#it feels like i could be getting sick (i want everyone to know i first typed dick 😭😭) but i dont knoe

[eternal-stay]

ESCAPE FROM REALITY SICKIE⇒ CHANGBIN 6.4k words

spring was pretty.

changbin loved it, but he didn't enjoy it so much when all he could do was watch it go by through the company window. stray kids had spent the last two months practicing nonstop, preparing for another comeback while touring all over the world. 

they’d visited south america, discovered the culture and had the time of their lives with the thousands of passionate stays that had attended their concerts. the energy there had truly been a shock and now that they were back to korea, immersed yet again in the repetitive routine, he couldn’t help but feel down.

he had nothing against his job, nothing too bad at least, but the change of scenery had thrown his body into autopilot. still, he wasn’t having a hard time, he just wasn’t enjoying it as much. but after such an exciting tour, that was to expect.

funny enough, only two weeks had passed since their last concert. the first one they’d all been exhausted, but now that everyone had their energy back, he couldn’t help but feel like he should be enjoying himself more.

one morning, when he woke up later than usual and almost missed his hour at the gym, he should have realised that no, he didn’t have postconcert depression, but rather seemed to be getting sick. 

the moment he opened his eyes, they felt heavy, and he felt way too tired. not in the ‘i barely slept’ way that he was so accustomed to, instead, his head felt like it was filled with cotton and his body really didn’t want to move. 

reluctantly, changbin turned off his alarm—that must’ve been sounding for a long time, seeing how late it was—and sat up. his muscles (♥︎) immediately protested at the motion, and he almost chose to skip going to the gym before deciding that sore muscles from dance practice weren’t a good enough excuse for him.

with as much motivation as he could gather, he dragged himself out of his bed and into the bathroom, where he contemplated taking a shower. sure, he was running a bit late, but maybe that way he could wake up properly and not spend the whole day feeling like a zombie.

the rapper turned the water on and while he waited for it to get warm, he went back to his room to pick out his clothes. since he’d have to cut his workout short, he chose simple grey sweatpants and a matching short sleeved t-shirt that he planned on wearing to dance practice too. lately the weather was warmer, but for some reason he felt the need to pick a hoodie too, so he got one that belonged to chan. he wore it so often that it might as well be considered him.

once he had his outfit, he brought it to the bathroom and hung the clothes on the heater. after taking off his pjs, he stepped into the shower and sighed blissfully at the warm water running over his sore body. a cold shower, admittedly, would have been much more useful in waking him, but he felt no regrets.

time flew by and when he finally got out of the shower and changed into his clothes, 20 minutes had passed. cursing under his breath, he hurried to grab his keys, throw his water bottle and some hand wrappers into a random backpack, and left the dorm.

changbin was quite lucky, he realised as he arrived to the gym, because it was mostly empty. that meant that he wouldn’t have to wait to use any of the machines and thus would be able to make it on time to practise.

he was still sleepy, and didn’t even know what he planned to work out. one could never go wrong with shoulders and  chest, he thought, so he headed straight to the seated cable fly. he adjusted the weight properly but, unlike usual, he got tired quite quickly, and decided to move to the bench press.

tiredly, he positioned himself and lifted the barbell. since when did he struggle so much with the first rep? taking a deep breath in, he forced his protesting arms to lift the weight again. he was getting out of breath, but he knew he could do more. he always did.

with each rep, his muscles grew weaker, and it came to a point where he couldn’t bring himself to lift the barbell again. if he let it go, it would literally crush his. the gym was empty and he didn’t have another option. he either id it, or died right there on the bench press. 

by now, his arms were trembling and he was getting dizzy. he looked towards the floor in front of the mirror where the different weights were, and there he saw it. the plates he usually lifted lay there on the floor, untouched. 

cursing under his breath, he realised that’d he’d been so tired and in his own head that he hadn’t bother to check how much was loaded onto the bench press. it was way heavier than what he was used to and he didn’t even have the same energy he normally did. now, he had almost no way out.

as he took that in, his breathing picked up and he squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping to gather whatever strength was left in his body. his wrists were about to give out and his shoulders ached, but he pushed himself to do it.

shaking, he managed to lift the barbell over his head, but when he was about to place it on the bracket, he didn’t manage to do it well. only one side of the bar fell into place and suddenly the barbell tipped sideways, the heavy weight almost dropping onto changbin. out of instinct, he managed to grab it with his left hand, but he truly had no strength left. the strong impact pushed his arm down and his wrist bent backwards. he gasped, feeling the pain travel up to his shoulder. 

somehow, he was able to grab it with his other had and properly set it on the bracket, but the damaged was done. he sat up, panting both from the pain and the black spots that now fogged his vision. no, he didn’t want to pass out on the gym.

with his uninjured hand, he helped himself stand up and dragged himself into the bathroom. a look in the mirror told him everything he needed to know: something wasn’t okay. his face was ghostly pale and his cheeks flushed, his bangs sticking to hi damp forehead. whether that was because of the strain or the scare, he didn’t know.

the glossy look in his eyes suggested coming to the gym had been a bad idea, and his now swollen wrist only confirmed it. hesitantly touching the area, he felt the warmth radiating from the injury. it wasn’t good, and the purplish tone of the skin around it almost made him dizzy.

he turned on the faucet and ran his wrist under cold water. it was freezing and sent a shiver down his spine that made him realise just how much his hands were trembling. what was he going to do now? he had dance practice in a moment and was already late, this was gong to be such a drag for all of the boys.

when the shivering extended to the rest of his body, he turned the water off and dried his wrist on his hoodie. a look at it gave away that the injury wasn’t more serious than a sprain, but that didn’t make it any more convenient.

in the span of an hour, he had managed to go from a merely tired human being to an injured and sickly-looking mess. the worst is, he could have prevented it if he had just looked at the weight before getting on the bench press, and he knew it.

the thought made tears spring to his eyes and if he hadn’t felt pathetic enough already, he would have let them spill. still, he pulled himself together and called a taxi. walking to the company sounded so incredibly unnecessary that he couldn’t even resent himself for resorting to the lazy way.

the next 20 minutes of his life were unappealing at best, the pain in his wrist still throbbing and the disappointment still gnawing at his mind. if the concerned looks he received when he finally got to dance practise were anything to go by, he looked as bad as he felt.

the members couldn’t be blamed. changbin knew his hair looked sweaty and his face looked whitewashed save for the rosy tone to his cheeks. wouldn’t the photographers love to take pictures of him now that he was naturally ghostly pale?

he had barely registered the music stopping while he went to drop his bag when a hand on his shoulder startled him. chan was looking at him worriedly, and, after looking around, he saw why. the september line was wearing short sleeved t-shirts and the other boys were looking hot—because of the late spring temperatures—in tank tops. meanwhile changbin had yet to take off his hoodie.

“you’re gonna overheat in there,” the leader said worriedly, seeing as the rapper was already sweating. changbin, however, still felt the chills that—though subtly—still wracked his body. that hadn’t changed since he was in the gym, so he just shook his head.

“i went to the gym and got cold on the way here, so i put it on,” he said, leaving out that he’d been wearing it since before leaving home and that he, most definitely, hadn’t walked here. but chan didn’t need to know that because there was nothing he could do about it anyway. 

“am i very late?” the rapper asked, relieved that his late arrival seemed not to have been a great inconvenience. the boys—himself, especially—valued punctuality, and not being on time was very annoying for him. this time he didn’t care as much, though. it was hard to pay attention to it when his rest felt worse each passing minute.

“we were just starting,”minho replied, and the lack of playful scolding on his voice betrayed his concern. the dancer saw the dazed look in changbin’s eyes and the way the rapper showed no indication of feeling too warm in his hoodie, which was awfully strange. usually, he’d take any chance to show of his perfect arms, plus he didn’t have he greatest heat tolerance.

changbin nodded and walked to his spot when he heard the intro to 5-star. yeah, his wrist wasn’t going to find this pleasant. he was surprised by the lack of questions from his members, though they did shoot a few worried looks his way when by the third song he was still in his hoodie. unknowingly to him, that was the only thing that gave away his unlucky state of health. his hair had already dried up and he was too cold to sweat anyway, and moving so much must’ve brought some colour to his face which he welcomed, though looking better made no difference in how he felt. plus, he realised, the long sleeved covered his sprained wrist, so that would go completely unnoticed.

throughout practise, he was aware that his dancing wasn’t as energetic or precise as usual, but no one commented on it. the boys also refrained from teasing him too much, other than jokingly suggesting that he hadn’t taken off his hoodie to deprive them of his muscles.

during the last half an hour, there was a new song they tried learning choreography for , but he really struggled to get the moves down. he kept forgetting what came after what and at some point the steps just blurred together in his fever-clouded mind. because there was no way that he didn’t have a fever by now.

those last few minutes seemed to drag on forever and when minho finally called it a day and seungmin decided that it was the perfect moment to jump onto changbin’s back, the rapper nearly crumbled to the floor. 

“hyung,” seungmin whined, too busy being silly to notice the wince that crossed changbin’s face when he reflexively caught the younger’s leg with his injured hand, “you almost let me fall”

“you almost made me fall,” the rapper retorted, dropping seungmin’s legs since he was too tired to keep holding him up. if seungmin noticed the unlikely reaction, he didn’t say or do anything.

or so changbin thought.

danceracha was going to stay in the dance room for a bit more and chan and jisung went to the convenience store with jeongin, but seungmin decided to stay with changbin for lunch. “where do we eat?” he asked, waiting for an answer. when he got none, he waved his hand in front changbin’s face.

the rapper had been simply following seungmin while zoning out, though his thoughts kept being redirected to his injury. the pounding in his head had grown stronger and he didn’t feel stable on his feet at all. when a hand suddenly appeared in front of him, he jumped back a little. “yah seungmin,” he scolded, not actually mad. seungmin had a waiting expression, so he must’ve asked something, “what was that for?”

“i asked where do we eat,” the vocalist repeated, impatient since he was getting hungry. changbin thought for a moment but he didn’t care at all, he just wanted to sit down, so he pointed at the first vending machine and said “in the studio. i have to work there later anyways”

although seungmin had not expected that answer, he agreed and tried to grab changbin’s hand to pull him along. but the rapper pulled away with a gasp. worried that he’d somehow hurt his friend, seungmin hurriedly apologised, “did i use so much force?”

he let out a relieved sigh when changbin shook his head. “your hand is just cold”

fair enough, his hands were normally cold, but he didn’t understand why it suddenly bothered changbin. still, he shrugged it off and just went to the vending machine to get his food. both of them got cup ramen and seungmin got a coke, but changbin went for a cold bottle of water.

“why would you do that when you can drink from the sink,” seungmin asked, clearly judging his hyung’s choices. shrugging, changbin just muttered something about tap water not being cold enough. the truth was, he hoped something colder would ease the uncomfortable pressure in his temples and, perhaps, help him get rid of the hot waves hat had started bothering him.

seungmin noticed that, once again, the rapper was walking blindly, completely in his own world. so much so that he would have slammed into the door of the studio if seungmin hadn’t opened it for him.

changbin was quick to take a seat on the couch, trying to conceal his pained expression the tiredness that had been gnawing at him the whole day was now almost debilitating, and he really just wanted to sleep or be alone. 

eating proved to be a hard task, every swallow sending pulses of pain through his skull. seungmin’s worries glances got lost in the quiet space, unnoticed. or maybe ignored, because what changbin didn’t want was for the younger to feel the need to stay with him. he was okay, if he’d just sleep for a while.

at some point, the vocalist’s phone rang, and out of habit changbin reached for it, but with his left hand. a quiet gasp left his lips as he let the phone fall, but seungmin didn’t notice because he just laughed and picked up the phone. “do you hate iphones that much?” he teased, answering the call.

the younger’s expression turned thoughtful at the words spoken on the other side of the phone. it was jeongin, they’d planned to practise their vocals together, but he really didn’t want to leave the rapper alone.

“innie… can we start a bit later?”

“you sure? i have a shoot at 18 so i’ll leave at 17, we don’t have much time…”

“oh- okay then, i’ll be there in a bit”

“you ok? you sound… not convinced”

“yeah, i’m good. see you now maknae~”

with a defeated sigh, seungmin rose to his feet. “hyung,” he said to changbin. the older had barely uttered a word while they ate and he hadn’t even finished his food. that wasn’t like him at all. “i have vocal practise with i.n”

at the mention of the maknae, changbin did smile. little did seungmin know it was because he’d finally have some time alone to sleep before he’d work on the songs. “that’s good!” he said more enthusiastically than he felt, adding aegyo to his next request, “send me a video of you~”

if the side eye seungmin gave him before hesitantly walking away meant anything, he had him fooled.

the moment the door closed, he sank back on the couch, allowing himself to close his eyes. he brought his hands up to his temples before wincing at the movement. yeah, he needed an ice pack for his wrist, but he wasn’t going to stand up right now.

he was sure his legs had no strength left to hold him up, and if he fell to the floor, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get up on his own. he reached into his backpack, trying to find the wrappers he’d brought. or did he forget them too, just like he forgot to check the weights? gosh, he felt so stupid.

when he found them, he immediately wrapped them around his injury. most of the members had had similar things happen and though gym equipment wasn’t as convenient as medical, it did the work.

he wished he had painkillers because his head was about to split open. thoughts didnt last in his mind longer than a few seconds and it felt like he’d been stuffed with cotton. between the constant chills and the simultaneous hot waves, he felt like he was crazy. 

despite his body going haywire on him—or, maybe, exactly because of that—he managed to push himself up and stumble over to the desk. a wave of dizziness washed over him and when his legs gave out he fell back onto the chair. at least, he thought, at the very least, it wasn’t the floor.

he put his head down on the table, waiting for the world to stop spinning. was this how clothes felt inside the washing machine? poor clothes, being used all day and then having to go through this torture. he wondered if they ever got tired of the same cycle. used, worn out, drowned and then thrown into the hellish temperatures of the dryer.

the thought made his eyes grow glossy and before he knew it, he was sobbing. sobbing like a kid over fucking clothes. when had he fallen so low? this was ridiculous. but he could relate to them, because he too felt like his body had been thrown into a dryer and freezing water at the same time. 

the crying only intensified his headache, and he was sure his brain was going to break. what was he going to do if that happened? he needed his brain to think and needed to think to make songs and needed to make songs to live.

blindly, he reached into the drawers to search for pills. you know you need pills when you break down over washing the clothes you wear. 

he found something that looked close enough to painkillers and fever reducers. it’s not like one could find anything else in there other than that or smints. the tears in his eyes made it impossible to read the label so he decided to just test his luck.

one couldn’t overdose anyway when hammers were striking his brain and when his wrist was almost impossible to move. he usually had a high pain tolerance, he really did, but no one would believe that statement right now.

popping a pill of each in his mouth, he realised he had no water and was absolutely not going to try to stand up again. he had to swallow them dry. disgusting, and dangerous in his opinion, though the logical part of his brain that was now much overpowered by the fever he surely had knew that the pills would dissolve.

the bitter taste of the painkillers—or whatever it was—as they went down his throat was enough to make him tear up again, because now he had nothing to wash it away. 

he needed a distraction. at this point, absolutely anything would do.

shakily wiping away the tears that kept falling anyway, he reached for his phone in his pocket. except his phone wasn’t in his pocket. it lay on the couch, glaring mockingly at him. the rapper, deep into his misery, tried not to cry harder at the betrayal while he set up the laptop.

he’d been working on a song the last few days and it was comforting, he wanted to listen to it. as if the world had punished him enough for one day, the laptop turned on instantly and was charged almost 89%. but he didn’t know that because his vision was blurry and wouldn’t let him see the only one good thing he’d been given since he woke up.

he searched single-handedly for the app that held all his songs and grimaced at the wet cuff of his sleeve. it was absolutely drowned in his tears, the poor hoodie.

the song was just as melodic as he remembered and, for a moment, he managed to get his breathing and tears under control. he closed his eyes, willing to lose himself in the music he’d created. 

but then the bridge arrived and with it his eyes watered again. it sounded bad, he didn’t like it at all. it was messy and had no structure and he couldn’t believe he had done something as horrible as that, that he’d gone as far as considering it good at some point.

he wanted to grab the keyboard and throw it against the floor until the keys felt so ashamed that they’d fix the song themselves, but his hand trembled and he was sure he looked like too much of a depressed mess to harm anything. 

instead, he tried to decipher the letters and files that seemed to melt together under his gaze. out of muscle memory, he managed to change a few things here and there. more volume, less bass, no drums… he was getting tired.

not sleepy, no, downright exhausted.

when he looked away from the screen, he couldn’t even make out the shapes around him. everything was swirling around his head and for a moment he wondered if he was in a carousel. he tried to focus, to find something, anything that kept still, but there was not a thing that didn’t blur before his very eyes.

frustrated, he rubbed over his face, not even registering the pain that pulsed in his wrist anymore. his body was going numb. 

what was he even doing? he was shivering and his teeth chattered hard enough to send shockwaves of pain through his skull, but his body felt like a furnace. 

this wasn’t supposed to be happening. this wasn’t supposed to happen because he’d taken pills and sat down and he’d managed to be alone and even welcomed it. now he didn’t wish for more than having his members there.

he had to find them, but where was he in the first place? his surrounding were indistinguishable through the fog that clouded his mind and the more he looked around, the more they blurred. 

the spinning picked up until all he could see was white. terrifyingly bright and confining. 

he had to get out, to escape the unforgiving glare of whatever surrounded him. panicked, incoherent and sure that he was being detached from his own body, he tried to walk towards somewhere.

but his body was heavy like a thousand lead chains held him down to the chair. a distant noise ripped a sob from his chest. he couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, and someone unknown was coming for him. was it some kind of angel that came to take him away?

suddenly muffled voices resonated through the air like the dystopian yells of those who ran towards the only reality they couldn’t bear to lose. but the words where indecipherable.

the feverish haze consumed him as the brightness closed in around him, sucking every ounce of fight out of his body. limp and numb, the last thing he heard was the far away echo of a slam, and the growing fog dimming his vision only let him make out a vague shadow that undeniably came towards him. he tried to escape,

but then the world shut down around him.

○○○

ever since seungmin had left changbin for vocal practise, none of the boys had heard anything from him. there’d been no messages on the group chat, no memes and no calls. for lack of a better word, that was worrying.

the same changbin that normally couldn’t last more than half an hour without any form of social interaction had barely spoken to them the whole day, and now there was no indicator of his presence.

no one knew if he’d even gone home, and it’s not like they could anyway because every time someone called, they went straight to voicemail. had they done something wrong? if they had, the rapper would have told them.

changbin was emotionally intelligent enough to know how to convey his feelings and that was something everyone had thanked him for at some point. that talent of his never faltered, not when the others needed it, not when he himself did.

not unless something was seriously wrong.

when the unanswered calls filled han’s phone so munch that they could spill out of the screen, he made up his mind. changbin needed to be found. and maybe he was exaggerating, maybe his worry was truly meaningless like he’d uselessly tried to convince himself of, but his members were the one thing he’d never dare to take chances with.

as a last minute attempt to believe that his concern wasn’t needed, jisung called chan. there was a chance that the other two were working together, it wasn’t like 3racha never disconnected from the world when they were together, right?

right. very so, but not this once.

the call was picked up immediately, almost like chan had been waiting for it. weird, since he hadn’t looked preoccupied earlier at the store. “whats up, ji?” the worry in his tone was oddly thick, as if he already knew what this was about. and to be fair, he probably did.

“hyung,” han said, his voice surprisingly unstable. was he really so affected by this? it’d only been a few hours without hearing from changbin and the world already felt wrong. “i don’t- i think something happened to changbin”

on the other side of the phone, a sympathetic sigh was heard. “you too, hannie?”. han nodded before realising chan couldn’t see him, “yeah… i don’t know but- yeah”

“i’ve felt worried all day too,” the leader admitted, “i was gonna head to the studio just know, should we go together?”. “mhm, please. i’m already at the company, just tell me when you’re here”

“will do,” chan promised, and then hung up. he’d lied: he wasn’t going to go to the studio, he was almost there. when he texted han only three minutes later that he was in the company’s first floor, the younger didn't bother to question him.

“maybe he’s just distracted,” chan said, smiling reassuringly at han when the younger found him. he looked genuinely scared of what could have happened, so chan put an arm around his shoulders while they walked.

“you don really think that though,” han replied, and both of them knew it was true. they only got more nervous as the elevator approached the third floor ad they could feel the anxiety spreading through their bodies.

this was a gut feeling, and they honestly wished they’d never let changbin out of their sight that day. the doors opened and both of them quickened their pace towards the studio. the hallway was eerily silent, so much so that their footsteps echoed and the wood cracking seemed loud. 

where changbin’s music would’ve normally blast between the walls, there was no sign of life at all. their eyes locked in a silent agreement: none of this was right. when han opened his mouth to speak, the sound of ragged breathing cut him off.

startled, he stumbled and caught himself against the wall. the thump echoed through the hall and han was sure that he heard someone sob. it sounded scared, desperate.

and it came from their studio.

“it’s him,” chan breathed out, frozen in place for a moment before suddenly walking faster. “changbin-ah!” he shouted, knocking on the door and waiting for an answer he wouldn’t get. the frantic breaths grew fainter and with them so did chan’s steady demeanour. he yelled again.

“binnie are you there?”. another muffled sob.

“if you don’t answer, i’m coming in!” silence. absolute defeating silence.

and when he slammed the door open, he was just in time to watch changbin’s eyes roll back and his body fall forward.

in a swift movement, chan barged into the room and caught changbin just before he’d crumble to the floor. “hannie he’s burning up,” the leader said urgently, trying to get han to move. the younger rapper had frozen in his tracks at the sight of his hyung unconscious and pale, but chan’s words snapped him out of it.

glad that the oldest had managed to keep changbin sitting, han thanked whoever had bought the gaming chair with wheels for their studio. carefully, he pushed the chair towards the couch and they managed to maneuver changbin to lay down on it. 

chan propped the rapper’s legs up on a pillow and brushed his hair back to feel his forehead, but his hand instinctively recoiled at the heat he felt. “do we have a thermometer here?”

“we should”. han started looking through the drawers, everything but calm. how was he supposed to act when his most reliable hyung was passed out on the couch and burning up? he wanted to think that they shouldn’t have let it get so bad, but everyone knew there was no way to have prevented this.

changbin never got sick, and maybe that’s why this situation felt so unsettling.

han’s search for a thermometer came to a halt when he spotted the open packets of painkillers. both of them were the same brand, he knew it because chan had bought them just a week ago.

and they’d been unopened until today.

“hyung,” jisung called out, his voice deeper than usual as he held the pill boxes up, “he took this”. chan raised an eyebrow at that, confused as to why changbin would’ve opened two boxes of the same painkillers, and asked “is there anything for fevers there?”

when han shook his head, it dawned upon him. the rapper had surely been so deep into his feverish daze that he hadn’t been able to read the labels, and probably just hoped to take the right pills. unless he’d had a headache, the painkillers must’ve been useless.

or so they thought.

while han went to get actual fever reducers and a thermometer, chan tried to take changbin’s pulse. if his heartbeat was as stable as his breathing, they might need an ambulance. he started pulling up the rapper’s sleeve, but at the sight of his wrist, he froze.

a wrapper was carefully applying pressure to the joint, and when he unwrapped it, purple and blue shades covered the area. it wasn’t badly swollen, but there was no mistaking: that was a sprain, and a very recent one. 

a quiet gasp was heard from the door and chan looked up to see han—pills and thermometer in hand—staring at changbin’s wrist with a pained expression. “is it sprained?” he asked worriedly, rushing over upon receiving a nod.

gently, jisung brushed his fingers over the injury and frowned, “its warm”. the leader nodded, now busy taking changbin’s temperature. how high was it going to be? a trip to the hospital was the last thing they wanted, but if it was needed…

38°C

so it was bad, but not that bad. nonetheless, it was the worse they’d seen from changbin in a long time. holding on to the hope that it was only this bad because he was unmedicated, chan walked to the mini fridge they had in the studio and took out an ice pack for his forehead.

before turning around, the rapper’s bruised wrist flashed behind his eyes and he grabbed more ice. that would help, he hoped. but he couldn’t hope so much when the rapper had been unconscious for almost 5 minutes and looked deadly pale and maybe he should be calling an ambulance instead of relying solely on—

“hannie…?” changbin’s quiet and raspy voice snapped chan out of his thoughts and he turned around so fast he almost got dizzy. changbin was awake—finally—but he looked even worse than before. 

his eyes were glossy and unfocused, clearly disoriented. the pained noise he made after jisung held him back from sitting up broke the leader’s heart, and he slowly approached.

“binnie, hey…” he said softly, kneeling next to the couch and pushing the rapper’s damp hair back. the poor boy looked scared, like he didn’t know where he was. “you were gone for quite a bit, hm?”

“g-gone w-where?” changbin asked, his voice trembling. the lights were too bright on his pounding head and why were chan and han looking at him like he’d just died? he hadn’t, had he? 

the last memory he had was of the studio spinning and disappearing into a blinding brightness just as someone mysterious approached, and then everything had faded into nothingness. had the stranger taken him?

he didn't notice the tears streaming down his face until chan’s hand brushed them away. “shh, it’s okay. you didn’t go anywhere,” the leader promised, helping him sit up, “just passed out, its okay”

changbin nodded, his gaze falling to his wrist. “i— it h-hurts a— and my h-head s’ bad,” he said, failing to hold back his sobs. for the third time that day, his feelings were uncontrollable, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

“we know,” han said, handing him the water and fever reducers. “you have a fever and-” he pointed at his hand with a questioning look “-you’ll tell us later i guess? just take this now”

the rapper nodded, taking the pills and washing them down with water. at least he had water now. though his tears were still falling, he gave up trying to stop them. chan was brushing them away gently anyway so why would he make an effort? he’d done enough today. “i w-was i— at t-the gym and the weight j-just— it just f-fell,” he sobbed, upset at the unpleasant memory. he hadn’t explained what happened at all. in all honesty, he didn't remember.

but it shouldn’t have happened and that message was clear in the way his body shook. “so you hurt your wrist?” chan asked sympathetically, receiving a pitiful nod that made him want nothing more than to take changbin home. 

while the leader tried to talk the rapper into calming down, han put the wrist wrapper back on his injury and gently held the icepack over it with one hand, using the other to rub the older’s back.

it wasn’t often that he saw changbin like this, but he’d much rather be with him whenever it happened. 

listening to chan talking so sweetly to the boy was comforting in a way, cute even. changbin wasn’t making much sense, but he still trusted his leader enough to listen to him. slowly but surely, his breathing steadied and his tears, though not completely over, didn’t fall so frequently anymore.

“cute,” chan smiled when the exhausted rapper rested his forehead on his shoulder. even if barely 20 minutes had passed, his fever had gone down significantly. “lets go home, yeah? you’re tired”. 

it truly took no more convincing than that. changbin held onto his friends as they helped him onto his feet, and when a wave of dizziness that made him stumble washed over him, jisung was quick to pull him into a hug.

he too could feel that the older’s body wasn’t as warm as before, and he was grateful for it. none of the members were particularly fond of hospitals, and having to go there had been one of his main worries since they’d gotten to the studio.

when changbin’s vision cleared again, he stayed in the hug for a few seconds, enjoying the warmth. but he would surely fall asleep right there if he didn't move, so he pulled away and held onto han’s arm while chan wrapped a supportive arm around his waist.

together, they made their way outside, where one of their managers that chan had called at some point—changbin didn’t know when—was waiting. as if his mind had been read, the car had the heating on, and, unsurprisingly, he fell asleep all the way home, head against the cool window.

someone’s shoulder would’ve made a better pillow, but his head was still hurting and the cold glass felt nice against his skin.

he woke up to someone gently patting his hair. he liked it, and would’ve gone right back to sleep if it hadn’t been for the caring voice that urged him to wake up. “we’re home, binnie,” chan said softly, already standing outside the car. oh- so it was han playing with his hair. cute.

giving a tired smile to the younger, who admittedly still looked quite concerned, he got out of the car. “wait- i can carry you?” the leader offered, but the words felt stupid on his tongue and all three of them laughed, “yah! i could carry three yous if i had too!”

changbin, for what felt like the first time that day, smiled genuinely. yeah, his hyung could pick him up if he tried, no doubt, but he'd much rather walk. and even if his legs felt unsteady and his mind clouded, jisung and chan made up for it. 

after all, it was 3racha, and 3racha could make up for anything.

this one was really cute! maybe a bit too long but whatever.

it was my intention to make the fainting dramatic but as you can see, that didn’t work too well

as always, please please tell me any mistakes you see! ♥︎

[coca-lastic]

How would BNHA characters resolve arguments?

Part 1: Takami Keigo (Hawks)

I'm back!!!! Thanks for the support on my fics, I love youuuu!!!

As I always say, English isn't my first language, so please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes :)

Keigo works A LOT, and it's not like he really has much of a choice, he'd love to be able to sleep for a whole day, watch a few movies with you, read an entire book in a day, play a game on the hardest difficulty until he gets sick of it, or just fuck you until neither of you can take it anymore.

But, this is almost never the case, in fact, you can count on one hand the amount of times Keigo has been off work for more than 2 days, and probably 99.99% of it is because Keigo got sick, so it doesn't really count as a break or vacation.

And you always try to understand, you really do, but sometimes you feel like Keigo just puts work above you, and maybe it's your insecurities making you see something that's not true, but it still hurts when you call his number and he doesn't answer, or when you wait up late until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, only to hear Keigo arrive two hours later so tired and hurt that he's not even able to give a kiss.

The thing is, even though you understand, you're also tired of always understanding and understanding and understanding, so one day, when Keigo has the day off because his agency is celebrating an anniversary, you just explode. Because you had planned a nice time off, some decorations and freshly prepared food for your boyfriend, all of that for everything to be ruined when he received a call informing him that there was going to be a meeting with another agency that was of utmost importance.

And Keigo left, because what else can he do? Work is what he was raised and trained to do, so if they call him he's already on his way. But no you, you weren't raised or trained to handle that, so today you stayed up until Keigo arrived to have a talk with him, so you made yourself a coffee to stay awake, went to the living room cabinet, turned on the TV and waited while watching a movie.

After a few hours you heard a creak on the balcony and saw him walk through the door.

"Hi babe, what are you doing up so late?" He said as he took off his jacket and walked over to kiss you.

But no.

No.

You weren't in the mood for that.

Seeing how you took a step back Keigo tilted his head a little as he watched you in confusion. "Something's wrong love?"

"What do you think?"

You could tell the exact moment Keigo tensed up. He knew from your tone and posture that something was up. The thing is he didn't know what, and it was exactly what you were asking.

"...Did I need to get you something or something like that?" No answer. "Love, is it because of dinner yesterday? I know it wasn't my best creation but..." Still no answer, and it seemed like he was starting to get frustrated by the way he saw you. "Love..."

"Try again, since you're so important and needed by everyone, you should be able to guess what's bothering your girlfriend, right? Or maybe you know better about what worries everyone except what worries your partner" You said with a frown and a cold and hurtful tone. It was meant to make him feel bad, because you were already tired of understanding.

"Love... If it's because of work, you- well, I... you know it's not easy but-"

"Is it easier to leave me hanging every time I try to plan something for us? Wow, thanks for showing me your priorities" You said with sarcasm and a fake laugh, as you turned around and headed to the room, you realized that if you continued you would cry, because you weren't as strong as you wanted to pretend, you couldn't understand as much as you wanted to.

"Love, please" You heard him say behind you, and you could hear a bit of desperation and tiredness in his voice, and it made sense, it was the only day of vacation he had been given in months and it was ruined, he was obviously tired. And normally you would reason and hug him until he fell asleep, but this time your own pain didn't allow it.

It wasn't so much that he worked hard, you knew he did it for a good purpose and, although sometimes you didn't understand how he managed to do everything, he always made sure to keep you cared for, loved and pampered. But it hurt you that they took him away from you every time you managed to have him in your arms.

Then, you saw how the door to the room closed in front of you before you could get in thanks to one of Keigo's feathers.

"Baby, listen to me before you lock yourself in our room, please" but you didn't turn around, you didn't try to open the door either since you knew that with just a feather Keigo could defeat you if he wanted to. "I know you had plans for today and, believe me, I was also looking forward to eating your food while we watched that series and believe me, when I received that call, I was about to throw the phone out the window, but I can't. You know I can't" He said as he tried to approach you and hug you. But you took a step back, pressing yourself against the door. And what he said made sense, but you still couldn't say it. "Please..., you know I love you"

And you loved him too, a lot.

But you also loved yourself, and you understood that even though he had things to do, so did you, and yet you still put the relationship first. Always finding time to share together, always comforting him after work hours, always there.

But you were sick, hurt, and tired of the fact that while you were always there, he was there sometimes.

"Keigo, I understand that you have to work, I understand that it's important to you, I understand that you can't spend that much time with me. But I'm sure that if one damn day you left work a little earlier or assigned extra tasks to your assistants instead of doing it yourself, you could be with me. But you don't, because your heroism is worth more."

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want to let them fall. No, you wanted Keigo to see that you were steadfast, that it hurt, but you wouldn't let it break you.

"Open the door, Keigo." You looked him straight in the eyes so he could see you weren't up for games or talks.

He stared back at you for a few seconds. You could see his realization at how hurt you were, and also his regret, but that wasn't enough, not anymore.

He opened the bedroom door, letting you in. And, even though he wanted to sneak you inside, you closed the door before he could. However, his voice echoed through the door. "Love... Look, I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but... I love you, okay? I don't want you to doubt it." You heard his footsteps walking away, probably toward the guest room. You weren't going to deny that his words helped you a little, but you needed more than words this time.

And Keigo knew that. So while he slept, he started thinking about what he could do.

He didn't want to lose you. Even if you didn't realize it, you're the most important thing to him. Hell, sometimes even he's surprised that his heart can love someone so much.

Too bad neither he nor his heart know how to show it.

The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes, which you didn't expect since Keigo was working today. So unless someone came into your house exclusively to cook (something you wouldn't really complain about), Keigo stayed home. The thought brought comfort to your heart, which had been aching all the time the day before. But it still hurt that he only did it once you exploded, and not before.

As you left the room, you started to hear Keigo's voice. He seemed to be on the phone and a little agitated. As you got closer, you could make out his words better.

"No, no, those work hours are over. I need Tuesdays off... Yeah, well, there are other heroes, boss... I don't care, I'm not going to do it."

Seeing Keigo upset wasn't common. And after hearing the word "Boss" and realizing who he was talking to, you started to get a little worried.

'He'll leave again.' 'He's going on a mission.' 'I'll be alone.'

"I'm busy right now, Boss, and I'm not going to change my mind... Yeah, yeah, I'll be there tomorrow," he continued into the phone. Then he hung up and sighed.

You didn't know what the call was about, but it obviously wasn't a very pleasant one. Normally, you'd go hug him and ask him to tell you what's going on. But not today.

You walked closer to the kitchen, where Keigo was flipping a pancake, his posture tense and his brow furrowed.

"What time are you going to work?"

Keigo turned around, surprised by your presence, and his sour demeanor changed to a...nervous one? Okay, that's unusual for him.

"Hey, Love, I- well, it's just that- No... I'm not going to work today."

Your face was completely surprised, not because of the day off, but because of his attitude. It was very rare to see Keigo so nervous and shy.

"Uh, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I... made breakfast." He turned around immediately to hide the blush on his face, finished serving breakfast, and gave it to you.

"Okay..." You said, looking at him suspiciously.

You sat down at the table without saying many words to your boyfriend. You were still upset, very upset. Breakfast wasn't going to change that.

However, you didn't know how far Keigo's repentant, desperate for forgiveness, version of himself could go.

But you were going to find out soon.

Keigo sat down across from you, still a little embarrassed and flushed, but he looked you straight in the eyes.

"Love... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you, and for focusing on my duty to others and not on my duty as your partner, which, even if you don't believe it right now, is 100,000 times more important to me, and I'm going to prove it to you. I swear." He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and continued. "I...can't promise you I'll be with you 24/7, although believe me I would enjoy it so fucking much. But, I want to improve, I want to be better...for you, for you to feel comfortable and happy about...about all of this, u know? so tell me what to do and I'll do it, love, I promise I will."

You looked at him and realized his desperation.

Shit, you'd forgotten how much this man loves you.

And you wanted to never forget it again.

"Remind me that you love me, Keigo. Not just with words. Prove it."

You stood up from the table, along with your plate, and headed to the kitchen to clean it without even looking at Keigo again. This time you didn't just want words; you wanted actions. And you wanted him to figure out what to do.

Oh, if only you knew that man knows every part of you. You doubted he could get anything that would make you forgive him, but he got more than that. Keigo is observant, very observant. He knows the dress you eyed a week ago while browsing an online store; he knows the restaurant you've been wanting to visit for months; he knows what makes you happy.

And he'll use all of that to get your forgiveness.

Checklist to get my girlfriend's forgiveness:

- Take her to the restaurant she wanted to try (with a private reservation)

- Give her her favorite flowers (tulips and peonies)

- Give her the dress she wanted along with a necklace.

- Remind her that you love her, don't be stupid, Keigo.

- Take her there, she'll love it.

A few minutes later.

"Love, put on the red dress you like and dress up. I want to take you somewhere."

You were lying in bed, giving Keigo the silent treatment. But you NEVER turn down a dinner date.

So you put on a dress, but not the red one. Keigo wasn't going to tell you what to do. You put on a new black dress, only to realize that, given how good it looked on you, it was probably a gift for Keigo instead of a punishment.

And you confirmed it when you left the room and Keigo stared at you for more than the seconds considered decent.

"Is it still too soon to tell you that when you forgive me you have to wear that dress?"

Your response was only a reproachful look, to which he smiled at you with false innocence.

He approached you and carefully placed a hand on your waist, expecting you to reject him, but you didn't because his compliments always makes you SO happy

"You look beautiful, love, so fucking beautiful."

"I know."

"I love you."

"Okay."

Keigo lets his head fall forward, letting out a deep, husky laugh, his hair falling a little onto his forehead. Then he brings his face down to your cheek and places a kiss.

"After today's plans, you won't be so cold anymore."

"As far as I can see, you haven't even made me leave the house, Keigo. I'm starting to get bored."

He just laughed a little and took your hand as you left the apartment.

He decided it was best to go by car so as not to ruin your hairstyle and dress; knowing you, that would only make you feel uncomfortable in the restaurant.

The closer you got to the restaurant, the more relaxed you felt. The whole way there, Keigo made sure you felt good, occasionally kissing your hand, putting his hand on your leg, complimenting you every time you moved, and telling you he loved you.

When you arrived at the restaurant and realized where your boyfriend had taken you, you could only stand in shock. You hadn't told Keigo you wanted to come, but he'd noticed.

You looked at him with shock all over your face, to which he just smiled and winked.

While he was talking to the waiter about the reservation, you couldn't stop thinking that Keigo was paying more attention to you than you thought.

"How did you know?" You said as the waiter led you to a terrace apart from the rest.

"Please, love, you liked all his posts on Instagram, it was obvious."

"Still, I didn't think you'd noticed."

He brought your hand up to his face, leaving a small kiss, "I always notice, beautiful."

When you arrived at the table, you felt like crying. The terrace was completely decorated with lights and flowers, and a slow melody played in the background.

The waiter left, and you saw a table in the center of the terrace with two wine-colored boxes on top of it: one small, like a jewelry box, and the other medium-sized.

"Keigo... What?" You looked at him with curiosity and surprise.

He gave you that shy look from the morning again, which you were starting to like a lot. "You like it?"

"Kei... do I like it? Damn, babe, it's beautiful."

His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. "Do you want to open the presents?"

"Of course!"

You headed to the table to sit down and opened the first gift, the medium-sized one. Meanwhile, Keigo watched you. He wanted to see your reaction, wanted to imprint your beautiful face on his mind and never lose it.

When you opened it, you noticed it was the dress you'd been wanting for a while. And if there were any doubts that Keigo wasn't thinking about you, this gift erased them completely. Because you never asked him, you never even talked to him about it, and yet he knew.

"Keigo...how-" you looked at him, your eyes a little teary.

"I heard you talking to your friend from work about the dress. I thought maybe it was a good gift," he said, once again shyly.

"It's beautiful, Kei. Thank you, really," you said as you examined the dress. It was truly beautiful, both the dress and the gesture.

"Open the other one. You'll like it even more"

When you opened it, you confirmed that his words were true. It was a necklace with a watch pendant along with your initial. The necklace was made of gold/silver because he knew that was what looked best with your skin tone. Plus, underneath the necklace was a small piece of paper with a dedication.

"To the woman who deserves every second of my life."

"Oh my god, Kei... Did you- did you really do this for me?"

"Of course I did, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't love you enough to deserve it."

"No... you didn't... God, it's beautiful, Keigo, thank you," you said sincerely, your eyes filling with more tears, but you didn't let them fall.

His gifts had been beautiful, the place too. The food arrived a few minutes later, and it was wonderful too. Even the conversation with Keigo had been comfortable, but...

"Kei, really, thank you, love. I loved all of this, but... Fuck, it's hard to explain, but it still hurts, okay? Thanks for showing me you know me, but- I... it's been months of keeping this inside, and- I can't...i'm so sorry"

Maybe if it were someone else sitting in front of you, they would have walked away, or yelled at you, or given up, but in front of you, was Keigo.

And he just smiled, a tender, understanding smile.

"I know, I know I hurt you a lot, and I understand. But the day isn't over. There's something else I'd like to show you. I know it won't solve the whole problem, but maybe it will show you that I want to."

You were really surprised there was more. But apparently, Keigo wasn't ready to give up.

"We're going to have to fly a little bit up there, do you mind?" You shook your head quickly, not caring about your hair at this point; you wanted to see how far Keigo could go.

After paying for the food, he gently took you in his arms and began to fly. He began showing you beautiful places you didn't know could be seen so well from the sky. By now, you felt like Jasmine exploring the world with Aladdin.

"Keigo, if you let me fall, I swear I'll never forgive you." He laughed loudly and held you tighter against him.

"Relax, love, we're almost there."

You saw he begin to descend, but you couldn't understand where. From what you could see, you were relatively close to the place where he grew up and trained to become a hero, which was strange since Keigo usually avoided those kinds of places.

You looked at him strangely. "Kei...where are we going?"

"Shhh, it's a surprise, don't ruin it with your questions," he said reproachfully, but with a smile on his face.

When they landed, it was somewhere near the buildings where he grew up, but it was an area completely filled with trees and flowers. He started walking, guiding you through the small forest.

"Okay...well..." Keigo suddenly started to get nervous. "I know you don't know this place, but I used to come here when I could get away from my training or when I had days off from work... I, well—maybe it sounds a little silly, but I used to come here whenever something was happening in my life, to de-stress. I—have you heard of writing down the things you think to...I don't know, de-stress or something?"

"Yeah...I've heard of it," you said, confused. You didn't know where he was going with this.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and, with the help of his hand, removed a small bush. As he removed it, you realized it opened into a covered area with a small table, which had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the center.

"I came to this place to write about things that happened to me, usually things... well, you know my childhood wasn't the best. But when I met you, I started writing about you and how you were, the only thing I could think about." He led you closer to the table, and you noticed that from there you could see a cliff and the beautiful sunset.

Keigo extended the bouquet that had previously been on the table toward you as you moved closer to the railing that bordered the cliff.

"I brought you here because it's the place where I realized I was in love with you. It's the place where I would get away from absolutely everything and think about the person who made me and continues to make me happy."

By this moment, tears were running down your cheeks, and you couldn't believe what he was telling you.

"I'm sorry, love. You don't know how much. I'm sorry for not showing you how obsessed I am with you. I'm sorry for not giving you the time you deserve. I'm sorry for making you feel like my work matters more when I would give anything to spend my life with you."

"I know... God, I love you so much," you said, your voice breaking, your tears growing stronger.

"I love you even more. I swear I'm obsessed with you. It was in this place that I realized it, and it's in this place that I want you to realize it."

You took the flowers from his hands and held them to your chest with all the love in the world.

"I want to give you something. I want you to take it home and read it when you think you're ready to forgive me." He turned around and grabbed a wooden box hidden among the trees and the structure.

He pulled several sheets of paper out and held them out to you.

"They're from when I met you, so you can see how much I've loved you since the first second."

You looked into his eyes with wonder and love, and before you could even lock eyes, you threw yourself at him and hugged him. You needed him, you wanted him.

"Thank you, Kei, thank you."

"Thanks to you, for still being here."

You enjoyed the beautiful place until the sun set and the place, without light bulbs, began to darken.

Keigo led you to the car you 2 had left at the restaurant and then to the house.

And, even though you didn't tell him, you had already forgiven him, because he had kept his word, he had made it his goal to show you that he loves you.

And oh man, when you read those pages, you cried like a baby when you realized that the first thing he wrote about you was

"I met a girl and, God! She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's incredible"

And the last thing he wrote, before you started dating, was

"If she'll let me, I want to love her every second. I want to hug her, I want to kiss her, I want to touch her. I love her, so much.

If this woman doesn't drive me crazy, I don't think any other can."

[backjustforberena]

Please feel free to unleash the Rhaenys ramble 👀✨

Oh, there's always a Rhaenys ramble ready to go. Honestly, give me a word or a scene or an idea or a headcanon or whatever and I'll just go for it because that's where my head is at and, frankly, it's a hobby at this point. It's enjoyable.

But where I was last night, and still continuing on today, as I've made a few gifs to queue up and have been looking over some WIPs and headcanons set around that time, is Rhaenys in Episode 07. And trying (and failing) not to get obsessed over the iconic - well, in my head it's iconic - fireplace argument between Corlys and Rhaenys because it's so beautiful to look at, so layered and raw between the couple, beautifully acted and, of course, the first scene filmed of the whole series.

But then, also, just looking at Rhaenys overall in that episode: as a woman of grief, of anger and of love. Of her with her granddaughters, as well. Of her being politically-minded and also sick of performance, of being tightly controlled in all her splendour only to be left screaming on the floor like an animal. And I love how, always, she seems to be the more angry one out of her in Corlys. In every scene that calls for it, she is the fiercest.

Rhaenys Targaryen is in 6 scenes in 1x07. She only has any meaningful dialogue and conversation in 1 of those scenes. 2 are completely silent. 2 have superficial and very brief dialogue (consoling her granddaughters - only a few lines), and the other one only has her screaming.

Rhaenys has always been a woman of few words: she is economical. Even in the scenes where she is centre-stage, she's often very precise in her language. Radically unemotional, even - as usually these conversations are in a political sphere, if not in context then at least in subject. And in group scenes, including those at court, those on the council, other events, she rarely speaks or even takes centre-stage.

But what we get from Episode 07, I think, for Rhaenys, is some form of reckoning: a refocusing, an awareness of what matters to her and a motivation to see things done, to have something from the tragedy, and to protect and defend what was left to her. I think Laena's death was igniting something in her - but I think Laenor's death then killed it.

I'd love to know the before's and the after's of that episode. Rhaenys and Corlys finding out about Laena's death ("It was a raven that brought me news of Laena’s death. I existed for weeks in torment… refusing to believe what I’d been told. It was only when I saw my daughter’s mortal remains that I could begin to mourn her."), then receiving everyone - organising the funeral, enduring mourners and company and family and seeing her son so miserable. Being reunited with those girls who so easily and quickly become the centre of her world. The slow, agonising split between her and Corlys that becomes a complete fracture by the end of the episode.

And after the episode: how long does she scream for, what happens then? How is Laenor buried and who comes? When does they learn of Rhaenyra and Daemon's marriage? When does Corlys leave her? How does Corlys leave her? ("After Laenor was slain... I couldn't bear the face you. (then) I fled to the Stepstones seeking mine own death.")

Even moments IN the episode, just joining up the dots. All those little moments she must have had with her girls, with Corlys. We know from BTS footage that as soon as Viserys leaves, Rhaenys and the girls excuse themselves from the wake. Does she take them to their room? Get them food? Stay with them until night falls and they must sleep, at which point she goes down the Hall of Nine and that's when we get the fireplace scene? When she's just come from a picture that her daughter wanted: her daughters in her childhood home - but it's all wrong because Laena isn't there.

So yeah, many thoughts, always whirring.

[scssenach]

"I'm sorry that anyone ever made you feel as though you have to justify your mere existence." Frowning, Claire had half a mind to ask for names. Whoever had told Fantine it was her own fault, whoever had made her feel as though making mistakes was a condemnable offense, Claire wanted to wring their necks. They were all human, after all. No one lived their lives perfectly. And, in Claire's experience, there were hundreds of people she knew of that had made far graver mistakes than Fantine ever could and paid less than half the cost.

It was the men, she thought. The stupid men and their giant egos. But she knew not all men were like that. She had been lucky enough to get married to two of them. While Jamie and Frank certainly had their differences, both of them were valiant gentlemen in their own rights. If Jamie saw how Fantine has been treated, he would surely want to help, no matter the cost.

Hearing that the woman was concerned about embarrassing herself, Claire thought for a moment. None of the staff would tease Fantine, not while Claire was present. And Claire herself had served alongside men with less teeth than Fantine. If Fergus were here, he might offer some unhelpful observations upon seeing Claire's guest, but thankfully the young lad was off with Jamie and Murtagh. For now, the home was free of any immaturity.

"You are free to eat as much as you can tolerate. If you get sick, I can always have a bath drawn up for you." She didn't want to be overbearing, but Claire couldn't help but want to care for the woman's needs. If she were in Fantine's place, she would find it hard to trust others, but she just had to find a safe medium, a meeting place where both of them could exist comfortably. Somewhere that Fantine felt safe and Claire felt useful.

"Your friendship is more than enough." Claire took slow steps as she moved towards the dining room. She was careful not to describe Fantine's presence as priceless or any other faux pas, lest she bring up any sour correspondences. From what Claire could tell, Fantine had spent a large chunk of her life as a commodity, as an object to be appraised and sold for profit. When was the last time she had been looked at as a person? As a human being who owed the world nothing?

Entering the dining room, Claire paused at the doorway and smiled weakly. The handful of waitstaff still hurried about in the background, rolling short carts of dishes in and out of the room with shocking efficiency. Suzette had acted quick and Claire could already begin to catch whiffs of the fires being lit from the kitchens. Soon enough the scents of hearty stew would be wafting through the room.

“Everyone’s misfortunes are due to their own missteps. Being born is often a person’s first mistake, and everything from there is secondary. No one is perfect, Fantine, and everyone is deserving of kindness. And anyone who says otherwise is a fool."

With a soft wave of her hand, Claire gestured for Fantine to take a seat. There were plenty of chairs to pick from, far more than Claire's little family needed. But she wanted to give Fantine the choice of where to sit. She wanted to give her the autonomy over her life that people had seemed to enjoy taking from her.

“Anyway, you don’t have to accept anything right now. I know I’m throwing a lot at you as it is, but I just want you to know that the option is there, should you find yourself wanting it. My door is always open, my friend. As long as I am here, you will never be alone again."

Fantine couldn't help but wonder why people feared Claire so much. Then again, misunderstanding and more so, a lack of understanding (without a desire to learn) was a pandemic, it seemed. Here she was, an educated woman who still found herself just as much on the periphery of society as Fantine did. Fantine couldn't help but wonder just exactly what women could do that wasn't considered wrong.

Very little, it seemed.

"I brought it upon myself," Fantine answered simply. It was something she hadn't agreed with, but after hearing so many accusations, others' assumptions had started to become her truth. There must be something wrong with her—cursed—otherwise, why did so many agree?

Claire's hand upon Fantine's own brought Fantine out of her head. The question that followed was rhetorical. Regardless, she nodded. The hunger so well subdued cramped her stomach with talk of food, her memories casting back to her farm days where they would eat similarly. There, their food was through the fruits of their labour. If Fantine was lucky now, she could afford some bread here and there. Most of her dishes consisted of bone broths and left overs now.

"I am worried that I will embarrass myself." Her words hung between the two, head bowed in shame. "That I will not be able to stop and make myself ill." When she joined the farm, it was the first time in her life she had eaten regularly. The hunger she hadn't even fully realised was ravenous, insatiable, it seemed. When her body understood food was guaranteed, she managed to find some sort of rhythm to her hunger... Now she was back to that girl before the farm. She hated being so pathetic.

Despite the offer of stew, Claire didn't stop there. Her hospitality had Fantine staring at her with wide eyes, mouth agape like the unmannered woman people believed her to be. "Please, you do not have to cater for me," she replied, "you have already done enough— more than enough. I cannot keep taking when I have nothing to give, Madame. And there must be more deserving people than me out there. People whose misfortunes are not due to their own missteps."

Her mouth was dry, air hitting her hard palate as she tried to regain her breath from the way she spluttered out words. "I appreciate everything you have done for me, but it would be selfish to accept anything more."

[sealbee101]

quizmas…a little treat…gift to everyone and me……

dividers r by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!! theyre so cool!!!!!

merry christmas!!! i hope your extra holly and jolly!!!! and I hope the big red guy gives you awesome presents!!

[todayisafridaynight]

We rlly don’t need another majima game 😭 please give other characters a chance he already had the spotlight in 0😔

lord if i speak on goro majima.

[vavistus]

My nose is clogged in the most annoying way 😭

[like-tears-in-rain-storms]

Wanting to get back into something you loved and gave you comfort, but that you had associated with a person who is no longer in your life, is like going through the pain of loss every time anew when you try to pick it up again and you get that sick feeling that it is not how you remember.

[umamaki]

cw: lowk red flag caleb lol, virginity loss

Caleb is pissed when you get asked out for the first time. He had deliberately warned everyone in both of your social circles to stay away from you. Not without threats of violence or death, either. So yeah, he’s pissed as fuck when you tell him. Did he have to burn the whole world down merely to keep you all to himself? To protect you from perverts and creeps?

But, unfortunate and naive, you were so damn excited for this date. He couldn’t spoil your mood. Not when you asked him which dress to wear—both of them too short for his liking—and certainly not when you asked him to zip up the back for you.

There was just something about how you looked, all dolled up and cute to see someone who wasn’t him. He can already barely control himself around you; even the thought of another man having access to you like this makes him utterly sick. “It’s just not a good idea. All guys want the same thing.”

“You’re a guy aren’t you, Caleb? So what, are you telling me you’re like that too? Hmm?” He wants to wipe the playful smile off your face. You just think everything’s some fucking game.

“He’s gonna want to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Huh, pipsqueak?”

He thinks he went too far then, notes the way your eyes widen and lips slightly part. You shake your head, but he already knows. He knows everything about you. So when you ask if he can help you, give you some advice, he knows exactly how he will.

“So naive, let me just show you.” He smashes his lips against yours. The force would’ve sent you falling backwards had he not steadied you with his hand on the small of your back.

“This is how to kiss…” he mutters it into your mouth, not caring that your teeth are hitting each other.

“And this…” he lifts your skirt just enough so that he can pull your panties to the side and slide his fingers along your puffy folds. “This is how it feels to be fingered.”

“Ah—Caleb!” You squeal when he fully plunges his finger in deeper than your own fingers ever could. He adds another, and soon the room is filled with your moans and the lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy.

His lips are back on yours, and this time his tongue is shoved inside your mouth, claiming it. He goes faster when he feels your walls clench around him, and lets you grip his biceps while you come around his fingers and leave behind crescent shaped indents on his arms.

He nearly throws you on the bed, eager to yank off your underwear and free himself from his own boxers, wasting no time in aligning his tip to your still sensitive cunt.

“This is how to take it like a good fucking girl.” You try your best to relax, to be so good for him as he buries himself into you. He lets you get used to his size, going slow. Not moving until you practically beg him to, then there’s no going back. He’s brutally snapping his hips against yours and watching your tits bounce through your dress.

“Already gonna come on my cock? You really are inexperienced. Can’t even control yourself. Go on then. Fucking. Come.” With two last jerks of his hips, your climax washes over you and he tries so fucking hard to delay his own orgasm. He begins to pull out but your legs lock him in place. He cums on the spot—still inside you.

“Don’t care that I ruined your dress? How you gonna go on your date now, baby?”

“Hm. Guess I have to cancel,” you say, faux disappointment coating your words.

He pauses. “There was no date.”

“There was no date.” You confirm, wearing that same stupid grin from before. Luckily your schedule is free, because he has a hell of a punishment waiting for you after that.

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[itsnesss]

𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | max verstappen × fem!reader

summary | max, who always claimed to dislike public displays of affection, starts finding subtle excuses to touch you

warnings | fluff, light romance, implied public affection

word count | 1.1 k

🖇 more mv1 🖇 f1 masterlist

Max Verstappen always said that public displays of affection weren’t his thing. He said it with that serious face, almost impassive, that he mastered so well. The one he used in front of cameras, fans, and almost everyone. Except with you.

“It’s not my thing,” he had said once, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture when you saw Checo kiss his wife in the paddock. “I feel uncomfortable, I don’t like the attention. Besides, those things should be done in private.”

You shrugged. It wasn’t something that kept you up at night. You didn’t need him to hold your hand in front of everyone to know that he cared. Or at least that’s what you told yourself every time the days passed and his gestures remained cool. Polite, kind, but contained.

Until it wasn’t.

The transformation was so subtle that you didn’t even notice at first. Or maybe you didn’t want to notice. It all started with small gestures, easy to disguise. A touch on the back when no one was looking. A hand on your leg under the table. An excuse to touch you.

“You’ve got something in your hair,” he said one day, while sitting in the press room after a race.

Before you could ask, his hand was already tangled in your hair, pulling out a supposed misplaced strand. No one said anything. Neither did you.

“See?” he added, smiling as if it were nothing.

You blushed, not because the gesture was too obvious, but because you knew it wasn’t necessary. There was absolutely *nothing* in your hair. Just an excuse.

That was the beginning of the end.

Sometimes, it seemed like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Like that time in the hotel, after the team dinner, when you got off the elevator and said your feet hurt from walking too much.

“Really?” he asked with a crooked smile.

Before you could nod, he already had his arm around your shoulders. Almost as if it were second nature. Almost as if he always did it.

“Let me walk you to your room.”

You laughed, confused.

“Since when do you do this?”

He shrugged, not letting go of you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you knew exactly what you were talking about. Max Verstappen, the guy who preferred to keep his distance, who said he hated unnecessary contact, now seemed to find reasons to touch you all the time. And you, deep down, started to expect it.

The most obvious moment came in Monaco. It was mid-morning, and the atmosphere was the usual: chaotic, full of press, fans, and cameras. You were standing next to him while he talked to his engineer. You listened in silence, not wanting to interrupt.

A gust of wind swept between you, lifting a few papers, and without thinking, Max stretched his arm and pulled you toward him by the waist. He pressed you against him like he was afraid you might fly away.

“Everything okay?” he asked, almost without looking at you, his hand firmly on your side.

You could only nod.

“I’m fine.”

His engineer, thankfully, didn’t react. Neither did anyone else. But you felt the world stop for a second. And the worst part was that he didn’t pull away. He kept you close for the rest of the conversation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And then came Silverstone.

The rain had wreaked havoc that weekend, and you were soaked, despite your raincoat. You ran through the downpour to reach his motorhome, seeking refuge. You entered without thinking, without knocking.

Max was sitting on the couch, hair tousled and a tired expression on his face. But when he saw you, he immediately stood up.

“Are you crazy?” he said, taking your hands to help you remove your soaked jacket. “You’re going to get sick.”

“It was just a little rain,” you replied, shivering.

He huffed, took off his dry jacket, and put it over you. Then, without thinking, he hugged you. It wasn’t a quick hug. It was long. Intimate. Warm.

“I don’t like you being like this,” he murmured into your hair.

“Like what?”

“Cold. Wet. Far away.”

That last part made you look up.

“I’m right here.”

“I know,” he whispered, and this time, he looked you in the eyes. “But sometimes I have to remind myself.”

Since that day, everything changed.

He no longer hid it. He no longer made excuses. He no longer said “I don’t like affection in public.” Instead, he’d say things like “you were cold, weren’t you?” while wrapping you in his jacket. Or “let me help you with that,” while taking your hand to cross through the crowd.

The press started to notice. Fans did too. The videos of “casual” moments between you two multiplied. Hands intertwined, shared glances, small stolen smiles.

But the confirmation came in Zandvoort.

Your favorite country. His favorite track. A sea of orange everywhere. Perfect chaos.

You were watching qualifying from the pit wall, biting your nails. He had had problems during practice. He was tense, focused, cold. Or so you thought.

When the session ended, Max had taken pole. And the first thing he did when he got out of the car, even before speaking to the media, was to look for you with his eyes.

And when he found you… he ran toward you.

Without hesitation. Without looking around. Without caring about the cameras. He lifted you in a hug that took your breath away.

“You did it,” you whispered, tears in your eyes.

“You too,” he said, kissing your forehead, your hair, your lips.

And then, in the middle of thousands of people, cameras, and noise, Max Verstappen —the same one who said he was allergic to romance— kissed you as if the world didn’t matter.

And it didn’t.

That night, in the hotel room, while you watched the race replay, he appeared behind you with a tired but honest smile. He lay down next to you on the bed, resting his head on your lap.

“You know?” he murmured. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not good at this. Not like other drivers. I’m not tender, or romantic, or…”

“You don’t have to be like anyone else,” you interrupted. “I like you as you are. Even when you make silly excuses to hug me.”

Max laughed softly.

“Excuses? Me? Never.”

“And the ‘you’ve got something in your hair’?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You had something,” he replied, kissing your hand. “Something I needed to touch.”

You looked at him in silence. He returned your gaze, softer than ever.

“I’m learning,” he confessed. “Not to be romantic. To be brave. With you.”

And in that moment, you knew it didn’t matter how “allergic” he claimed to be to romance.

Because with you, Max Verstappen was learning to love in his own way.

And that was more than enough.

[tddyhyck]

sudden urges [ l.dh ]

pt 1 (can be read as a stand alone)

pairing ⇢ enemies with benefits!haechan x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ 18+, car sex, squirting, wet & messy, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (m receiving), light nipple play (kinda), food play (ig), unprotected sex, oppa kink, crying, mean names and pet names, pussy slapping, hair pulling, cheating/affairs mentioned, creepy old man mentioned

word count ⇢ 6.9k

playlist ⇢ red line_5sos / turn your phone off_pinkpantheress & destroy lonely / sweet as sin_ten / bite_troye sivan

a/n ⇢ how do we feel about 1 more regular part and then maybe a part from hyuck’s pov?? also, in my world hyuck is the readers oppa so it’s not really a kink all the time

masterlist

you didn’t want to call him but you didn’t really have anyone else who you could call. well you did but he was the first person you felt like talking to. which wasn’t how it was supposed to work. shivering on the curb while your finger hovered over his name on the screen. sighing you tapped it crossing your fingers and toes that he picked up.

“hey,” he whispered lazily as if he didn’t pick up halfway through the first ring.

“uh hey,” you poked at a hole in your tights.

“miss me?”

“can you come get me?” you blurted before he could even finish. the line was silent for a moment then you heard rustling.

“send me your location.” you breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing as you pulled the phone away to send a quick message. the line was still silent while you waited for it to say read.

“what are you doing over there?” you could practically see his face, eyebrow quirked up and jaw tense big brown eyes staring through you.

“just had to drop some papers off.” it was half true. you did ride the bus over and drop off a stack of papers to your professor.

“that’s all?”

“stop interrogating me, goddd,” you groaned, tugging the hole on your tights, ripping it more. “i’ll tell you when i see you.”

“i’ll be there in 5 i guess.” you heard keys jingle.

“i’m on the sidewalk near building F,” you offered.

“he just made you wait outside? what an ass can’t even drive you home and leaves you to sit outside in the snow?” haechan grumbled into the phone.

“he uh,” you pause realizing how bad it was about to sound.

“wife?” he simply asked. you’d only talked to haechan before about it mainly because he always pried and because you didn’t want lectures from everyone else. there wasn’t a desire to make him like you so you didn’t hide the bad things from him.

the professor was married and you knew that from the beginning, but he had swore they were separated. you believed him until his wife invited half the department to a dinner party where she flashed heart eyes and he doted on her. it made you sick, she was maybe a few years older than you while he pushed retirement.

it wasn’t that you felt obligated to agree when he asked but he was the one giving you credit hours and promising to write recommendations. when he first approached you it made you feel special and admired like you were a four leaf clover picked in a field. now it didn’t feel so special when you realized he did this all the time.

“unhuh,” you murmured. the line stayed silent and you could hear him turning on a blinker “thanks for coming. i didn’t want to bother anyone, they're all so stressed and losing their minds over that exam.” it wasn’t a lie they were prepping for an exam, but for some reason you wanted him to distract you with banter.

“i took the bus though you know, and brought like the biggest stack of papers i finally finished grading. but it stopped running- the bus, guess it was the weather.” you tried to fill the silence rambling on about nothing.

“didn’t think i would take so long, but i had to bring them by i dunno why he makes me. it’s so much easier to just file them away in the office but he always has me come by so he can check them. like i’m incompetent. i wrote the key so i would know.”

“because he wants to fuck you.” haechan mumbles.

“huh?” you ask.

“i’m here.” he pulls into the parking lot and hangs up. you shiver when you stand up before he pulls up in front of you. opening the door you slide in savoring the warmth.

“what did you say?” you question before putting your bag down.

“i said he wants to fuck you. that’s why he makes you bring some bullshit papers.” he rests his elbow on the window leaning his head on his hand looking at you lazily. he turns the heat up while you buckle your seatbelt.

“i know that but he won’t give me the credit unless i bring them by,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“that’s so fucked up. you should report him.” he eases off the brake pulling away from the sidewalk.

“it’s not a big deal.” you sigh still picking at the hole on your leg. “it’s just sex.”

“is he better than me? actually if he is don’t tell me,” you roll your eyes hitting his chest.

“shut up,” you shift in your seat.

“well is he?” he smirks, coming to a stop, looking over at you, hands low on the steering wheel. you shrug but he can read the answer on your face. he reaches over, snapping his fingers in your face and pointing to his own.

“i asked you if he fucks you better than me,” he emphasizes.

“no,” you mumble, looking away again. you know he’s smiling to himself gloating.

“where do you wanna go? are you hungry?” you shrug in response, cheeks pink from your admission. “ice cream?”

“can we eat it at the park?” you ask perking up at the thought of a cool and creamy sweet treat.

“of course.” he turns the wheel heading to your favorite ice cream spot. “can’t believe you want that when it’s like, negative degrees.”

“my love for ice cream is greater than my desire to be warm. plus we’re in a car you have heat we’re fine.”

“can’t believe he made you sit out in this,” he motions with a hand to the sky. grey and dreary, clouds full of snow and sleet that had been spilling periodically throughout the day.

“she would have seen me.”

“well he should have thought of that before asking you to come over. what if you get sick or hurt or someone snatchesd you. then who will grade his papers?” you roll your eyes at his dramatics. he pulls into the familiar parking lot, the neon sign bright but missing the i-c-e so it just says “homemade cream.” he pulls in behind a car already waiting at the window.

“probably some other pretty but stupid girl. it doesn’t matter i’m fine and you picked me up.” you grin nudging his shoulder. “did i wake you up?”

“well not exactly i was going to nap but then my phone rang and this hot girl was on the line all like ‘oppaaaaa please can you come get me from this evil villains house and take me for ice cream and can you pay for it pleaseee ooooppa.’” you gawk at him mimicking your voice quite well for what it’s worth.

“i do not sound like that,” you groan, hitting him again.

“you kinda do though,” he grins, releasing your wrist.

“so you think i’m hot?” you smirk teasingly lean close to him.

“no i just hang out with you because of your personality,” you hit him again, but he grabs your hand when it meets his chest. you rip away before he can interlace your fingers.

“if you keep hitting me i’m gonna hit you back and that would look bad to future employers.” he turns away as you smile, listening to him give the order. strawberry on a cone for you as always and a hot coffee for him. when the worker leaves you lean forward chin on his shoulder.

“i like it when you hit me sometimes,” you whisper. you swear you can feel the hair on his neck stand up. “you know down there.”

“shut up,” he nudges you away before the worker brings his card and receipt then leaves again to make the order.

“just being honest, oppa,” popping the p sound before running fingers over his knee. he jerks, bouncing the leg and brushing your hand away. you huff, air blowing on his ear making him shiver. the window opens and he grabs your ice cream, passing it to you before he grabs his drink with a thank you.

“mmmm,” you moan when you taste the ice cream. sweet and creamy and perfect.

“look at the sign,” pointing to the burnt neon with a grin.

“you know a thing or two about homemade cream,” grinning he taps your leg.

“and you know a thing or two about begging for it.” you smile to yourself, leaning back in the seat crossing your legs.

“begging seems dramatic doesn’t it?” he questions. you grab your phone ready to find the familiar voice memo he had sent you. you up your volume fully before pressing play.

‘heyyyyy, i’m like so fucked up right now,’ he tries to grab your phone as his voice plays from it. ‘i’m walking to your place at least i think i am. fuckk- are you even awake. i’ll sit outside, i don't care.’

“turn it off, oh my god,” he groans, one hand clenching on the wheel while the other presses against his ear..

“nuhuh.”

‘i had a dream about you. i think it was a dream i don’t know. um, wait but there was you, you were there and you finally rode my tongue. i want you to so bad. you’re too freaky to not ride my face at least once. do i need to beg on my knees for it?’

“you’re evil,” wincing as he hears his slurred voice playing back.

‘if i do will you? please. you taste so good and fuck - like so good. now i’m thinking about it. getting hard like a loser over thinking about pussy.’

“i sound so pathetic.”

“yeah you do. it’s hot.” grinning before taking another swipe at your ice cream.

‘shit - anyways uh i’m coming over i know you’re alone. at least i think you are… what if you have a guy in your bed. i’ll jump out of your window then when you look at him you’ll get sad. that’s fucked up but i want you alllll to myself sometimes.’

you turn the audio off before he starts professing his feelings. you’d never talked about the last few minutes of the voicemail. a quiet acknowledgment of the open secret between you both. you weren’t actually sure if he remembered all that he said.

that night you’d opened the door to him on his knees begging for you, but he fell asleep on your couch 10 minutes later with a silly look on his face.

“i still want you to ride my face,” he admits.

“you’re obsessed with eating pussy.” you laugh into your ice cream.

“is it such a crime to love your pussy?” raising his hands after parking in your usual spot turning the car off.

“we’d all be arrested if it was.”

“we can share handcuffs.” he offered a wrist to you and you held yours next to his.

“not the first time,” you tease as you pull away. you tug the lever beside you leaning your seat all the way back and kick your feet up on the dash.

“hey hey no shoes on my baby i just got her detailed,” he scolds grabbing your ankles and lugging you off. groaning, you lift your feet and rest them over his lap.

“yeah i didn’t care about these sweats anyways,” he deadpans looking at your shoes.

“they’re not muddy,” you say, pulling your legs away before reaching down to pull the shoes off. you put your now shoeless feet on his lap again and he doesn’t complain. silence settles for a moment aside for him sipping his coffee and you licking your ice cream contentedly.

“how long are you stuck grading his papers?”

“eh maybe two months. i hope he gets sick of me before then.”

“unlikely.” he mutters to himself, reaching up he fiddles with the sunroof, opening the shutter letting in the orange glow of the street light.

“do you think his wife knows?” he turns his head at your question. “she’s got to right? he probably did the same thing to her too.”

“do you want her to know?” the ice cream is melting too quickly.

“maybe. i don’t know. what’s better? it would be best if they were in an open relationship and she knew but was okay with it.”

“well that’s best case,” he leans his own seat back looking over at you at eye level.

“worst case?”

“she knows and hates you?” he suggests, making you groan.

“she’s so sweet too. fuck, i’m so terrible.” you close your eyes not wanting to look at his.

“he’s a manipulative geriatric asshole and you were vulnerable and naive. he’s terrible for taking advantage of all these girls.” he reassures, patting your arm softly. a weird moment of humanity between both of you.

“i’m not going over again.” you announce.

“good girl,” he pats your head now.

“don’t do that.”

“what?”

“be nice.” he laughs a real full belly laugh and it makes your stomach twinge weirdly.

“i’m soooo nice.” he looks up out of the car sunroof.

“yeah and i'm a worm,” you roll your eyes and his hand slides over your leg he laughs again

“you think i'm mean,” he pouts, poking your leg.

“name one time you were nice to me?”

“hmm,” he pauses a finger tapping his chin before he leans over cupping your ear to whisper. “what about the time i made you cu-“

“lalalala i can’t hear you,” you cut him off, pushing his face away.

“you need new tights,” still smiling as he prods at one of the holes in the sheer material covering your skin.

“you don’t think it gives me an edge?” lifting your leg slightly showing off the ripped black fabric.

“you don’t need an edge, you're mean enough.” you fein surprise trying to kick him but he grabs your leg before you can. squeezing your thigh when he pulls it against his warm body.

“you think i’m mean?” you copy him.

“i can name at least 100 instances.” you roll your eyes. “ok, just one?” he grins over at you before saying.”probably when we met and you called me the hunchback of notre dame.”

“but it made you work on your posture.” you point out. he nods in response. “you were just as mean, i only said that after you said i looked like helga from hey arnold.”

“you were wearing that same pink outfit,” he defends.

“i was a powerpuff girl,” you grumble.

“how’s the ice cream?”

“devine.” he’s looking over at you with big stupid brown eyes. staring back at him you lick over the remaining creamy treat. swirling over the cone collecting the pink cream on your tongue. you’re being overly provocative letting some of the ice cream slide out of your mouth and onto your lips.

“if it’s so good don’t let it go to waste.” thumb brushes over the drip, swiping it into your mouth. you don’t hesitate to suck the melted strawberry off of his finger moaning at the taste. he pulls away spit sticking to his thumb before he licks it. he’s so disgustingly gross and sexy it’s annoying. what light that shines from the sunroof makes him look too golden, too delicious, too warm.

“so sweet,” he sighs. big brown eyes still watching you when you wrap your lips around what’s now a sad hill instead of a full scoop.

“can i have some?” before you can answer he leans in grabbing your face pulling you to meet him. his tongue laps into your mouth collecting the cool sweet liquid. it makes you burn, hot cheek in his hand as he leads you. turning your head to deepen the kiss. the melting treat drips over your fingers as his lips melt into yours.

using the hand that is still on your leg, now gripping the flesh, he pulls you over. settling you on top of him, mouths still open exchanging hot breaths and spit. pulling away you sit back feeling the bulge pressed against you. catching your breath as you look down at him, lips red and puffy, eyes dazed. you press a finger to them to see how soft they are and he licks your digit.

“do you want some more?” moving to switch your hands. bringing the pink sticky fingers to his lips. he sucks them greedily, tongue splitting your fingers licking between them lewdly. watching as you grind against him, knees pressed tightly on his sides while he holds your hips. trailing your fingers from his mouth you slide them over his lips and down his chin. slippery still from his spit you move them finger painting his neck.

“did you fuck him?” it catches you off guard but you keep your fingers on his neck feeling his pulse under them. “like today did you?”

“no. he-“ you pause, deciding if you should share. “he came in his pants and then his wife called.” haechan laughs hard, making you shake on him.

“what a fucking loser.”

“why do you ask?” you bring the messy cone to your mouth again tasting what’s left.

“i don’t want to sound weird.”

“tell me,” you pout bouncing on him. he groans, squeezing your hips to stop you. you can feel his growing hardness against your inner thigh and it makes you clench.

“is it jealous if i say i don’t want to fuck you if he just did. i don’t want my dick near his.” he offers.

“who said we were going to fuck?” raising an eyebrow at him.

“please, mommy,” he whimpers, sitting up face in yours, clasping his hands making puppy dog eyes.

“stupid,” you mumble, pushing his face away, head hitting the seat with a thud.

“can i be honest?” he nods eagerly, hair bouncing against the headrest.

“i don’t even know the last time we did. he keeps nutting before i even get his pants off. plus it’s kinda small, no hate to the micros but like,” you pause using your finger to measure around 4 inches.

“it’s not doing anything.” he’s giggling under you again, this time his cock pressing against you with each shake of his body. you can feel the wetness slipping from you pooling in your tights.

“god, how can a guy like him be married and seduce beautiful young women while having a fast finishing micro. double homicide but he gets rewards.” he shakes his head.

“money,” you rub your fingers together.

“so i’m bigger?”

“obviously.” you roll your eyes finishing the last of your ice cream at least what hasn’t turned to soup.

“so let’s see.” you lean back putting the cone in the spare cup holder. he peaks under your skirt noticing your lack of panties.

“see what?” you watch him stare between your legs so you flip the skirt up for him. “this?”

“don’t distract me.” he closes his eyes, pressing his head back. “i can fuck you better, have a way bigger dick, and buy you ice cream.” he counts each “pro” on his fingers.

“what’s your point?” reaching for his lifted fingers you pull them to your core rubbing them over your tights.

“just that.” he pauses moving his fingers against you letting the seam of your tights brush against you cunt. “i’m a much better option.”

“like to date?” you laugh loudly but continue grinding down seeking more of his touch. you don’t catch the way his eyes dull at your reaction. the idea of him being more than whatever he was to you a joke. he could still dream and dwell on you for hours and days and weeks.

“ew no, just to do these activities,” he replies his other hand slithering over your ass.

“yeah we hate each other, remember?” you smirk down at him as he grabs your ass kneading the flesh.

“oh yeah sorry. don’t let me forget how much i despise you.” he groans pressing the tips of his digits against the tights. moaning when the seam catches against your clit again, you grind down.

“wouldn’t be so fun if we liked each other, or something.” breath catching in your throat as he swirls around your clit. you don’t see the way he looks up at you when you say that. he wonders if you can tell. it makes him mad the way your so oblivious to his affection for you.

“yeah people who like each other don’t do this.” he moves his other hand to your center, gripping the tights and yanking. the middle seam tears easily exposing your cunt to the cool air of the car.

“haechan,” you squeal. “i liked these.” you pout slapping his arm. he keeps going sliding his fingers between your lower lips, collecting slick.

“i told you.” he pauses a finger teasing over your entrance, tapping your waiting hole. “you need new ones.” he fucks a digit into you hard. you whine as he begins to flick his wrist curling the pad of his middle finger into you.

“but i liked these,” whining and digging your nails into his shoulders.

“you can keep them.” his fingers are fast moving to curl against your sweet spot. “wear them for me.”

“i hate you,” voice shaky as you grind down, his palm pressing against your clit.

“i know,” he leans up, lips ghosting over your neck. using his other hand he unzips your oversized hoodie making you shiver.

“i do. fucking hate you,” you moan when he bites your now exposed skin. you grab his hair in response, tugging him away.

“tell me all about it baby, let it out,” he looks up at you. finger working faster in you.

“hate when you look at me like that,” you whimper, closing your eyes, savoring the ghost of his thumb over your clit.

“what about this?” thumb rubbing circles around you swollen bud while his finger continues curling inside of you. grip tightening on his shoulder and in his hair with a gasp.

“hate it,” peeking down watching his wrist flicking fast and hard. your tummy tightens hearing the squelch of your cunt filling the car.

“and this?” he has that grin on his face watching you melt in his hands like your ice cream when he adds a second finger.

“so much,” you whimper. “hate it so much.”

“poor baby. let it out,” he licks over your neck nibbling lightly at the bare skin. the heat spreading over your tummy feeling the knot tightening. so close and you want it.

“hate me so much you’re gonna cum?” he tuts. you hate him you really do. his hand slithers pulling the top of your camisole down letting your breast spill out. squeezing the flesh before pinching your nipple. clenching around his fingers at the tug of his pointer and thumb on the hard nub.

“you think about me when you’re alone, don't you?” he questions, thumbing your nipple and clit at the same time, sending shockwaves through you. “gushing in your panties when you think about how much you hate your oppa?”

“fingering your cunt wishing it was me?” his words make your toes curl more than his fingers. you’d never admit it to him, your mind trailing to him when you can’t sleep. opening yourself up imagining he was there telling you dirty things. your vibrator is fine but he’s so much better.

“or do you hump your pillow thinking about me? it’s not as good is it?” you shake your head mouth opened gasping.

“leaves you wanting more? wanting your oppa’s cock to help you.” his words pull you closer. you bounce on his hand chasing the release.

“moaning for your oppa all alone.” leaving open mouth kisses along your neck when he whispers, “gonna let it out for your oppa?”

“hate you,” releasing onto his fingers with a whine cunt tightening around them. your fingers tug at his hair and he moans into your neck slowing his hand but still slowly pumping into you. thumb still swirling around your nipple when you look down watching the slow flick of his wrist and see the wet spot on his sweats.

“don’t tell me you came in your pants too?” you tease, breathily.

“all you, sweet cheeks,” pulling his fingers out sticky string connecting to your pussy as more slick dribbles out onto the grey material. he brings them to his lips savoring your taste on his tongue. his other hand falls from your chest settling on your tummy rubbing circles with his thumb. your tit still hanging out as you release the grip you had on him your fingers quickly find his waistband. pulling down the fabric you release his cock.

“no panties?” looking up at him grinning as he leans back head resting on his arms.

“i was trying to be fast.” you take his cock in your hands pumping the length. pushing your ass back to bend down and take him in your mouth. he hisses between his teeth when you wrap your lips around his tip. bobbing your head he reaches down to brush your hair out of your face. you pull back releasing him before spitting messily onto his cock.

“fuck,” he groans as your hand speeds up using your spit and his precum to glide over his length. you look up at him through your lashes watching him bite his lip. he stares back at you, before taking him back in your mouth, sucking him slowly.

“you’re so fucking hot,” gripping your hair with his voice raspy. “i hate you too,” his hips buck when you laugh, mouth vibrating around him. continuing you bob your head letting his cock bump the back of your throat when your nose touches his pelvis. you linger swallowing around him.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he groans, using your hair to pull you away. releasing his cock with spit dripping out of your mouth onto his pants. his chest heaves your hand lazily pumping his length. you wipe your mouth before sitting back up. you wiggle forward on him sitting so your cunt presses against his member.

“do you have condoms,” you turn rummaging in the glove box.

“maybe,” he mumbles, watching the way the head of his cock disappears between your folds.

“bro,” you lift a pair of your panties from the box.

“oh yeah you left those,” he says nonchalantly, holding your hips dragging you over his cock. rolling your eyes, continuing to look, attempting to ignore the hardness bumping your sensitive clit, searching for a foil packet but only finding ketchup.

“can we just do it raw?” you side eye him contemplating. “i’ll pull out.”

“it’s gonna be messy.” you sigh, shutting the compartment.

“you like it that way,” his eyes are staring between you. you're grinding on him without his help so he moves his hand to spread your pussy watching the slick coat his member. a mischievous look on his face when he tugs at the ripped tights opening them more.

“hey,” you shriek, slapping his hand. he doesn’t flinch, hands laying across your thighs as he moves his thumb to lift the head of his cock against your clit, groaning at the pressure. you keep your pace hips rocking back and forth. you grip the hem of his shirt pushing it up on his chest.

“shit,” he whimpers, precum pumping from the slit as he grabs your hips to stop you.

“up,” you lift yourself shimmying forward. he holds himself guiding to your entrance and lifting his own hips while you slide down. you groan in unison when you sit fully. you don’t move for a second savoring the fill of his cock. but his impatient hips jump, jostling you over him, making you double over.

“fuck,” you whimper leaning over him hands under his shirt, your hair falling in his face. you push against him, nails digging into his skin and start riding him. ass slapping against his grey sweatpants any sound muted by the fabric. the head of his cock bumping your sweet spot with every bounce.

he reaches around gripping your ass using what’s left of your tights to move you up and down faster, deeper. moans fill the car along with ripping fabric beside the building steam.

“so deep,” you whine. he leans up, hips meeting yours, face now only centimeters away. you shriek when his hand slaps against your ass.

“like it when i hit you down there,” he repeats your stupid comment from earlier has him hitting your skin again. he grips your tights pulling you up and down on him.

“i meant,” you lean away pushing on his chest for leverage with one hand the other going to your clit. “here.” you wince slapping softly over your sensitive bud.

“let me try again,” his hair falls in his face and he leans into you. his mouth latching onto your nipple and slapping your clit harshly. you shake overwhelmed by the suction on your chest, repeated hits to your g-spot, and slick fingers thrumming your clit.

“there?” he asks, releasing your nipple while still tonguing the bud. you nod furiously, tears building in your eyes overwhelmed.

“aww don’t cry little doll,” he teases using his teeth to pull the other side of your top down before sucking the nipple into his mouth.

“so much,” you whimper, hands threading in his hair roughly.

“thought that was how you hated me?” his breath is so hot like the tears you feel on your cheeks. he continues pounding into you, hips driving deeper with each thrust.

“yeah,” you can’t form a thought just his hands, and his tongue, and his fingers, and his cock, his dick, him, him, him.

“cat got your tongue,” tugging your bottom lip. you mumble nothing but everything at the same time feeling yourself come undone slowly but all at once. whining again when his tongue laps at your nipple. his fingers swirl quickly on your clit.

“s’ full,” you moan. he slaps your clit again making you shake clenching tightly around him.

“oppa’s cock to much for you?” you shake you head, core tightening as your release approaches faster and faster.

“want it,” you whine, nodding mouth opened spit dribbling down your chin, cock drunk.

“gonna cum because you hate me again?” he grins up at you. you squeeze around him in response, hearing him hiss. speeding up his finger on your clit sending you over the edge.

“oppa,” you whimper, arching into his hold as you cum. hot pleasure fills your body as your hips jerk. pussy pulsing around him but he doesn’t slow down continuously bumping your sweet spot over and over.

“let it out for your oppa,” cooing, he feels the puddle growing on his pants. the pads of his fingers don’t stop causing your release to spray over his lower half.

“oh my god,” you whimper leaning into his shoulder. hips shuddering as he still moves in you.

“you’re so tight,” your cunt still squeezing around him as he slows. heavy breathing into his neck while you come down he slowly ruts into you. finally pulling back looking at the mess you made on him.

“sorry,” you whimper, overstimulated from the fullness.

“it’s fucking hot,” he replies as you push him back to the seat. he looks pretty brown eyes blown wide and staring up at you, his hair sticking to his forehead. you’re determined to have him fill you up. suddenly needy for his hot cum in you. your fingers move the hem of his shirt farther up, pads brushing his nipples making him shiver.

“what are you doing?” you start moving your hips again, swiveling them.

“what does it look like?” you deadpan fingers pinching his nubs. he whines head tipping back with closed eyes.

“cum in me.” you whisper against his stomach. tongue flicking over his sticky skin as you bounce on him. he peers down at you watching you slither up his chest before tonguing his nipple.

“fuck,” he whimpers biting his lip. his hands holding your hips start to pull you up and down on him. quivering from sensitivity with each drag of his cock.

“nuhuh,” you move your hands to stop his. “let me.” you lift your ass up before slapping back down the squelch and slap of skin fills the car. your hands hold his wrists hovering over your skin, but he reaches for you needily.

“wanna fuck you.” you whine flicking his nipple with your tongue. “make you cum.” pausing licking up his chest to his collarbone. “fill me up, oppa,” you whisper into his ear.

he’s keening at every word and every squeeze of your tight cunt around him. pulling back, releasing his hands, using yours to press l against the steamy window for leverage and the other finding your clit.

“feels so good, oppa,” you whine when his cock hits your sweet spot again. he finally moves his hands using his thumbs to spread your pussy watching the sticky connection as his cock disappears in you.

“fuck i’m gonna cum,” he groans as you pull him closer to the edge.

“cum for me oppa,” you whimper fingers circling your clit and nipple.

“love it when oppa fills up my cunt,” hips fucking into you and his head falls back as he pumps hot seed into you with a moan. you keep moving your hips, milking his cock. letting the tip abuse your insides trying to cum again.

“unhuh,” you whine, overstimulating him as his cum starts to slip out of you. it sticks to your inner thighs, strings connecting you.

“shit, stop, fuck,” he grabs your hips stopping your movements.

“i’m so close though,” you whine, fingers still padding against your clit. he pulls you off of him with a groan, cock lazily slapping onto his pelvis. you move your fingers fucking two into your puffy pussy but it’s not enough it never is.

“help me,” you whine and he adds a finger beside yours fucking into your cunt pumping his load back into you. you bounce down meeting creamy digits as he curls them.

“let me show you,” he coos using his finger to push the tips of your own into you making you moan instantly.

“it’s gonna,” you moan out, gripping his wrist. “come out.”

“what happened to that tight little cunt? did oppa fuck you loose?” you whimper and he adds a second finger watching your hole swallow four fingers with ease. the pads of his fingers helping you curl yours, pressing just right. you feel so close just a little more you think rubbing your clit faster and harder.

“fuck i’m,” your hips start to shake. “i’m.” you can’t finish, crying out.

“one more time, for your oppa,” he directs more than asks.

you garble out curses as you cum. squirting onto your hands and his spent cock. your wrist slowing but he keeps going coaxing the streams out of you. you can’t think of anything, your body buzzing and shivering with waves of pleasure. it feels like it’s never going to end each bump of your own fingers inside you makes you spill more.

“no more, can’t,” you mumble, grabbing for him. mind numb and cunt pulsing out small dribbles.

“so greedy,” he tells you, pulling out with you, one final spurt hitting his dick. you lay your hand on his thigh but he slaps your cunt making you cry. his sticky fingers rubbing against you slowly. he feels what’s left of his cum start to pool on his fingers, mixing with all you gave him.

cupping his fingers he scoops it from you making you quiver again. before he can move his hands you grab his wrist pulling his fingers to your mouth slurping the mixture onto your tongue.

“fuck,” he hisses, watching you diligently sucking every drop from him. “so fucking nasty.”

sitting back on his thighs with a huff looking down to inspect the damage. his pants are practically dark grey now and his shirt even has damp spots. your fingers spread your lips so you can peak at your pussy, wet and swollen still slightly pulsing.

“i gotta put some towels or something in here. this is like the fourth time.” you giggle pushing your hair out of your face.

“sorry,” you puff.

“next time i'm just going to open the door and let you make a mess on the pavement.” you roll your eyes but the thought of him holding you up for anyone to watch while you squirt makes you tingle.

“you're so freaky. don’t tell me you want me to,” he reads your mind.

“shut up,” you push him away.

“next time i’ll just bend you over the hood.” you whine legs squeezing his. your both still catching your breath the air in the car hot and muggy. you groan as you slide from his lap into your seat.

“i’m going to have to get her detailed again.” he mutters looking between your legs where the slick rubs on his seat.

“sorry,” you grin. he looks around to see if anyone is outside but it’s empty. he always parks far away from the entrance, behind the permanently closed pool. it’s rare that anyone pulls up near you. he tucks himself in his ruined sweats lifting his hips to pull them up before opening the door. the rush of cool air hits you, making you close your legs quickly.

haechan rummages in the trunk, he did keep towels and a change of clothes. after the first time you made a mess he secretly stockpiled items for you. a sweater here, some pants there, a duplicate of your favorite blanket.

he pulls out one of his sweatshirts, tugging his own shirt off, tossing it in a small basket he put back there. he shivered pulling the clean one on quickly. he grabbed two towels before walking back to the door handing you one.

“i thought you didn’t keep towels in here?” you question grabbing the towel and shifting it under you.

“i’m not known for telling the truth.” he wipes over his seat cleaning up the mess. he walks back to the trunk as you lean your head against the seat, sighing.

he puts the towel on top of his shirt, grabbing wipes and two pairs of sweatpants he closes the trunk with an elbow.

“here,” his voice makes you open your eyes. he’s holding wipes up and you grab them. pulling them out you wipe over his seat, he’s standing outside swiftly pulling off his pants. you look up his ass in your face and you can’t resist slapping it.

“b word,” he shrieks, turning to you, almost falling, he hopes on one leg, tugging the pants over his shoes. his refusal to call you a bitch makes you laugh. he’s so tender.

“hey you can only call me that during sex,” you scold.

“that seems like the last place i should call you that,” he points out, stepping into the sweats.

“but i like it,” you pout, closing the wipes watching him jump into his pants.

“because you,” leaning in before tapping a finger on your nose. “are a freak.” you bite at his finger but he pulls away too quickly grabbing something off the roof.

“here,” he holds your own pants to you.

“i’ve been looking for these,” you groan, ripping them from his hands. “how long have you had these?” he shrugs getting back into his seat. not bothering with your tights you slip your skirt down letting it pool on the floorboard. he sits his seat back up starting the car again and blasting the heat. you pull the pants over your legs enjoying the soft warm fabric.

“why do you have my pants,” you prod poking his side.

“in case you needed them,” he states plainly.

“awww you’re so sweet,” you pinch his cheek. “do you like me or something?”

“gross,” he blurts, side eyeing you. “do you want me to drop you at your place?”

“please,” you respond, scrolling on your phone. the car is quiet except for the heat blowing through the vents. “thanks for picking me up by the way, and the ice cream.”

“no worries,” he mumbles, turning the wheel.

“do you have more of my clothes?” you open the glove box pulling your panties out.

“just some leggings and shit in the trunk,” he tells you casually.

“why are you stealing from me,” you sigh, making him chuckle.

“i’ll just get pee pads instead. is that better?”

“god that’s weird. i never do that with anyone else,” you admit.

“wait what?” he stops at a light, looking at you grinning.

“i mean i’ve come close but never like,” you pause motioning, “that. the first time was with you.” you see his ego growing beneath his skin already regretting what you said.

“you’re saying only my dick, my fingers, my tongue can get you like that,” he’s smiling to himself and it’s so annoying you want to slap him and kiss him. you shake your head, getting the last thought out of your head.

“don’t get a big head or anything. i shouldn’t have said it.” you roll your eyes picking at fuzz on your pants.

“if it helps you’re the only one who can make me cum by just playing with my nipples.”

“i’m sure you can do that all by yourself.”

“i’ve tried.” he says flatly.

“you’re too impatient. you just want to nut as fast as possible when you’re alone.”

“well duh why would i want to drag it out if i’m alone and not playing with you. i don’t even jerk off that much anymore, i just edge myself for you.” you dwell on what he said. he makes it sound like you’re the only one he’s hooking up with.

“you don’t edge yourself for-“

“no.” he interrupts you before you can start listing people. “i don’t hook up with anyone else.”

“what?”

“i don’t hook up with anyone else.” he repeats.

“i dunno, that’s a little too intimate, haechan,” you tease, trying to seem like you don’t care. part of you wants to think about what it actually means and another part wants to ignore him and be oblivious.

“is it? i like being intimate with you,” he meets your eyes quickly, fingers crawling up your leg.

“that sounds so serious,” you breathe deeply.

“don’t tell me you didn’t like that?” recalling how you felt less than 15 minutes ago. squeezing your legs together and your eyes closed. “i know you. you hate that i do, but i know how i make you feel. i’m confident in that.”

you stay quiet the only sound coming from the heat and wheels on pavement. his hand still rests on your thigh, fingers softly thrumming. you don’t really have an answer or any witty remark. he’s right. he does know your body better than anyone you have ever been with. you hate to admit he knows you better too. reading your mind with ease and his humor is just as dirty and weird. deep down you know how you feel for him but you can’t, it breaks the unspoken rule between you too.

“why do you have to be so,” you groan, his hand smooths over your leg.

“i think you know how i feel about you,” he mutters, turning onto you street.

“huh,” you heard him.

“we’re here,” he pulls up beside your apartment.

“thanks,” you whisper, grabbing your bag and shoving your panties in. opening the door and haechan rolls the window down as you slam the door.

“don’t forget,” he holds your skirt up and you grab it from him.

“thanks.”

“good night.”

“good night, and just so you know, i don’t know how you feel about me.” you tell him, pulling back before turning to walk to your door. you want to look back and see his face but you get your keys out and turn them in the lock.

he sits watching you turn the door knob and disappear into your house. he sighs, eyes closing and leaning his head back rubbing his eyes with his palms.

[asxgard]

Oooo I can’t stop thinking about Robby noticing symptoms of a serious illness in his partner overtime and getting her the tests and help she needs

Bedside Manner | one shot

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Requested

Summary: After ignoring your symptoms for far too long, Michael is forced to bring you into the ER.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: It took a hot minute to find something I thought could work, I hope you enjoy! This idea might’ve inspired something else down the road👀

Word Count: 1.5k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: illness/sick reader, established relationship, reader is a teacher, mild angst, foul language, age gap, fluff at the end, pet name (sweetheart)

not beta read

You half attributed your cold to the kids you worked with — a sickness was always being passed in the hallways, especially during this time of year when the air began to cool. You had been able to bear the brunt of the week still going into work, convincing yourself it was only allergies and then only a cold. There was a relief in the weekend, knowing you likely only needed to rest — running low on sleep and stress could do crazy things to the body.

You had moved in with your boyfriend, Michael Robinavitch, before the school year had started, and you were thrilled to call the combined space home. You were less than thrilled that not even three months into it and he was already taking care of you. It was sweet, of course, but he spent all day taking care of just about everyone else. He didn’t need to come home and do it again. You appreciated it, and loved how he took care of you on any normal day, you just felt guilty because you were ill. Though, he didn’t even flinch, bringing you tea or meds or soup from your favorite deli.

When he came home to find you still curled up on the couch, something shifted in his eyes, edging closer to worry.

Michael sat at the edge of the couch to feel your forehead, his own creased in concern. “You should be getting better by now.”

You waved him off, eyes flickering from the tv to his face. “Flu’s been going around. Likely just that.”

His frown deepened, “What’re your symptoms?”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “I’m not a patient, I just caught something at school.”

His quirked eyebrow left no room for argument.

You heaved a sigh and winced, “I’m just tired, my head hurts and my muscles ache because of the fever.”

“If you’re not improving by Monday, I’d like for you to—”

“I’m not going to the ER.” You said, eyes heavy with fatigue. “I’ll wait forever and I’d rather just lay here. I’ll schedule something with my PCP on Monday.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t get you seen right away.”

“I’m sure fluids would do wonders, but perhaps just some tea?” You had no energy to go back and forth with him about it.

He relented and moved into the kitchen to do just that. You were asleep by the time he came back with it.

—

You woke up in bed feeling worse. Despite not eating anything, your stomach rolled uneasily, your room feeling like it was spinning. Your head felt like it was in a vice, tension pulling your skull together like it would squish your brain. That wasn’t even getting into the spreading pain you were feeling.

Part of you wanted to roll over and wake up Michael, but you felt guilty for even thinking about it. His first day off in nearly a week and he was likely going to spend it taking care of you. The least you could do was let him sleep soundly.

Through sheer will, you made it into the adjoining master bathroom, moving to sit on the cold tile. Your body was hot, but chills wracked your body, and you winced whenever you moved your head to turn, muscles in your neck pulled taut.

Nothing came up, but you had zero energy now to move, leaned up against the wall. You regretted not waking Michael up. Your stomach gave another lurch — there was nothing in it but bile.

Through your haze of fatigue, you were unsure if hours or minutes had passed while you sat there. Your mind felt completely foggy, too concentrated on the pain in your head or the aches in your bones.

“Hey, hey,” a voice called, the sound making you wince, “How long have you been in here? What’s wrong?”

You blinked your eyes, but found it difficult to focus on the face now level with yours. Michael’s eyes were easy enough to recognize, but your mind kept switching through topics and forgetting he was there.

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, closing your eyes. “I just wanna get back in bed.”

There was a tense silence.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

You whined, “In the morning? Please. I just want to sleep.”

His hands met your face, and there was relief in how cool they felt against your clammy skin. He was gentle, but firm, quietly assessing you.

He spoke your name, making you hum, but your attention wavered.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Hey.” There was an urgency in his tone that you had not heard before.

You opened your eyes and blinked at him, vision only mildly clearing so you could see the worry etched into his eyes. His brow lines were prominent, as were the crinkles around his eyes — his face pinched together.

“Just…flu…let me sleep.” You said, words heavy and slurred.

—

Michael had never felt fear like that, watching you come in and out of consciousness on the bathroom floor. He knew it had not been the flu, it had been too long without any improvement in symptoms. Instead, they only got worse. Why had he let you convince him to not take you in right away?

He grunted when he scooped you up, hurrying to get you into his car. He knew an ambulance would take too long when he could just take you himself. Your pulse was strong, albeit just a touch fast, and your breathing was steady. He was confident you would be fine until you made it to the ED, but he was wracking his brain over what the hell you had.

The drive to the Pitt felt like it took eternity, catching every light despite the late hour. He barely had even looked at the time after finding you missing from bed. Worry constricted his heart.

He burst through the doors of the ED like a bat out of hell, looking around and hoping to spot Abbot, or someone with a gurney.

“Robby?” The night shift charge nurse asked, bewildered.

That seemed to catch Abbot’s attention, moving from one of the rooms and toward the charge desk. He took in the sight of you in Michael’s arms. He turned and called for nurses, while he quickly went to Michael.

“What’s wrong?”

“High fever, fatigue, joint aches, slurred speech. Uh, fuck, I think she was nauseous before she passed out.” Michael was panting now, more-so from the anxiety crawling through his chest rather than the fact he was still carrying you.

Abbot waved over the gurney and Michael set her down on it, fear bleeding from his heart.

“Pupils reactive. Responds to pain.”

It was a mess of tests after that, each one blurring into the next, but you stayed unconscious. You would come to long enough to respond to pain or Michael’s desperate pleas, but you looked exhausted whenever you did.

Michael stayed diligently by your side, except the moments he would slip away to confer with Abbot about any new information, or tests he thought might be useful.

Fluids did do wonders for making you feel better, hardly having an appetite throughout the week, though when you came to, you still felt sluggish. Michael’s relieved face, however, would stick in your mind for a long time.

“You scared the shit outta me.” He said, hand curling around yours, squeezing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think it was serious.” You said, blinking your eyes slowly, eyelids still heavy.

“I really should have brought you in when I thought something wasn’t right.”

“Do they know what I have yet?”

He shook his head, “Blood tests should be back shortly.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed, “What’s the consensus?”

“That I should probably listen to my gut more often, and not my stubborn girlfriend.”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner.” You scoffed with a grin. “I’m giving you a three.”

“A three? I think I deserve at least a seven.”

“On what grounds?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I brought you into the hospital? Was your knight in shining armor?”

You giggled, “I can be persuaded to give you a five if you get me something to drink.”

He smiled softly, “Consider it done.”

—

After going over your symptoms with Michael, more in detail this time, he slipped out of the room to talk to Dr. Abbot. When he returned, he had a handful of negative tests and a possible answer.

“Lyme’s Disease? Really?” You questioned, eyebrow raised. “I never got a rash.”

Michael shrugged, “They’re confirming it with a blood test now, but 1 in 3 don’t present with a rash.”

You thought back to the hike you and Michael had taken before the school year started. You had always been safe, long pants tucked into tall socks whenever you went off trail, but you had no memory of being bitten or being itchy. You had done a tick check before you got into Michael’s truck and showered when you got back home.

“Well, that’s irritating.” You frowned, “Will I be okay?”

Michael nodded, his face finally having relaxed, “After a course of antibiotics, you should be fine.”

You heaved a long sigh, but relief flushed through you. “Thank you for bringing me in, I’m sorry I scared you.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled, pulling him down for another. “Your score just went up to an eight.”

He laughed.

All Robby Content Taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys

All The Pitt Content Taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera

This became a lot more dramatic than I intended lol sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted, anon!

Most of the symptoms are based on someone I knew who had Lyme’s Disease before, but I was thriving on the drama so I might’ve taken it a bit too far. I’m not in the medical field, so forgive any errors.

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Just friends?

Lee Know x fem!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive content MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Minho used to be friends with benefits. Until you caught feelings, and you both called it off. But Minho obviously misses you and is miserable even though he doesn't want to admit it. And his brothers have had enough of his moping.

Clueless Masterlist

The arrangement with Minho had been perfect - or at least it had started that way. Opposite apartments on the same floor of your nice apartment building. You’d text each other, and within minutes, someone was at the other’s door. No strings, no drama. Just a lot of heat that left you breathless and a little sore the next day.

Until, of course, you did the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do - you caught feelings.

And naturally, Minho, emotionally stunted and a menace to society, panicked. He started pulling away, making excuses every time you asked if he wanted to come over. The warmth in his teasing dimmed into something guarded.

And it hurt. A lot. His rejection wasn't something you had expected, because no matter what anyone said, he was so soft and sweet to you. But he obviously didn't want a relationship, and you both decided to stop seeing each other.

You missed him. Not just his touch, but everything else too. The way he always brought food over (making excuses about how he had extra), held you tight when you had a hard day and how his cats lived with you more than they did with him. Oh you missed the cats. They were literally your kids - and this dirty divorce had given him full custody of them.

And Minho? He was a mess. Not that he’d admit it.

And Jisung had had about enough of his best friend and his brooding.

---

Jisung: OKAY EVERYONE STOP.

Chan: What's up?

Hyunjin: What did you do?

Jisung: NOTHING. THIS IS ABOUT MINHO.

Seungmin: What did he do?

Jisung: He’s been moping for WEEKS. And I'm sick of it.

Changbin: You sure? That’s just his face.

Jisung: LISTEN. IT’S ABOUT Y/N.

Hyunjin: Ohhhhhh.

Felix: I KNEW IT.

Minho: What the hell is going on?

Jisung: OH LOOK WHO DECIDED TO SHOW UP. Jisung: YOU, SIR, ARE A DRAMA QUEEN.

---

Minho sighed. This was the last thing he needed right now.

---

Minho: I’m not moping.

Felix: Sure. And I’m not Australian.

Hyunjin: Yeah, totally not glaring at your phone at all.

Minho: It’s not about her.

Jeongin: Are you sure you didn't accidentally click her name in your contacts 12 times yesterday?

Chan: What's going on, Min?

Minho: I don't even know what you guys are going on about!

Minho: We were friends. With benefits. Not lovers. She was nice in bed. That’s it.

---

There was complete silence in the chat for a minute before it exploded.

---

Chan: No, Minho. No. No. No.

Seungmin: Okay, first of all, what the actual fuck?

Hyunjin: Bro, you did not just say that.

Jisung: YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING LOSER.

Changbin: 😡

Jeongin: Hyung, she's an angel, how could you?

Felix: We’re literally trying to save you from yourself.

Minho: Well don't.

---

Minho hated himself. He absolutely hated himself. But he couldn't dwell on the self hate because Jisung just sent a video of Minho pacing his living room like a caged animal, while ranting about you being gone.

---

Hyunjin: Wow. Ok.

Minho: 🙄

Minho: Stop. Just stop.

Chan: Look, you’re obviously miserable. Why not just talk to her?

Seungmin: Yeah, genius. It’s not like she doesn’t live 20 feet away.

Minho: What if she doesn’t feel the same?

Jeongin: I'm sorry, but you’re an idiot.

Hyunjin: Dude. She liked you enough to start this whole thing. You just have to get over your dumb commitment issues.

Changbin: Honestly, just confess. Worst-case scenario, you cry into Dori.

Minho: I hate you all.

Jisung: Hate is a strong word for someone who’s about to sob into his cat.

Minho: Fine. I’ll talk to her.

---

Minho sat on his couch, heart pounding as he stared at your number on his phone. He’d been backed into a corner by his idiot friends, and now there was no escape.

And knowing you, he had a feeling that this was going to be the single most difficult task ever.

With a frustrated groan, he stood and grabbed his hoodie. He was going to do this. Because he loved you so much, and he was miserable without you.

Across the hall, in your apartment, you were getting some work done, sipping on coffee. You heard the doorbell, and when you opened the door, you saw Minho - disheveled, nervous, and yet, as handsome as ever. And your traitorous heart did that stupid thing it always did around him.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours. “Can we talk?”

Minho hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. He stood at your doorstep, heart racing, and palms sweaty, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen.

And he confessed. Nothing dramatics. Just a straightforward, “I love you.”

You'd stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was high. Or had hit his head somewhere. Or if he was simply horny.

But no. Then came his little speech. I know I don't deserve you. I was an asshole (of course he was). I was afraid (as if you weren't). And more than anything - I hurt you. And I hate myself for it. Ok now that you could work with.

But as hard as you tried, sometimes you just couldn't contain that bratty side of you (one that he apparently loved).

You crossed your arms, glaring at him like he’d just run over your dog.

“You can’t just waltz over here, say ‘I love you,’ and expect me to fall into your arms,” you snapped, looking infuriatingly hot with your brows furrowed and your lips pursed in defiance. “You rejected me, Minho. Do you know much that hurt me?”

His stomach twisted.

“I… I wasn’t ready -” he stuttered, looking terrified.

“Yeah, well, now I’m not ready,” you said, taking a step back and slamming the door in his face for dramatic effect.

You leaned against the door, fuming and freaking out all together. Your hands shook so hard as you wrapped your head around the fact that Minho just confessed to you and you slammed the door on his face.

And Minho stood in the hallway, a mix of shock, frustration, and - God help him - arousal bubbling under the surface. You were bratty when you were mad, of course. It made him want to kiss you and throttle you all at once.

---

Minho: She hates me.

Hyunjin: No, she doesn't. She slammed the door on your face didn't she?

Minho: How the hell are you so accurately right?

Jeongin: It's his thing.

Felix: What happened?

Jisung: Wait. Did you confess?

Minho: YES.

Minho: AND SHE SLAMMED THE DOOR IN MY FACE.

Hyunjin: Obviously.

Chan: So she didn’t say no?

Jisung: LMFAO.

Jeongin: She’s mad at you? Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Minho: SHE SAID A SIMPLE “I LOVE YOU” WOULDN’T WORK ON HER. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

Seungmin: It means she’s not an idiot.

Changbin: Exactly. You rejected her and took months to realize you’re in love. She deserves a little groveling.

Minho: GROVELING?

Felix: Oh, for sure.

---

He was not groveling. No way. Lee Minho didn't grovel. Hell no.

---

Jisung: Yeah, buddy. You gotta pull out all the stops now. Dinner, flowers, interpretive dance. The works.

Minho: STOP.

Hyunjin: Actually, the dance idea is kinda sexy. Imagine Minho doing a hip roll to apologize.

Felix: STOP IT. I’M WHEEZING.

Minho: CAN YOU ALL BE SERIOUS FOR TWO SECONDS?!

Chan: Look, the point is, you hurt her feelings. You need to show her that you’re serious.

Minho: How?! She's a damn brat. She enjoys torturing me.

Jisung: If she’s a brat, she’s gonna want to see you sweat.

Minho: She frustrates me.

Jisung: So you're sure you're just frustrated and not turned on right now?

---

Damn Jisung.

---

Jeongin: YAHHHH

Felix: You’re INTO IT???

Changbin: My man’s in love AND down bad.

Minho: Please.

Felix: Okay, focus. If groveling isn’t your style, do something you.

Hyunjin: Yeah. Seduce her with your weird cat boy energy or whatever.

Minho: You’re all useless.

Seungmin: Says the man who just admitted to being horny and clueless.

Chan: Minho, she clearly wants you to prove yourself. You’ve got to show her you’re willing to put in effort.

Hyunjin: Write her a song. Serenade her. Cry through it.

Minho: I don’t cry.

Jisung: LIES. I’ve seen you cry at those pet videos.

Minho: JISUNG YOU'RE DEAD.

Minho: What if she never forgives me?

Jeongin: She will. She’s just mad. Just play along.

Hyunjin: He’s right. Drama makes us hotter.

Minho: You're all insane 🙄

Chan: Insane but not wrong. Now, go apologize properly.

---

Minho paced his living room, his mind racing through ideas - romantic dinner? A heartfelt speech? Maybe just tossing himself at your feet and begging?

He needed a plan.

---

Minho: Fine. Give me ideas to make her forgive me.

Jisung: OHOHOHOHOHO.

Felix: Oh, this is gonna be good.

Hyunjin: Okay, everyone, let’s brainstorm.

Changbin: Classic dinner and flowers. Can’t go wrong.

Jisung: No, no. She’s mad. You need to go BIG. Like, dramatic big.

Minho: Like what? Fall to my knees in the rain?

Hyunjin: YES. Bonus points if you sob.

Minho: I’m not doing that.

Seungmin: You’re all useless. Look, Minho, she’s mad because you hurt her. You need to make her feel special. Do something that shows you actually care.

Jisung: STRIPTEASE.

Chan: Jisung.

Felix: WAIT. THAT’S ACTUALLY KIND OF FUNNY.

Hyunjin: Picture this. You show up at her door, music playing, and just start taking things off.

Minho: I want to win her back. Not make her think I'm horny.

Jisung: Coward.

---

Obviously he knew this would happen. He knew it.

---

Chan: Okay, let’s regroup. Minho, what does she like?

Minho: Being mad at me, apparently.

Jeongin: Sounds like she has taste.

Minho: She likes reading. And baking. And…dancing.

Felix: Aha! Bake her something!

Hyunjin: And while it’s baking, do a little dance. Shirtless.

Jisung: OOOH. Combine the ideas. Show up with baked goods and then do the striptease.

Minho: Oh my God.

Seungmin: You could apologize like a normal person, you know.

Felix: Where’s the fun in that?

Jisung: No, no. We need something iconic.

Felix: Okay, serious suggestion: Show her that you actually listened to her. Her favorite food? Or something thoughtful that shows you care about what she likes.

Minho: Like…?

Hyunjin: Cook her favorite meal.

Chan: Or bring her flowers that mean something.

Jisung: Or do the striptease.

Minho: STOP WITH THE STRIPTEASE.

Felix: It’s not a bad idea, you know. Women love confidence.

Minho: I’ll do the cooking idea. But if this backfires, I'm gonna hunt each one of you down and then see what happens.

Jisung: Lies. You’ll be back to cry about it.

---

Minho got to work. He spent hours perfecting your favorite meal, rehearsing his apology in front the mirror, and trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss you. God, he just wanted to cuddle you and tell you how much his life sucked without you in it.

When he finally knocked on your door, you opened it to find him standing there, holding so many containers of food and looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “Can I come in?”

You crossed your arms, and sighed.

"Minho, I really don't have the time-"

"I made your favorite," he said, holding up the containers. "And I will grovel if that's what it takes."

You did love it when he cooked for you.

“This better be good.”

Minho stood in your living room, wringing his hands as you sat on the couch, glaring at him. He set the food on the coffee table and looked at you, his sharp tongue failing him for once.

“I was afraid,” he finally said, voice low.

“Afraid of what? Being happy?” You asked, arching an eyebrow.

Minho winced.

“Yes. No. I mean…God, I don’t know. You’re everything to me, okay? And I was scared I’d ruin it. And then I did ruin it, and now I’m standing here like an idiot, begging you to let me fix it.”

“You… you really mean that?” You asked, your voice softer now, your eyes obviously filling up with tears.

“I’ve been a mess without you. I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, but I do. I love you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes proving it to you.” he whispered, and you sighed, standing up and stepping closer to him.

“You’re such a dumbass, you know that?”

“Yeah, I've been told.”

And then he cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you. Rough and messy, the tension melting away as your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You better not mess this up.” you muttered against his lips.

“Not a chance.”

---

Minho: We’re trying the relationship thing.

Felix: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!

Hyunjin: FINALLY.

Jisung: Thank you 🙏

Changbin: Congrats, lover boy.

Chan: Proud of you, Minho.

Felix: Did she like the food?

Minho: Um, it kinda went cold. She’s heating it up now.

Hyunjin: LMAO.

Jisung: What about the striptease? Did you do it?

Minho: 🙄🙄🙄

Jisung: ANSWER THE QUESTION, COWARD.

Minho: We did strip. So… hehe.

Felix: SIR.

Hyunjin: NOT THE “HEHE.”

Jisung: I CAN’T BREATHE.

Changbin: YOU DOG.

Chan: Minho, for the love of God.

Minho: You asked.

Jisung: My dude really said, “She forgave me, and then we got NAKED.” ICONIC.

Jeongin: Please. I just came here to see if Minho hyung was still single, and now I want to bleach my brain.

Chan: Can we not, for once, be so feral?

Hyunjin: You’re in the wrong chat for that, Christopher.

Jisung: Anyway, so… did you, like, destroy the house or… ?

Minho: I will never speak to any of you again.

Jisung: YOU CAN’T JUST DROP “WE STRIPPED” AND THEN LEAVE.

Felix: It’s called a cliffhanger, Ji. Let the man be mysterious.

Hyunjin: Yeah, mysterious about how whipped he is.

Felix: Totally

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @hanadulsetaad

[fivestaralien]

just a little kiss

-> chan x gn!reader

warnings+”: it's pretty suggestive so I'm just gonna say MDNI!! 18+!, lots of kissing, make out sesh basically, dry humping, low-key lipstick kink, illusions to giving head,reader is lifted up word count: 920 notes ๋࣭⭑ if y'all know the picture I'm talking about, the one of the first picture on a brick wall and fans left lipstick stains on it, PLS send it to me I cant find it anywhere and I'll love you forever!!! had this thought and I wasn't going to stop thinking about it until I wrote it out soooo here this is!! pls reblog and comment!! it helps me the most and lmk what you think! stay safe everyone and be gentle with yourselves<3

// part 2

“It should be illegal how hot you are.” 

 Chan can’t hide the blush blooming on his neck and ears at the compliment. He shushes you jokingly while zipping and buttoning the white pants the stylist set for him. You were only dropping off lunch when Chan asked how you would feel helping him out with something. 

 “Only if you feel comfortable.” He ends after explaining the photographer wanted you to stain Chan’s neck and torso with kiss marks. They have a stamp that they normally use but when he heard you were coming, he knew the real thing would look even better. You obviously said yes. How could you resist loving up your beautiful boyfriend and physically be able to see it?

 There were a few color options and the deep red was really calling to you. Chan sits on the vanity next to where you were standing, waiting for you to finish applying it. You face him with a smile.

 “Here let me help.” He wipes some lipstick from the corner of your mouth. 

 “How does it look?” 

 “I’m having a very hard time not kissing you right now.” His tongue poked out to wet his lips. 

 You smile and lean over to give him a peck to try and satisfy him for now but that obviously doesn’t do much. He brings you to stand between his thighs, cupping your face to kiss you. It was a little needier and harder than you expected but neither of you minded. 

 Chan coasts his hands down to squeeze at your waist, pulling you closer against him. Your hands rest on his bare chest and it takes everything in you not to rake your nails and leave a pretty red trial. He licks across your bottom lip and you happily let him in. 

 By the time you pull away for air all of your lipstick had transferred onto his mouth and chin, smeared all over. You laugh at the sight and grab a makeup wipe, cleaning off his now reddened face. Chan stares at your mouth with a heated stare. The ruined lipstick all over your mouth was getting him a lot more hot and bothered than he expected. 

 “Don’t look at me like that love. We don’t have time.” You kiss his pout. 

 Before you could reapply your lipstick he pulls you back in. He places both hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting you with ease to sit on the vanity. You rest your arms over his shoulders, one hand threading through his hair and tugging lightly. Chan groans, bucking his hips forward and you gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his cock. 

 “I need you so bad baby. We can be fast.” He pleads, continuing to grind against you. You can’t deny how turned on you were, but the lunch break was only so much longer. 

 “I’m sorry but we probably shouldn’t,” you check the time on the clock on the wall, “we only have 15 minutes before you have to go back out and I know you too well to think we can finish in that time.”

 Chan pouts but nods nonetheless. He checks his appearance in the mirror as you hop off and whips out his phone, taking a few pictures. Loving the evidence of your affection towards each other on him. You finally reapply the lipstick, going to the couch to grab a few pillows to place under your knees. 

 “Baby, please tell me this is some sick joke.” His eyes darken as he catches a glimpse of the pillows placed conveniently right by his feet. 

 “What? The ground is hard and I don't want any bruises.” 

 You plant the first mark on the side of his neck, then a few to the front of his throat. Chan grips at your hips again, his breath becoming shallow as you continue to go down. The sight of you on your knees, lipstick stained mouth getting closer to where he needs you most was driving him insane. 

 “Maybe we can just use the stamp. You look too good right now and I don’t know if I can-”

 The last few kisses are planted right above the waistline of his pants, causing his breath to hitch and his stomach twitch underneath your lips. 

 “All done” You whisper against his skin and look up at him through your lashes. 

 Chan throws his head back, holding back a loud moan. You were torturing him at this point so he lifts you to stand on your feet and keeps you at arms length. He mumbles sad thoughts out loud, looking anywhere but you and you can’t help but laugh.

 “I’m sorry to laugh but does that actually help get rid of it?” You ask while picking up the pillows to put them back. 

 “If I even look at you I will cum. This is the best I could come up with.” Chan tilts his head straight up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. 

 A staff member knocks on the door to tell Chan he needs to be out in 5 minutes which he couldn’t be more thankful for. You watch from the couch as he hastily throws the jacket on, careful not to mess up the stains across his body. Luckily he was able to fix his situation in time and leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. 

 “This isn’t over baby girl. I’m not going easy tonight.” He whispers against your ear then kisses your lips. 

_

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