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your heart pounds in your chest. He had you craving something you had never indulged in before, something you knew you would miss as soon as it ended. 

For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind, to figure out if you mean it. Whatever he sees in your expression seems to be enough, because his lips crash into yours again, his hands gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He grabbed at your sweater, unzipping it until your frilly tank top was revealed underneath. When his lips leave yours, they trail along your jaw, slow and deliberate. 

The feeling of his lips sends a shiver down your spine, and you tilt your head instinctively, giving him more access.“God, you’re dangerous,” he mutters against your skin, his voice rough and almost reverent. His hands move up the expanse of your body and torso cupping your breasts in his hands. A gasp leaves your lip, a chill crawling up your spine. 

“These fucking tits.” Taehyun growled. “How has no man ever touched these before?” Your chest heaved as explored the entirety of your upper body, cradling your breasts in his hands. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and the high from the weed feels distant now, overshadowed by the way he’s making you feel. Every nerve in your body is alive, hyper-aware of his every touch, every breath, every unspoken word.

“Take this off.” He growls his lips ghosting over your collarbone as he tugged at your tank top in his big hands. You met his hands at the hem of your tank top, lifting it in one fail swoop over your head. Your top half is now completely bare and out in the open for his eyes to see. 

You didn't think his eyes could darken anymore then they already have but to now avail his irises became nearly black pools of desire. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest as your breath left you in harsh pants. He made quick work of running his hands to his grey sweatpants, yanking them down just enough to pull himself out of his boxers. His cock spring free, the rip red and angry. 

Your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. He smirked at you with a knowing look. “Cute.” He muttered. “You never seen a dick before or something.” You could tell he meant it as a joke but one single look at your expression made him realize just how little experience you’ve had. 

“I..” You trailed “I haven’t.” Your face was flush red from the embarrassment of your admittance, you hadn't even really watched porn. Seeing a dick was so obscure to you, so unheard of. 

“Come here.” Taehyun softly said as he held his hand out for you to take. You lifted your legs to gently maneuver your body over the center console of the car. The sudden movement coupled with the high that was still lingering had you feeling a bit dizzy. 

You sat on Taehyun’s lap. His hard cock now resting against your thigh. Awkwardly and out of instinct you lifted your arms to cover your breasts that were now smack dab in his face. A man’s dream you thought to yourself. 

“No, don’t do that princess.” He took a hold of your arms gently in his hands pulling them back until they were at your sides. “Don’t hide.” He toyed with the hem of your shorts and he brought his other hand to your hips, gently guiding your hips to rock back and forth against his cock. 

A gasp fell from your lips at the movement. He started slowly rocking your hips steadily against his to create just the perfect amount of friction. Your clit throb in your shorts wishing you were completely bare against him. 

“That feel good?” He asked you with a grit to his teeth trying his hardest to keep his groans at bay. You nodded dumbly, a whimper falling from your lips as you continued to allow him to guide your hips against his. 

“I..i think i need more.” Your voice was airy, a sigh that sounded a lot like a moan slipped from your lips. “More, please.” 

“Hm.” He hummed grabbing ahold of your hips with both of his hands, his grip tighter than it had been all night. “Pretty little princess wants more huh?” He was teasing you, rocking your hips faster against him. 

“Y-yes!” You squealed, as a foreign feeling twisted in your stomach, the intensity knocking you forward trying to steady yourself on his chest. 

The sudden stop of your hips had you whining as Taehyun roughly gripped your hips in his hands stopping your movements. “The first time you cum will be with my cock buried deep inside of you. Not from you grinding on it like a needy little whore, do you hear me?” 

“Taehy-” You began to whine. 

“Do.you.hear.me?” He asked again tougher this time as he snaked his hand up your neck to the nape grabbing a fist full of your hair in his hands yanking your face to be level with his. 

“Yes!” You repeated for the second time tonight. “Want your cock..” 

“Good girl.” Taehyun let go of your hair soothing the spot with his palm. “Let's get these shorts off now, yeah?” You nodded with a hum as you lifted yourself off his lap to give Taehyun easy access to slide your shorts and panties down at the same time. 

“Are you going ok?” He ran his hands up and down your sides soothingly. 

“I am” You reassured him. You bent your face down to meet his lips in a short kiss as you pulled away Taehyun smirked, chasing your lips with his own, causing a giggle to leave you. 

His hand reached down, carefully circling your heat with his fingers. “You're so wet.” He hissed, dipping a finger slightly inside your awaiting core. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him toy with your pussy lip and clit delicately. Your legs slightly shook from the touch of him. 

“I think you’re ready.” He nodded more to himself than you. “You think you’re ready baby?” The pet name caught you off guard stunting your ability to answer so instead you nod. 

“I need your words.” He said, more harsh than you expected. 

“I’m ready.”  You confirmed. His hands found your hips once again, lifting you up until the tip of his dick was lined up at your entrance. The knot in your stomach tightened as the reality of what was about to happen set in. You were really about to lose your virginity. Here in a car, in the middle of the night to a boy you had just officially tonight. The thought excited you? It was so purely unlike you that you couldn’t wait to do it. 

Taehyun helped guide you down on his length, the stretch of him burning as you slowly moved down inch by inch on his cock. “Oh.” You squeaked, using Taehyun’s shoulder as leverage. “Oh-” You said again. The one syllable seems like the only word you could even begin to utter. 

“Careful.” Taehyun grit the words out. “That’s it.” 

The feeling of him inside you had tears pricking your eyes as the intensity of the moment took over. 

“Stay still princess” Taehyun’s voice was soft as he gave you instructions on how to take him, talking you through it. You sat still on his lap as his cock was not fully satiated inside of you. The feeling was odd..a good odd. You felt full, entirely consumed by him. The dead of night surrounding you adds onto the ambience. 

“Move whenever you want sweetheart, you're in charge.” The heat of his hands on your bare skin coupled with the heat in the car and the weed lingering in your veins gave you the boost of confidence you needed to lift yourself up and slam yourself back down on his cock. Carefully at first, testing the waters. Taehyun’s grunt of pleasure only adds to the fire growing inside of you. You needed to make him feel good, it was now the most important part of this. 

“Fuck” He grunted as he leaned his head back against the seat heavily lidded eyes looking up at you as you bounced atop him. The pleasure was creeping up on you, the burn now a dull feeling easily forgotten about. “Keep doing that.” 

His praise served as a catalyst for you to keep moving your hips up and down on his cock. Your thighs shaking at the overwhelming pleasure and the workout you were receiving. 

“So good.” You whimpered out, the only sounds around you were the ones of the constant smacking of your ass against his lap and the moans you let slip from your mouth uncontrollably. 

“Good girl.” Taehyun babbled, resetting his arms behind his head, watching you. “That’s a good fucking girl, fucking that cock for the very first time.” 

“Am i doing good?” You chased his praise almost as fast as you chased your impending orgasm, the heat pooling in the bottom of your belly like the fire getting ready to boil over and explode. 

“Yeah baby, you're doing so good. Keep bouncing on my cock. Just like that.” Soft mews left your lips reaching your fingers out to drag down Taehyun’s clothed chest. 

“Can I help you out?” Taehyun pants desperately pawing at your hips. “If it hurts, let me know, I'll stop right away.” 

“Ok.” You whimpered pathetically. You'd allow him to do anything to you right now just as long as you continued to feel as good as you were. His hands gripped your hands tightly in his hands before shooting his hips up with one single snap. 

A gasp of surprise left your lips as he reached angles you didn't even know was possible. 

“Holy-” You breathed out “Fuck, fuck.” 

Taehyun’s hips snapped up drilling his cock into your weeping hole over and over. His balls lewdly slapping the underside of your ass. “I’m close.” He hissed, not letting up on his thrusts. 

“M-me too, I think.” You winced at the mixture of pain and pleasure consuming you. The feeling that bubbled up inside of you waiting to explode like a ticking time bomb. 

“This tight fucking pussy wont ket me go.” Taehyun’s words sent you flying towards your orgasm, becoming a mess of yourself on top of him. He followed suit not longer after pushing his hips inside of you a few more times before stilling himself. 

“Fuck.” He huffed rubbing the sides of your thighs as rested your head against his chest trying to catch your breath. 

“Are you ok?” He asked with a slightly worried tone. 

“So good.” You said raising your head to look at him. “Thank you” 

“For the sex?” He quirked an arrogant brow at you, a laugh bubbling in his chest. 

“Well, yes and the weed, and teaching me how to smoke it and-”

“Ok, ok” He laughed. “No need to thank me so much.” 

“But I do.” You said with sincerity. “You helped me alot tonight.” 

“I can always do it again..” He trailed off with a slightly nervous tone in his voice. 

“Is this a drug dealer's way off asking me out after taking my weed and literal virginity in his car?” You joked, sending him a goofy grin. He shrugged in an attempt at being nonchalant despite his best efforts. 

“Is this the goody two shoes princess saying yes?” His tone was just as goofy and airy as the both of you felt. 

“It is.” You smiled at him. “Yes, a thousand times over.” 

“Eager are we?” Taehyun jokes. You laughed, hitting his chest lightly. “Shut up and fuck me again Taehyun.” 

“Don't have to ask me twice.” 

taglist. @st1llm0nster , @blossommi , @beomiracles, @kkamismom12 , @izzyy-stuff , @biteyoubiteme , @hyukascampfire , @thetxtdevil

[vero1shere]

caught in your gravity

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

word count: 961

summary: you’ve been getting harassed at work for the past few months. that is until a handsome stranger arrives one night and defends you. 

warnings: very cliche-y bartender stuff, harassment, derogatory language (slut, bitch), alcohol abuse, mild violence

a/n: so i’m back??? ik i haven’t written anything in a long time but umm here i am!!!

masterlist. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁inbox

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you wiped down the counter for the fourth time that night, scrubbing at a stubborn stain while silently cursing your job for the thousandth time. The endless mess, the sticky floors, and the clinging stench of stale alcohol on your clothes were bad enough. But the worst part? The relentless parade of truck-stop regulars: sloppy drunks who flirted too aggressively and looked at you as though you were just another item on the menu.

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying to brush away something that had dried on the counter, when the bell rang on the other side of the bar. You looked up to see a rather attractive guy approaching the bar. It was almost one in the morning, so the place was mostly deserted aside from a few regulars. Once he was closer to the light you changed your mind; a very attractive guy.

Throwing the dirty towel over your shoulder you took a deep breath before walking over to the handsome stranger. “What can I serve you?” You smiled, leaning on the bar. He looked down at you and you felt the air catch in your lungs. He had the most amazing green eyes. You were used to seeing new faces every day, but none like his. He smiled, seemingly checking you out as his eyes traveled through your face, answering the question. 

“Just a beer, please” he replied, his voice deep and rough, like a low roll of thunder.

It wasn’t just his voice that threw you off. The way he looked at you, his gaze lingering as though he saw more than just a tired bartender, made your cheeks warm. Why was someone like him in a place like this at nearly 1 am? 

“Coming right out” you responded, almost breathlessly. You were hyper-aware of his presence, the way his gaze followed you as you moved. Diverting your attention from that beautiful stranger, you served him the beer. Still smiling like an idiot. Your hands trembled slightly as you set the beer down in front of him, and when your eyes met his again, he smiled. A small, crooked smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer this time, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

Before you could respond, a voice you knew all too well cut through the quiet.

“Hello darling,” Sighing and closing your eyes, you walked up to the drunk guy who was here seven days a week, flirting constantly with you. “What do you want, Carl?” you asked, your voice sharp.

“Wow, I don't think that's the way to talk to your best client,” he growled drunkenly. His breath reeked of bourbon, or maybe whiskey. You honestly couldn't tell, not that you cared.

“Are you going to order something else or are you finally going to get your ass out of here?” You exploded, not having the energy for this.

“I've always liked my women feisty”, he winked at you and a shiver of disgust passed through you. “What would it take for you to go out on a date with me?”

“‘M sorry, but for the thousandth time, I’m not really interested. Now please excuse me, but I need to get back to work,” walking to the idiot's left to clear another table, he grabbed your wrist. It was quite a rough grab and you knew it would leave a mark. You were whipped to face him and tried to hide the fact that you were terrified. He was drunk, strong and almost a foot taller than you.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just go out with me, I mean, you’re just a sleazy bar slut and it’s not like many other people want you” Carl growled, not looking away from your eyes. You tried to appear tough but the situation was getting scary. That’s when someone stepped in the middle of you too, breaking his hold on your wrist. 

“Why don't you do us all a favor, apologise to the lady and get your ass out of here?” A deep voice said calmly. You recognized the voice, but you weren't sure who the person was until you looked over to where the green-eyed stranger was sitting. He was gone, well he wasn't gone, he was defending you. 

Carl scoffed. “Yeah, like I owe any of you anything. A bitch and an idiot who’s fighting with someone on one foot-” he didn't get to finish. He was interrupted by the attractive stranger twisting the drunk’s arm, which resulted in a scream from the victim. He jerked his arm away and ran out of the bar.

You found yourself laughing after he left. After a few months, someone finally got that idiot to leave. Speaking of which, you finally got a better look at the stranger as he turned around, still quite close to you. The light nape of the neck that covers a sharp jaw, the perfect smile hidden behind full lips. Not to mention the eyes. Oh my god, those eyes made you melt.

“Are you alright?" he asked, much less intimidating. You realized he was looking at you and instinctively looked at the ground. 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thank you,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush. Then, he gently grabbed your wrist, which was already forming a bruise, and ran his fingers over your skin. Every second you were in contact with him, sparks broke out on your skin. You both looked at each other, staring into each other's eyes. Losing yourself in his eyes once again, you were glad he spoke.

“Dean,” he said breathlessly. “That’s my name,” he added after seeing the confusion in your eyes. “What’s yours?”

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [10]

Part Ten | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, chapter follows “Tell it to the Frogs” but dialogue and events are paraphrased.

Word Count: 3K

Author’s Note: Me posting twice in a week? Unheard of. I've just been feeling very inspired for this story and this chapter just took on a life of it's own. I try to keep these chapter under 2,000 words, but this one is a tad longer. Hope you all enjoy! As always I would love to hear what y'all think.

After an eventful night around the campfire, you return to your empty tent. A part of you was thankful when Shane told the group that he was taking watch tonight, but another part of you recognizes that he’s simply trying to delay the inevitable. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation right now. Not after the whiplash of emotions you experienced today: from the joy of one of your best friends returning from the dead to the devastation you felt for Daryl at the realization that Merle didn’t make it back from Atlanta. 

You had asked about the older Dixon’s absence during a lull in the conversation after you’d all finished dinner. Rick explained what had happened in Atlanta, and though you understood why he chose to handcuff Merle on the roof, your heart broke for Daryl. When you asked if they planned to return to the city for him, you were met by a scoff from Shane and a mumbled good riddance under his breath. His reaction made you sick to your stomach. You may not care for Merle Dixon, but Daryl does. And for all you know, he’s the only family that Daryl has left. 

The prolonged silence that ensued after your question was an answer in itself. They didn’t plan on going back for him. 

You lie down on your cot, sighing as you stare into the darkness above you. Your mind is still racing at the realization of Shane’s infidelity. You hadn’t gotten a chance to process the insinuation during the constant commotion this evening, but now that you were alone, it’s all you can think about. You roll over, closing your eyes and hoping that some sleep will give you a clearer perspective on your dilemma. But even though today took pretty much everything out of you, sleep never seemed further away. The idea of holding onto all of this alone is exhausting, but who are you supposed to talk to right now? Rick and Lori just got each other back. You barely know Glenn and Dale. And even though you’re friends with Andrea and Amy, anything told to the sisters tends to spread through the camp like wildfire. You wish Daryl was here. 

But then there’s your second problem. How do you explain to Daryl that the group left his brother in Atlanta? And how will he respond? Daryl’s just started opening up to you, and you’re depending on that budding friendship now more than ever. You’re afraid he will pull away from the group due to the betrayal. And you wouldn’t blame him — betrayal weighs heavy on your heart right now. 

You let out another sigh as you turn onto your back. You pull your thin blanket over your head, trying to physically block out the thoughts spiraling inside of your brain. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you pull Dale’s book out of your backpack and ignite your small flashlight. You open the book to where you left off, but instead of getting further into the novel, your eyes drift to the crumpled piece of paper acting as your placeholder. Finally, you drift off rereading Daryl’s hastily written note. 

When you wake, you’re met with rays of morning sunlight filtering through the flaps of your tent. You blink the grogginess out of your eyes. Even though you slept more than usual last night, your body feels like it didn’t get any rest. You gather your strength and manage to get off of your small cot, groaning as your feet connect with the ground. Hopefully, you’ll feel better once you busy yourself with something to do around camp. 

Exiting your tent, you’re met with a surprisingly empty camp. Your brow furrows as you sweep the area, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your eyes land on Rick talking to Carol by the RV. Having Rick Grimes back in your life still feels like a dream. You make your way up to the pair, and Rick glances over your way. 

“You look as tired as I feel.”

Although his words are said in a humorous tone, his eyes hold a look of genuine concern. The small smile on your face grows a bit wider at the sight. Rick Grimes isn’t your blood, but you’ve considered him your family since you befriended Lori all those years ago.

“Just a restless night, I suppose.”

You attempt to brush off the concern nonchalantly. The last thing you want to do is worry Rick as he’s settling back in with his friends and family. But even though he lets out a warm chuckle at your response, the concern etched into his features doesn’t dissipate. Rick opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a woman screaming. The two of you look toward where the sound is coming from, somewhere off in the surrounding woods, before looking back at each other with wide eyes.

“Lori…”

Without another word, the two of you race off into the woods with Carol not far behind. As you both get further into the forest, you begin to hear a medley of concerned voices. And finally, you find a small clearing with the entire group gathered around Sophia and Carl. Rick rushes over to his son, but your eyes are fixated on an inanimate walker lying beside a deer carcass. Your hand subconsciously lands on your hip and grabs the hilt of your hunting knife. Although it looks like some of the men handled the walker, you still have a sinking feeling in your stomach as your eyes rake over the jagged bite marks that trail down the deer’s neck. 

A rustling in the woods pulls your attention away from the carnage, and suddenly, everyone is on high alert. You watch as both Shane and Rick get in front of Lori and Carl, shielding them with their bodies as they draw their guns up toward the sound. Your tense shoulders relax, and a relieved sigh escapes your lips as Daryl appears from the dense forest brush. Everyone drops their weapons as Daryl raises his hands. Shane groans as he spots a handful of squirrels that Daryl has tied onto a rope in his left hand. Daryl glares at Shane for a second before his eyes land on the mangled deer lying on the forest floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

Daryl approaches the deer, angrily muttering about how he’d been tracking it for miles. He kicks the deer in frustration and drops to a knee to assess the damage the walker has done. 

“I was gonna drag it back to camp — cook us all up some venison. What do you think? Think we could cut around the chewed-up parts?”

Daryl’s proposal earns him several disgusted groans, and Shane responds. 

“I wouldn’t risk it, man.”

Daryl sighs disappointedly before standing up from the deer. He wipes off his hands on the front of his jeans. His eyes harden slightly as he looks over at Shane. 

“That’s a damn shame. Got some squirrel though — that’ll have to make due.”

From behind him, the walker begins groaning and Daryl rolls his eyes as multiple people cry out in horror. In one swift motion he swings his crossbow from behind his back and shoots the walker square between the eyes. Daryl’s eyes scan the small crowd that has gathered around all of the commotion. His posture relaxes ever-so-slightly as his eyes meet yours. He gives you a subtle nod — a small gesture you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead of nodding back, you drop your eyes to the ground. You’re not quite sure how to face him right now — overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment over your current predicament with Shane and guilt that you didn’t go to Atlanta after learning about Merle. Realistically, you know that there’s no way that you could go on a lone rescue mission to the city to save Merle, but you still feel like you should have done something. 

Daryl’s brow furrows, and his heart clenches at your reaction. What happened while he was gone? Daryl looks around and suddenly realizes that everyone in camp is staring at him with a disheartened expression — everyone except Merle. His eyes quickly scan the group once more before he starts making his way toward their shared tent. Everyone moves to follow him. 

“Merle! Merle, where you at?”

You move to step forward. If anyone was going to break the news about his brother, it should be someone who cares about him. But before you can speak, Shane pushes you behind him and takes the lead.

“Daryl, just slow up a bit. We need to talk to you about Merle. There was a problem in Atlanta.”

Daryl chews on his bottom lip for a second before responding. 

“He dead?”

Your heart breaks as you watch Daryl’s expression drop.

“We’re not sure.”

Daryl’s face hardens at Shane’s answer. 

“He either is or he ain’t!”

Rick puts a hand on Shane’s shoulder before things get too heated between the two hot-headed men. As Daryl’s gaze shifts from Shane to Rick and his eyes narrow. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Rick Grimes.”

Recognition flashes in Daryl’s eyes as the name immediately reminds him of the numerous stories you’ve told him about the man you consider a brother. His gaze flickers to you briefly before shifting back to Rick. For your sake, he pushes his anger aside for a moment and chooses to listen to Rick. You watch intently as Rick explains the events that happened in Atlanta. Daryl’s nostrils flare, and his grip tightens around the squirrels he’s holding. 

“You’re tellin’ me that you handcuffed my brother on top of a roof and left him there?”

“Yeah.”

And then all hell breaks loose. Daryl throws the bundle of squirrels at Rick, causing Shane to launch himself at Daryl. You rush forward as Shane tackles Daryl to the floor. You’re yelling at Shane — begging him to get off of Daryl. As you attempt to pull Shane off of him, Shane reaches back and pushes you off of him. Daryl yells as you hit the ground hard. Rick helps you up, and there’s a collective gasp as Daryl, who has managed to get out of Shane’s hold, pulls out his hunting knife. 

“Stop it!”

You step in between the two men — back to Shane. Daryl’s chest heaves from the physical activity, and his eyes don’t leave the man behind you. 

“Daryl.”

Finally, his eyes meet yours, and his face softens ever-so-slightly. He sighs before dropping the knife. You nod at him approvingly before turning to look at Shane. Although Daryl seems to have settled down, Shane is still fuming. His gaze is like daggers as he continues to stare at Daryl. T-Dog steps forward to diffuse the situation. 

“I dropped the key, but I locked the door. Nothing should be able to get in there — we just have to go back.”

You hear Daryl grunt from behind you. As you turn to face him, he’s chewing on his bottom lip again. You can practically see the gears turning his head. 

“Just tell me where he is so I can go get him.”

“I’ll go back with you.”

Lori clenches her jaw at Rick’s words, obviously upset by her husband’s decision. T-Dog nods at Rick’s words before stating he’ll join them. Shane mutters a string of expletives under his breath as Rick glances around the group. His eyes land on Glenn, and he shifts his feet nervously.

“Really, man?”

“You know the city better than anybody. It’d make me feel safer knowing you’re there with me.”

Glenn hesitates for a moment before nodding. Rick gives him a small smile, and Shane lets out an exasperated sigh.

“So that’s your big plan, man? You, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl?”

“And me.”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes land on you. Shane’s expression hardens as his eyes meet yours. His gaze is ice cold, but you don’t back down. 

“The hell you are!”

“I’m going, Shane.”

Shane huffs before taking several steps toward you.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind? This is Merle Dixon we’re talking about.”

You glance back over your shoulder at Daryl who is nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He’s watching the interaction attentively. Just like always, he’s prepared to step in if Shane loses his cool.

“He’s still human, Shane. He deserves better than to die handcuffed on top of a roof like a rabid animal.”

Shane’s expression tightens as his gaze briefly shifts between you and Daryl. His gaze eventually focuses back on you and his eyes narrow. 

“You’re really gonna do this for him?”

He juts his chin towards Daryl, and you let out a dry laugh due to the absurdity of this conversation. Everyone’s watching the stand-off between you and Shane intently — you’d be embarrassed by the attention if you weren’t so angry. 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him, alright? It’s about doing the right thing.”

Shane takes another menacing step forward. You know what he’s doing — he’s trying to intimidate you into submission, but you’re done with this. He squares his shoulders as he towers over you, but instead of cowering, you stand your ground.

“That’s bullshit. If you leave with them, we’re done.”

His voice is seething. He’s desperately trying to regain control of the situation — the ultimatum is proof of that.

“We’ve been done, Shane.”

You turn to leave the conversation, but Shane reaches out and grabs your wrist. The grip he has on you is bone-breaking, and you let out a surprised yelp as he pulls you back towards him. Immediately, Daryl springs into action. A low, threatening growl rumbles in his throat as he moves toward you.

“Don’t fucking touch her.”

Shane’s grip tightens at Daryl’s warning. You squirm due to the pain shooting up your arm. You desperately try to wriggle out of Shane’s grasp, but it’s too tight.

“Stay out of this. She isn’t yours.”

“Are you deaf? She ain’t yours either.”

Before Shane can react, Rick grabs his shoulder. He looks at you and Shane with wide eyes, obviously confused about what has happened between you both during his absence.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Finally, Shane releases his grip, and you immediately backstep away from him. Daryl places a gentle hand on your shoulder and moves you further away from Shane. Rick’s brow furrows in confusion as he watches Daryl precautiously step in front of you. He’s obviously missing something here. The last time he saw you both — before the accident, before the coma — you were laughing with each other during dinner at Rick and Lori’s. He remembers your joy. But now you’re looking at his best friend with nothing but discontent. And Daryl, the man that Shane warned Rick about last night, is the one protecting you from a man you shouldn’t fear. Rick shakes his head before addressing the rest of the group. 

“Alright everyone, the show’s over. Let’s all cool off for a bit, okay?”

The group begins to wander off in different directions. But Daryl and Shane continue to stare each other down until Rick grabs Shane’s shoulder again.

“Shane, let’s go.”

It sounds more like a warning than a suggestion. Finally, Shane tears his eyes away from Daryl and stomps into camp. Rick gives you one last apologetic look before following after his best friend. You let out a sigh of relief and let your shoulders drop as the tense encounter finally ends. Daryl turns to face you, and his eyes immediately drop to your wrist, which is already beginning to bruise.

“You ‘lright?”

You nod wordlessly, still overwhelmed by everything that just happened. Daryl moves you back toward a fallen log to sit you down before he cautiously grabs your wrist. You’re so far away right now you don’t even respond to the touch. He drops down on one knee and gently assesses the damage that Shane caused, making sure nothing’s broken. Once Daryl is content with his assessment, he meets your eyes. His expression is brimming with worry as he searches your face. 

“You sure you’re ‘lright?”

Finally, you meet his eyes, and Daryl’s heart breaks at the sight of your broken appearance. He’s overwhelmed by his need to protect you — a feeling that’s becoming increasingly common for him as he spends more time with you. This time, you simply shake your head. Honestly, you have no idea what you feel right now. 

Daryl nods and takes a seat beside you. He feels like a fucking idiot. He never should have left you here for so long — not after everything you told him about Shane, everything he’s observed over the weeks you’ve spent in camp together. Before he can kick himself further, you speak again.

“It’s over, right?”

Daryl looks at you softly and nods.

“It’s over.”

“But he’s still…”

“You ain’t gotta worry about him anymore. I promise you, I ain’t gonna let him do anything to you. Not anymore.”

You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity in his tone and the devotion in his eyes. He promises to protect you like he’s taking an oath. And for the first time since he left on his hunting trip, you feel safe. You nod, honestly believing that Daryl would put himself in harms way for your own well-being. Hell, he already did. You lean back against the fallen log and Daryl reaches into his pocket before wordlessly offering you a cigarette. A warm laugh bubbles in your chest at the gesture and Daryl wishes he could record the sound. You take the cigarette and give him a small smile.

“You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he hands you a lighter. You take it graciously and Daryl watches you light the cigarette between your lips. You hand the lighter back to him before taking a long drag.

Goddamn.

He always thought those cowboy killers would kill one day — but he was wrong. You’re going to be the death of him and he’s okay with that. Because he can’t think of a more wonderful way to go.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@dreamtofus

@youcantstandit

@ajlovesdilfs

@prettywhenibleed

@luvsvnlqt-things

@strnqer

@marina-isabella

@lissanovak

@elissanatok

@luv-4-aria

@moejoeflow-blog

@ceoofdisappointment

@jewellthebooknerd

@callsignwidow

@genderless-ghosty-boi

@all-will-be-well-love

@tabzthemightyyyy

@mychemicalimagines

@nosebleeds-247

@catradora333

@punicorn999

@tybsbnbn

@i-wear-wet-socks313

@sunny92sworld

@echothy

@ta3baee

@rottngzombi

@rhey-007

@azanoni

@ritosparty

@vaniniweenie

@nameless-ken

@ibuch7

@theunfortunateshadow

@j0joworld

@marauder-exe-old

@hello-emma

@ziziriaa-blog

@livingdeadblondequeen

@krissophia

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

@kellie-ana-blog

@my-name-is-heartache

@the-valars-sapphire

@mer-curie03

[darsynia]

Forgiven: joYOUs | CEO Steve/f!Reader series Part III

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | Ro Roll | Prev Fic

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have been dating for a little over two months, and it's been wonderful. Through it all you've asked yourself if it could possibly be real--but when he finally invites you to stay over at his apartment, you realize that being 'real' has as much to do with his complicated issues at work as it does being a Hallmark movie protagonist brought to life.

WC/Warnings: 5,200 // explicit sex

As 6/7 of my Ro Roll badly-belated-birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, joYOUs is part III in my CEO Steve and f!Freader series. This story also (more lightly than intended) is written for the 'first fall of snow' prompt for @the-slumberparty's December Daze!

Can be read standalone!

Excerpt:

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs.

Joyous

You’ve tried not to read anything into the 36 hours of no-contact since Steve left on his business trip. He had warned you that he would be ‘can’t check the phone’ kind of busy, but you also know that his stress has ramped up considerably with the holidays coming up. You suspect that the café project hadn’t been enough of a respite--but you’d promised yourself not to push him too hard about his burnout, and that includes acting like it’s no big deal that you haven’t talked for a while. 

Just normal early relationship stuff, really.

That all drops away like an uncomfortable bra after a long day at work when you get a text at 10 PM Friday night.

🪴🪴🪴: We still on for tomorrow at 7? I’ve been thinking about you since the plane took off from LaGuardia.

🪴🪴🪴: Whoops i

🪴🪴🪴: was only supposed to send that first part.

🪴🪴🪴: Hit enter too e

🪴🪴🪴: Buck give me back the phone. Don’t send her anything, okay? You’re hopeless, man. You have to leave some mystery. If she had any idea how much you talked about her while we were gone, she’d probably quit her job and leave the state. What’s. Oh shit it’s recording. How do I make it. Give it back. Bucky I mean it just put it down before you screwdriver

Screwdriver?

The (thrilling) mess of words take a minute or two to detangle, and once you parse the dictated back-and-forth, you realize that Steve’s subsequent silence is probably mortification. Adorable mortification.

The phone rings on silent mode, buzzing wildly in your hand. Surprise makes you drop it on your lap like it’s alive-- which it might as well be, because the vibration sends it jittering across your indulgent silk pajamas and onto the floor.

“Shit!” you gasp out, knowing that any delay in answering will probably make everything much worse. You scramble off the bed in a move so inelegant your sister calls out asking if you’ve joined her in Broken Leg Land. “I’m fine, just an idiot!” you holler, finally grabbing the phone from your crumpled position on the bedroom floor.

“That’s not true at all!” Steve Rogers’ voice echoes from the speakers. You must have  brushed the ‘answer’ part when you picked it up, because of course that would happen.

“Oh my god, is there a deity of phones I’ve badly wronged today?” you gasp out, bringing the thing gingerly up to your ear. Thankfully, he’s chuckling, and damn, it’s sexy.

“Seems like it. Should we call this a draw?” he suggests, adding, “I evicted the phone thief, sorry about that. He just wants what’s best for me.”

“Which would be… screwdrivers?” you offer, grinning despite your rational brain screaming at you not to sound overeager. “You somehow don’t strike me as an orange juice and vodka kind of guy.”

“You’re right, and that was a nice deflect.” There’s gratitude as well as sheepishness in Steve’s voice. When paired with the ‘forbidden truths’ in the dictated texts, you may be sitting on the floor in twisted-up PJs, but your mind and heart are floating on a cloud somewhere high above Manhattan. “Should I send a car tomorrow?”

Surprise snarls the response in your throat into a twisted um-cough combo that is entirely indelicate. “Sorry, yes, that, yes,” you manage, kicking yourself. He runs a company, having a car service probably doesn’t seem impersonal to him, even though he’s always picked you up or met you somewhere before this. The Maiden Aunt in your brain tries to argue that the magic is over, but she’s drowned out by College TA, who thinks this is a step up in statistical importance.

Some girls get a devil on their shoulder, but you ended up with a pessimist and an overachiever.

“How about a do-over,” Steve says, interrupting your mental chaos. “Can I pick you up tomorrow?”

“Yes!” you say in a flood of relief. “I’m sorry, you said ‘send a car’ and all I could picture was one of those movies where someone in livery holds up a piece of paper with my name--”

He interrupts before you can gnaw past the foot in your mouth and up onto the ankle.

“I don’t mind driving, don’t worry. See you at seven, then.” With that, CEO Eye, Ear, and Heart Candy hangs up, leaving you in a flustered, anticipatory mess on the floor in your bedroom.

Jennie gives you relentless shit over that whole sequence of events, but she also gives you access to her closet. You’ve already run through your handful of fancy dresses on dates with Steve, and everything else gives you ‘someday I might go clubbing’ or ‘student on a budget’ vibes.

Your sister’s tastes run more expensive than yours, and she’s always been a fan of modular clothing-- skirts that wrap around, blouses with 3x as much fabric as necessary that end up folding and twisting into a masterpiece, etc. It’s worked out well for her while she’s laid up with a broken leg, but the unusual style might help you keep up appearances. You choose a black form-fitting pants topped with a silky wraparound blouse; hopefully they’ll look sophisticated enough for your first visit to Steve’s apartment.

True to form, Jennie makes three ‘wrapped present’ jokes about the two ribbon-tied sections of your shirt before you make it out the door.

Steve is waiting beside his car when you come outside. He’s clearly come from work, wearing tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt that looks so good you’re practically overheating in the brisk winter air. Then he smiles at you, and your body takes a detour from ‘visit to Arizona’ straight down to ‘the Brazilian Rainforest,’ all innuendo included.

Oblivious to your secretly disrespectful ogling, Steve moves to escort you to your car door, standing deliciously close by as he opens it. His aftershave smells heady and masculine, distracting enough that you turn your heel a little bit on the seam of the sidewalk. Your unbuttoned coat swings back and his hand moves to steady you, fingers tangling in the red ribbon holding your blouse together on that side.

“Oh!” you gasp, half because of his sheer strength and half because good god, if that bow comes undone on the street you’re not sure how much you’re even going to care right now. You gently grasp his hand (finding that, yep, the sizzling live wire connection on physical contact is still active), salvaging the knot for the sake of your sanity.

“Wow,” Steve breathes in a low voice that sends its resonance whizzing through your whole body. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur intelligently.

You’re never going to tell your sister how many mental seconds it’s taken you to go from 0 to head over heels for this man.

“Do you need me to adjust the buckle? You were making a face,” Steve explains.

“Oh, no, I was coming up with something suitably embarrassing to text my nagging sister so she doesn’t send me ‘romantic suggestions’ all night,” you admit. “She means well, but I think she’s been watching too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Nothing I do or say will measure up!”

He chuckles. “I won’t comment on what my own nag might have to say on the outcome of the evening.”

“You mean the professional phone thief? He owes you, not the other way around! Telling secrets on dictation while your friend’s planning to bring a girl home-- and then sending it? Hung, drawn, and quartered.”

“Well, the method of delivery may have been terrible,” Steve says, looking over at you while paused at a red light, “--but none of that was a secret.”

The light changes, and just like Jennie’s favorite movies, he holds your gaze instead of driving on. You’re suddenly very aware of everywhere your clothing touches you, especially at your chest, where the fabric of your blouse clings to your curves. When you pull in a breath, Steve’s attention dips down to appreciate them, too.

“Eyes on the road, CEO Eye Candy,” you tease (not for the first time), and his expression scrunches up into easy laughter.

There’s an older, well-dressed couple in the parking garage to his building when you arrive, and the four of you ride the elevator up together until you and Steve step out. Just before the doors close, you catch the woman looking up at her husband fondly, nodding toward the two of you. No pressure! you think to yourself again, but then Steve opens the door to his apartment and smiles with such honest happiness that you forget everything else but him.

Just like he is, the main room is a charming mix of vintage and modern, with warm wood accents and high-tech amenities. There’s something both open and intimate that hits you right away; the floor is dotted with comforting rugs, the walls with bookcases, creating cozy little nooks, but the lamplight is warm and inviting throughout.

“I need to start the oven,” Steve says with a light touch to your arm, gesturing to take your coat. You nod and hand it over before you step farther in, finally letting yourself glance beyond the bookshelves of classics and the homey crochet afghan to the view. 

It’s completely captivating. The wall of windows face east, showing the lively cityscape to glorious effect (and you can’t help but picture what the sunrise would look like!). It suddenly hits you that you’re in Steve’s space. There are no phones to ring and save you from a misstep, no waitress to break the tension, no dog running past chasing its ball in the grass.

If he sees just how far gone you are on him already, will Steve think you’re a gold-digger, or will he understand that you can’t help but be dazzled and drawn in by the kind of man he is, not the things he surrounds himself with?

“Are you all right?” Steve asks. You startle, making eye contact with his reflection in the window, and something about the intimacy of that makes you tell the absolute truth.

“I’m realizing there are no flowerpots to hide behind.”

He smiles and moves closer, one hand casually in his pocket. When he’s just near enough that you can feel his warmth through the back of your blouse, Steve tips his head in a move that bleeds sincerity, still holding your gaze.

“What if you didn’t have to hide?”

You can’t look away. “What if that doesn’t make me any less shy?”

“Makes it all the more rewarding to earn that smile of yours,” Steve says, moving to face you instead of the view.

The weight of where you are, who you’re with, and how much it means to you keeps your gaze glued to the view outside the window, but the city lights blur a little with the frequency of your blinking. You want to reassure him that the shyness is good actually, that it means you really like him, that what he thinks about you is important--

“I have a confession to make,” Steve says in an apologetic tone.

Your mind springs to swift and miserable action: Somehow his good guy persona is a sham and he’s actually a real-life Christian Grey (honestly, you’d try it). This is all a bet and your naive honesty is embarrassing (horrifyingly plausible)...

Steve says, “--happened to it, I have no idea what, but the food’s ruined. We’re going to have to get take-out.”

His warm apologetic tone heats your fears into float-away steam, and you rush to reconnect with reality. “I’m sorry that happened, but I’m here for you, not your food,” you stammer out, only fully hearing what you’ve said once it’s already out there. “Shit, that came out--”

“--perfectly,” Steve laughs. You can’t help but toss him the Skeptical Eyebrow, despite your heart voting on the ‘melt’ option. “I’m being serious,” he goes on. “Honesty is in rare supply for much of my day-to-day. Suppliers expect us to push for cheaper materials, manufacturers are uncomfortable with flexible deadlines, and we’ve fired multiple product designers who get upset by how much we rely on end-user feedback.” He lets out a long sigh, punctuating it with a rueful laugh. “I felt more relaxed with the construction crew than I do with my so-called ‘peers.’”

The frustrated defeat in his tone makes you step close to tuck yourself up against his side, hugging him with an arm around his back. Steve’s arm comes around you right away, and god, you wish you could bottle that feeling. The two of you have shared quite a few toe-curling kisses, but physical affection like this is exciting, despite being prompted by Steve’s ongoing business concerns.

It’s easy to believe that this part of your life isn’t real when you’re at work answering phones and giving directions. You’re never prepared for the way Steve tips your life upside down, and in a way that makes moments like this more magical. Late at night, you do sometimes worry your job at his company makes it harder for him to disconnect.

With his heartbeat thrumming under your cheek and his arm tucked around you, that concern feels as far away as the streetlights visible across the city. There’s still a thread of tenseness in his embrace that tells you he’s not as relaxed as you are. You might not have the money to take him out for a fancy dinner or attend an exclusive event, but you can show him he’s wanted.

“So what you’re saying is that we should brainstorm another building project for the lobby? Preferably within sightlines of the front desk?”

You get to feel his laugh before you hear it.

“Oh, I wish. I’ve actually started looking into Habitat For Humanity, a couple of other hands-on charities,” Steve tells you, squeezing you tighter against him for a second or two. “They’ve got experience with higher profile contributors, safety concerns, that sort of thing.”

The moment hangs. Humor isn’t enough.

“That doesn’t solve the underlying problem though, because the problem isn’t you,” you realize aloud.

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your hairline, but you can sense that his metaphorically held breath isn’t going to release like this. You’re struck by the rightness of your reflection; the two of you fit together so well visually that it’s easy to miss his job insecurities and your uncertain future. Movement beyond the surface catches your eye, and you realize it’s the perfect way to break the tension.

“Oh! It’s snowing!”

“Those are some giant snowflakes.” He hugs you to him briefly before stepping over to a small panel on the wall. “May I?”

The more time you spend with him, the braver you feel. “I’m going to say yes, even though I don’t know what you’re asking.”

Steve’s answering smile is blindingly handsome. “Watch,” he says, nodding to the view. A second later the lights in the room dim or shut off, heightening the glowing cityscape outside. There’s a beauty to the familiar hodgepodge of buildings, more so with the fairy dust of snow drifting down from above.

“It’s like a snowglobe,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the scene to look at Steve. To your surprise, he’s not looking outside, he’s looking at you.

“May I?” he asks again. Heart pounding, you nod, and he walks toward you, his features thrown into sharp relief by the dim light. When Steve finally reaches you, the anticipation has doused you with fuel set alight by the touch of his hand at your cheek. 

This kiss is nothing like the gentle exploration that was your first with Steve. Where then you were still learning each other, this is knowledge. He lifts you up against him effortlessly, his thumb tangling with the ties of your blouse in a way that pulls it taut against your breasts. You let out a gasp as he kisses his way down from your neck over to the neckline of your blouse, making a begging sound of his own.

It sounds like enough of a ‘May I?’ that you whisper, “Yes.”

In three large strides he’s at the couch, setting you onto your feet as he sweeps the afghan and pillows out of the way. When he turns to face you again, you offer him the end of the ribbon tie holding your blouse together.

The reverence with which Steve pulls it loose is sexy as hell, but you absolutely adore the way he locks eyes with you and keeps your gaze when the fabric falls away. You pull in a ragged breath, and his gaze sharpens.

“What do you want?” he asks, his own answer ringing in the undertones.

You want everything, as far into the future as fate allows, but you force yourself to focus on the here and now. “I-- God, I just want you. I want-- oh!” You press your lips together to stop yourself, shy again. There’s honesty, and then there’s honesty. In that confident but gentle way he has, Steve knows exactly what to say.

“Whatever it is, yes.”

He takes your hand and backs the few inches to the couch, sitting down and tugging gently, a clear but respectful invitation. Steve takes a few seconds to just look at you, his eyes tracing across your features and down to the structure of your blouse. He’d mentioned his sketchbook at one of your early-on dates but never elaborated; now the way he unerringly follows each ribbon with his eyes, fingertips, and then lips make you feel like a work of art.

By the time your shirt drops to the floor, you’re practically drunk on the honest arousal you can taste on his lips--and you’re still mostly dressed! One thing you’re certain of: no one will ever make you feel as much like a medieval harlot and an object of worship at the same time like Steve Rogers.

Reluctantly, you draw back from his addictive kisses, pulling his hand from your cheek to briefly kiss his palm. “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me without trying to smooth anything over, got it?”

Steve’s gaze darkens with an amused sort of interest. “I’ll see where you’re going with this, but you should know that there are two places I like to be in charge: the boardroom and the bedroom.”

His tone is gentle, but with an undercurrent of steel. You’re completely unable to stop the way your breath catches and your thighs clench. Sweet fires of hell, this man is perfect.

“It’s a deal,” you manage to squeak out.

“Go on, then.” Steve lifts a hand to brush his thumb along your hairline, down your cheek to press against your lips, dragging them open. From there, he continues to where the swell of your breast meets the lace of your bra, skirting your nipple by lifting his hand up to clasp with the other hand behind his head. Throughout, his gaze holds yours, intense and commanding.

“Sure, show me up, like I’m going to remember anything more than my own name, at this point,” you whisper-whine.

“I used it a few times on my recent trip.” His soft admission is in direct contrast to his casual, confident body language. You’re starting to realize there’s a stronger dichotomy to Steve than you thought. Will you get to have the kind, thoughtful boyfriend who saves you from an evening of elitist tedium and a fierce, possessive lover?

Will you survive, if so?

“Tell me. I’m getting a little jealous of whatever it is you’re thinking about,” Steve intones.

You stop biting your lip and grin. “I’m filing away these new pieces of information about you. Just… don’t ask me where I’m filing them.”

“Oh, I will.”

His voice is like a caress that cascades over you, pausing at your most sensitive places. You shiver, both for your own acknowledgment of the sexual tension and for him to appreciate his effect on you. After letting out a breath that’s more like a yearning sigh, you set your hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With Steve’s steady gaze on you, though, you’re questioning yourself.

“My plan sounds stupid in my head now, with you oozing all of this confidence.”

Immediately, his hand covers yours, setting off sparks with every swipe of his thumb on your skin. “At work it’s a facade, a persona, even--and not a flattering one. I didn’t think I could shake it off, the night of the gala. It’s more natural when--” He interrupts himself by pulling you in for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re not faking it here,” you observe minutes later. The whole concept is knocking you sideways, but-- “Okay, I need to tell you I’m picturing you in one of those tailored suits commanding a room of powerful people and that is just sexy as hell.”

He rocks his hips up into you. “I’ll let them know--but, roll back a minute. What was your plan? Better yet,” Steve interrupts himself, setting a heavy hand on your hip to hold you still as he grinds up against you again. “Show me.”

His confidence is literally rubbing off on you. “All right, but fair warning: it’s very ‘over-eager receptionist peeks at you between decorative plants.’” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, his warm hand travels from your hip around and down, fingertips pushing aside your waistbands to firmly grip your ass.

“I know exactly who I’m here with.”

There’s enough of the altruistic, spend-a-week-building-with-the-bros tone in his voice to be reassuring, and you nod.

“Right, then.” Briskly, with the heat of arousal singing through you from every point of contact, you unbutton the top button of his dress shirt. “You’re kind.” Button two: “You’re moral and fair.” Your eyes are focused on your ‘work,’ but you can see Steve break into a smile. At button three, you’re almost halfway down. “You’re a hard worker.”

Steve lets out a deep ‘Mmmm’ sound. Thanks to his ass-grab leverage, he blatantly moves your hips in time with his for a cycle of thrusts that leave you breathless. You can’t look at him, so you clear your throat like a prudish schoolmarm and meticulously unbutton #4.

“You’re good at your… job.” It takes a little while to free this button, so you end up worrying your lower lip with your teeth as you try. Once you’re finished, with anticipation lifting every single hair follicle on your body, only then do you make eye contact.

He mutters ‘fuck’ and reaches between the two of you to unbuckle his belt, popping his trouser snap with an expression that challenges you to object.

There are two shirt buttons left.

You’re completely out of your depth, as desperate to come as you may have ever been in your entire existence, and you have zero idea what else to say--but you reach for button number five.

You wet your lips. Slowly.

Steve grips the couch with his free hand-- but the one he’s holding onto you with is still firm and not at all bruising (not that you’d mind. You’ll paint yourself with this man’s passion if he lets you). 

“You’re passionate.”

He makes a cut-off sort of growl in the back of his throat when you move to the last button. You can see the heavy bulge of his cock in his boxer briefs just an inch away from your palms. In a perfect world, you’d say ‘fuck it’ to coming up with another word. In a perfect world, you’d reward both of you by giving up and sliding to your knees, demonstrating exactly how much you appreciate this tall, sexy, beast of an honorable man--and then you have an idea.

Your borrowed pants have a simple clasp, and you move your hands slowly from Steve’s last remaining shirt button to release it, incidentally dragging across his straining cock as you do so. The blatant teasing gets ‘worse’ when you draw down your zipper, nudging, rubbing, and pressing until it’s fully unzipped.

Throughout, Steve’s hand on your ass remains steady, but his breathing grows more and more ragged.

Finally, you lift your hands up and away, denying him any more contact before dropping down to reach for the last button.

“You--” he rumbles, but you interrupt him with two words.

“You’re patient.”

With a practically incomprehensible oath that thoroughly refutes your last impudent compliment, Steve shoves down your loosened clothing and angles the two of you to the side on the couch, all in a single action. Then he sinks two fingers inside you roughly, both of you groaning at the desperate, glorious pleasure of it.

You cram a fist in your mouth, but he stops in the middle of his one-handed shucking of his pants and boxers to yank your fist free.

“All through that shitty conference I imagined the noises you’d make tonight,” Steve grits out, looking down at you with naked desire in his eyes. He twists his fingers mid thrust, and you can’t help but cry out, your hips chasing every movement his talented, devastating fingers perform on you.

You’re already so close. The white-hot, catastrophic release starts to cloud your vision, stayed only by your delayed understanding of what he just said.

“Wait, you’re saying during the--”

Steve kicks the last inches of his lower clothing free and swaps hands deftly, spreading your arousal on his cock with an ‘Mmmm’ of pleasure so filthy you flutter around his fingers in pre-orgasmic shock.

“Thinking about you genuinely kept me sane, and I'm going to turn those daydreams into reality,” he rasps, a modern Greek god with the morals of a saint and the body of a satyr, as if you could ever do anything but gratefully worship him.

You mouth something like the word “Yes,” too desperate for anything more coherent.

The pleasure that follows his first deep thrust is ruinous. You forget everything but Steve, the taste of praise on his lips, the delight his touch chases across your skin, and most of all, the power he arches into you, music and mayhem and meaning, all at once. By the time you’re shuddering around each other you’ve ended up on the floor in front of his couch--and you only notice because Steve’s got a hand cradling the back of your head.

“I’m out of adjectives,” you whisper weakly. “All of the good ones. Most of the naughty ones. Fuck, other languages, too. Even extinct ones. You’re fluent in everything.”

Steve pulls you to his chest and does something athletic that ends with you on the couch beside him, his soft homemade afghan covering the most pertinent parts of your nakedness.

“You make me want to be fluent in everything,” he murmurs. “And, thank you.” Steve grabs his shirt and holds it in front of his crotch. “I’ll get a washcloth.”

He’s jogging farther into the apartment before you can respond, but something about his protective actions trigger a flurry of realization, something you should be--

Oh.

The fall of snow past the giant picture windows brings reality crashing into you. You just had glorious, intense, messy sex in a room that is visible from other nearby buildings!

Steve reappears with a soft-looking washcloth. He’s wearing pajama pants, with what looks like a matching long-sleeved top slung over his shoulder.

“I forgot about the windows,” you say in a small voice, taking the washcloth and using it under the afghan.

“Oh, right,” he says in a completely un-worried voice. Steve looks over at you, sees the half-scared expression on your face, and his demeanor sort of… softens. It’s both obvious and hard to quantify, and it hits you that he’s almost certainly done that before, even if you hadn’t noticed. You imagine there’s a lot of things his clothes and a carefully-crafted facial expression would cover for. He sits down beside you on the couch and offers you the shirt as he says, “The couch is recessed enough into the room that it’s not very visible, I think, but I wasn’t thinking, and I should have asked you about that. I’m sorry.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, and you ask him about that while pulling on his proffered pajama top, juggling the blanket in the process.

“Would it be strange to say I get very… goals-oriented?” he asks, rueful and amused in equal measure.

“How much different a ‘persona’ are we talking, here?”

The question is meant playfully, but Steve takes long enough to answer that you can feel the warmth of the washcloth start to fade in your hand.

“Too different for comfort, I’m coming to realize.” 

He reaches for the washcloth, but you pull it close and get up, gesturing for him to lead you to wherever you can rinse it out. On the way, you can’t help but eye the windows in a new way, perhaps as unintentional adversaries.

“I haven’t let myself be truly seen in a long time,” Steve says as you drape the rinsed washcloth on a drying rack in the dimly-lit kitchen area. “The reason is--well, it might be insulting, but it’s honest.”

You resist the urge to hug your arms around yourself. He’s given you a shirt to wear that matches his, and you were serious with those compliments earlier, despite the pleasure-wrought desperation you felt as you spoke them. “Go on?”

“You’re yourself with me. Not fawning. There’s no facade, no attempt to pretend you have more money or influence. That’s rare. Precious even.”

His statement stings, despite everything that’s happened tonight, despite the way his compliment hews off the rough edges. There’s no derision or judgment in his tone, so you smile at him, albeit stiffly. 

“I don’t really have a way to hide those things. I’m me. I figured if you were bothered by--” you wince, feeling a sense of inferiority rise up inside you (dropped out of college, pulled out of your internship, entry-level job, depleted nest-egg, caregiver for your sister, baggage, baggage, baggage) before you wrestle it all back down. “--any of that, you’d move on, and I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“I don’t want to move on,” Steve says firmly, brushing his hand over your hair as if to adjust the disarray that came from putting on his shirt. “I want to move forward, even if that means you can see through some of the windows I usually cover with curtains. Will you be exclusive with me?”

“I’d really like that,” you whisper, overcome. “And not just because you fuck like a complete god.”

The words slip out before you can fucking stop them, and you gasp, the tidal wave of your social inferiority to a man like Steve coming blasting through all the tentative bridges you’ve just built. You hear buzzing in your ears, your vision is misted over with regret--but seconds later, you realize he’s laughing.

“Okay I swear on every single deity that exists, I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud! I’m so sorry,” you groan, your relief over his amusement barely tempering the metallic tang of adrenaline on your tongue.

Your… your boyfriend Steve Rogers takes your hand in his and lifts it up, bowing over it before kissing it with more chivalry than a whole season of Game of Thrones. Even one of the early ones.

“Sweetheart, you’re forgiven.”

<- Previous story...

[pamwritessometimes]

Tuesday's Gone — Chapter 10

Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: fluff, otherwise none I believe

A/N: Alright, so there’s a tiny chance I may have written my dog into this. But hey, who’s to say? Here we are at the endgame, and I’ve baked this epilogue to be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed… by the way, I’ve gotten so attached to these characters that we’ll likely see more of them down the road. In the meantime, a huge thank you for tagging along on this journey with me. Ily🤍🤍🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 9 here

Tuesday's Gone masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe you talked me into this” you muttered under your breath, feigning annoyance.

Truth be told, you were thrilled to be here. But no way in hell were you letting either of them know that.

Russell leaned down, his voice low in your ear. “Come on, it was her idea. And don’t even try to act like you’re not fuckin’ enjoying this.”

You shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong, though. The sight of Emma skipping ahead, practically buzzing with excitement as she followed the shelter worker to the kennels, was worth every bit of this “reluctant” family outing.

This wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment decision either. You’d been thinking about it for a while now, especially after everything that happened nearly six months ago. Emma had been so strong through it all, and if anyone deserved this, it was her.

She’d just turned five, and when you asked what she wanted for her birthday – same as last Christmas – her answer hadn’t wavered: a dog.

And, well, you weren’t exactly against the idea anymore. Neither was Russell. 

Team Dog was winning at last.

So here you were, standing in the local animal shelter, after weeks of background checks, interviews, and what felt like an application process to adopt a child. All of it leading to this moment: finding the newest, furriest member of your little family.

By the time you reached the kennels, it was clear Russell had an agenda. 

“What about this guy?” he said, pointing to a massive German Shepherd mix that looked like it moonlit as a bouncer. The dog let out a low, rumbling bark that made Emma flinch.

“No!” she protested, darting behind you for cover. “He’s too big.”

“Too big?” Russell sounded personally offended. “He’s not big. He’s just… sturdy.”

“He’s terrifying” Emma whispered dramatically.

“He’s majestic” Russell shot back.

Meanwhile, you wandered to the next kennel, eyeing a floppy-eared mutt who wagged its tail so hard it was practically levitating. 

“This guy, uh… girl looks sweet” you said upon taking a closer look.

Emma peeked out from behind you. “Maybe. But I want to see more!”

“We have a lot of options. Why don’t we take a look over here?” the shelter worker smiled. 

The next row of kennels was filled with smaller dogs, and Emma’s excitement skyrocketed. She stopped in front of a little black-and-tan pug with a squished face and a perpetually surprised expression.

“This one” she declared with wide eyes. “I want this one!”

Russell, however, recoiled like someone had shown him a tax bill. 

“That? That’s not a dog. That’s… I don’t even know what that is. A loaf of bread with legs? It ain’t even aerodynamic.”

Emma ignored him, crouching down to coo at the pug. The dog tilted its head, then waddled closer, sniffing her fingers through the bars.

“His name is Misha” the worker lady behind you announced.

“Oh, great. He already comes with a ridiculous name. Misha? Misha?” Russell scrunched his face.

Em turned to the shelter worker. “Can I meet him?”

The worker nodded at her with a smile, opening the kennel. Misha ambled out like he owned the place, his curled little tail wagging as your daughter crouched down to pet him.

“Look at him! He’s perfect” she insisted.

Russell groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. Perfect wasn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe it.

“Em, come on. What about one of these guys?” He gestured to a sleek, athletic-looking dog further down. “This one looks like it could run a marathon. That thing” he pointed at the pug, “looks like it’ll need a nap after climbing onto the couch. And an airbag after waking up from a nap.”

The shelter worker cleared her throat, smiling gently. “Actually, Misha’s in great health. Hadn’t had any major issues in his four years of life. He came to us recently. His previous owner passed away. He’s house-trained, doesn’t chew furniture, and loves kids. He’s very low-maintenance, too.”

You perked up at that.

“Wait, he’s not pooping inside? He’s already house-trained?” 

You crouched to look Misha in his bug-eyed little face. 

God, why does he have wrinkles at four? 

“Well, buddy” you patted his head, “that’s a telltale sign you’re coming home with me.”

Russell groaned, clearly fazed by you giving in so easily.

“Unbelievable. We’re bringing home a pug named Misha.”

Emma squealed in victory, while Russell groaned like he’d just lost a bet. “Fine” he relented, glancing at Misha. From this angle he found him almost… cute. Like, cute in a grotesque way. 

“But if that thing starts snoring louder than me, we're gonna have a serious talk” he called after you and Emma as you headed off to sign the paperwork, officially making your little loaf of bread the newest member of your family.

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

“Misha, no! Misha!” Russell shouted as the dog launched himself out of the Chevy, heading straight for the building like a furry missile.

“Well, I’ll be damned. They weren’t kidding, he is in good shape” you remarked, helping Emma out of the car. 

In the three weeks Misha had been living with you, you’d learned that his idea of a good day was a 22-hour nap followed by some seriously relentless running.

And the clinginess? That was definitely a thing, too, especially with Russell despite his best efforts to act annoyed. But he couldn’t fool you. Not with all the photo evidence stashed away on your phone showing him passed out on the couch, Emma tucked under one arm and Misha curled up in the crook of his other. All of them snoring in harmony. Or that one time you caught him absentmindedly scratching the dog’s belly while staring at his phone, completely unaware of how soft he’d gotten so quickly.

Misha also grew fond of you and Emma, too, and soon you figured he wasn’t about to wander off too far even without a leash. Probably still a little rattled from his previous owner’s sudden passing. He loved spending every minute of his time in a now somewhat stable family.

The building the dog was charging toward was a big, brick beauty, with towering windows and a brand-new sign hanging proudly above the door. It was the final product of an ongoing battle of bad brewery name ideas between you and Russell.

You’d pitched some real gems like Hop Notch Brewery, Sweet Foam Idaho, and Shawbusiness. You were obviously just having fun, knowing it was Russell’s dream project. 

“I’m just trying to help!” you exclaimed playfully. 

But still – Shawstopper was practically genius, right?

He, of course, was more into traditional names like Shaw & Co Brewery or Shawcraft. 

But then… you pitched the one name that made him crack. One that he absolutely hated. Hated it so much that, for some bizarre reason, he thought it was twistedly brilliant. So, here you were, standing beneath the freshly hung sign above the front door of…

“Shawshank Brewdemption” Emma read out loud, brows furrowed. You were surprised she could read it relatively effortlessly with all the consonants in there. “I don’t understand!” 

“You will when you’re older” you said, crossing your arms with a smirk and gazing up at the sign like it was a masterpiece of wit.

It was the first day this place would be soft launching into the market, with hosting a small gathering to your family. It wasn’t only Emma’s birthday this month. Funny enough, her dad was also a Leo. 

So here you were, standing in the small, but cosy main room of the brewery with a nice, industrial-style bar with wooden panels, decorated by the first two batches of Russell’s now-semi-home brew, waiting for your and Russ’s guests to arrive. Tthe white stucco walls were your handiwork – well, mostly. Emma contributed by slapping on a few chaotic brushstrokes before abandoning the task entirely to play around in the unfinished rooms. There were wooden tables – made of walnut tree to match the bar and the legs of the barstools, with black leather couches and chairs.

It wasn’t exactly your vision, but it was definitely your sweat and tears. Russell had thrown himself into perfecting the beer, leaving the interior design entirely to you. His initial ideas? Hilariously unhelpful and vague.

“I dunno. I just want it to look hip. Or whatever kids call it nowadays.”

That hip, he later explained, was what you could best describe as an industrial minimalist style. 

“You know... Some brick walls, some white ones, maybe those long black lamps hanging from the ceiling. Oh, and wood. Lots of wood.”

Somehow, you’d managed to turn his disjointed aesthetic wishlist into something real, and now here you were, standing in the finished product. One wall was left bare, the brick foundation shown – hence his request. Though, you’ve given it your touch: the area was filled with green. Snake plant, chinese evergreen, swiss cheese plant, you name it. They really gave the otherwise minimalist interior design a touch of life.

As you stood there, soaking it all in, Russell walked up beside you, sliding a beer onto the bar. “What do you think? Good enough for a little gatherin’?” he asked, his voice warm but his tone just a bit hesitant.

Emma cut him off with a delighted squeal from across the room. “Look, Daddy! Misha’s helping me decorate!” She was tying a stray piece of ribbon loosely around the pug’s neck, who was, unsurprisingly, just letting it happen.

Russell glanced over, then back at you with a sigh. 

“I swear, that dog’s plotting to take over my life.”

“He already has. I caught you sneaking him bits of bacon this morning despite my continuous requests not to. Who’s the softie now?” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he glanced at the room around you.

“You really pulled this place together” he said, his voice soft. “I don’t know how you took my half-baked ideas and turned them into… this.”

You arched an eyebrow, smirking. “So, what I’m hearing is I’m the brains and the talent here?”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. Instead of arguing, he slipped an arm around you, pulling you in for a side hug and pressing a kiss to your temple.

The truth was, you’d poured everything into this. Both of you had. This wasn’t just a brewery. It was something bigger, something that felt like a foundation. Russell had dreamed it up, sure, but somewhere along the way, it became more than his dream. It became your dream too. Not the brewing part, for sure. You weren’t about to start debating hops or malts anytime soon. It was the building part, the fact that this place stood as proof of what the two of you could do together. It wasn’t just about beer or business; it was about creating something solid, something lasting.

It was about saying, without words, that this thing between you and him was real. Serious. Built to last, like the walls around you. And standing here, side by side, you couldn’t help but feel it in your bones: this wasn’t just his place or yours. It was yours.

The rumble of an engine outside broke the quiet anticipation inside the brewery. Misha, the self-proclaimed guard dog, leapt off his cozy bed by the bar and started yapping like the apocalypse was imminent.

“Relax, Napoleon” Russell muttered, scooping the tiny pug up and cradling him like a football. “You couldn’t scare off a squirrel.”

You hadn’t seen Colter in weeks, but you could recognise his car anywhere. He’d been off doing his thing, of course. But from what you could gather from Russ, they kept in touch, even if just by texts. And in the last few months, he made sure to come by every once in a while.

“Uncle Colter’s here!” Emma squealed, bolting toward the opening door.

Emma launched herself at her uncle, and Colter caught her mid-air with practiced ease, his face softening just a little.

“Hey, hey. I swear you can’t stop growing” he said, setting her back down with a pat on her head. 

His eyes drifted toward the furball in Russell’s arms. “What is that?”

“This” Russell said, biting back a laugh, “is Misha. Emma’s choice, of course. And now your new favorite family member.”

Emma chimed in, bounding forward and wrapping her arms around Colter’s waist. “Isn’t he perfect?”

Colter looked at the wiggling ball of fur. “Perfect’s a strong word.”

“Careful” Russell said, his tone amused. “He bites.”

You laughed, stepping forward to give Colter a quick hug. “Good to see you, too. Glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it” he said with a faint smile. Then, he brought in a clumsily wrapped gift box. “Where should I put it?”

Slowly, everyone arrived, which meant the present pile began to look like the Annapurna. Your mom and dad brought food enough to feed an army, despite you saying you had everything ready, they just had to show up. Your mother, of course, adored the place. Your dad, more direct, gave Russell a curt nod, saying “nice sign, birthday boy”. 

Soon, Russell’s sister, Dory also arrived. You’d only met her a few months ago, but the two of you had clicked instantly. Similar in age, similar in humor, meaning similar in your mutual ability to poke fun at Russell without remorse.

Finally, Anna arrived too, juggling a tray of brownies, asking a breathless “Am I late? Because I feel late.” 

You couldn’t help but take a step back to soak it all in. 

Emma was proudly parading Misha around the room like he was the true guest of honor, his curled tail wagging as if he knew it. Your mom was stationed near the bar, taking charge of the food table like it was a military operation. For her, it kind of was. Meanwhile, your dad stood nearby, his chuckles an unmistakable sign that he entertained Colter with his infamously dry one-liners. Anna was chatting with Dory about some undoubtedly exaggerated childhood story that had both of them laughing hard enough to wipe away tears. Russell hovered nearby, refilling drinks and making sure everyone was comfortable. Though his eyes kept drifting back to you.

The mismatched puzzle pieces of your life, both old and new, were all here, fitting together in a way that felt just like it was meant to be.

And now, nothing could ruin this. James Rourke was behind bars, and as Corter kept reassuring, he wasn’t getting out of that prison uniform anytime soon. Horizon owed Russ big time, and they made sure nobody would disturb the three of you again.

Russell strolled over to you, sliding his arm around your waist as the two of you watched your family fill the space you’d built together. 

After a moment, he said, “If you told me this would be my life a year ago, I’d think you gotta be shittin’ me.”

You leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his shoulder. 

“Yeah, well, life’s funny like that” you replied, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “You go from being a flight risk to hosting family gatherings in a brewery called Shawshank Brewdemption. Quite the character arc, Russ.”

He laughed softly, his thumb brushing idly along your waist. “Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

“Oh, I’m impressed” you teased. “Mostly by how you’re managing to look calm while Misha’s trying to con your sister into feeding him cake.”

Russell glanced over just in time to see Dory holding a fork suspiciously close to Misha’s eager face. He let out a low groan. “I swear that dog’s smarter than he looks. And that’s saying somethin’.”

You chuckled, watching Emma swoop in like the world’s tiniest referee, wagging her finger at both Dory and Misha in mock outrage. 

“She’s got your bossy streak” you said, nudging him gently.

“And your stubborn streak” he shot back, grinning.

You smiled back at him, enjoying the easy banter between you two. You took a sip of his brew, then asked, “So, how old are you getting again?”

“39 and still full of charm” he replied with a wink.

You quirked a brow in mischief. “How long have you been 39, huh?”

“Not that long” he quipped with an equally playful expression.

You chuckled, reaching over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Come on” giving his shirt a playful tug. “Time to go bask in the glory of those presents.”

━━━━━━━━━━✦✧✦━━━━━━━━━━━

Aaaand, that’s all, folks! I hope you enjoyed this final chapter. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas, filled with love, cookies, home-cooked meals, and plenty of bejgli (especially to my fellow Hungarian moots, though I probably have none), because that’s exactly what I’ll be indulging in.

Thank you again for keeping up with this story again. If you’re reading this, I thank you personally. Yeah, you. 🤍

xx Pam

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989 @drakelover78 @amberlthomas @lomlbuckybarnes @n-o-p-e-never @roseblue373

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.

[lexkent]

clex fic rec part 2:

The Season by Lenore (2,741 words) summary: Clark runs into Lex at a charity event, and it’s the season of forgiveness.

words with friends by spqr (6,811 words) summary: Lex, the letter begins. I’m sorry, but if you’re reading this, it means I’m dead.

Day of the Crockpot by sabershadowkat (912 words) summary: A moment of surreal clarity.

Complicity by rivkat (4,815 words) summary: Who are you going to believe--me or your own eyes?

In Another Life by Bitsie38 (2,189 words) summary: Years ago, Clark Kent and Lex Luthor were best friends. Now, they are the bitterest of enemies. During yet another Justice League event involving parallel universes, Clark meets a very different Lex Luthor.

The Color of Accord by Lenore (1,499 words) summary: Clark loses his powers and finds Lex.

Golden Rule by rivkat (13,204 words) summary: Clark doesn't make the same mistake twice.

Red String by thehoyden (1,031 words) summary: Dish gloves, destiny, and weird answering machine messages: one of these is not like the others.

Making Things Right by Tallihensia (5,475 words) summary: After Lex comes back from Belle Reve, Clark can't forget. Lex has forgotten, but Clark remembers and it's tearing him apart.

The Plan by Lenore (1,368 words) summary: The rift isn’t exactly what it seems.

A Handful of Dust by seperis (47,059 words) summary: At the end of the world, Lex can't stop running.

Secrets, Lies, and Misunderstandings by mahaliem summary: "In the hall outside Clark's dorm room, Lex slowly backed away without knocking, his mind awhirl with what he'd just heard. Clark Kent was gay."

Red Tape by Lenore (16,262 words) summary: Clark’s illegal, and Lex makes him a green card proposal.

Kryptonite Suit by cecilylee (3,000 words) summary: Even when he's a lying son of a bitch, Clark is a hero.

The Journey Back by Tallihensia (15,555 words) summary: Lex wakes up to a future that is very different from the one he thought he would have. Why is he fighting Superman, and who is Lex Luthor?

Second Chances by Dolimir (4,958 words) summary: Written for the Harlequin Week Challenge. Prompt chosen: The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife: Recuperating on his private Greek island after a car crash, Andreas Petrakos had no memory of the previous year. The last thing he remembered was his passionate affair with beautiful Rebecca Ainsworth...when, actually, she was his wife! 

Long Time Coming by BewareTheIdes15 (14,685 words) summary: “Yes, I’m in love with you,” Lex says, like he’s explaining that the Earth is round; like this is some baseline, inalienable fact that’s not irretrievably reorganizing Clark’s existence. “I’ve never seen any reason for that to be an impediment to our friendship.”

Red Sky at Night by Tallihensia (5,347 words) summary: Clark goes looking for Lex. He finds him in the heart of Kal's former territory, and old instincts rule for both of them.

Therefore I Am by PL Nunn summary: Lex Luthor wakes up with a few holes in his memory and a very disconcerting discovery.

I Can't Believe It's Not Butter by laceymcbain (8,849 words) summary: "Lex, how exactly did you get your head stuck in the banister?"

Stranded by PL Nunn summary: Takes up where season 7 left off, with the sky falling down on Lex and Clark after the final confrontation at the Fortress of Solitude. (WIP. leaves off on a cliffhanger. worth it.)

You Can Call Me Al by Lenore (56,578 words) summary: Lex gets lost, and Clark claims him. An AU a la the movie “Overboard.”

Twilight's Secrets by Tallihensia (8,677 words) summary: Lex is getting divorced again. Superman stops by and the two have a long overdue conversation.

Smallville Throupleverse by CarpeDiemForLife (22,088 words) summary: A series of episode tags that weave a slowburn Clark/Lana/Lex relationship into the background of the show. 

While They Do Dream Things True by thirteenthmoon (6,610 words) summary: Lex falls under the effects of the Black Mercy plant, and dreams up a reality where he and Clark are married. Clark has to travel into his dreams to break him out of it.

May Day by Tallihensia (9,388 words) summary: For fifteen years, Lex has sent Clark flowers on May 1, even when they've been enemies. This year, though, was different. What happened to Lex, and why didn't Clark get any flowers this year?

Reciprocation, Give and Take, Quality Time, and Emergence by PL Nunn summary: When Lex inadvertently discovers Clark's powers a great deal of buried emotion bubbles to the surface on both their parts. Trust issues abound.

Switch: A Comedy of Terrors by rivkat (35,185 words) summary: Plot rocks lead Mind to forget where it put Brain. Wackiness ensues.

Unshatter by Lenore (5,856 words) summary: Rescue. Finally.

Eavesdropping by LadyRa (7,460 words) summary: Jonathan gets a wake-up call about Lex.

Once again, please feel welcome to message me if you’d like content warnings on any specific fic. There's some dark content here and not everything is tagged.

clex fic part 1

[that-hippie-user]

Ok wait

You’re an ACTUAL hypnotist? That’s so cool! You probably get this a lot, but how does it work? I’m a huge psychology nerd so don’t be afraid to get nitty-gritty (unless it’s a trade secret type deal which I totally understand)

XD believe me, i'm no scholar. just a fetishist who's hyperfixated on making people act dumb with spirals. but i'll share what i know.

essentially, we live day by day with a filter that restrains how we behave. this is mostly to act according to societal standards, or sometimes out of shame for aspects of ourselves that we found werent liked.

imagine if that filter were, mostly, gone.

see, hypnosis is a means of opening up your way of thinking, allowing yourself to live fantasies or take actions we otherwise might have trouble doing.

through guided meditation, a subject is made to focus deeply on something. maybe its the text written by their hypnotist guide, or a spiral on their screen with an audio track to follow along, or a candle in a dark room to focus on while centering their thinking.

when successful, a subject enters trance. trance isnt sleep, its more like immersion. imagine reading a book so engrossing that your surroundings seem to almost fade away, as all you percieve are the words on the page.

in this state, you are more open. the filter is down, brought down by the subject's own willingness and dedication. and now they are open to listening more deeply.

no subject can be made to do anything out of character. self harm, hurting others, doing things they find gross or unsettling, no amount of trance will make any of this appealing.

but imagine for a moment, a stage hypnosis show.

whats the most commonly shown display? the classic "cluck like a chicken" command.

this works so well because, if the hypnotist knows what they're doing, they ask for a volunteer.

and anyone who's willing to, of their own accord, go on stage for an audience for the chance of humiliating themselves with silly acts, THAT person craves attention. so obviously they can be made to act silly!

how deeply a subject can enter trance varies. some subjects can go so deep a hypnotist can tell them to see and feel things that arent there, like a relaxing day at the beach in the comfort of their own home, and in the moment it feels real to them. other subjects can only go deep enough to follow simple commands. and 1 in 10 people simply cannot be hypnotized at all, so i hear.

but if a subject is deep enough, even though you're only really giving them permission to do what they want to, in their experience it will be as if they had no control at all.

:P i'm ab/dl, so naturally i have subjects with that proclivity. and one time i got a subject to... use their diapers for their intended purpose. as they put it:

"my body just kinda moved on its own, its like you sh*t my pamps for me!"

XD now that may not be YOUR thing, and thats fine. like i said, hypnosis gives you permission, it isnt full control.

:3 if you are curious wether trance is possible for you, i have a simple description. if you are:

adventurous, open to trying new things, trusting of others, able to focus deeply on what interests you, and like the idea of someone else taking the reigns and guiding you for a bit-

X3 then you're absolutely capable of being tranced.

:3 did that answer your questions?

[misc-obeyme]

Okay I haven’t read the last lesson yet but I will get to the ones I’ve missed and read them all at once.

In the meantime, what I’m getting is it’s time to write stories to fill in the gaps.

When I did my poll about what long story to write next, the one about Solomon & MC in Cocytus Hall won, but the one about Solomon & MC meeting before the exchange program was a close second.

So I think I might combine them. And develop the answers to who is Nightbringer, what did Barbatos do when he was younger, why did Solomon summon him, and all that history we never learned. I don’t think we’re likely to get these answers anymore so I’m gonna make up my own version of them. It’ll probably take me a while to write this story but it’s something I’ll be working on.

Also thinking about writing more stories about my OCs and I really wanna expand on my version of the reapers specifically. So you can expect more of that from me.

I definitely want to write more Barbatos stories again I feel like I haven’t written for him in a while. I might do a Threads sequel but I might just write something new. We shall see!

Anyway, thank you all for being here. I hope you stick around for more fics about our favorite characters. And if you’re interested in my writing and would like to see more of it, you can follow my writing blog @misc-chronicles. And if you just want a lot of reblogging and personal complaint posts, you can follow my main lol @misc-magic.

Thank you for reading, I love you all.

[nevernonline]

✧.* pancakes for dinner; svt smau

chapter 11; late night talking (written)

synopsis: y/n while in her third year at greenwood international university finally gets an opportunity to move off campus into a new complex, she has to deal with the realization that her childhood rival is her new next door neighbor.

 paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

feat: non-idol! svt,  other passing idols ykyk.

genre/s: reader is super oblivious, fluffy, sexual themes. 

content: swearing, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

updates: weekly

word count: 7.7k. (written part in-between two sets of texts)

tag list - open

masterlist ▸ 10. cute undies ▸ 12. boo’s big bash

Finally exiting from the bathroom after her multiple deep breaths and compilations on why she agreed to sit across from her what some would call nemesis. Y/N dropped into the chair across from him, her movements sharp, deliberate. She crossed her legs and draped her jacket over the back of the chair, as though marking her territory. The gin martini she had begrudgingly ordered sat untouched in front of her.  

Seungcheol leaned back in his seat, the picture of ease. His arm rested casually along the back of his chair, his other hand nursing his drink. That maddening smirk hadn’t left his face, like he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle of her reluctantly sitting across from him.  

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm, “what made you change your mind? The drink? My charm? Or were you just dying for my company?”  

Y/N arched an unimpressed brow. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came over because you don’t seem to understand boundaries. Consider this my final act of mercy before I block you everywhere.”  

Seungcheol chuckled, the sound low and warm, as though her words were the punchline of a joke only he understood. “Harsh, but fair. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”  

He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. Y/N hated how effortlessly magnetic he was, how he could command a room—or in this case, her attention—without even trying. It was infuriating.  

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp. “You seem awfully proud of yourself for someone who’s clearly losing.”  

“Losing?” His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re the one who walked over here, Y/N. I’d say that’s a win for me.”  

The way he said her name made her want to both glare at him and look away, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of either. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, mirroring his earlier posture, and folded her arms across her chest.  

“Don’t read too much into it,” she said coolly. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t order me another unwanted drink. Bartenders have better things to do than play delivery boy for your ego.”  

He laughed again, and this time it was louder, unrestrained. The sound was warm, genuine, and entirely at odds with how much he irritated her. “You really don’t hold back anymore, do you? I like that about you.”  

“I’m not here for you to like me,” she shot back.  

His expression softened, just for a moment, and she thought she caught a flicker of something sincere beneath his playful facade. “Maybe not. But you’re here. That counts for something.”  

She rolled her eyes, breaking the brief intensity of the moment. “Don’t push your luck.”  

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, though his tone suggested the exact opposite.  

For a few beats, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t entirely hostile either. The sounds of the bar filled the space between them: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the soft strains of jazz.  

Eventually, Seungcheol broke the silence. “So, what’s got you sitting alone in a bar tonight?”  

Y/N hesitated. She didn’t owe him an answer. But there was something disarming about the way he asked, like he genuinely wanted to know, like he wasn’t just making small talk.  

“It’s really none of your business, but in the spirit of trying to be nice to you. I just felt like it, simple as that.” she said finally, though her voice lacked the edge it usually carried.  

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he nodded, as if her non-answer was enough. “Fair. All your friends were busy, huh? I get it. Me too.”  

Another silence settled between them, but this time, it felt different—less like a standoff and more like a truce.  

“You know,” Seungcheol said after a moment, his tone lighter, almost teasing, “you’re a lot more interesting when you’re not trying so hard to be intimidating.”  

She shot him a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. “And you’re a lot less interesting when you talk.”  

He laughed again, and she hated how much she didn’t hate the sound of it.  

The conversation carried on like that—sharp, sarcastic, and laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Y/N still didn’t trust him, and she still found him insufferable. But for the first time, she started to wonder if there was more to him than the cocky facade he wore so well.  

By the time she checked her phone and its unread texts, her martini was empty, and she hadn’t blocked his number.  

“You’re letting me off easy tonight,” Seungcheol said, leaning back in his chair with that same infuriating grin.  

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, her voice as sharp as ever but, she caught herself smiling—just barely—and that annoyed her more than anything.  

“You’re not a regular here, are you?” Seungcheol asked, swirling the last remnants of his drink.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up in challenge. “Why do I not look the part?”  

“It’s not that exactly,” he said, smirking. “You seem more like the type who spends your time in your room, like all your high school nights at home, organizing your planner instead of, you know, being out and about.”  

Her jaw dropped, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I unfortunately know you know what I was like in high school.”  

“I do know,” he said smugly, leaning forward a bit. “You were the girl who always had perfectly color-coded notes and freaked out if someone borrowed her highlighters without asking.”  

“That is—” she began, then stopped, narrowing her eyes. “Okay, that might be true. But don’t act like you didn’t benefit from those notes. If I recall correctly, you borrowed them more than once.”  

Seungcheol grinned, shameless. “What can I say? You had great handwriting, and I had zero fucking interest in Chemistry.”  

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe you actually read through them,” she teased.  

“I did!” he said, feigning indignation. “Well, I skimmed them. Look, it’s not my fault that equations are boring.”  

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You were the worst. Always showing up to class five minutes late, acting like you’d just conquered some heroic quest just to make it there. And the worst part is everyone ate it up.”  

“First of all,” Seungcheol interjected, holding up a finger, “those five minutes were essential. Do you know how hard it is to grab coffee and make it across campus in that short amount of time?”  

“Heroic, truly,” she said dryly.  

“And second,” he continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “admit it—you loved it. You were always so fucking serious, someone had to keep things interesting.”  

She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I was serious because someone had to be. While you were busy sneaking out of class, I was doing what I thought I had to do to be successful.”  

“Oh, come on,” he said with a playful grin. “It wasn’t that bad. I did my part… sometimes.”  

“Bare minimum,” she shot back. “And don’t think I forgot about that time you tried to pass off Wikipedia as a ‘credible source’ for our History project.”  

He laughed, a low, warm sound that made her stomach flip despite herself. “What can I say? I knew you’d catch it. Why do all the work when I have a perfectionist in my corner?”  

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re really selling yourself here, Seungcheol.”  

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And yet, here you are, sitting across from me. Funny how that works.”  

Y/N rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re insufferable.”  

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But admit it—I made high school a little less boring for you.”  

She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. A little.”  

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, grinning.  

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s big enough” she warned.  

“I make no promises,” he replied smoothly.  

She shook her head, laughing softly. “Okay, so if you were the ‘bare minimum’ guy back then, what about now? Have you finally mastered the art of being responsible?”  

“Define ‘responsible,’” he said, smirking.  

“Right, I know that answer,” she said, laughing. “And it’s no.”  

“And you?” he shot back. “Still the same overachiever who used to rewrite her essays three times before turning them in?”  

“Of course not,” she said, lifting her drink with mock dignity. “Now I only rewrite them twice.”  

Seungcheol laughed again, the sound bright and easy. “Classic Y/N.”  

“You’re one to talk,” she teased. “Let me guess—still winging it through life and somehow making it work? Pretending to be perfect in front of Daddy Warbucks.”  

“Hey, don’t knock it,” he said, grinning. “It’s a system.”  

“A questionable one,” she said, shaking her head.  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”  

Their laughter softened, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something warmer. The weight of shared history lingered between them, a connection neither of them could deny.  

“You know,” he said after a beat, his tone more thoughtful, “I always wondered what you’d be like now. If you’d still get flustered when someone borrowed your highlighters.”  

Y/N tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “And?”  

“And you’re not so different,” he said, leaning back. “Maybe a little sharper. But still you.”  

She raised her glass, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”  

“It was meant to be one,” he said, his grin softening.  

The bartender called last call, breaking the moment. As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Seungcheol glanced over at her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.  

“It’s late,” he said casually. “You headed back to the building?”  

Y/N nodded, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “Yeah, unless you’ve got a better plan.”  

He smirked. “I might. But considering we’re both heading to the same place, how about I walk you back? Purely out of neighborly concern, of course.”  

She arched an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Neighborly concern, huh? I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman.”  

“Don’t let it ruin my reputation,” he said with mock seriousness, stepping to her side as they began walking down the quiet, dimly lit street.  

The night was crisp, and their breaths puffed in the air as they walked. For a while, the conversation stayed light—comments about the weather, a random observation about the neon sign flickering on a nearby storefront. But as they turned onto the quieter road leading to their building, Y/N glanced at him, her lips twitching with amusement.  

“So, I have to ask,” she began, the playful edge returning to her voice.  

“Uh-oh,” Seungcheol said immediately, side-eyeing her. “That tone tells me I’m about to regret this walk.”  

“Oh, you will,” she said with a grin. “What did I hear about you and karaoke night last week?”  

He groaned, immediately scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh, fuck. We have to talk about that?”  

“Let’s just say the campus gossip page is very thorough as well as Soony.” she said, biting back a laugh. “Apparently, you gave a very heartfelt performance. You really know how to piss people off, huh?”  

Seungcheol winced but quickly recovered, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “Ah, I was wondering how long it’d take for you to bring it up.”  

“And you weren’t going to apologize to me?” she asked, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Do you know how many people sent me screenshots? I thought my phone was going to explode.”  

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, shrugging, “it wasn’t entirely true.”  

She blinked, confused. “Wait, so you didn’t actually sing the song?”  

“Oh, I definitely sang it,” he said with a grin. “The dedication part might’ve been exaggerated, though. I mean, I got dared to sing something cheesy. Your name just came up because someone thought it’d be funny to make it look like I was serenading you. Seungkwan definitely was less than pleased with me though, he told me to stop being so obsessed with talking about you.” 

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. “Uh-huh. And you just– what? Decided to ignore him?”   

“Not intentionally,” he said, grinning. “But, tequila and me don’t mix well I guess. I was, how do you say? Wasted?”  

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “You’re fucking unbelievable. No wonder half the school thinks we’ve got some secret love-hate thing going on.”  

“Well, we do, don’t we?” he teased, nudging her lightly with his elbow.  

“That’s not helping your case,” she shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.  

They walked a few more steps in companionable silence until a vibrant glow caught Y/N’s attention. A small bar down the street stood out, its bright neon sign flashing a rhythmic “OPEN” in a mix of blue and pink hues. She paused, the light reflecting in her eyes.

“Oh, I love this place,” she said suddenly, her tone lit with excitement. “The vibe, the music...”

Seungcheol followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Never pegged you as the neon-bar type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore.” she shot back, her lips twitching into a grin.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head toward the glowing entrance, “can we change that? One more drink?”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, already steering her toward the door. “It’s not like you’re turning in early anyway. Unless you’re scared I’ll outdrink you.”

“Oh, please,” she said, scoffing. “You wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

The inside of the bar was cozy, illuminated by dim, colorful lighting that gave it a laid-back yet electric atmosphere. A jukebox hummed in the corner, playing a soft rock track that Y/N immediately recognized. The tables were a mix of polished wood and eclectic barstools, each piece mismatched but fitting perfectly with the aesthetic.

Seungcheol ordered for them—another round. This time beer, considering the dive energy of Y/n’s secret sanctuary—and slid onto a stool beside her at the bar.

“So,” he began, turning slightly to face her. “What’s so great about this place? Nostalgia trip? Secret past I should know about?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just nice. A little out of the way, not too crowded. Good music, good vibes. Kind of like an escape.I just love that I can come here and not see anyone I know, just play pool, sit with myself.”

“An escape,” he echoed, his gaze softening slightly as he watched her. “Guess that makes sense. You always were the kind of person who found little spots like this.”

She gave him a curious look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned. “Back in high school, you had this thing for sitting in the weirdest fucking places—corners of the library, random spots on campus no one else even thought about. I used to wonder if you were plotting something.”

“Again, not a plotter,” she insisted, though the laugh in her voice betrayed her.

“Sure,” he drawled, leaning an elbow on the bar. “And what about that time during sophomore year when you climbed up on the gym roof because you said it ‘had the best view’?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks. “How do you even remember that?”

“Oh, I remember a lot,” he said, smirking. “Like the way you used to doodle all over your notes, even during exams. Or how you’d always hum to yourself when you thought no one was listening. I noticed a lot about you.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, laughing as she hid her face in her hands. “I cannot believe you remember all that.”

“You and your weird ass habits are hard to forget,” he said simply, his voice dipping into something softer, more sincere.

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her heart skipping for just a second before she shook her head, deflecting the moment. “What about you, Mr. Star of the Basketball Team? You spent more time in fucking detention than class. Not exactly model-student behavior.”

“Detention builds character,” he quipped, raising his glass in mock pride.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, twirling her drink idly. Seungcheol eyed her with a playful smirk, tilting his head like he was sizing her up for a challenge.  

“So,” he started, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, “now that we’re being all civil and everything, I think it’s time I asked the hard-hitting questions.”  

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious but amused. “Hard-hitting? Like what? My favorite color?”  

“Please,” he scoffed, waving his hand dramatically. “I already know it’s blue.”  

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—how—”  

“Lucky guess,” he interrupted, grinning at her confusion. “Anyway, moving on. Let’s start with something juicier.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was about to uncover a deep secret. “What’s the deal with Mingyu?”  

Her eyebrows shot up. “Mingyu? What about him?”  

“Oh, come on,” Seungcheol said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “You two are always hanging out. Laughing at your little inside jokes. Are you secretly dating him or something? I mean I did see him leaving your place”  

Y/N barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “Are you serious? Also what’s the concern?”  

“Hey, it’s a valid question,” he defended, though his grin betrayed his teasing. “The guy follows you around like a lost puppy half the time.”  

“He does not.” she protested, still laughing. “Mingyu’s just... Mingyu. He’s like a giant golden retriever. Sweet, chaotic, but no not together like that.”  

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, you’re saying he’s firmly in the friend zone?”  

“I guess,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he might actually be more in love with testing my patience than anything else.”  

Seungcheol chuckled at that, nodding in agreement. “Okay, fair. But what about Hoshi?”  

Her face twisted in mock confusion. “Seriously? What about Soony?”  

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “He’s fun, kind of weird. Seems like the type to sweep someone off their feet with, like, a mating dance or some weird song he wrote in his bedroom.”  

“Stop,” Y/N groaned, laughing harder now. “Hoshi would absolutely cry at that description. He’s my go-to for chill movie nights and random deep conversations, but romantic? No way.”  

“Hmm.” Seungcheol tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what you’re saying is... no secret boyfriends in your inner circle?”  

She gave him a flat look. “Why are you so fucking nosy about my love life?”  

“I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that is the great Y/N,” he said, feigning innocence. “You know, fill in the blanks from all those years we spent arguing.”  

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, crossing her arms. “And what about you Mr. Investigator? Any secret girlfriends I should know about? Maybe one you should have been serenading at karaoke?”  

“Touché,” he said, raising his glass in mock surrender. “But for the record, no. I’m currently unattached, thank you very much.”  

“Oh, the ladies must be absolutely fucking devastated,” she quipped, smirking.  

“They’ll survive,” he shot back, smirking right back. “Besides, I’ve been too busy dealing with you lately.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the playful banter warmed her more than the drink in her hand. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Not everyone gets the privilege of my company.”  

“Oh, I know,” he said, his grin softening into something more genuine. “And honestly? I think I’m starting to enjoy it.”  

The words hung in the air for a beat, his tone more sincere than she’d expected. She glanced at him, caught off guard but not entirely displeased.  

“Careful, Seungcheol,” she said, her voice lighter than she felt. “People might think we’re actually getting along.”  

“Maybe because we are,” he said simply, taking a sip of his drink.  

For a moment, the tension between them softened into something easier, something unspoken but understood. And as the jukebox switched to a new song, Y/N decided she didn’t mind the shift.  

Seungcheol took another sip of his drink, his eyes still on Y/N. There was something in the way the conversation had shifted, and for the first time, it felt like there was less of an edge between them.

“So,” he started again, a little quieter this time, “you really don’t think Mingyu’s into you?”

Y/N gave him a side-eye. “We’ve been over this like a thousand fucking times, Seungcheol. He’s not.”

“Mm, I don’t know,” he mused, leaning back in his chair, his grin returning, though it was less mischievous and more thoughtful. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. It’s like he’s trying to decide if he’s supposed to be looking at you like a friend or something... more.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mingyu would never. He’d rather trip over his own feet than admit something like that.”

Seungcheol’s gaze softened for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”

Her expression faltered for a brief second, before she shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to feel like he had to hide it. He’s one of my best friends. I’m not trying to complicate things.”

“I get that.” Seungcheol’s voice softened too, the tone carrying more sincerity than before. “Sometimes the simplest friendships get tangled when people start overthinking things. Kind of like how we were”

Y/N nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Exactly. And I like things the way they are. We all have enough drama to deal with without adding any more.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “True. Which is my fault. I’m sorry.” He tilted his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. “So, you’d never date someone from your friend group? Not even someone you’ve known for a while?”

Y/N looked at him sharply, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me now? I thought we were past that.”

“No, no,” he said quickly, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just curious. I mean, you’ve been surrounded by them for so long, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s ever crossed your mind.”

“Maybe,” she said, her eyes softening, “but even if it did, I’m not sure it’d be a good idea. Things would get complicated. People start taking sides, there’s awkwardness... I’m not about that.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “So, you’re saying you’d never date someone like me?”

Y/N blinked, and her gaze shot to his face. “What?”

He leaned forward slightly, his grin playful again. “I mean, I’m not exactly the worst option. I’ve been known to be a pretty decent guy once you get past the sarcasm and the... well, the occasional obsession with bad jokes.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Wow, really selling yourself there, huh? And I tried that once, it ended so fucking poorly, you know it. So no, not a consideration.”

“Hey, I’ve got layers,” he replied, tapping his chest dramatically. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her gaze narrowing slightly as she studied him. “You think you could handle me now? I’m not exactly an easy person to figure out anymore. You hurt my feelings so badly that this grudge has been lingering over us for a decade and you think I’d even consider you?”

“Please,” he said, waving her off. “I’ve been dealing with you for years. I know exactly what I’m getting into.” He smirked. “Or at least, I like to think I do. I know all of that was stupid and you don’t exactly know the full story I took accountability for it, I still feel fucking awful. You have to understand that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I do. But I don’t think you’ve ever exactly figured me out.”

“Sure, I’ve got you pretty figured out.” Seungcheol grinned, leaning closer again, his tone playful. “You’re a bit of a control freak, a perfectionist, but deep down, you’re a big fucking softie who just doesn’t want to admit it and you don’t want to admit you sort of like me..”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Wow, you really do think you have me figured out, don’t you?”

“I do.” He leaned back again, looking pleased with himself. “And if you ever decided to date someone like me... well, I think I could keep up with your charm.”

Y/N’s lips quivered at the corners as she shook her head. “You are a very bold drunk. But – Maybe you’re right. But for now, you’ll have to settle for being my most annoying nemesis.”

“Hey, I’m cool with that,” Seungcheol said, raising his glass with a wink. “You’re the most fun challenge I’ve ever had, times two.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and easy, and for a moment, she felt like the conversation had just returned to the usual playful banter they always had. But beneath the teasing, there was something different—something that lingered in the way they looked at each other, a quiet understanding that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

“So,” Seungcheol said after a beat, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. “If you had to choose someone from the group, who would it be?”

Y/N considered him for a moment, then leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it if you do the same. Deal?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? I guess we’ll see who cracks first.”

Y/N smirked. “I’ll be waiting. But no pressure.”

For a moment, the playfulness settled back in, but beneath the laughter and the teasing, the question hung in the air, unanswered but not unwelcome. 

Seungcheol glanced over at Y/N, a thought lingering in the back of his mind. He’d always been good at pushing things off, but tonight felt different. He couldn't keep skirting around this tension that had been there for years. They’d shared countless moments, laughed together, argued, but there was always something unresolved hanging between them, like a shadow that neither of them fully acknowledged.

He waved over the bartender. “Two more of the usual,” he said with a casual smile, though the weight of what he was about to say sat heavily in his chest.

Y/N didn’t notice the shift at first, still absentmindedly sipping her drink and watching the crowd. When the bartender returned with the fresh glasses, Seungcheol’s grin faded just a little. He set his glass down with more care than he usually did, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter than before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it. Her gaze flicked to him, catching the change in his tone.

“What’s up?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. His usual teasing was nowhere to be found now. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "I know we’ve had... our share of messes between us,” he began slowly, his words careful, each one weighed down with meaning. “And I know I’ve been... Well, definitely not the best sometimes. I’ve said things, done things that probably made you feel like I didn’t really care, or that I wasn’t worth the effort."

Y/N’s expression softened, though she remained quiet, listening. She could feel the tension rise again, but this time, it wasn’t the usual playful back-and-forth. It felt... real.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to bring it up, or the right place considering it’s a sanctuary for you,” Seungcheol continued, meeting her eyes now, his voice lower, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it before, “but I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how we’ve been, and how I’ve been with you. And... I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I’ve said and done in the past that made things harder between us.”

Y/N blinked, taken off guard by the honesty in his voice. She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up a hand, shaking his head gently.

“No, wait. Please let me finish.” His voice was steadier now, more resolved. “I’ve always been kind of... blind, I guess. I thought I could keep things light, keep pushing, keep playing around with you. But the truth is, I’ve always respected you. I always thought you were way more than what I let on. And I think I took that for granted.” He leaned in, his voice a little more earnest. “I don’t know what you want from me, Y/N. But I want a chance to show you that I can be better. I can be someone who’s actually worth your time—whether that’s as a friend or something more. I don’t care what we have to go through, I just don’t want to leave things unfinished, or have this distance between us anymore. I want to be in your life. For real.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She could hear the weight in his words, the genuine apology. The teasing, cocky side of Seungcheol had been stripped away, leaving someone vulnerable and raw. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this—he had always been so confident, so in control. But now, there was no hiding the sincerity that poured out of him.

The silence stretched between them, and for a second, it felt like the whole world had paused.

Y/N looked at him, her heart racing. She’d spent so long guarding herself, pushing away feelings she didn’t want to deal with. But here he was, finally offering her the one thing she’d always wished for—the chance to start fresh, to move past the hurt and the misunderstandings.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol nodded, his expression softening further. “Yeah, I am. And I know it’s probably too late to change everything that’s happened. But I don’t want you to think I’m just some guy who’s going to disappear all the time when it gets tough. I want to be here for you. I always have, in my own messed-up way. But I’m ready to try for real this time.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice shaky now. “It’s not at all easy for me to just forget everything. The way things have been between us even our parents are involved, our friends I mean... it's a lot.”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, his voice gentle. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just  to consider it. Consider giving me the chance to prove that I can be the person you need. I know I’ve messed up, and I know it might take time, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind racing. She’d been so focused on keeping things light, keeping him and everything at a distance. But in that moment, looking at him—seeing the vulnerability in his eyes—she realized maybe it was time to let go of the past. Maybe it was time to see what could happen if they didn’t keep pretending.

She exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing just a little. “Alright, Choi,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got one, like literally, one fucking chance. Don’t mess it up.”

Seungcheol’s grin returned, but this time it wasn’t cocky—it was soft, relieved. “I won’t. I fucking swear.”"

For a moment, the air between them felt lighter, the tension that had always existed now dissipating into something... different. There was a quiet understanding, a mutual agreement to try, even if it wasn’t going to be easy.

Y/N stared at him for a second longer, her heart still thumping in her chest as the weight of the conversation settled. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“Hey, Seungcheol,” she said, voice quieter now, tinged with something almost sheepish.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, watching her closely.

She shifted in her seat, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her drink. “I just... I don’t think I can tell anyone about this. About us hanging out tonight. Or about... this.” She gestured between them, her eyes not meeting him. “They’ll call me a hypocrite.”

Seungcheol blinked, surprised. “What? Why?”

She let out a small sigh, frustration and amusement mixing. “Because for years, I’ve been the one telling them not to trust you, to keep their distance. And now... here I am, talking to you like we’re on the same page. They’ll never let me live it down.”

He frowned slightly, understanding finally dawning on him. “You really think they’ll be that harsh?”

Y/N shrugged. “Probably. They know I’ve never been shy about how I feel about you. It’s gonna look like I’m going back on everything I’ve said.”

Seungcheol leaned back, his expression softening as he processed her words. “Look, I get it. You’ve had your reasons to keep me at arm’s length. But you don’t have to keep everything a secret just because of them. You should do what feels right for you, not for what other people think.”

She met his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know, I know. It’s just... it feels like I’d be betraying what I’ve always said. I’ve spent so long keeping things from getting too close, you know?”

“I get it,” Seungcheol said, nodding. “And I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. I’m not going anywhere, though. Whenever you’re ready to tell them, or not tell them, it’s up to you. Just don’t let it keep you from what you want.”

Y/N smiled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Seungcheol. I’m not sure what I want just yet... but I think I’m getting there.”

Seungcheol gave her a reassuring nod. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

As they sat there, the jukebox playing softly in the background, it was clear that this conversation wasn’t the end of anything, but maybe the beginning of something different. Something that neither of them had fully expected—but something they were both willing to explore. And even though Y/N wasn’t sure how to navigate the fallout with her friends, for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had someone on her side.

As they walked back into the night, the streets were quieter, the hum of the city fading into the background as the two of them walked side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them. The usual banter between them had settled into a comfortable silence, but there was something unspoken between them—something new. Neither of them had figured it all out yet, but tonight had cracked something open, and it wasn’t something they could ignore.

Seungcheol shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at Y/N, who was walking a little slower, lost in thought. “So,” he started casually, his voice lighter than before, “how exactly are we going to pull this off without everyone calling us out?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m honestly still figuring that part out. Which is why I’m lost in my head. I don’t want to tell them we hung out. Not yet, anyway. They’ll just jump to conclusions, you know? Like they always do.”

“Yeah, they have a tendency to make things dramatic,” Seungcheol said, rolling his eyes. “But what, you’re just going to keep this all a secret? How long do you think we can get away with it?”

Y/N shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. We’re just talking, right? But they won’t see it that way. And I don’t want to make things awkward if it all goes south.”

Seungcheol glanced at her sideways, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “You really think it’ll go south? Just because we decided to be honest for once?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It could? But, I’ve spent so much time telling them how terrible you are, it’s going to look weird if I suddenly show up saying, ‘Hey, guess what, Seungcheol and I are actually cool now.’”

“Well, maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit,” Seungcheol said, nudging her with his elbow. “Who says you have to be predictable? Maybe they need to see a different side of me. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been all bad, right?”

Y/N let out a short laugh, glancing at him with a raised brow. “Oh, trust me, they know you have a charming side. Which really fucking bothers me. I don’t think they’d buy the whole us trying to be friends thing anyway, even if I did tell them.”

“I’m not saying we make a huge announcement,” Seungcheol said, his tone shifting to something more thoughtful. “Maybe we should just keep it low-key for now. Just, let things develop naturally. No pressure.”

Y/N stopped walking for a moment, glancing at him. “I just feel bad, I guess. I know it's a lot to ask you to keep something like this quiet for who knows how long?”

He stopped too, meeting her gaze with a quiet intensity. “I get that. I’m not asking you to hide things for me, Y/N. I just don’t want things to be messy. We don’t have to tell anyone until we’re sure of where we stand. And if it does get weird, if we realize we’ve made a mistake  then we deal with it. Together.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh, shoulders relaxing. “You make it sound simple. But I’m just not sure if I want to make everything complicated again.”

Seungcheol took a small step closer, his voice gentle now. “I’m not asking for us to dive into anything crazy. Just... give it a chance. We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now. And I’d rather have you in my life, even if it’s just as friends, than have things stay the way they’ve always been.”

Y/N stared at the ground for a second, thinking. He wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t demanding anything more than she was willing to give. But it was hard to ignore how much his words made her feel. The thought of letting someone in, really letting them in—without all the barriers and walls—was terrifying. But, for once, it felt like Seungcheol wasn’t trying to be the person who hurt her. Instead, he was offering something different.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep it quiet. Just for now. I’m not ready for everyone to know we’re friends or on the way to being friends whatever this is. But I’ll give it a shot. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a chance.”

Seungcheol grinned, a quiet triumph in his eyes. “Fair enough. No pressure. We can just take it one step at a time.”

They started walking again, the soft crunch of their footsteps on the pavement the only sound between them for a few moments.

“Honestly though,” Seungcheol said, glancing over at her with a playful glint in his eye, “I’m kind of excited to see how long we can keep this whole ‘secret friendship’ thing going.”

Y/N snorted, the tension between them easing further. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have fun with that. Just don’t do anything stupid to blow it.”

“I won’t,” he replied, his grin widening. “You have my word.”

As they continued walking, the city’s lights flickering overhead, there was a sense of quiet understanding between them now—an unspoken agreement that this, whatever it was, wasn’t going to be easy. But for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe it could be worth it.

And maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be a secret forever.

As they reached the steps of their building, Y/N’s heart sank when she spotted a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction. Yuqi was walking briskly toward them, her face glowing with the aftermath of what had clearly been an entertaining night. 

“Oh, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing at Seungcheol in alarm. “It’s Yuqi.”

“Yuqi?” Seungcheol repeated, his brows furrowing. “Like red headed Yuqi, Yuqi?”

“Yes,” Y/N hissed, already feeling the impending questions. “If she sees us together, she’s never going to let me live it down. She’ll have a thousand questions, and I’m not ready for an interrogation.”

Seungcheol’s eyes darted around the street. “What do you want me to do? Hide? Run? Fake a phone call?”

“Fuck. Just—” Y/N gestured frantically to the nearby column. “Go hide over there. Now.”

Seungcheol darted to the side, flattening himself against the column with the stealth of someone who had absolutely no business being stealthy. Y/N quickly composed herself as Yuqi stepped up to the entrance, her sharp eyes immediately zoning in on her.

“Y/N!” Yuqi called brightly, her heels clicking on the pavement. “What are you doing out here? Don’t tell me you were out with someone tonight.”

Y/N leaned casually against the railing, shrugging. “Nope, I just needed a breather. Thought I’d have a smoke before heading up.”

Yuqi’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t even smoke.”

“Well, weed.” Y/N said, tilting her head with an exaggerated shrug

Yuqi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a detailed retelling of her date, her hands flying dramatically as she described the highlights of being out with Mark.

Y/N nodded along, her expression carefully neutral as she sneaked a glance at Seungcheol. He peeked out from behind the column and mimed lighting a cigarette with a cocky grin, earning a sharp glare from Y/N that she hoped Yuqi didn’t catch.

“And then,” Yuqi continued, oblivious, “he tried to tell me he knew a magic trick, but he completely botched it. Oh my god, Y/N, I almost died laughing.”

“Sounds amazing, I'm glad you had fun ,” Y/N said, trying not to choke on her suppressed laughter.

Yuqi stretched her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh. “Anyway, I need to shower so badly and I am so fucking tired. Let’s do a proper debrief tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Y/N said quickly. “Go get some rest. I’ll be right up. Night, girlie.”

“Night, loser.” Yuqi said with a wave, finally heading inside. 

The second the coast was clear, Seungcheol emerged from his hiding spot, brushing himself off dramatically. “So, how’d I do?”

“You were fucking terrible,” Y/N said, though she was smiling as she shook her head. “I could see you miming a cigarette out of the corner of my eye. You’re so lucky she didn’t notice.”

“Hey, I was staying in character,” he said with a mock-serious expression. “You said you were having a smoke. I was just being a supportive whatever I am.”

“A pain in my ass?” Y/N offered.

“That too,” he quipped, his grin wide and unrepentant. “But come on, admit it. This whole sneaking around thing is kind of fun.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her laughter betrayed her. “Fun? You call nearly blowing my cover fun?”

“Absolutely,” Seungcheol said with a nod. “But now I’m curious—if someone else catches us, what’s your next excuse? Stargazing? Birdwatching? Vigilante vibes?” 

“Keep it up,” she warned playfully, “and I’ll just tell them I was waiting for the cops to show up because you’re stalking me.”

“Brutal,” he said, chuckling. “But hey, I got us through tonight, didn’t I?”

“Fucking barely,” she shot back, though the smile on her face lingered as they walked up to the door. 

Once they had one last peak into their building, the soft glow of the lobby lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Seungcheol pulled the door open for her, gesturing grandly.  

“After you, Highlighter Girl,” he said with a smirk.  

“Wow, thanks, Karaoke King,” she replied dryly as she stepped inside.  

As they waited for the elevator, the air between them felt lighter, easier—like the lingering tension from earlier in the night had finally given way to something more comfortable.  

“So,” Y/N said as the elevator doors slid open, “any plans to top that famous performance? Or was that your peak?”  

He laughed, stepping in beside her. “Oh, that was just the beginning. Next time, I’ll take requests.”  

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward despite herself. “Just do me a favor and leave my name out of it, okay?”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his grin wide and teasing.  

The elevator chimed, and they stepped out onto their floor. stopping in front of her door, Y/N turned to him, arms crossed.  

“Thanks for the walk,” she said, her whispering tone light but genuine.  

Seungcheol paused before taking out his keys, giving her a crooked grin. “Goodnight, Y/N. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Goodnight, Seungcheol,” she replied, shaking her head. “Try not to get yourself on the gossip page again. Or at least, not because of me.”  

“No promises,” he called as she shut the door behind her, his laughter echoing softly in the hallway.  

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she took off her coat. Whatever this was between them—this ridiculous, secret, almost-friendship—it was chaotic and unpredictable. But she had to admit, it was also shocking that she was starting to feel like something she didn’t entirely mind.

note: hiii lol. two in one week bc now that we're getting into it more im excited, but! pls enjoy. hopefully we can alllll try to support y/n in her time of her "healing era" lmao

taglist: @minhui896@sun-daddy-yoriichi@luchiet@miles-sketchbook@kissesfrmwonwoo@readerlozies@vcutparis@mxnhoeuwu@writingbarnes@headlockimnida@odxrilove@jeonghaniehaee@bath1lda @wonwootakemyheart @dokyomis@hanniesdegree @blvkkeddcc@gyuguys@rakshithanotrao @multiplumes @jihoonsbbygirl

[greenwriterplaidbow]

Tragic Accident

AKA the events that lead to the Human Connection series

Logan Howlett x Reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 2.5K 3.8K after revisions

Author’s note: I do in fact have more! (I would like to thank this person for your patience, I started this when you sent this in but left it half done because of finals). Still inspired by Pandapetals’ memory loss fic. This is what led to the accident and when Logan actually saw the wreckage of an accident (because I apparently can’t just be content with being happy!). It’s kind of from his perspective? Still written in second person though.

Warnings: Major angst, stupid argument, car wreck, drunk driver (not Logan or the reader), reader refered to as she/her and Logan’s wife

Everything started in your home office. It was the busy season for teachers: checking that you taught the whole curriculum; assigning and then grading final projects; parent-teacher meetings. That night you were up grading group projects that had been turned in early. It was midnight when Logan walked into the room. It was one of many late nights you had recently. The two of you tended to be night owls anyways but this many nights without more than 4 hours of consecutive sleep was starting to get to you both. It wasn’t obvious but you could see it in the small details of your relationship. The way there was less exchanged affection. The way you helped each other with little things less. The way the physical space between you emphasized the growing separation. Logan had been laying in bed before he entered the office. He walked in and put his hands on your shoulders, maybe a little less gently than he normally would have.

“Babyy, why haven’t you come to bed yet?” You brought your hand up and softly rubbed his.

“Sorry hon, I just want to get these done tonight. This is the last one.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?” You spun your chair around to face him.

“It could.. But if I finish them as they come in, I’ll be done before finals week so I can spend more time with you!”

“You could spend more time with me now if you just came to bed-”

“I know, I know. But these kids finished it early, they’re already on pins and needles waiting for an answer, I shouldn’t make them wait longer than I need to. And you should be asleep already anyways, this was the one night this week you can actually get to bed at a decent time.”

“Tried. It’s always harder without you.” You stood up and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Poor baby. It won’t be much longer. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“I’ll just stay in here with you then.”

He walked over to his own desk and sat down across from you, watching as you finished grading. It was 10 minutes before Logan spoke up again.

“You almost done?”

You sigh and run your hands through your hair.

“Nope, not quite. Go to bed, I’ll only be a little longer.”

“I.. Yeah alright.”

He shook his head then got up and walked out. His jaw was tense as he paused at the door like he was going to say something. Apparently he decided against it and closed the door on the way out with a sigh.

He lays in bed. Staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Logan had felt neglected before, just not usually by you. He was plenty used to being ignored or abandoned. It had happened before but this time was supposed to be different. You’d always been there before. You’d been through so much together. It was only now it felt like you were drifting away. You’re a busy person, he knows that. You’re always eager to help out in any way you can. From one-on-one training or tutoring with struggling students to filling in for a fellow teacher. You were always there for everyone else. But now it seemed to him that you were giving your time to anyone but him. It seemed like you were trying to avoid him. He thought back to the last few weeks. He’d twice tried to set up a date night with no success, the most recent attempt was the week prior.

He had caught you in between classes, preparing for the next lecture in an empty room.

“Heyy, I was thinking. It’s been a while: do you want to go out tonight?”

“I wish I could but I’m helping Jean tonight, some lab thing she’s trying to figure out. I’m honestly flattered she asked me-” You stopped yourself when you saw the look on his face, his eyes now avoiding yours as he pretended to study the ground. “I’m sorry Lo, I thought I told you on Monday.”

“No- it’s alright. I understand.. I’ll see you later though?”

“Yes. She said that she shouldn’t need me past 8 o’clock.”

You walked in the door at ten.

“Hey,” Logan said half heartedly from the couch as you came up the stairs. He didn’t know how late you’d be until you called at nine to tell him that things went well enough that Jean wanted to repeat the experiment to see if it was a fluke.

“Hey.. I’m sorry, I know I said I’d be home sooner. I’ll make it up to you.” You cupped his face and kissed the bridge of his nose. “We could go out this weekend?”

“No, I’m helping Scott fix his bike; and with Scott, that’ll be an all weekend project.”

“Next weekend then. We’ll find time. We always do.” Your tone was very matter-of-fact as you sat down next to him. He put an arm around your shoulders and you nuzzled into his chest as you leaned into him.

“Yeah. I know. I just hate feeling like I never see you anymore. I know you didn’t know that was going to happen but you could have waited to rerun everything on a different night..”

“Yeah.. I guess we’re just too popular” You said, trying to joke about the situation to relieve some of the tension between you. It worked for the time but Logan still didn’t feel good about it. He felt like you just pushed aside his feelings. Just laughing it off to avoid an actual conversation.

The thought brought him back to the present moment. He went back into the office, unsure of exactly how much time had passed since he left. He walked around to his side, sat at his desk and faced you. You looked up from what you were doing but he spoke before you could.

“It feels like we never just spend time together anymore and I want to talk about it.” You push your work aside and turn to face him more directly. He leans forward with his forearms on his desk.

“I only have one section left to read then leaving overall feedback. Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“No, you always do this. I want to talk about it. I don’t want you to keep pushing me aside. What happened with us? Why do you spend your time everywhere else but with me?!”

“Logan I-”

“No, I know you care about your students but you don’t even look at me anymore.”

“Okay.. A bit of an exaggeration but yeah, I mean that’s the job. Come on, you’re a grown up. I thought you could handle a little less attention than what you’re used to.”

“You can just say it. I’m the least important thing in your life.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic. You’re still impor-”

His hand loudly hit the desk, making you jump.

“Stop doing that! Stop brushing me off!” He sighed and looked away. “Fuck- Ok, I just- Whatever, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He stood up and walked out. You didn’t try to stop him.

You put your face in your hands. You could admit, things had been stressful lately. Things had just been busy. Apparently after five years of being married, you had been putting Logan on the backburner more than you thought. But he had done the same with you hadn’t he? That’s just how it was sometimes. Why was he so upset about it this time? What changed? After a few minutes of letting him cool down, you sighed and got up to follow him to the kitchen. The only light in the open room was the soft glow of the hanging kitchen lights. He was sitting at the table with his hand in his hair. He looked up as you walked in.

“You always push me aside for everything else.” You came to apologize but now that felt more difficult than anything. Something about the way he said it gave you the urge to defend yourself. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was a lack of sleep. Either way, you pushed back.

“You act like I purposefully ignore you-”

“Sometimes, I wonder if you do!”

“Okay don’t put this all on me. We’re both busy. That’s just how it is right now, I don’t know why you have a problem with it all of the sudden.”

“You don’t know?! You don’t know because you never listen to me.”

“Oh I never listen to you?”

“Yes. I listen to you, I-”

“No no no no no. If you listened to me, you’d already know when I’m not going to be home. Because I actually make plans before the night of.”

“This again? I swear you never told me-”

“Whatever- that’s not going to get us anywhere. If you really want to talk, let’s talk about how you can be as busy with your students as you’d like but as soon as I do, then it’s a problem.”

“That’s not true!”

“Sure it is! But you’re a man, you can meet up with whoever you want. You know, I’m a woman so I should just be grateful that you let me have a job at all, right?”

“Why are you making this a sexism thing? When have I ever said anything like that to you?”

“You haven’t, but-”

“Exactly. I haven’t. Because I don’t think like that. Just because that was okay when I was growing up, doesn’t mean I’m like that. You know I’m not like that!”

“I thought so but sometimes, I’m not so sure.”

“And you don’t bring that up? You know you can talk to me- I’m not like you, I’m not just going to keep putting it off so we never talk about something you have a problem with.”

“When the hell have you brought up any of this before tonight?”

“I haven’t had the chance to because anytime there’s even a hint of a problem you just make it into a joke.”

“I didn’t realize I was doing that, maybe if you brought things up when they happened then we wouldn’t need to get to this point!”

“Yeah it’s all my fault, like everything else.”

“Oh, really defending your argument there- I’m so glad we didn’t wait to talk!” You started to pace around the area next to where he stayed seated. Walking between the table where he was and the counter off to his left.

“That is not fair. If we put it off again we would never have this conversation.. And this isn’t just about me ‘not getting attention,’ this is about you. This isn’t good for you. You need to get more sleep.”

“Oh but you’re just fine going without sleep, you’re the mighty Wolverine.”

“That’s not- No! Actually- Fine, you’re right. I am the wolverine, you don’t have the same mutation-”

“Maybe it doesn’t affect you as much, but it sure as hell still affects you. You’re still a human being Logan! I know my limits, you don’t need to hover, telling me to come to bed- It’s just a reminder of how slow I am- And it completely throws me off-”

“Don’t act like I’m not allowed to worry about you-”

“You’re allowed to worry, but that doesn't mean I’ll have any less-”

“Would you stop cutting me off?” He shouted the words through half gritted teeth. You took a step back. Logan never shouted at you, he barely ever raised his voice when you had disagreements. Your eyes flashed to the floor to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

“S-sorry.”

“I just-” He said your name quietly under breath and a hand went up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “I just want to be how we were. I just want some of your time. I at least want you to pretend like you like me.”

“I do like you.” Your muscles that tense when he shouted had now relaxed and you could hear a nip of attitude in your own voice.

“But you don’t act like it! Not anymore at least. You act like me being in your life is an inconvenience.” His voice was consistently raised now. You let out a small laugh.

“God, you are so dramatic! Please get some sleep, you’re acting like a child who hasn’t had a nap. You’re worse than half the freshman students right now.”

“For fucks sake, would you just listen to what I’m saying for a minute? Actually listen and process what I’m saying. Why can’t you just take me seriously?!”

“Because I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“JUST TALK TO ME”

He stood up and yelled the phrase louder than he meant to. Again, you took a few steps back. His large frame still intimidatingly towered over you.

“That- that’s all I want from you! A real conversation.”

You start walking back to the bedroom. Logan tried to follow you.

“I need some space-” Logan stopped.

“Yeah, go. Keep avoiding me.” You sighed but kept walking into the bedroom. You grabbed your phone, keys, and wallet, putting them into a mostly empty messenger bag that was currently easier to get to than a purse. You threw on a jacket then left your bedroom. You walked past your husband in the kitchen.

“We both need to cool off. I’m going to stay at the school tonight.”

“Fine, go.”

“Good night”

“.. Night.”

Right before heading out the door; keys in one hand, the other on the doorknob. You sigh and turn around then walk back to him. He’s leaning on the kitchen counter, facing away from you.

“Hey,” he turns around.

You hit his chest lightly before grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him forcefully. You kept your eyes closed and your face close to his as you spoke.

“You are so frustrating.”

“I know.. Try talking to you.” You sighed quietly.

“..I love you”

“I.. I know.” A little sadder that time. He held onto the counter that was now behind him to keep himself from giving in to you. You kissed him again, much more softly this time.

“Drive safe..” He whispered as you pulled away. You nodded and left.

Hearing the sounds of the garage door open then shut was enough to make him start feeling guilty for not saying ‘I love you’ back. You were fighting, sure, but he did still love you.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Logan went to bed but he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned for almost an hour, listening to the soft taps of rain on the window until his phone rang. He answered it without looking, confident that you must be calling to talk or to apologize.

“What? Calling to apologize-” Annoyance dripping from tone.

“Sir, I’m a paramedic. Is this Logan Howlett?” He was caught off guard.

“What? Yes, yes that’s me. Why are you calling?” He sat up, a sense of dread creeping in.

“I’m with your wife right now, your information was in her wallet-”

The paramedic explains that you were in an accident and you’re going to be taken to a nearby hospital. You’re unconscious but they’re working on stabilizing you. He explains that as soon as you get there you’ll be taken to surgery.

“Most likely she’ll be in for a few hours and even when she’s out, it’ll still be a while before the anesthetic wears off. I know you’re freaking out right now but- Listen man, if it were me; I’d take a minute to process everything. Pack a bag: comfortable clothes, a book, crossword puzzles- just things that’ll make her comfortable while she has to stay there to be monitored. It’ll give you a sense of purpose, because you can’t do anything right now anyways, and it keeps you from having to leave her later when she is awake.”

“Yeah. Yeah alright. I’ll do that” They exchanged the remaining information then hung up. As he was doing what the paramedic instructed when he got another call. This was from the police. He was informed that he could come to the scene and retrieve anything valuable from the car before it was towed. It had been moved into a nearby church parking lot for the time being, that’s where he was told to go.

“Do you know what caused the accident? What happened?”

“Yeah, the other guy ran a red light. Didn’t even slow down. Because of the angle of the intersection and how fast he was going, she probably didn’t even see him until after the collision. He’s been arrested already, we’re waiting until he sobers up to ask him more about what happened, he wasn’t very intelligible. We know he was drinking but by the way he’s acting we think he’s on something else too.”

“Jesus..”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

He pulled into the small parking lot, marked by a sign stating there was an extra church service for Easter that had yet to be taken down. There he saw another truck. It was black and lifted and had more than a few dents that were clearly from screwing around rather than actual work. The front was basically caved in but the damage was minor, especially compared to what your car looked like. It was almost half of the size it used to be, completely crushed in on the drivers side.

“She’s lucky, you know.” Logan looked up, searching for the source of the voice through the pouring rain. A firefighter walks over.

“Usually people don’t survive accidents like this but the collusion happened more towards the back.. You’re family, right?”

“Uh yeah,” He held up his left hand, “Husband.”

“Yeahhh. Don’t worry about her. Her chances are looking good right now.”

“There’s more blood than I thought there would be.” He could smell it when he pulled up but getting this close he could see that it was yours; the other driver hadn’t been injured nearly as bad. He was hating his heightened senses that made it feel like the smell of iron was surrounding him.

“Oh yeah, there was a lot more in the street before the rain washed most of it away.” Logan looked increasingly nervous.

“So you came to get things from the vehicle?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Well there’s a lot of broken glass so if you need me or my colleagues to grab anything, just let us know.”

“No, I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“No problem. We’ll just be talking with the officers if you change your mind.”

He got closer to your car, or what was left of it. Your keys had been pulled out of the ignition but were sitting on the dashboard. He picked them up and tried to ignore the blood and focus on where you usually leave things.

“Glove box, everybody keeps things in the glove box.” he thought aloud, quietly.

He walked around to the passengers side. Upon opening the door he saw your bag on the floor, sitting upright. Your phone and wallet were still inside although your ID and emergency sheet were separate. He assumed the first responders had opened your wallet to find such information. Logan picked up the bag and opened the glove box. He took everything out, placing it into the bag. Lucky for him, you didn’t keep much in your car. He took down the stuffed animal you kept on your dashboard and grabbed your blanket from the trunk. He threw the few other things you kept in your car into your bag then went to his own vehicle. An officer stopped him to talk to him about more details but his mind was only on you. None of the other details mattered if you weren’t okay.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The drive to the hospital was silent. His thoughts were distracting enough. Logan felt like the drive was twice as long as it should have been. It felt like he was holding his breath the whole drive. He spoke quietly, trying to comfort himself.

“She’s going to be okay. She is tough. Fuck, of course she’s tough, look at who she married. Look at who she agreed to put up with..” His fists tightened around the steering wheel.

He pulled into the hospital’s visitors parking lot. He tried to steady his breathing before grabbing the backpack the paramedic recommended packing and heading inside. He didn’t even remember talking to the receptionist who told him which floor to go to for the right waiting room. But here he sat. Bouncing his leg anxiously. Waiting for you to get out of surgery. It was longer than he thought it’d take but eventually, a nurse came to talk to him.

You were out of surgery but you would still remain asleep, they were putting you in a medically-induced coma. There was too much trauma to the brain and this was the best option. They said you wouldn’t be under for longer than a week and offered to call him before waking you up but he insisted on staying by your side. The staff was admittedly concerned for him, he almost never slept. He just sat beside you. Waiting.

After almost four days, the tests suggested that they could stop the drugs inducing the coma. Your levels and brain activity showed that it was safe to do so. They warned him there would be side-effects from it and temporary memory loss was a possibility. Among other things. What they didn’t prepare him for was the time between stopping the drugs and you waking up. For some patients it was almost instantly. For you it was several hours.

The moment they stopped your IV drip to the moment you were conscious again, he didn’t let go of your hand. After the first hour he had resorted to quietly begging you to wake up, asking you not to leave him like this. As you woke up, that’s what you heard.

“-and I won’t complain about your stupidly long hours. Please. I’m sorry. Please wake up.” He called you a nickname you hadn’t heard before. Or at least one you didn’t remember. “Please- I know I’m dumb, I need you to wake up. I need you to know how sorry I am. And- and I never should have let you leave the house without telling you how much I loved you. I was upset and I wasn’t thinking. Please. I’m so sorry.”

As you woke up, your eyes fluttered open and you tried to get familiar with your surroundings. When you made a noise and moved your hand, Logan looked up at you in surprise. He jumped up from where he sat to gently hug you and tell you how much he loved you. He pressed the button for the nurse, as he had been instructed to. From there, he found out about your memory. You found out about the accident. You were both disappointed and a little scared. Logan has an overwhelming sense of guilt about what happened and you don’t even know what happened or if he played a role in it. In an ironic twist, he'd finally get to spend more time with you. Just not in a way he ever would have wanted.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Second author's note: sorry if the argument isn't great, uhh definitely looking for feedback for improvement there. I was trying to make it both characters fault but idk. Also first attempt at a mood board for the fic. Idk if I like it, I may take it down, we'll see.

Okay it's been revised. I think it is a significant improvement but it's still no where near perfect. Stayed up until 6am making revisions because apparently, I'm allergic to sleep! And also joy as jt seems! But no rest for the wicked I guess: I have my immunology final project due in 8 hours and it is been severely neglected. Anyways thanks for your time... again I guess for some of you.

Taglist: @kemi707 @klwrites @fluff-lover @a-leg-without-fear @aoi-targaryen @vofriviasblog @jupiter-sky @crypt1dcat @karencaribou

[lethaldefect]

Okay, I wasn't supposed to answer because it's Christmas and I'm lazy, but I'm enjoying this discussion too much XD

First of all - my first post was a mental shortcut, written under the influence of emotions and everyone who was supposed to understand did.

From the important issues - I consider all the things that were shown or said in the series directly to be obvious. Personally, I don’t agree with the practice of "selling" and explaining certain plotlines and information only through books, short stories, or creators’ Twitter posts. If something wasn’t clearly stated in the show or was presented dogmatically, it’s either undeveloped or nonexistent to me. I’m not talking about subliminally conveyed information, but TDP writers don’t excel at conveying things indirectly anyway.

The whole point of my post is that we don’t have clear and detailed answers to the issues I’m discussing. I’m not interested in vague generalities. As long as I have questions (and they’re not about unnecessary details), the plotline isn’t resolved for me. Certainly not in a satisfying way. Maybe, as an adult viewer who’s been part of the fandom since the beginning and works in a similar industry, my expectations are too high. But personally, I believe I have every right to have expectations. Especially since there are plenty of sister series with far fewer plot holes and missteps.

But getting to the point:

If this is enough of an answer for you, great! I’m glad you’re satisfied and find it sufficient. But I know that for many people, this information feels like "this doesn’t actually explain anything." Especially since Zubeia presented the information about Aaravos’ imprisonment with the sentence "we all loved him, but suddenly it turned out that for thousands of years he was making some revolutions, so we locked him up". Honey, what revolutions? What exactly did he do to warrant such a severe punishment? Did he even have a chance to defend himself? What’s his version of the story? Why, despite dragons’ hatred for humans, did everyone believe some human girl without batting an eye, and even let humans work on his prison? Xadia loved him for centuries after Leola’s death. What happened to suddenly make him the most hated being in the world?

Here’s a serious plot hole – Zubeia herself admitted that Aaravos is so powerful and dangerous that even all the Archdragons couldn’t defeat him. That’s why they conspired against him and used a moment of weakness to imprison him. But to do that, they needed the help of Akiyu, a human mage, and the Orphan Queen. They themselves admit that they wouldn't have defeated him without a trick. So, what was the trick? Either Aaravos was so arrogant that he let his guard down around them, or they played on his emotions. A fight is, of course, possible too, but surrounding him and expecting he wouldn’t defend himself or kill them would’ve been a risky move.

Again – Sol Regem’s involvement in Leola’s death is just a trigger point. He wasn’t even king at the time. Aaravos, with his power and likely immense political influence, could’ve done anything to him. He didn’t; he chose to play a game with him for centuries. Leola’s death is, of course, one of the reasons – probably the most significant – but that doesn’t mean the story between Aaravos, Sol Regem, and Aithne Solaire is resolved. At least, not for me. As I said, the whole point of these posts is that FOR ME, these are unresolved plotlines. Regarding the Archdragons, we also don’t know what exactly happened to Luna Tenebris, although it seems strongly implied that Aaravos was involved, considering his connection to Aditi’s death, which happened around the same time (btw, does anyone besides Janai even know that Aaravos killed Aditi?). Regarding Zubeia – I mainly fixated on this because she’s probably the only Archdragon in context where Aaravos said, "like the day you betrayed me." Not "they". SHE betrayed him. This isn’t about objectivity; it’s irrelevant here. It’s about impact and context. If Aaravos considers her a traitor, he likely had expectations of her. He viewed the other dragons as arrogant but not Zubeia. He probably didn’t expect her to take part in his imprisonment or allow it and not side with him. Aaravos blames her for betrayal but said Avizandum was the one who caused his imprisonment. Even knowing the Orphan Queen turned him in – for him, it’s Avizandum who’s responsible for his imprisonment, and Zubeia is the traitor. Given Zubeia’s character, I don’t expect she actively participated in imprisoning him. That’s why I said she allowed Avizandum to do it because she didn’t dissuade him from that decision. Of course, I could be wrong, but I have the right to speculate, since we don't know anything about it :D

The Starscraper issue is even more shallow and almost random to me because we know nothing about the Celestial Elves and their actual role. And I don't mean the information that they can't integrate into the affairs of the world, they guard star artifacts blah blah blah.. But the impact of this sect's existence on the world and history. They seem strangely connected to the Stars despite being Skywing Elves. What’s their connection to the Stars, why do they exist, and do they actually do anything important besides guarding artifacts, issuing prophecies (which they tell no one about), and "not meddling in worldly affairs" (which they actually do)? So – Did Aaravos, as the only known Startouch Elf walking the world, have access to the Starscraper? Did he have access to the artifacts stored there before his imprisonment? Was he connected to the Starscraper at all? We’re told he took or stole the staff and crown stones, but maybe he had the right to them.

I know. Aaravos’ connection with Ziard was clear from the beginning. The idea that he might’ve gotten the staff from someone else was just a wild speculation. Although we have no absolute certainty that Aaravos is the only Startouch Elf walking the world.

I love this theory about Elarion! Long before arc 2 I had a theory that he might even have been one of the founders or had a very high position in the city. In any case, it’s the plotline I’m most disappointed didn’t appear. Elarion was the biggest and most important mystery related to Aaravos for me. The series ended, and not a word was said about Elarion.

Again – if the series’ ending is satisfying for you, that’s great. For me, it’s not (which doesn’t mean I didn’t like this season – I liked it a lot; it’s one of my favorites). And the problem is probably mostly with me. I had very high expectations for every season and the series as a whole. I saw so much potential in some plotlines. A lot of potential that wasn't used. So I’m disappointed because I would’ve done it differently if I had the chance.

Why do I think everything about Aaravos is still a mystery? Because what the series explained was never a mystery to me. It just raised more questions than answers. Aaravos’ nature, character, and motives were clear to me even before Season 3. I even predicted he had a daughter who tragically died. After Season 2, I looked at him and said to my friend, "He totally gives girl dad energy. Let’s give him a daughter and kill her to make him sad." So yeah… I didn’t learn anything about him that truly surprised or shocked me. Once again, FOR ME, there are more mysteries than there were before. And I know many people feel the same.

Anyway, thank you for the discussion! I haven’t had this much fun in ages; I feel like that guy with the red strings XD If you want, you can keep it going; I’ll gladly counter.

I hope you didn’t take my responses as an attack, and if you did, I’m very sorry! I hope we get lots of content in Arc 3 (and that we actually get it) because there are so many things worth expanding on more than the main plot.

By the way, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

wait a fucking minute...

We still don't know why and how Aaravos was imprisoned.

And what exactly his beef with Sol Reg and the other archdragons was about.

And what his relationship was with the Orphan Queen.

Oh yeah! And also his relationship with Ziard... and city of Elarion...

DID THEY JUST KILL HIM WITH ABSOLUTELY NO EXPLANATION?

I'M SO PISSED OFF

[arthurhillmastermind]

Anyone but him | Arthur Hill

“Same Building, same friends, zero patience for each other. For now.”

Kirstie stood in front of her mirror, adjusting her hair for the third time. She felt a mix of excitement and anxiety about attending Chris’s dinner party. After moving into the flat below him, she’d only heard stories about his friends— ArthurTV, and Bach. Chris had promised they were fun, but that didn’t ease her nerves. What if they didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like them?

With a final deep breath, Kirstie grabbed her jacket and made her way upstairs. She knocked on Chris’s door, and it swung open almost immediately, revealing a beaming Chris.

“You made it! I was beginning to think I’d have to come and drag you here myself!” he teased, pulling her into a quick hug.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kirstie replied, rolling her eyes but smiling as she stepped inside.

The flat was warm and inviting, the scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. The living room was filled with laughter and casual chatter, and Kirstie felt her heart race as she spotted three guys lounging on the couch.

Chris led her over, gesturing grandly. “This is Kirstie! Although I feel like I didn't need to say this.”

Bach looked up, a cheeky grin on his face. “Yeah you didn't.! Chris won’t stop talking about you. Welcome to the shit show.”

ArthurTV smirked, raising his drink. “If he’s been hyping you up, you must be something special. I’m Arthur.”

Bach, sitting cross-legged with a warm smile, nodded in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Kirstie. Don’t mind Chris and ArthurTV; they’re just jealous I’m the best-looking one here.”

Kirstie chuckled, feeling her tension ease slightly. “Oh really? I'm pretty sure that changed when I came in, but I’ll have to make that judgement for myself,” she quipped back, earning a round of laughter.

“You’re going to fit right in,” Chris declared, clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

As they gathered around the dining table, Kirstie found herself seated between ArthurTV and Bach. Chris had gone all out, with a spread that looked as good as it smelled.

“So, Kirstie,” ArthurTV started, leaning slightly toward her. “What games are you streaming these days?”

Kirstie took a sip of her drink, feeling more at ease. “I just started streaming GTA V. It’s been a wild ride so far. Lots of chaos and swearing and laughing. I Play with Ginge sometimes and I play Fifa every so often too, ill play anything my stream ask me too to be honest, I did a sims challenge during a 24-hour stream, they asked me to make Chris and harry and let them get married, so I did.”

Chris annoyed “yeah and thanks to that I keep getting fan fiction written about it”

Kirstie impressed with herself “yup and thanks to that I bought my new pc”

Bach leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “ I rate that, Are you a total wild card, or do you play it safe?”

“Depends on my mood,” Kirstie replied with a smirk. “But I’d say I enjoy a bit of reckless abandon now and then. I like leaving a game like sims or   on while streaming when I take a stream break and grab a drink or answer a call.”

ArthurTV raised his glass again with a grin. “That’s what we like to hear! Welcome to the shit show. I can imagine that Ginge is an annoying twat sometimes, though.”

Kirstie laughed, raising her glass to clink with his. “Thank you! He’s one of my favourite people to stream with, though. I try to get him on a stream three or four times a month. We balance each other out, I think.”

Chris groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I know he’d like to ‘balance you out’ too.”

Kirstie shot him an unimpressed look. “Chris, actually shut the fuck up.”

The group burst into laughter, ArthurTV slapping Chris on the back as he tried to maintain his mock-wounded expression. Kirstie felt her nerves melting away, blending seamlessly into the banter.

As dinner was served, Kirstie found herself surrounded by playful jabs and hilarious stories. She exchanged quips with Bach and ArthurTV, who were both delighted to test her sense of humour. Chris chimed in with a few anecdotes about their friend group that had Kirstie nearly in tears from laughing.

At one point, Chris disappeared into the kitchen to check on dessert, leaving Kirstie and the guys to chat. She noticed Arthur’s name come up in conversation, and her heart raced a little.

“What’s Arthur Hill actually like?” Kirstie asked casually, trying to keep her tone light.

“He’s a bit of a mystery,”  ArthurTV replied, a knowing look in his eyes. “Talented musician, but he can be a pain sometimes.”

“Yeah, like a lovable pain,” Bach added, rolling his eyes. “He has his moments.”

“He’s got this knack for thinking he’s cooler than everyone else,” ArthurTV added with a laugh. “But deep down, he’s a softie.”

Kirstie felt a strange flutter at the mention of Arthur. Despite their less-than-friendly encounters, she found herself curious about him.

Just then, Chris returned with a tray of desserts, interrupting her thoughts. “Alright, who’s ready for some sweet treats?”

The laughter and chatter resumed, and Kirstie felt grateful for the warmth of the evening. Maybe fitting in wouldn’t be as difficult as she had feared.

--------------------------------

Part 1 - here!

[pendingnomdeplume]

pairing: hozier x gn!reader rated: T (language)

PROMPT: A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

author's note: This was pre-written and is part of a backlog of items I still have from the previous blog. xoxo.

“Five minutes!” A voice crackles over the radio clipped to your belt, yet you’re undeterred as you continue to stare Andrew down. It’s a stand-off of sorts—the natural progression of a confrontation after he made some snarky comment under his breath, and you whirled around on him to finally, finally ask him what his fucking problem is with you. 

“I seem to be the only person you can’t stand on this entire crew, and I just want to know why,” you say, your tone is low and restrained as you attempt to keep anyone else from hearing on the other side of the dressing room door. The rest of the band is waiting in the wings, but the pounding footsteps of crew members dashing by makes you nervous. 

Andrew glances between the door and you. His mouth opens and closes, but neither an excuse nor an answer comes out. Instead, he runs an agitated hand over his frizzy hair and sighs loudly. 

“I don’t know…” He trails off, eyes still averted away from your heated stare. 

“You don’t know…what, exactly? Don’t know what I’m talking about? Bullshit. You absolutely fucking do. Don’t know why you hate me so much? Then, please, figure it the fuck out. I’m here to do a job, and it’s really hard to personally assist someone when that person is being a total fucking dickhead all the time! Christ Almighty, I’ve only ever heard good things about you, and yet I’m somehow the one that gets this shitty, snarky version of y—” 

His hands are on your face before you even realize he’s stepped closer, too caught up in your own rant to pay attention. His touch is firm, squishing your cheeks as he tilts your head to force your own gaze upward. 

It happens in the blink of an eye. You feel the brush of a kiss against your lips before he pulls away and puts distance between you. His expression is full of worry, an apology already on his tongue as you stare blankly. His mouth is moving, but you’re not comprehending anything he says as your face burns. You can still feel the ghost of his touch as though it’s imprinted on your skin. 

Andrew is still rambling when you reorient yourself. “...and, if you’re completely done with me and this whole thing, I get it, and I won’t blame you for leaving. But I can talk to the tour manager, and maybe we can put you somewhere else? I’m sure Allison would love to have someone, and you wouldn’t have to see me or deal with me for the most part, and you could still work with the band because I know they love you. I’m just so, so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking doing that when I’ve been awful to you, I don’t deserve the kindness or patience you’ve extended to me, and I don’t—I’m sorry I fucked this up. I didn’t know what to do.” 

You swallow audibly. “Didn’t know what to do about what, exactly?” 

There’s the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he replies. “Feelings. Not great at ‘em. Obviously.” 

Annoyance buzzes along your skin, but you ignore it as you comprehend what he’s actually saying. “You…have feelings. For me.” It’s less a question and more a statement. 

“Correct,” he nods. 

“And your plan to deal with that was to bully me like you’re 12 years old?” 

He shrugs. “Wasn’t exactly a plan. More that it just…happened that way.” 

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this. Of him. 

“Jesus, Andrew. Did you want to pull on my pigtails while you’re at it? Grown-ass man…” 

You catch the shift in his expression—the way his shoulders relax just slightly, the way he allows himself a small, cheeky smile as he shrugs and replies. “More than happy to do so if you ask.” 

There’s something about that response—about the way he smiles at you, eyes crinkling in genuine joy and relief that you’re not shouting abuse at him or leaving the tour altogether—that spurs you forward. A rough tug on the lapels of his grey suit jacket clues him in quickly, and suddenly you’re pressed back against the dressing room door as he kisses you like a man possessed. Your hand automatically comes up to rest at the nape of his neck, unable to bite back a whine as his tongue slides against yours, as his hands grip your waist and threaten to slide up your shirt.

A banging sound reverberates through your chest, startling both of you until you’re springing towards opposite sides of the room. The door swings open, and a miserable-looking tech pokes his head in and points at Andrew with a frown. 

“You! We gotta go! Only a minute!” The tech is gone in a flash, the sound of his words echoing down the hall as he jogs back towards the stage. 

Andrew can only choke out an apologetic sound with a desperate flail of his hands, and you wave him off with one hand while the other covers your grin. “Go, go, go, we’ll talk later. Go be a rockstar or whatever.” 

He snorts, and you barely catch the, “Hardly a rockstar,” as he jogs out of the room. 

[doggishgirl]

i'll be waiting || kaeya alberich

pairing: kaeya alberich x reader

word count: 2,850

content: sfw, angst, childhood friends to nothing, first love, first heartbreak, written pre-sumeru release, based on the webtoon

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

“I’m leaving in the morning. Master says this is the last leg of my training, and she’s gonna take me to study in every nation of Teyvat. But… she says it could be years before we return.”

“You brought me all the way out here just to tell me that? I already know you’re leaving, you didn’t have to pull me away from training just to rub salt in the wound,” Kaeya huffed, looking like he was about to turn and leave. 

“Wait, Kaeya,” you gasped, your eyes widening in surprise before you lurched forward to grab his wrist and stop him. “That’s not what I meant. I just… uh, I wanted to reminisce a little bit before I left. You used to always come out here with me at night when we were younger. What, you don’t like me anymore?” you huffed. 

He didn’t say anything, but his expression seemed to soften, even if just slightly, so you smiled and tilted your head to the side. “So, did you get me a going away gift?” And then his expression fell again and you realized quickly you had said the wrong thing. 

“Enough about leaving, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve spent enough time helping with your studies that I feel like I should’ve been invited too, but instead I’m finishing my training with the Knights, because I actually want to stay in Mondstadt!” he exclaimed, pulling his arm out of your grip in order to stalk off. 

“Kaeya!” you yelled after him, sprinting the distance he’d already put between you so you could stop in front of him and put both your hands on his chest to stop him from walking. “Fine, fine, I won’t talk about… it. But, c’mon, you can’t just avoid me,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his for a moment, hoping for some sort of response, but still, he didn’t say anything. 

“Tomorrow is my birthday,” you offered, still waiting for something. “We’ll both be 16 now. You’re already a Knight, one of the youngest, and my training is practically done. We’re pretty impressive, don’t you think?” you asked, offering him another tiny smile. 

“Aside from my not having a vision,” he grumbled, and though the statement made you frown, his voice was enough to satisfy you. You moved your hands down to clasp his hands in your grip and pulled him backwards to the small clearing you’d started in. 

“Why does that matter? Everyone else is impressed with you. *I’m* impressed with you. You just have an issue with yourself,” you responded, sitting down carefully on the top of a flat stone. You’d pretty much grown up together in the Whispering Woods; sneaking out to this exact clearing several nights a week to lie on your backs to talk while you practiced with your weapons or studied by lantern light. Nothing much had changed about it aside from some overgrowth of the shrubbery and the gradual growth of the trees whose trunks were twisting beautifully along the outskirts of the area. 

“What type of Vision would you even want?” you asked, patting the spot next to you to beckon him over. 

Kaeya sighed but relented his stoic pose and chose to sit beside you. “Probably Anemo, just because anyone with an Anemo Vision in Mond is treated like a celebrity.”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s no valid reason. You’re already treated like a celebrity, plus that means we’d hardly be able to fight together. Dendro doesn’t react with Anemo,” you complained. 

“You probably should’ve thought of that before you got all into nature,” he retorted. “Besides, you hardly fight to begin with, so what’s it to you?”

“Well, I think we make a good pair, don’t you?”

He seemed to contemplate his answer for a moment, causing you to gawk at him before you nudged your elbow into his side. “Please, I know you don’t have to think about it that hard,” you whined, then scoffed when he started to laugh. 

“Fine, fine, we do make a good pair,” he acquiesced. And really, you were. Sure, he and Diluc made good brothers and they were the talk of the town, but you and Kaeya had an easy friendship. When Diluc got his Vision and went on to join the Knights, even becoming the Cavalry Captain, you and Kaeya were left to your own devices. 

When a moment passed and you had yet to say anything else, Kaeya’s eyes flickered over to look at you, only to find you staring at him tearfully.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are the tears about? I already said I agree!” he said incredulously, but you just shook your head. 

“It’s not about that. I just… I’m gonna miss you. I know I said we wouldn’t talk about me leaving but it’s happening and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone and I’m gonna miss you, okay! You can’t blame me. I just feel like I’m going to miss out on so much and I know I wanted this, I know I’ve been training for this for years but it doesn’t mean I won’t miss Mondstadt, or my friends, or you! So can’t we talk about it?”

You were expecting some sort of response, or most likely that he would just up and leave again. He was never the sentimental type, even though you and Diluc were the only two people he’d be the most open with, so topics like this weren’t common when you were alone together. You figured a part of his hesitation to hear about your upcoming journey was due to jealousy, or perhaps he was having a hard time with the idea of you leaving. But however you were thinking he would react, none of them aligned with him grabbing both your cheeks and pulling you in until he could slot your lips together. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” was the first thing he said after you both pulled apart, “because I’ll miss you too. I’d rather wake up and have you already be gone than deal with an impending sense of doom. I… I don’t want you to go, but I want you to do what you love and see the whole of Teyvat, even if it means leaving behind someone else that you might… love,” he said quietly, looking away. 

“You haven’t kissed me in a while,” you answered, to which you received a scoff and a flick to your forehead. 

“That’s your answer?”

“Hey, I didn’t say I was done!” you huffed. You were silent afterwards for a minute, the only sound being the whistle of the wind through the trees. You placed your hand on top of one of his, still gently cupping your cheek, before you finally spoke. “It’s not like I’m never gonna come back, or forget you, or any other impossible thing you might be thinking of. Before anything else, you’re my best friend, and when I come back, you’re the first person I want to see and you’ll tell me everything I wasn’t around to witness. You’ll show me your Vision, which will hopefully react with Dendro, and you’ll be the captain of some brand new division of the Knights and maybe I’ll even join like they’re begging me to. Maybe… maybe we’ll be together, when we’re older and better and… I’ll come back. No matter how long it takes, I promise.” You kissed him again, albeit briefly, before you wrapped both your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek against his shoulder. 

“Fine, then. I’ll be waiting.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Earth to [name], are you there?” 

With Amber’s voice breaking you out of your thoughts, your eyes widened and you turned to look at the young Knight apologetically. 

“Sorry, there’s just… So much has changed. You’re all grown up now, look at you, an outrider. I’m surprised you even recognized me, it’s been so long. I would love to stay and talk but I promised my master I would report to her as soon as I got back. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow during the festival and we can catch up!” you said gently. “In the meantime, take good care of… I’m sorry, you said your name was Collei?” you asked, glancing towards the younger girl standing just behind the Knight. Upon receiving a nod, you smiled again before you left the two girls to continue walking past the front gates. 

The city was particularly busy, which you were sure mainly had to be attributed to the eve of Ludi Harpastum, but there also seemed to be some sort of underlying tension which you couldn’t quite pinpoint. However, your first concern was meeting your master, who you hadn’t seen in 3 years, before you caught up on everything you’d missed out on. Your master had traveled with you for the first two years of your journey, but had deemed you capable enough of continuing the journey alone. Still, you certainly hadn’t planned on being gone for another 3 years. However, your time alone had marked the true beginning of your career. You’d made a name for yourself in the beginning with the aid of your master, but as you conducted your own field studies in each nation and began to publish your work, your journal eventually garnered its own renown, to the point that you had received invitations to study with scholars from the Akademiya or offered funding from the Fatui to submit your research to them exclusively. With the amount of people begging for your attention, it was only recently that you found the opportunity to return to your beloved homeland. 

“[name]?”

You stopped again when you heard someone else say your name, and turned until you found the source of the voice. 

“Jean? Lisa?” you asked, as if you couldn’t believe the appearances of the two in front of you. 

“It’s Master Jean, actually,” Lisa suggested, to which you gaped before looking towards the blonde once more. “What do you mean? Where’s Master Varka?”

“It seems a lot of our letters didn’t reach you, even though we got wind of all your publications. Very nice work, by the way. There’s a section in the library with all the volumes so far,” Lisa added with an amused hum. 

“Master Varka left Mondstadt on an expedition, so I’m Acting Grand Master for now. Lisa’s right, it seems there is a lot for you to catch up on. We actually have a bit of a problem we need to attend to…” Jean said, glancing towards Lisa momentarily. “But tonight, if you’re not too tired and you don’t have plans, we can meet in the library, have some dinner and tea?”

“Oh, I’d love to, and that works out, I have to meet with my master now anyways, so I will see you both later!” you said cheerfully, bowing your head before turning again and continuing towards your master’s house. 

Your meeting was rather brief, with your master mainly offering her congratulations and asking you about the various details of your journey that you hadn’t elaborated on in your letters, while you tucked your belongings away until you could move them into, hopefully, a place of your own. 

“By the way, dear, I suggest you confer with the Knights soon about possible research opportunities so you could stay home for a while,” your master suggested, after you finally sat in front of her at the tea table again. “I’m sure you could talk to that Knight fellow you were always with before we left. Kaeya, was it? Have you seen him yet?”

You clasped your hands together firmly and shook your head quickly. “I, uh, haven’t. Haven’t gotten the chance to speak to anyone even if I have bumped into them. But I’m apparently meeting some friends later so I suppose I’ll catch up then.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“So have you seen Kaeya yet?”

You were dreading this question from the moment you saw the twinkle in Lisa’s eyes. For some reason, the tea and dinner you’d been promised had turned into poring over some nondescript research in the library with Lisa, Jean, Amber and the mysterious Collei. 

“No, actually. Nor have I heard anything from him in 3 years. I assume there’s a lot I must have missed if he’s the first thing everyone wants to ask me about,” you huffed as you turned over the page you’d been reading. They’d caught you up quickly on the most recent events regarding some Fatui diplomats, as well as Varka’s expedition and some other changes within the Knights, but it also felt like there was something they weren’t saying yet. 

“Well, uh,” Jean spoke this time. “Around that time, there was something that happened he most likely didn’t want to write to you about.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Diluc!” you exclaimed as soon as you stepped foot into the tavern. 

“[name]?” he said quizzically, upon raising his gaze from the glass in his hand. 

“Yes, yes, it’s me, I just got back this afternoon. Um, I want to say…” you looked around for a moment. There were a few patrons still milling around the bar and there was a familiar bard cloaked in an ugly green outfit who seemed to be singing drunk in the corner, but otherwise there was no one at the bar and no one to eavesdrop. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know I’m three years too late, but I’ve only just found out and I’m very sorry about your father,” you told him earnestly. “Jean told me you went on your own journey, too. Even quit the Knights. So I suppose we both have some catching up to do.”

Diluc was quiet for a moment, but eventually he gave you a small smile and ducked his head in acknowledgement, before he paused again and seemed to hesitate. 

“Has Kaeya spoken to you about anything, by any chance?” 

You felt like you wanted to throw the polished glass against the wall. “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t even seen him yet. Feels like I’ve seen everyone else in the whole city though. I might as well meet Barbatos at this point.”

“Master Diluc,” you heard a hiccup from somewhere next to you and looked to the side to catch sight of the green bard. “Another glass, please,” he said cheerfully. 

“Anyways, Diluc,” you started again as he begrudgingly poured another glass. “I’ll see you tomorrow during the festival.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“[name]! Have you by any chance seen Collei?” a breathless Amber asked, to which you squinted at her and shook your head. 

“No, I actually just got down here, I was talking to Albedo for a while. Why? Is something wrong?” 

“There shouldn’t be. But Sir Kaeya sent me on a hunt for one of those contraptions we were studying last night and now I can’t find her, and she’s not particularly good with crowds. Would you mind helping me look for her?”

“Oh, uh, of course. Leave it to me,” you said firmly, before you threw a longing glance towards the waning festivities. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“Sir Kaeya!” Amber’s voice echoed down the empty stairwell, meanwhile you could not muster a single sound. By the time you made it down the icy stairs, Amber had already landed in front of Collei to shield her from Kaeya. 

You weren’t sure if anything you were seeing was right, and you didn’t know if you knew enough about the entire situation to form an opinion on it, but you were pretty sure that Kaeya had drawn his sword on a child. A heated argument came and went before your eyes, and you had yet to say anything. At some point, Amber swept Collei away and left you and Kaeya in front of each other amidst the frigid air. 

The man in front of you said nothing yet, just tucked his sword away before he crossed his arms and seemed to look at you expectantly. 

“I got back yesterday,” you offered. 

“I know.”

“Everyone was asking me if I’d seen you.”

“And what did you say?”

“Well, I said no. I wasn’t sure if you even knew I was in town.”

“I did.”

You pretended those two words didn’t sting, and just lowered your gaze to the floor in front of you. 

“A Cryo Vision–” you started again, but were cut off. 

“I stopped waiting three years ago when your master came home without you. She told me you chose to keep going, even after she told you that your training was complete. You promised in all your letters before that, that you were going to be back soon. And then… you didn’t come back. So I stopped waiting, and I stopped writing. I figured I just wasn’t worth coming back for, or worth keeping a promise to. So yes, a Cryo Vision. I know it doesn’t react with Dendro, but I’m not sure we ever made a good pair to begin with,” Kaeya said, without so much as a waver in his voice, before he turned and left, and this time you had no reason to get him to stay.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

talk to me about kaeya!

[gothicxreylover]

Could you please write (maybe yandere if you want please) Tengen & his wives x gn or fem where the reader has been disobeying the rules they have given her and she gets annoyed/anger at how overprotective they are of her so she starts flirting with another hashira as a way to piss them off only for Makio to drag her away and bassist throw her over her shoulder as she takes her home to get punished (smut please if not it’s okay whatever ur comfortable with)

PLEASE WRITE THIS PRETTY PLEASE ILL GIVE U A KISS MUAHHHH

⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆

This fanfic contains- possessive thoughts and actions, overwhelming/overbearing behaviors, jealous, flirting with someone else, and implied smut at the end(it’s lazily written.)

The night was warm, the faint sound of crickets chirping in the distance, as the Hashira gathered at the Demon Slayer headquarters after a long day of training and missions. Among them, you had been particularly fidgety. Ever since Tengen and his wives had set a few rules for your safety and well-being, you’d been getting more and more frustrated by their overbearing behavior.

Tengen, with his large, looming presence, always keeping an eye on you, almost like you were some fragile porcelain doll. His wives, too, were no better—Makio, the most assertive, would catch you whenever you tried to wander off alone, while Suma would fuss over every small detail, even offering to fetch your water every few minutes. And Hinatsuru, though quiet, always seemed to know when you were upset, her eyes following your every move like a hawk.

Tonight, though? You had enough.

“I don’t need them hovering over me like I’m incapable of making my own decisions,” you muttered under your breath, fingers drumming against the table as you watched the other Hashira converse. Tengen and his wives were too distracted to notice, but you saw your chance to get a little bit of freedom—or rather, to show them how it felt to be smothered by their constant vigilance.

You glanced over at one of the other Hashira, a man you’d often sparred with but never really paid attention to in that way before. Shinobu had walked off with a few others, and there was a moment of peace in the otherwise busy room.

With a mischievous smirk, you stood and made your way toward the quietest corner of the room where a lone Hashira—who was standing, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"Hey," you said sweetly, stepping closer, feeling a flicker of satisfaction at the attention you were beginning to garner from him.

He was startled at first, blinked up at you. “Oh, hey there, Y/N. What’s going on?” His voice was soft, calm, but there was something in his eyes that flickered with curiosity. The slight tension in his posture was a good sign.

"Nothing much," you purred, stepping a little closer. “Just thought I’d come say hi. You’ve been looking strong lately. I think I could learn a lot from you…” You let the words linger, just enough to make him uncomfortable—but also intrigued.

As you continued to flirt, you caught the first signs of movement behind you. The flicker of colorful fabric, a flash of black hair. It was Hinatsuru, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. She was walking toward you, but you didn’t care. If anything, this was only making it more fun.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hinatsuru’s voice was dangerously calm. You turned to face her, but before you could even answer, there was a forceful tug on your arm.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Makio snapped, her usually cool demeanor replaced with something sharp, almost predatory. “You’ve been disobeying the rules all day. Getting too close to another Hashira? You really think that’s going to fly?”

You couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up from your chest. “Maybe I like him more than I like being treated like a child.” You folded your arms over your chest, giving Makio a pointed look.

At that, Tengen’s deep voice boomed from across the room. "I don’t like this," he growled, his eyes locking onto you with a possessive heat that made the room seem smaller. His tall figure cut through the crowd as he made his way toward you, his wives in tow.

“You know the rules,” he said, each word dripping with warning. His gaze softened just a fraction when it landed on you, though the possessiveness was undeniable. "You need to stop testing us, Y/N. We only want what's best for you. You don’t need to make this harder than it is."

“Maybe I do,” you replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “Maybe I just want to see how far I can push it.” You dared to glance at the lone Hashira one last time, watching as he nervously fidgeted, unsure of how to react to the situation.

Before Tengen could say another word, Makio had you by the arm again, this time more forcefully. “You’ve crossed the line, Y/N. Flirting with a low life like that? You’re mine—ours.” Her voice was laced with that familiar edge, possessive and unforgiving.

“Enough,” Tengen ordered, his voice like thunder. He then nodded toward Makio, who wasted no time in grabbing you firmly by the waist and lifting you off your feet.

“W-What?” you started, suddenly realizing that this situation was escalating in a way you didn’t expect. "Makio, put me down!" You struggled, but it was no use. The woman’s strength was undeniable, and soon, you found yourself draped over her shoulder like a ragdoll, your attempts to protest falling on deaf ears.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” she murmured softly, though the undertone was pure danger. “You’ve been naughty tonight. You need to be reminded of your place.”

The others, including Tengen and Hinatsuru, followed closely behind, their eyes never leaving you, watching your every move as if you were a puzzle they needed to solve.

You huffed in frustration, cheeks flushed with the suddenness of it all. The flirty edge you had tried to provoke them with now felt like a distant memory. The way they hovered over you now—protective, possessive, and almost intimidating—made you feel smaller than ever.

As Makio began to walk toward your shared home with Tengen, she gave you a pointed glance. "You’re going to learn not to mess with us. We don’t share, Y/N." Her tone was low, almost intimate.

Despite yourself, a part of you couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation. You had been testing your limits all night, and now, it was time to face the consequences—intimate, personal, and deeply possessive.

Tengen’s voice rang out behind you, low and dangerous. "This is for your own good. We love you too much to let you get away with this."

Now being in private with your lovers the mood soon turned into something more passionate. Tengen’s hand roamed around your body, seemingly to take in your body shape.

Makio softly kissed your neck, nibbling and bitting every second she got as she tugged on your waist. Suma was on your right, rubbing herself desperately onto you. Her head laid low as she whimpered out loud for pleasure. Hinatsuru smiled at the view she was seeing. And leaned towards you kissing your soft lips.

You were in for a long intimate session with your overbearing lovers.

⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩𓋹𓆪༻⋆

This sucks ass because I was running out of what to write. I hope it’s to your liking tho..