#it sucks but to be frank i have no idea how to fix it

[cathackz]

i never talk about interpations of canon characters or headcanons or anything ever bc what if im wrong about them

[haetrack]

your fate, my karma

jung jaehyun x fem!reader

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: jaehyun realizes he’s in love with you. it’s fucked, especially because he rejected you once before. he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with you. but he can’t help it, it’s like he was made to see and touch you. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold in his secret.

warnings: angst, little fluff, friends with benefits, pining, one sided love, confession, argument, smut (MDNI), desperate jaehyun, unprotected sex (pulling out), possessiveness and jealousy, dialogue heavy at some parts

heavily inspired by somethin’ stupid - frank sinatra

part three to the how it all goes series!

you're laid back onto his bed, heavy breaths fanned across your face. on top of you is jaehyun, cheeks dusted with pink as his fingers are still move inside of you. “stop already,” you huff out a laugh, “i might die if you make me cum one more time.”

he chuckles at your words and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, sucking obscenely on them just to annoy you. it works, and you cover your eyes to get the image out of your head. you don’t offer to help him out, and he doesn’t ask for any favors.

he’s not really sure how his friendship with you got to this point. if he could put it simply, you told him that you had feelings for him, asking if he felt the same way. he said that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, that he wasn’t ready to be so vulnerable in front of another person. he still wanted to be friends with you. 

he remembers seeing sadness flash through your eyes, but you just smiled at him and accepted the answer that you got. in a way, jaehyun wished he could like you back, he hated the way he hurt you, but he just wasn’t ready. you were wary around him, trying to hide the hurt that he caused you. he couldn’t bear to see it, and hated how much you were hiding from him.

which is how he finds you next to him, curled up in his bed after he’s made you cum. he knows it probably wasn’t the best idea to propose, but he didn’t know how else he could keep you close. when he explains it to himself in his head, it sounds shitty, makes him feel a little fucked up. he tries to justify it, but really, all of this is a temporary fix to keep you close to him.

despite all the grey areas in his friendship with you, he’s certain about one thing: he really does like having you around. he’s chalked it up to his feelings just being from how long he’s known you, but he knows that there’s something else he doesn’t want to admit. because one, it’s fucked. two, he’s rejected you. three, he can’t like you.

he can’t like like you. he doesn’t even want to imagine thinking about the other word, but it plays at the back of his head sometimes. he hears it when you’re both out at a bar together, watching you drunkenly cling to his side. he hears it when you’re at his apartment after work. he hears it when your eyes look up at his when you drop to your knees.

he can hear it even now as you lay next to him, curled up into his side as your breaths even out. it doesn’t feel weird that he can feel your naked body against his, his best friend comfortably laid up next to him. is it so wrong of him to want this? you became more comfortable around him again after he had sex with you. he knows it’s just a temporary solution.

he can feel your breaths across his chest, your face nuzzling closer to him. he could move you away, could create a clearer boundary between the two of you. he feels a little selfish when he lets you stay there, deciding to wrap an arm around your shoulders as he pushes you closer. it’s not fair to either of you, he’s not your boyfriend, he shouldn’t be this close to you. 

it’s quiet in his room, save for the sound of cars driving down the road and the occasional huff you let out in your sleep. he isn’t tired at all, too lost in his thoughts as he stares up at the ceiling, the warmth of your body taking up all his thoughts. if he could, he would go back in time and stop you from confessing. he would’ve done it himself in the future, he just needed a little more time.

he can’t blame you though. it’s his fault for rejecting you, it’s his fault for thinking that he could make something happen out of this. there’s a small part of his heart that believes that you could like him again. you wouldn’t come back to him for sex every night, right? but the more realistic part of him knows that it could mean anything.

which is why he can’t stop you coming to him when you’re needy. it’s not even just those times, but he doesn’t think he could ever willingly cut you off. he likes spending time with you, and above everything else, you’re his friend.

he just can’t help but wish it could be a little more than that.

you always ask jaehyun to come over if he has the time.

as you both have grown older, it feels like you both have lost more and more time. when you were both college students, it was easy to skip a few classes and go to parties each night. but now as adults, it’s hard to find time for each other. which is why you ask him to go do mundane tasks with you, like buying groceries or trying on clothes.

today it’s going over to eat with him.

before he rejected you, it felt special to be invited to do these kinds of things with him. out of all the people he could’ve asked, he chose you. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, no, jaehyun asking you to spend time with him meant nothing but him being friendly. it’s weird looking back at how much you wanted jaehyun to like you more than a friend. 

as you make your way to his apartment, you realize how much time you spent just wishing for something to happen between you two. you wonder if it was something that was ever supposed to happen between you, or maybe if the timing just wasn’t right. you used to find yourself thinking about the what ifs after he had freshly rejected you. but now, you try to focus on what you have.

he’s just your friend, and you’re close to accepting that it’ll probably never be more than that. 

when you make it to his apartment, you don’t see him right away. you call out his name, hearing his voice from his kitchen. when you head over, you’re expecting a nice meal laid out for the two of you to eat. instead, you’re greeted by jaehyun standing by the stove, a stupid smile on his face as he greets you.

“so, you invite me over to come and eat.”

he nods, smile growing wider, “yes.”

“but i’m not seeing any food.”

“that’s because you’re gonna help me.”

you stare at him. he starts moving towards you, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. he starts dragging you towards where he was standing. you start whining, “you don’t need my help. you’re a whole grown man who can cook whatever he wants.”

he laughs, “but i need you to be my other chef… what are they called?”

you roll your eyes, “a sous chef?”

“exactly,” he points at you, as if you just solidified his argument, “what if i forget something and i need your help?”

you pat his shoulder, “then you call me while i sit over on the couch.”

he’s about to give up, but he swears there’s a certain look in your eyes that ask him to keep going. that’s how it always feels with you, a certain push-and-pull that you both can’t let go of. your fingers twitch against his shoulder, almost giving you away. he moves to hold your hand, “how about you at least watch me on the side. i just wanna talk to you.”

you almost want to point out his pouty tone, want to laugh at how there’s a frown on his face. but you can’t. he looks a little too sincere, and you don’t want to think too hard about the feelings he doesn’t have for you. you sigh, eventually giving into his words. it’s always like this, jaehyun acting like he can’t go on without you. that’s what got you here in the first place.

he smiles when you approach him, so close that his arm is touching yours. it doesn’t matter how long or how many times he’s had sex with you, to have you close to him like this makes his heart soar. 

it’s like this for the whole time you both cook. your hands lightly grazing his, the sweet smile you show him when he does good, the laugh you let out when he messes up. you take over some parts for him without him asking you to. he can’t help let his mind wander, thinking this is how it would be all the time if you two were dating.

he wouldn’t have to beg you to do something with him, you would do it on your own accord. he wouldn’t have to hold back how much he wants to kiss you, he could press as many kisses on your cheeks or lips. he could stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you forcibly kick him off of cooking duty.

instead, he’s standing in front of the food he’s making, probably overcooking it as you point and laugh at him. you even take out your phone to take a picture of him, laughing as you fiddle with your phone. he swats at you, grumbling, “if you posted that on instagram, i am definitely blocking you.”

“you know me so well. i tagged you and everything.”

he chooses not to respond, taking out plates from his cabinet for the both of you. he can see you standing next to him, waiting to plate your food. he quickly decides to plate it for you, trying to hide his pink cheeks as he pushes the plate towards you. when he’s plating his own, you speak up, “wow, what a gentleman!” he can hear the teasing tone you use, “you’re really setting the bar for all men, aren’t you, jaehyun?”

he decides to tease you back, “just trying to show you how much nicer i am than you are. you should post this on instagram, too.”

“nope, letting all my followers know how mean and horrible of a cook you are. i’m ruining your chances of getting with someone.”

he shakes his head in amusement, moving to one of the seats on his small dining table. you follow, sitting right across from him. he messes with his phone a bit before you can hear that it’s connected to his speakers. an unfamiliar tune starts playing as you watch jaehyun’s head bob along to the song. 

this is how it always is, eating together, listening to his annoyingly good music taste, and enjoying each other’s presence. the food he cooked is surprisingly good, but you try to denounce it because you did help him along the way. it’s quiet between the two of you, nothing really too important to talk about.

jaehyun notices your fingers tapping along the table to the beat of the song. he smiles, “do you like it? the song?”

you pretend to think about it, “hm... well, it’s good.”

“you’re not gonna secretly shazam it under the table like last time?”

“that was literally a one time thing,” you huff, “i’ll just go and find someone with the exact same music taste as you.”

he smiles to himself, “you know there’s no one else like me.”

you think about his words for a bit. he probably didn’t mean for them to have a double meaning, but you can’t help but find one. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to find someone who could’ve made you as happy as jaehyun does. you wonder if you do ever find someone, if you’d be able to forget jaehyun.

you feel like you’ve become so intertwined in his life that everything might lead back to him.

you eventually nod along to his words, “yeah, there’s no one else like you.”

“you’re kinda an ass for not picking her up yourself.”

jaehyun huffs at johnny’s words. it’s not that he didn’t want to, but you had assured him that you would make it on time. when he brought up your safety, you said that it was taken care of already. jaehyun couldn’t help but wonder who or what could possibly be more safe than him, but he didn’t want to argue. 

but now that you’re a little late, he can’t stop himself from worrying. johnny makes it worse, tearing into him, teasing him with every word. jaehyun hasn’t told him about his surfacing feelings for you, but johnny is notoriously nosy, probably knowing the exact day jaehyun thought that he started liking you. 

johnny takes one more jab at him, “she would’ve liked you more if you’d been the one who brought her.”

jaehyun’s shoulder bumps into johnny’s, “she already does like me a lot, so there’s no need for all of that.”

johnny shrugs, letting out an if you say so as he sips on his drink. as much as jaehyun wants to deny it, he really wishes he could’ve at least given you a ride. he would’ve immediately ditched johnny if you asked, would’ve been right outside your doorstep as soon as you said you were ready. he wants to tell himself that that’s just what friends do, but there’s something he doesn’t want to admit.

his hands move to pull out his phone, scrolling through your messages from the past hours. he knows he’s made a mistake as soon as he feels johnny’s eyes looking at his screen from over his shoulder. jaehyun makes a jokingly shocked face at johnny to try to distract him, but johnny’s face mirrors his own. 

johnny’s about to say something with a teasing smile on his face and jaehyun’s ready to stop him. instead, a ding comes from his phone, calling their attention. it’s a text from you, letting jaehyun know that you’re outside. he sends a text to you, his eyes moving to the entrance as he waits for you to walk in.

and there you are.

your eyes scan the room, looking for both him and johnny. jaehyun can feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of you, your face illuminated by the warm lights of the bar. he thinks you look pretty all the time, but now that he’s seeing you like this, he wants to keep it in his memory forever.

you quickly spot them, your face brightening up with a smile as you make your way towards them. you greet the two of them, johnny easily bringing you into a hug. when you turn to jaehyun, you expect the same, but his eyes stay on you for a moment too long. he notices your teasing smile, quickly clearing his throat before wrapping his arms around you.

johnny starts, “always so fashionably late.”

you laugh, “if i don’t come, who else is gonna be the funniest and sexiest person in our friend group?”

johnny moves to tuck an invisible strand of hair behind his ear, “i was holding that position just fine before you came.”

you slap his shoulder, a fit of laughter taking over you. jaehyun watches the two of you, quietly laughing at the side. he likes the dynamic the three of you have, always mentally thanking johnny for introducing you to him. he’d endure all of johnny’s teasing for years if it meant to have you laughing at his side.

it stays like this for a while. the three of you drinking together, laughing when johnny tries dragging you closer to the middle of the room to dance. jaehyun can feel his cheeks get hotter, pink from the alcohol and the not-so-visible adoration he holds for you. he tries to quiet his feelings, but when you lean into his side, your warm body pressing against his, he figures he can give up the act a little.

it’s at times like these where jaehyun realizes that he can see the you from before the rejection. it’s a bit selfish for him crave this side of you, the one where you don’t care how much you touch him or how you continue talking into his ear all night. he thinks that if you were both dating, he could lean over and press a kiss to your cheek, watching as you nuzzle into his side.

for now, all he can do is wrap his arm around yours as you both sway side to side. johnny went off to get another drink, promising to be back quickly. jaehyun has this little time to have you all to himself, listening to the loud chattering around him and the bass of the music loud in his ears. your eyes are closed, humming along to the song.

jaehyun could easily whisper into your ear about his feelings. you probably wouldn’t remember either way, but he knows it’s not right. it’s not like he’d want to do it this way, wanting to tell you honestly. but there’s a growing part inside his brain that’s begging him to do something about it. he has you so close now, so why can’t just say that he likes you?

the thoughts dissipate when johnny comes back, smile on his face with three more drinks in hand. johnny quickly notices how your arm is intertwined with jaehyun’s, and jaehyun can physically see the moment johnny comes up with a plan. jaehyun doesn’t bother moving from his spot, though, willing to sacrifice his humility just to have you by his side.

as if jaehyun wasn’t having thoughts of kissing or dating you, the conversation turns back to normal. the three of you chatting, exchanging work gossip and taking drinks from your cups. it’s like every night this happens, it’s a regular routine of talking and him having to fight back his more than friendly thoughts of his friend. 

except this time, while johnny’s explaining how he thinks his boss might be having an affair, you cut him off. johnny jokingly scoffs, turning to where you’re looking at. you both squeal, johnny’s hands finding your shoulders, shaking them back and forth. you gasp, “that’s him, right?”

johnny matches your tone, “totally him! i could recognize him from anywhere!”

raising an eyebrow in your direction, jaehyun asks, “and who exactly are we talking about?”

you turn back at him, “that’s jungwoo, someone we knew from college!”

the name sounds familiar to jaehyun. there’s probably been a few times you talked about him during one semester. he’s not sure which one it could be, but there’s a memory of a faint smile on your face while talking about him. it sets a weird feeling in jaehyun’s stomach, and he realizes you look a little too excited at the sight of jungwoo.

jaehyun’s arm is still looped around yours, a small frown on his face, “does everyone and their moms know jungwoo now?”

“he was funny in class and he bought me coffee once,” johnny hums.

you join in, “he is definitely funny and he did good when we worked on a project together.”

jaehyun pointedly glares at johnny when he speaks, but when you speak, he just holds you closer to him. he can see how johnny watches him, being reminded of how he looked like he was planning something earlier. jaehyun sees it now, johnny’s face darkening before he speaks, turning to speak to you, “i think you should go talk to him.”

jaehyun sends a pointed glare at him before looking at you, his eyes widening when he sees the shy smile on your face. you ask, “what if he doesn’t even recognize me?”

“why wouldn’t he? he always looked at you a certain way when you guys talked, he definitely remembers you.”

jaehyun wonders why no one told him more about this “jungwoo” and his apparent more-than-friendly feelings for you? if johnny knows, then does that mean the three of you hung out before without him? how much has jaehyun missed between you and jungwoo? jaehyun silently takes another sip of his drink, his eyes peering over his cup as he watches you get lost in your thoughts.

he thinks you might drop the conversation, but you breath out, “i’ll do it. i’ll go talk to him.”

jaehyun tries his best not to acknowledge the growing jealousy he can feel bubbling up in his throat. he has to bite back a remark that would probably make things worse for himself. he decides to let go of your arm, watching as you easily separate from him. johnny starts hyping you up, giving you encouraging words as jaehyun massages your shoulders.

although jaehyun wishes he could say don’t go over there or i’ll die, he decides to send you a thumbs up before you walk away. his throat burns, and as much as he wants to think it’s from the alcohol, it’s from seeing you walk away from him. you’re walking to someone that isn’t him, sharing your warmth that’s supposed to be jaehyun’s.

he realizes then and there that he shouldn’t be thinking that.

you’re pressed against jaehyun’s bed, his face burying into your neck as he leaves kisses across your skin. you had to tell him to not leave any marks when you feel his teeth nip at your skin, and you could’ve sworn you heard a huff come out of him when you did. he’s practically pinning you down, body barely hovering over yours.

there are days where he gets like this, too desperate to where he doesn’t realize he grips you a little tighter, his voice growing deeper, relieving all of his stress by making you both feel good. you can tell when he gets like this, a quick text of an you up? letting you know what he wants. you’ve grown to learn all his habits.

it does feel a little different today, though. he was quick to greet you, quick to bring you to bed to kiss you. there were no words of how work was hard for him or if he was stressed about something that happened. not that there’s anything wrong with him not saying, but there’s a certain desperation in his movements as his lips trail down your body.

you decide not to ask about it, not wanting to pressure him into talking about something he doesn’t want to talk about. you’re quick to forget about it when he presses a kiss onto your clothed clit. he calls your name, bringing your attention to the heavy gaze he gives you. he murmurs out, “gonna let me see this pretty pussy?”

you nod quickly, lifting your hips up so he can take off your panties. he moves to lay between your thighs, humming when he sees how you’re dripping for him. it’s embarrassing, trying to close your legs. you’re met with his hands keeping them apart, chuckling at the whine you let out.

“didn’t know you could be this wet for me. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think that you need me.”

you let out a small whimper when he traces a finger down your slit, “jaehyun, please, need you to- need you to do something!”

“tell me what you need, pretty. if you don’t tell me, how am i supposed to help?”

“need you, jaehyun! want your fingers, want you to touch me!”

“of course, that’s all i needed to hear.”

you can feel one of his fingers slide into you, your head falling back onto his pillow at the feeling. you clench around his digit, already begging for more, needing him to fill you up. he doesn’t tease you for being so desperate, quickly giving into your pleas as another finger slips inside you. you let out a cry when you feel his thumb circle around your clit.

“such a messy baby, dripping all over my fingers. needed me so bad, right?”

moans of his name tumble out of your lips when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that sends shocks down your spine. your hands are gripping onto the sheets, realizing just how fast you're about to cum. you’re sure he can feel you clench around his digits, especially when you manage to open your eyes and see him looking straight at you.

“gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“fuck, yes! please, wanna cum, need you to let me cum!”

his movements speed up at your words, “go ahead and show me how much you need it.”

you’re quick to fall apart, your orgasm crashing into you. your thighs shut around his hand that’s helping you ride out your orgasm. all you can hear are the sounds you make and the encouragement that jaehyun mumbles out to you. you’re too fucked out to realize that his clean hand intertwines with yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

before you can comment on it, he’s quick to pull away from you, hands moving to undo his pants. you move to try to do it for him, but he swats your hands away with a laugh. after letting you gawk at him for a bit, he takes his boxers off, a whine leaving you at the sight of his leaking cock. he tilts his head at you, “are you gonna let me fill your pretty pussy up?”

“please,” you moan. your legs move to wrap around his waist, bringing his hips flush to yours. his cock ruts against your cunt, still sensitive from your last orgasm. he shushes you when you let out a small gasp, one of his hands soothing the skin of your thigh. you let out a small cry when his tips rubs against your clit, the last of your patience running out.

you can tell it’s getting to him, too. his cheeks and ears are flushed, his eyebrows furrowed as he switches between watching your face and where he’s pressed against you. he bites back a groan when his tip catches at your entrance, trying hard not to push into you right then and there. he puts all his focus on you, “tell me that you want me to fill you up. tell me that you need me to fuck you.”

you whine, your head digging into the pillow. despite his flushed face, there’s a cocky look on his face as he stares down at you. you’re too desperate to try to fight back, losing the battle as you let out a whimper of his name. there’s almost a surprised look in his eyes as he sees you give up this easily, leaning down to give you a quick kiss to your collarbone.

“i know, baby, need you just as bad. gonna fuck you like you need it, okay?”

you whisper out a thank you as he moves to line himself up at your entrance. he slowly slides in, letting out a deep groan as he watches himself sink into you. he fights off his eyes from closing at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his length. you’re no better, writhing around in the sheets, whimpers of his name escaping you.

once he bottoms out, he lets out a grunt, “missed this pussy so much. so fucking warm, so tight, all for me.” you’re quick to agree, hands trying to reach at his shoulders to bring him closer to you. he gives in easily, huffing at how he can feel himself deeper inside you at the new position. he kisses the valley of your breasts, sucking lightly.

he starts off slow, teasing you as he thrusts into you, slow and deep. if you can listen past your own moans and whimpers, you can hear the quiet curses and sounds he lets out, trying to hide how much you’re affecting him. when your nails claw at his back, he breaks, “didn’t even mean to call you this late, i just needed you so bad.”

his words get to you, the fact that he wanted to call you because he was needy makes you clench around him. he can’t help but pick up the pace of his thrusts at the feeling, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. you don’t know what has him so worked up, but if he’s going to make you feel this good, you might have to figure it out.

you need just a little more, your hand trailing down your body to get to your clit. you moan in relief when your fingers circle your clit, clenching tightly around jaehyun’s length. it has his hips stuttering slightly, eyes making their way to your hand. he’s quick to push your hand away to replace it with his own, thumb making tight circles around the nub. 

he move up to whisper into your ear, “only i can make you feel this good, right? i know you better than anyone else, even yourself.”

you shake your head at his words, but your hips roll up into his, trying to fit more of him inside you. he chuckles lowly at the sight, a small smile on his face as he watches you. he’s slamming into you now, any patience he had now gone as he nears the edge. he starts, “no? trust me, pretty. i know just how you like to be touched, how you liked to be fucked. i know you so well that i just know that you’re close to cumming.”

tears prick your eyes, because yes, you are close to cumming. you can’t help it, not when he’s fucking you like this. he’s not usually this talkative, choosing rather to focus on getting away from any stresses. but now, he’s letting you in on his thoughts, letting you know what could possibly be nagging at him. you’ll save it for another time.

you’re surrounded by all of him, chest touching his as his warm breath hits your neck. you used to wish for him to kiss you during moments like these, moments where you’re both so close, adrenaline too high. now, all you can do is whine out his name, begging for him to let you cum.

it’s easy for you to let go of any past emotions you had for him, but for jaehyun, he wishes he could kiss you. he wishes that you could want him again, wishes that he didn’t have to fuck you like this. this is what he wanted, though. he just didn’t think it would be this hard. he tries to ignore it by groaning into your ear, “gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock?”

“y-yes, please! you make me feel so good!”

“yeah? show me then, pretty girl. show me how i’m the only one who can make you feel this good.”

at the sound of his voice, you cum. your chest arches up into his, nails digging into his back as you let go. he’s moaning at the feeling, his hips stuttering as he tries to fuck into your tight pussy. he has to bite down onto your shoulder at the feeling, holding back just how bad he wants to cum inside you.

when you start whining, he’s quick to pull out of your heat, quickly jerking himself off to the sight of how fucked out you look. with a moan of your name, his cum shoots out over your stomach, his cheeks a pretty pink as he does. 

it’s quiet in his room, save for the deep breaths you both let out. he’s just staring down at you, saving the image of you covered in his cum in his mind. you don’t mind, too tired to notice the slight adoration in his eyes as he stares. it is embarrassing though, covering your face with your arm as you tell him to move.

he blinks away his thoughts, chuckling at your embarrassment. he pats your thigh, moving away as he goes to get a towel to clean you up. he’s being careful with you, his movements slow as the towel moves around your body. there’s a soft look in his eyes, a lazy smile on his face as he indirectly touches you. he’s quick to throw the towel into his laundry basket, even quicker to join you in bed. 

in a motion that almost seems too soft for the fact that he just fucked you into his sheets, he pulls your back into his chest. one of his hands makes it to your side, letting it sit there. his breaths are evening out, fanning across your shoulder that he nuzzles into. his touches are hesitant against your skin, almost as if he was debating on whether or not he could touch you like this.

you almost want to push his hand away or try to make some space between the two of you. friends should not be holding each other like this, friends should not be letting each other bask in the warmth of their bodies. friends shouldn’t even be having sex, not like this.

but you figure just this once, you’ll let yourself have this moment. it’s a bit selfish, getting to have jaehyun like this. you wished he’d hold you like this every single time. you think if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from falling back in love with him. there’s no way for you to win when it comes to jaehyun.

as he presses a kiss and murmurs a goodnight into your shoulder, you make a promise to yourself: you won’t ever lose yourself over jaehyun again.

jaehyun realizes how little time he’s been spending with you recently.

he’s been hearing more about this jungwoo guy. you’ve told him can’t hang out, i’m with jungwoo right now or i’ll be hanging out with jungwoo later. you’ve been so busy catching up with jungwoo that jaehyun hasn’t had the time to talk to you. no more eating or shopping together, not when jungwoo’s around.

jaehyun doesn’t want to say he’s necessarily jealous of the relationship you two share, but can’t say it doesn’t sit right with him. jaehyun is still your friend after all, and he doesn’t like hearing you talk so much about him. during the small chances jaehyun gets to talk to you, you always slip in one mention about jungwoo.

what about jaehyun? what does jungwoo have that he doesn’t? he could totally treat and touch you better than jungwoo ever could. he practically does already. he can’t help but let these little thoughts enter his mind. if jungwoo’s in the way, how is jaehyun supposed to show you how much he likes you?

it’s one day that you’re both splayed across his couch, your legs resting over his as his thumb smoothes across the skin of your thigh when jungwoo is brought up again. out of the corner of his eye, he can see you smile and lightly laugh at your phone. jaehyun, being the nosy person that he is, can’t help but try to reach over to see what you’re laughing at.

you’re quick to push him away, chuckling at the sight of the small pout on his face. he tries again, and you decide it’s probably better just to sit beside him instead. you begrudgingly show him your phone, and he squints his eyes so he can read your screen better.

it’s quiet for a few moments before he hums at the texts between you and jungwoo. it’s a conversation funny enough to make you laugh. he tries not to roll his eyes at the cutesy way jungwoo texts, him being clearly interested in you. he doesn’t want to say anything about it though, doesn’t want you to know that jungwoo bothers him for reasons that he shouldn’t be thinking. 

“he’s funny,” jaehyun muses, trying to stop the snarky remark he wants to say.

“way funnier than you,” you tease, watching him deflate back to his side of the couch. 

“there’s been times where you’ve laughed at my jokes though, like laughed laughed.”

“i was either super drunk or bored out of my mind, so those don’t count.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes at you, deciding to ignore your words, choosing to believe that you think he’s the funniest man ever. he’s been finding himself having little competitions with jungwoo that only he’s a part of. jungwoo is funny? jaehyun is funnier. jungwoo is cute? jaehyun is cute, too, just give him a minute.

jaehyun tries to boil it down to the fact he’s always been competitive, but he knows it’s more than that. in his head, it doesn’t matter what jungwoo does better than jaehyun because right now, you're in his apartment, on his couch, deciding to spend meaningless time with him. 

“what have you both been doing? i haven’t seen you at all this week.” he hates how his voice sounds, a little too clingy for his liking, but he hopes you don’t hear it.

“nothing, really. we’ve just been going out to eat or hanging out when we have the time.”

jaehyun figures you both somehow have all the time in the world in order to be hanging out this much. he makes his voice whiny before speaking, “i miss you, please don’t leave me forever.”

you laugh at the sound of his voice, pulling your legs away from him. “you’re acting like me spending time with jungwoo is gonna kill you.”

“what’s killing me is the fact i don’t get to see you that much anymore,” he grumbles. 

he notices that you don’t respond right away, and when he goes to look at you, your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a certain look in your eyes. did he say too much? before he can start panicking, you turn towards him, “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“pretend like you miss me when we already spend a lot of time together. you literally called me up the other night.”

jaehyun lets out a breath, “sorry, but you’re still my friend. i do miss you, i’m jealous that jungwoo gets to see you that much.” although he says it jokingly, there’s definitely truth behind his words. it might not mean much to you, but the fact that jungwoo gets to see you in a way that only jaehyun feels like he deserves, it hurts him.

“i’m gonna tell jungwoo you’re being mean to him,” you huff.

“tell him then,” jaehyun slings an arm around your waist, “let him know that he needs to learn how to share.”

“first of all,” you slide his arm off of you, “don’t say it like that because you make it sound like i’m an object. two, i think you might need to learn how to share.”

he hums, “you were mine first.”

“i was never yours,” you grouch, “you made that clear when you rejected me.”

he can tell you’re joking, but he can feel his blood run cold at your words. it’s a reminder to him that the rejection is still clear in your mind, reminding him just how much he hurt you. it will always be a reminder of how he messed up what could've been a good relationship with you if he just had more time.

he can’t blame you for his own mistake. he can’t.

in the best way he can, he puts his hands together and grovels, “please, can you find it in your kind soul to forgive me?”

you scoff, rightfully so, before grabbing your phone to take a picture of him. you’re quiet for a few moments more, jaehyun knowing that you’re about to post the picture on your instagram story for everyone to see, including jungwoo. he doesn’t want to stop you, equal parts of wanting to show off how you’re hanging out with him and a little bit of embarrassment. 

you set your phone down, placing your hands on top of his, “you can stop. now i kinda just feel bad for you. you do deserve it, though.”

jaehyun doesn’t move, staring at you with a certain look in his eyes. he can tell you right here, he thinks. he’s thought about what he’d say if he were to confess to you almost too much. he’s practiced his lines before, thinking up the perfect way he’d confess. it almost feels right to do it now, clearing his throat and-

your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from him. he grimaces when you show him the notification. what seems to be jungwoo’s account liking your story, the story that has jaehyun begging for your apology posted on it. you sigh dreamily, “told you he’s funny.”

“not funny when it’s jungwoo.”

“jaehyun!”

you find yourself drinking at jaehyun’s place again.

it’s a slow night, both of you had stressful days. you choose to stay in jaehyun’s kitchen, laughing at unfunny words and pouring more wine for each other as the night rolls on. you didn’t mean to stay over so late, but jaehyun practically begged you to spend some time with him. you were quick to say yes under the guise that all he wanted to do was be with his friend.

before the night went too deep, you texted jungwoo saying that you probably won’t be able to call him tonight. he responds quick, a have fun! and i hope you sleep well :) flashing on your screen. you smile warmly at the messages, but quickly notice jaehyun also staring at them. you push at his shoulders, whining over how he’s invading your privacy.

his cheeks are rosy from the wine, a sly smile on his face as he asks, “how am i not supposed to look when i see you smiling like that.”

“you’re supposed to be a good friend and support me in my times of need!”

he puts his hands up in defense, that annoying smile still looking back at you, “thank you for being so vulnerable around me. and who’s to say i don’t support you in your times of need?”

you hear the double meaning in his words, swatting him away, “hey! you’re actually so gross.”

he just chuckles at your words, enjoying how easily you get embarrassed at his teasing. it’s been happening more often, and jaehyun can’t help but piece together that it might be because of jungwoo. jaehyun feels that you might be slipping away right in front of him, and he can’t really do anything to stop it.

you aren’t completely unaware of jaehyun trying to get you to hang out with him. he’s been sending more texts recently, nothing really important being said. you’re not sure how obvious you’re being with jungwoo, but you’re sure that jaehyun has at least an inkling on how you feel about him. which leads you to believe that jaehyun might be a little jealous.

it was never your intention to make him jealous. that night when you first saw jungwoo again was all unplanned. you never thought you would end up talking to him, never thought you’d like the way he treated you. he was so sweet to you, always trying to take care of your every need when prompted.

it’s bad to compare, but you realize that jaehyun’s only being so nice to you now is because jungwoo’s being nice to you. 

that’s not to say that jaehyun was never not nice to you, but you could tell that it’s a different kind of nice when it comes to him. the relationship you have with jaehyun now feels more like a bandaid to cover all of the bad things that have happened, no one bothering to address it. you don’t want to either way, no use in bringing up what shouldn’t be talked about.

even now, as you’re here with him in his kitchen, feeling the cold air from the open window drift in, there’s unspoken words between the two of you. you can hear the music playing from his speakers in the other room, the melody sticking in your head. it’s weird to think that you would’ve never gotten to see jaehyun like this if you didn’t stay with him.

it’s quiet for a few moments, apart from jaehyun humming along to the song that’s playing. it’s dark, his warm lights low as they cover the both of you. it’s nice like this, a little drunk and a little quiet; you don’t have to think about anything you don’t want to. you don’t think before you speak, “i do miss you, too, you know.” 

“yeah?”

“you’re still someone i appreciate, even after everything.”

he doesn’t respond, and you think he’s taking in your words. you’re not sure why you didn’t specify ‘friend’ but you know he knows better than to have his hopes up anymore. you see that the tips of his ears are pink, the lazy smile on his face showing that he’s a bit tipsy too. he’s not looking at you, you’re not really sure what he’s thinking-

“i think… i think i love you.”

“what?”

his eyes immediately snap to yours, widening as he realizes what slipped out of his mouth. slightly panicking, he stands up, trying to backtrack, “no, i- look-”

“what did you say?”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it-”

“what does that even mean? you can’t just randomly say you love me and then take it back?”

he chooses not to answer right away, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer. he can fix this, he can help himself, it’s just… he doesn’t really want to. it’s almost selfish with how he feels a little relief with his confession. “since you’re asking,” he starts, “i… i like you. i’ve liked you for a while now.”

when he looks at you, the anger from before is still there. you’re biting down on your lip, hands balled at your sides as his words hit you. “jaehyun… do you know how wrong that is? since when? after you rejected me?”

“no, i- fine. yes, after i rejected you. i know it’s wrong and i know i shouldn’t but it clicked for me, even if it was a little late.”

“a little late? jaehyun, you’re telling me this after you know i’m talking to someone. you knew that there’d be a high chance that i wouldn’t feel the same. i know you’re not that dumb.”

“but that’s how you felt when you asked me out? even if there was a chance that i would say no to you, you still did it, right? that’s exactly how i feel, how bad would it be if i tried?”

a shocked laugh leaves you, “that isn’t fair! you’re not being fair! you’re not thinking about how i would feel knowing this!”

you think he knows that it’s not the same between you and him. you confessed because you genuinely thought you had a chance with him. jaehyun’s only confessing because you’re talking to jungwoo. 

“i should’ve never let this happen! fuck, i knew if i kept talking to you, something bad would happen.”

he scoffs, wanting to call out your bluff. “i never forced you to come over and talk. you weren’t forced to come over and have sex with me. you could’ve stopped this at any time, but you kept coming back to me.”

you let out an exasperated sound, “we were friends, jaehyun. friends hang out and talk, that’s literally all we were doing.”

he snaps, “friends don’t fuck. friends don’t hold each other after sex. you can’t say that you didn’t feel anything between us. that’s the whole reason i called you for sex the other day, i needed you."

you can hear how loud your heart is pounding in your chest. your head hurts already, the faint song playing in the other room only adding to the pain. there’s nothing more that you want to do than just go home. you wish you could’ve been more clear, you wished you would’ve drawn a clearer line between the two of you. now you’re stuck like this.

you sigh out, mumbling into the quiet air, “if i had known that you were gonna be like this, i would’ve made sure to end whatever we had as soon as possible.”

“if you never met jungwoo, then this probably never would’ve happened. i could’ve asked you out the normal way, but you kind of forced me into drunkenly confessing to you.”

you send a glare straight at him, “do not assume how i would feel in any situation. the fact that you didn’t even want to tell me that you liked me says everything i need to know.”

“how was i supposed to tell the girl i rejected that i like her now?”

“exactly! don’t you see how fucked up that is?”

he shrugs, closing himself off before you can start up again. you know how he gets, pretending that none of this really matters to him. it’s childish, and you know he knows it. you don’t know what else to do. if he can’t sort himself out, there’s no reason for you to be here anymore.

you’re quick to get up and out of the kitchen. he doesn’t look at you at first, but as soon as he hears you pack your stuff into your bag and your car keys in hands, he follows right after you. there’s a startled look on his face, you can tell that he didn’t think you would leave him. you watch as he raises a hand to stop you, but quickly puts it down after some thought.

you let out a breath, “i’m leaving. you can decide if you want to pull yourself together and grow up if you wanna talk. if not, don’t even bother texting me.”

he doesn’t try to argue, watching as you walk out his door. he can’t feel anything, doesn’t really want to do anything other than lay in bed. he walks over to his bedroom, the sound of a familiar slow song getting louder as he walks closer. he makes it inside, pausing the song before laying down onto his back. it’s quiet again.

he just ruined everything.

for the first time in a while, your life feels kinda normal.

there’s not a lot for you to worry about if you ignore a few things. work is fine, your friends are celebrating your freedom, and jungwoo comforts you in every way possible. you realize that jungwoo might’ve been everything you’ve been looking for in a person. he stays close when you need him and gives you space when you ask.

you tell jungwoo that you’re happy to have him right now. you tell him that you’re sorry for acting a little weird recently (he quickly denies your claim). you don’t tell him exactly what happened with jaehyun, but you can assume he at least knows a little. he doesn’t try to pry it out of you, choosing not to remind you of something you don’t want to think of.

and you’re not thinking about it. you haven’t gotten any texts from jaehyun, so why should you care?

as much as you don’t want to admit it, it does feel weird not having jaehyun in your life. you didn’t realize how much you thought about him or how much time was dedicated to being with him. it didn’t seem to matter at first because you thought it was because you both were friends, but you realize he was kind of stringing you along.

there’s a lot of time you have to yourself now. you don’t have to worry about jaehyun calling you randomly throughout the day or one of his spontaneous meetups. you don’t have to think about his you up? texts during the late hours of the night. you don’t have to think about any hurt he’s caused you in the past. none of it will mean anything anymore.

until you get a call from johnny.

“hey, johnny. what’s up?”

he skips right past your greeting, “why doesn’t jaehyun want to hang out with you?”

you’re shocked for multiple reasons. one, of course, johnny already knows your business. two, how dare jaehyun say he doesn’t want to hang out with you. you scoff, “what exactly did he say?”

“he said he was busy, but, like i know he’s not gonna be busy. and that obviously means that something is going on between you two.”

you want to scream into your phone’s microphone. jaehyun doesn’t deserve to set the boundary between you two. he was the one who messed it up in the first place, so why is he the one trying to put distance between you two? “johnny,” you start, “do you promise not to tell anyone about what i’m about to tell you? you can’t even tell jaehyun.”

he lets out a little shocked sound and you can imagine him sitting up straight. he whispers into the call, “what is it?”

“the other night, jaehyun told me he likes me. actually, in his own words, he said he thinks he loves me.”

he gasps loudly into the phone, “what? are you sure? like jaehyun said that? jaehyun?”

“exactly! it doesn’t even seem like something he’d do! he said it was because we were both drinking.”

“that doesn’t even matter,” johnny sighs, “you don’t go around saying that to your friend, especially not the friend you rejected before.”

“you get it! that’s literally what i told him! i need to sit down with you so we can discuss this.”

it’s quiet on the other side of the call, and by his silence, you can tell he’s planning something. it’s never good when he does, so you try to call out his name before he can think any more, but you’re too late.

“i think you should sit down with him to talk about what happened.”

you sarcastically laugh, “he hasn’t even texted me, there’s no way i’m talking to him first.”

“i didn’t say you should text him first, i’m just saying that you both should talk. you can’t just leave this off on bad terms.”

“and if i want to?”

“i know you don’t. plus, it feels like i’m a child whose parents are going through divorce, so you need to fix this.”

you whine into the phone, which causes johnny to laugh on the other end. he’s right, you don’t want this to end badly with jaehyun. even if you both decide to never talk again, you don’t want to have a strained relationship with him. after a few moments, you answer him, “fine, but don’t have your hopes up because even i don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

“okay, perfect, because i already kinda convinced jaehyun to meet up with you.”

“johnny!”

he defends himself, “like i said, i’m basically seeing you guys go through a divorce. please bring my family back together.”

“whatever, do what you want to do.” johnny cheers from the other end of the call, quickly letting out an you won’t be disappointed! before he hangs up, not even letting you say goodbye. as much as you try to hide it, a part of you is happy at the thought of jaehyun wanting to work things out with you.

even if you don’t know what you want just yet, you’ll get yourself ready.

you realize you’re no longer happy when a few days later, jaehyun shows up to your front doorstep, a frown painted on his face.

you almost want to slam the door on him when he speaks. his voice is quiet, “why did you tell johnny you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

as soon as he stops talking, it all clicks in your head. johnny tricked you both. you’ll have to get mad at him later, but for right now, you have to deal with jaehyun who’s pretending he didn’t just ignore you for almost two weeks. you reluctantly let him in, watching as he walks in almost too normally.

no one bothers talking, no one trying to make the first move. you’re staring him down and he tries to ignore the hard stare you’re giving him. while you’re glaring at him, you can see how he looks more tired than usual. the faint lines under his eyes give it away, and when he does finally make eye contact with you, it’s soft, no anger behind his eyes.

you step back, breathing in before speaking, “let’s go talk in my room.”

he sends you a soft smile, not needing you to guide him to your room. he knows the whole layout by now, feeling more like he’s leading you to your own room. he opens the door for you, choosing to let you walk in first. it’s awkward when you have to motion for him to step in, watching him not really knowing what to do.

you move to sit on your bed, and he moves to sit at your desk. it’s not as awkward as it is tense. you don’t know what to say, you didn’t plan on him coming over. his eyes are darting across your room, his eyebrows furrowed as he presumably tries to start the conversation.

“how are you doing?”

you roll your eyes at the simple question, “i’ve been doing fine. i feel like my life’s been a lot calmer since that day.”

he leans forward in his seat, “really? i feel like i’ve lost ten years of my life.”

deserved, you think. you gather all your thoughts before speaking, “i think the days that i spent without thinking about you really changed how i feel. i realized just how much i was entangled in your life. it wasn’t good for me.”

he looks off to the side, taking in your words. you see the hurt that settles in his face, you see how it’s going to be burned into his memory. he smacks his lips, “i think for me it’s the opposite. i realized during this time without you really solidified my feelings. i can’t lie and say that my feelings have changed, because they haven’t.”

you feel anger bubbling up inside you, but you can’t do that today. you take a few breaths, calming yourself down as you focus on what you’re most curious about, “why did you start liking me?”

“i don’t even know. i know it’s shitty of me to realize how much you mean to me after i said no to your confession. i understand why you said no to me.”

“i’m sorry for getting mad so quickly. it was just so out of the blue, i never would’ve expected you to say that.”

you pat the spot on your bed next to you, calling his name softly. he slowly moves to your side, his eyes focused on his hands splayed across his knees. after all this time without you, he wishes he could hold your hand in his, even if he tried to play it off as a joke. it’s been too long without your touch. you took away the only thing that kept him close to you. 

“can i ask something?”

he nods, putting all of his focus on you. it feels intense when he does, you haven’t had him this close in a long time. you clear your throat, “this wasn’t all because of jungwoo, right?”

he sighs, his jaw clenching as he thinks of the right words to say. he’s deep in thought, and you almost want to tell him to drop it all together. he decides to speak up, “honestly? seeing you both together kind of made me realize my feelings. i was losing you to him, and i really couldn’t handle it. i’m not trying to ruin whatever you have going on with him, i promise.”

you don’t know what else to say. so much of this could've been prevented if you kept an eye out for yourself. you also wouldn’t want to go back and change what you’ve done. you don’t regret ever being jaehyun’s friend, you don’t regret all the memories you’ve made with him. 

“so, this… this is really over then?”

you shrug, “i would think so.”

it’s quiet for a few moments, the both of you letting the thought seep in. “this” has never been defined between the two of you, but you can assume it’s almost everything you do together. what you’re feeling now is close to how you felt when he first rejected you. what’s different now is that you can’t help but feel just a little relieved, ending something that probably should’ve never happened.

in another world, you think you would’ve reciprocated jaehyun’s feelings. it would’ve been easy, pieces easily falling into place as you both fall for each other. it’s almost as if it were supposed to be something that was natural. but jaehyun had given the time for you to move on, and you did. it was too late for him to realize his own feelings.

“we can still be friends if you can handle that.”

he laughs incredulously, “if i can handle that? i’m a grown man, thank you very much.”

“yeah? well i think if i were you, i wouldn’t be able to hold back my feelings,” you tease.

he grumbles, “too soon, you’re too mean.”

jaehyun watches a pretty smile adorn your face, and if it weren’t for the current circumstances, he would tell you how pretty you look. he keeps the thought to himself though, opting to ask, “how about one last drink together as friends who are a little more than friends?”

you hum, pretending to think about it. you watch worry wash over his face, and you do feel bad a little bit. “one more time, just for your sake. you look like you might start crying.”

he groans as you walk away to get some wine for the both of you. you’re by yourself for a few moments as you pour the drinks. you feel awkward in here by yourself, left with thoughts and memories of all the things you’ve done together. all the times you’ve had sex, all the times where he’s felt like your boyfriend, but none of it holds to him being your friend.

you don’t know if you can continue being friends with him. 

it would be unfair to jungwoo. you haven’t told him the exact dynamics of how your friendship with jaehyun worked, but you can assume he knows most of it. 

you return to the sight of jaehyun looking around your room. he’s been in here too many times to count, and yet seeing him here now, it’s weird. he feels out of place, he feels almost like a stranger in your own apartment. despite the history you have with him, it seemed to fall apart so easily as soon as conflict hit.

he thanks you quietly when you hand him the glass. you take a small sip of your drink, watching jaehyun do the same from the corner of your eye. after the drink, he chooses to speak, “so how are you and jungwoo?’

“that’s how you want to start our small talk?” you splutter out.

“i mean, can i not be interested in my friends' love life?”

well it’s hard when you were directly involved in it. you shrug, taking another small sip before speaking, “i’m… really happy that i’m talking to him. he takes care of me, he’s always asking how i’m doing. it’s nice being with him.”

you can tell jaehyun is trying not to let your words affect him, “are you both… officially dating yet?”

his words make you shy, your facing feeling hot at the idea of dating jungwoo. brushing off his words, you laugh, “no! not yet, at least. i think i’d say yes if he asked me out.”

he nods, his head hanging heavy, hand twirling the wine in his glass. you know what he’s thinking, you don’t need to ask him. you can’t be his, you won’t ever be his. you think that this was never supposed to work out, no matter how hard you tried or how much you think he could’ve loved you. he wasn’t meant for you.

“okay, one more thing.”

he nods, turning his attention back on you.

“did you really mean it back then, like, when you said that you weren’t ready for a relationship?”

“yes, i was scared. i think back then, even though i didn’t realize it, i also had feelings for you. but it was… it just wasn’t the right time for me. even though i liked spending so much time with you, there were things i wanted to figure out first.”

you cock your head to the side, “like?”

he hums in thought for a bit, trying to remember times from so long ago. thinking back, you remember how you felt old, you felt like you were already an adult. but he’s right, there were still things you didn’t know about yourself, and you wonder if dating jaehyun would’ve stopped you from figuring them out.

“i guess… mostly wanting to decide what i wanted to do with my life. now that i’ve somewhat settled, i feel more confident in what i want. even though it came at the worst time, i was so sure that i could see you in my future.”

the confession doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. you can relate to how he feels. for the longest time, you felt that you needed jaehyun in your life. it wasn’t until after he confessed to you that you saw that there’s more to your life than him. you’re thankful for all the time you’ve had with him, but there’s still so much more for you to do.

it’s like this for a few more hours, the sunset bleeding into the night time. you both have a few more drinks, jaehyun eventually turns on music playing on his phone. you feel a lot better now. you only want the best for jaehyun, and you think that this is the best for the both of you.

jaehyun has to leave at some point, one of the last buses back to his place coming soon. you don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave the comfort of your bedroom. there’s a small part of you that’s scared that you’ll never see him here again. you try to remind him that this is what you both need, clear, distinct boundaries.

you walk him to your door, “you’ll text me once you're at your apartment, right?”

he shuffles over, “yeah, i will. johnny will make sure i get there safe.”

you nod, opening the door for him. he walks out, watching you with an unsure look on his face. a part of you wants to let him in, wants to let him give you one last kiss. it’s wrong, your grip on your door getting tighter at the thought. he still has a strong pull on you, your hand wanting to reach for his.

it’s not meant to be.

“goodnight, jaehyun. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“alright, goodnight. i… i’ll be here if you ever need me. i’ll wait.”

you smile, “i know. thank you, get back safe.”

he nods, waving you off before he walks away. you close the door, locking it behind you. it’s quiet now, no soft conversations, no laughing, just the sound of your feet pattering on the floor. 

you don’t really feel like crying. you don’t feel like there’s something missing inside you. jaehyun used to be a big part of you, but as time went on, he took up less and less space.

there’s more important things to worry about than someone who couldn’t make time for you. you have time to figure things out now, you have time to figure out what you really want, whether that’s jungwoo or someone else. 

you’ve never felt better. 

as jaehyun scrolls through instagram, he sees a post from you. it’s been a while since he’s seen you in person, so he’ll take anything he can get. the first few photos are of you, and the next few are pictures of things he assumes you found pretty. the last photo is what makes him pause, a photo of what he can only assume is jungwoo holding your hand.

he checks the comments, some of your friends replying with different emojis, all to tease you with. they all seem to know about your budding relationship with jungwoo. jaehyun’s glad that it’s going well for the both of you. it’s what you deserve after what he put you through.

he hung out with you and johnny the other day. as much as everyone tried to be normal, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he changed the dynamics of your friendship. you and johnny were the same, easily laughing and joking around with each other. it’s not exactly awkward when you and jaehyun talk, but the air around you is certainly different.

it’s what should’ve happened, at the start of it all you both should’ve set rules. jaehyun realizes that he would’ve never gotten to see you in the ways he did. warm lights from his kitchen painting over your skin, or when the light from the moon would shine over your body while he holds you close. he wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

you were all he had, and losing you is something he will always regret. he knows that you’re doing good now, not just with jungwoo. he doesn’t want to come in and ruin what you’ve built up. it doesn’t matter how much he wants to hold you in his arms or kiss you, you’re better off without him.

he just wishes he had more time.

a/n: hey people... what did we think of this ending... jaehyun is my friend i do not hate him i like him... anyways i hoped u like this... it took longer than i thought it would but im glad its out HOORAYYY

taglist: @froggyforyoongi @the-universe-in-you-jjh @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @jaehyunful @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @diorcities @hrts4doie @ohmytyong @ecvm5236 @faeryus @riri4andy @rjtulips @missesgirl @shiorebirth @sugaringgcaramel @camomillie @ninicornposts @il02isa @sincerelyneo @perfumejamal @justhgiwo @lovingyoulovinme2 @babyriannie @eunseoksimp @jeonreal @mawnehkah @shoetaroshoe (thank u all omg 🫂❤️)

[otherone12]

Hi, I'm obsessed with the way you write your stories and I'd like to ask for a request, it's the first time I've done one but I love your stories. I'd like to ask you for one about basement gee x reader (the plot doesn't matter) but I'd like something smut (of course one where both are of legal age) but I'd like to see gerard as someone who is geeky and is in love (somewhat sickly) with the reader

I'm sorry if it's weird, and also English is not my first language so I'm sorry if the wording of the message is bad.

I’m Awkward, Not Dangerous!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

Hi!!! Omg, I'm glad you like my fics <3 !!! And also thanks for requesting!! I really loved the idea!! Well, I tried to make his nerdy side very visible, mainly by making him very weird in terms of social relationships and some geek references along in the story. Ngl, I had to write this one like three times, 'cause was never good enought, but I think it's nice now lol. I hope you like it! (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: It suppoused to be another day, but things turned a different when Gerard invite you to watch a movie in his basement, let's just say he REALLY likes you, and you discovered this in the creepy way possible. (I'm terrible at writing summaries)

- Word Count: 3.000

- Warnings: afab SMUT, awkward gerard.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

School sucks, our senior year was supposed to be a little funnier, right? Unfortunately, that's not what's happening, but it's infinitely better when they're with me.

Sometimes we spent entire periods outside the classroom, just chatting about anything and listening to our favorite bands, while we smoke behind the bleachers.

This was another one of those afternoons, where one less math lesson didn't make any difference, and it seemed much more interesting to hear Frank make jokes about someone's clothes. Followed by Mikey update us on the latest gigs in town, or Ray making insightful comments on every topic that comes up.

Sometimes, Gerard talks about the backstories of the heroes he created, so we spend hours thinking of outfits and some scenes that might be cool. Is really cute when he gets all excited talking about things he likes.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Frank is scrolling through his phone, muttering something about needing to practice with his band. Mikey checks the time and mentions that his work shift was going to start. Ray says he has to study for some test he has tomorrow, and heads out first, leaving the rest of us behind with a lazy wave.

- Guess that’s it for me, folks. - Frank said, getting up - if I miss one more essay they'll look for another guitarist.

- I think I'll go too - Mikey stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his backpack, making his way to the video store - but I'll probably be home by 9pm… maybe later if Pete and I go drink something after the shift.

Within minutes, it’s just Gerard and I.

He’s sitting a little awkwardly, tucking strands of hair behind the ear, like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something. It’s sweet how shy he gets sometimes, especially when the others aren’t around to drown out the silence. There’s always something a little different about him when it’s just the two of us.

- So, uh…- He cleared his throat. - Do you... wanna come over? I was gonna watch that new horror movie I told you about. The really bad one with the cheesy practical effects…

His voice was low, and he blinked with his beautiful hazel eyes, pleading. After a few seconds, he gave a shy, hopeful smile.

- I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…

- Nope, I’m totally free. - I smiled at him, excited to watch the movie with him.

The walk to Gerard’s house is filled with easy conversation. He talks about the movie, rambling about the director’s other films, his company was really nice, actually. Every now and then, my shoulder brushes his, and I swear I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Wasn’t something bothering, but it’s kinda… weird?

When we finally reach Gerard’s place, he fumbled with his keys at the front door, a little too eager.

- My parents aren’t home… - He said, being a bit surprised - Well, I'm gonna fix the things in my room in the basement… Can you wait a minute?

he scratched the back of his neck, apparently nervous, so I let out a smile in an attempt to comfort him. I understand that since we hadn't arranged it beforehand, he didn't have time to prepare or anything.

- Sure!

- I’ll be right back - Gerard rushed to his basement, and I stayed in the living room of Way’s house.

Looking around, I saw family pictures, some paints on the wall, books, a pretty carpet… It was a pretty house. Wasn’t long before Gerard returned from the basement, nodding and beckoning me to follow.

Wasn’t the first time I went to his basement, but I was never alone with him.

It’s cluttered but cozy, just like the other times: comics spread out on his bed, action figures on shelves, and posters of old movies plastered along the walls. His bed was covered with a batman sheet, and he gestures toward it with an awkward smile.

- Make yourself comfortable. - Again, he rushed away, going to the kitchen - I’ll grab drinks.

I sat down, noticing the little details scattered everywhere. He even has a stack of DVDs, just waiting to be watched. It’s easy to see how much of himself Gerard has poured into this space, and somehow, that makes it feel intimate.

He came back with two cans of soda, handing me one as he flops onto the bed beside me. His knee bumped into mine, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a dramatic, over-the-top horror intro.

As the lights dim and the movie flickers to life, I notice Gerard sneaking a glance my way. It’s quick, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there or if I’ve evaporated into thin air. He shifted in his seat, awkwardly pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

I tried to focus on the screen, I really do, but out of nowhere, his hand brushes against mine. It was kind of an accidental touch, my heart raced, but I didn’t move it.

After some seconds of just the sound of the movie filling the room, Gerard cleaned his throat and took a deep breath, like he was trying to take courage to say something.

- Y’know… - I turned my attention to him - I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.

I Glance at him, and he’s looking at the TV like he’s afraid it might explode if he makes eye contact with me.

- Do what? - I asked, trying not to sound as jittery as I feel.

- Uh... spend time with just you. - He scratched the back of his neck, and his gaze moved from the tv to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I defaulted to my nervous habit, fiddling with my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist like it holds the answer to every awkward situation. Gerard noticed, of course, because apparently, he has a PhD in Me Studies.

- You don’t have to be nervous, sugar.

“Sugar”? He never called me that way before. But he kept talking, like it wasn’t a big deal. I did not protest, I actually kinda liked it.

- You always mess with that bracelet when you’re nervous. - He said like it was something obvious - It’s... kinda cute.

I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, only to realize: Gerard isn’t watching the movie. He’s watching me. And he’s terrible at being subtle about it.

Before I can process what’s happening, he slips his hand into mine, like a middle-schooler figuring out how to hold hands for the first time. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, okay, a lot of sweat, but weirdly... I didn’t mind.

It wasn't as if I didn't like him, maybe I really liked him too, I'd just never thought about it before. Back to the movie, my mind was filled with a million other things to think about, so I couldn't even focus on looking at the screen. My gaze traveled around the room, but something caught my eye: a small, familiar notebook lying half-tucked beneath a pile of DVDs on the coffee table really close to his bed.

The same notebook Gerard always carries with him at school, the one he’s always scribbling in during lunch or between classes. I couldn’t help myself to take advantage of Gerard's distraction, and I flipped it open. 

My eyes went wide and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside that notebook. Pages and pages of photos of me. Some printed, others cut out from old Polaroids. All of them are candid shots, taken without my knowledge. There’s one of me smoking behind the bleachers, another of me laughing with Mikey, and several from school, walking to class, sitting at my desk, leaning against my locker.

Each one is accompanied by small, scribbled notes in Gerard’s messy handwriting. Things like “She looks so pretty here.” or “I wish this was just the two of us.” … Along with sketches of portraits, pieces of comics that meant something in our “relationship”. There were sketches of us together, drawn in different comic styles, one of us as Jedi, another as superheroes, and even one as cartoon vampires, all accompanied by little speech bubbles with inside jokes.

Every page flipped, I got even more shocked about the large amount of content he has there. Things from years ago, and the last things were from the last days.

- Hey... What are you looking at? - His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a note of panic creeping in.

I glance up to see Gerard frozen in place, his hazel eyes wide with fear as he notices the notebook in your hands.

- W-where did you…? - He mumbled, turning bright red, embarrassed - Uh... I can explain! Wait, no, I mean- don't freak out... It’s... okay, it looks bad, but it’s not that bad.

He let go from my hand and got up, rubbing his hands together nervously. he began to pant, and his countenance indicated that he was desperately looking for an excuse.

- Well, it is exactly what it looks like! - I yell, turning back to the notebook, still shocked, analyzing every page.

He turned around, rubbing one of his hands over his face in a messy motion. Before long, he began to walk around the room in circles, while his shaky voice continued to speak.

- Oh God, I’m gonna die. Yep. This is how I die. - he murmured to himself, before facing me again - Just bury me under these comics.

Before i could say anything, he blurts:

- Okay, look… it’s not like I’m a total creep, okay? I-I just... thought you looked cool... like, really cool, and, um - The words rushed out of his mouth, as if he had stopped thinking and was just throwing anything to ease the situation -… okay, I might have taken some pictures without asking… b-but it’s not like ‘weird’ weird! It’s... more... uh... admiration?

I couldn't hide my look of confusion. At the same time as I wanted to get out of there, I didn't want to. It was obviously strange, but at the same time it was adorable the way he noticed me. The things he wrote in that notebook said so much more than I could have imagined he felt. Not giving me time to think about what to say, he kept going.

- I thought, y'know, maybe if I... cataloged- no, wait, bad word… uh, recorded...? - He groans - I swear I sound less creepy in my head.

- Look, I was gonna tell you... - He insists, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. - I mean, not like this, obviously. 

He catched my confused expression and groans again.

-Ugh, you probably think I’m a total loser now.

The more he spoke, the less frightening the situation became and the cuter he seemed to me. So I stood up, in a failed attempt to calm him down, but the result was the complete opposite.

- Wait! Please don’t go. I-I know this is... a lot. But I promise I’m not some psycho. - He pauses, then adds, - Like, I’m awkward, not dangerous! 

I don't know where that feeling came from. Maybe it's always been there. I wanted to hug him, kiss him and tell him that it was fine, that I knew he wasn’t a psycho. 

 - Okay, okay! I know I’m weird, but... don’t leave me hanging here. Please. I really... like you. - the statement caught me off guard. it's not as if it wasn't obvious, but I wasn't prepared.  -  Like, more than I ever thought possible.

The way he looks at me, a perfect mix of nervous wreck and hopeful puppy is strangely endearing. Something about his awkward honesty makes it impossible to walk away. So I finally react, letting a grin escape from the corner of my lip. 

- You’re such a dork, Gee. - I chuckled, and his eyes opened wide.

- W-wait, does that mean…? - A confused happiness made Gerard freeze and look directly at me. 

-Yeah. - I approached him, smiling and rolling my eyes - I think I like you too, you idiot.

-Oh my God… - his hazel eyes glowed and a huge smile formed in his pink lips - this is like one of those rom-coms where the nerd actually wins?!

I shook my head, laughing at his words. He’s still red-faced and fumbling, but it’s clear now: he’s just a lovable, geeky mess who adores me in his own awkward way.

- No pressure or anything, but, uh... If we were in a romance movie, this would be the part where the two leads kiss.

I chuckled and my lips reached his. The warm sensation filled my body, the kiss was sloppy and desperate, felt like something he was holding for too long, something he couldn’t deal with anymore. His hands held my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He let out a soft moan and pulled back only to whisper:

- This feels like... you know... that scene in Return of the Jedi when-

- Gerard, - I interrupted, laughing. - Less Star Wars and more kissing, please.

- Right, yeah, sorry. - He turned bright red.

Gerard catched my lips again, deeper this time, with a bit more confidence. His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, and his tongue explored my mouth, while he laid me down on his bed. His lips trailing down to my neck, scattering kisses that made my whole body buzz.

-You smell amazing. Like... that forest level in that one game. You know, the one where…

He trailed off, realizing how silly it sounded, but the look on his face was too earnest to be embarrassed.

- You are such a dork. - I laughed again, running my fingers through his messy hair. 

- Yeah, but I’m your dork, - he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

His touch was gentle but hungry, as if each kiss, each brush of his fingers, was an apology for all the moments he’d spent longing for this. 

When he slid his hands under my shirt, he paused, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes. 

- Is this... okay? - he asked, shyly. The insecurity in his tone of voice was adorable, no more so than the sparkle in his eyes as he saw me give him a nod, lifting my arms so he could pull the shirt over my head. His gaze lingered on me, admiration glowing in his eyes. - Wow... You’re so -

- Gerard.-  I touched his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. - You’re doing fine.

He smiled, clearly relieved, and kissed me again, this time more eagerly. His hands, still trembling slightly, found their way to the button of my jeans. He fumbled for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. 

Once my jeans were off, he took a moment to just look at me, his hands resting on my hips as if grounding himself. 

- I don’t want to mess this up -  he whispered. 

- You’re not messing anything up, Gee..- i calmed him, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek - Just... keep going

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me again, his hands moving with a little more certainty now, sliding beneath my bra to touch bare skin. I gasped, arching into his touch, and he let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

When he finally got out of his clothes, struggling with his belt in the process,

 -  Stupid thing… -  he muttered  flustered and I couldn't stop smiling. 

He was trying so hard, and there was something endearing about how eager yet unsure he was.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands trailed down to my thighs, spreading them gently. His boxers were the last to go, and when I felt him against me, the heat between us became impossible to ignore.

- I’ve dreamed about this, - Gerard admitted breathlessly, kissing the side of my neck. - About you... For so long.

I felt my body react to him instinctively, desire building with every brush of his skin against mine. When he paused, hovering just at the edge, his eyes searched mine one last time.

- Is this okay? -  he whispered, his voice low and full of both need and vulnerability.

- Yes,-  I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. - I want this, Gee.

And then, with a slow, careful thrust, his cock was inside me. I gasped, gripping his hair as my body adjusted to the sensation. The burn was sweet and overwhelming.

He started moving, hesitant at first, like he was still learning how to sync with me. But every time I moaned his name, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his rhythm becoming more certain, more desperate.

The heat between us grew, the room filled with soft gasps and whispered encouragement. His hands roamed my body, one settling on my waist, the other cradling my face as if I were something precious. As deeper he was coming I felt the tension coil in my stomach, tighter and tighter, until I was teetering right on the edge. 

- I’m close…

- Do it, sugar, - he panted, his voice thick with need. - Cum for me.

With a final thrust, the pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I clenched around him, clinging to him, nails digging into his back as I moaned his name, lost in the intensity of it.

Gerard groaned, his movements faltering as he reached his own release. The warmth of the ropes of his cum filling me up pushed me deeper into my own bliss, and we stayed like that, tangled together, catching our breath.

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, his body still trembling slightly. 

- Wow… -  he whispered, sounding both dazed and amazed. - That was... better than any dream I’ve ever had.

I laughed softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. 

- Yeah. Way better.

___________________________________________

~ sooo, that's it! Let me know if you liked! :)

[firesunflamed]

thinking about Frank and mirror sex with an insecure partner

(nsfw, chubby fem!reader, internalized fatphobia?, degradation kink. smut with angst and a little bit of fluff and an attempt at exorcising some personal demons)

maybe he gets the idea when he sees you looking at your naked body in the mirror one day, the way you try to suck in your stomach, smooth out the curves he loves. maybe he even asks about it, and maybe you even admit to it—knowing that you’re not ugly, but you’re not beautiful, not like him. knowing that you get looks when you go out together, and the only way you can make sense of them is that people can’t believe someone who looks like him would be dating someone that looks like you.

and he hates it, because how could you think that, think about yourself like that? they’re looking at his ugly mug, not you. and maybe you smile weakly, try to change the subject, and he lets you then, already thinking about how to fix it.

and then when you have sex later that day he asks to try something different. you end up sitting on the edge of the bed, the floor length mirror moved to reflect your body, your spread legs as he plays with your clit. his face peeks over your shoulder and you’re leaning against his chest, and he’s telling you how beautiful you look, one hand holding the curve of your lower stomach. His thumb strokes the skin there and then he’s moving up to hold your waist, hand spread wide over the folds of fat above and below it. and you know this is a kindness, know he means well, know he’s trying to make you feel better. but it feels fake, feels like a lie, like he’s saying what he’s supposed to say because it’s not true, you aren’t beautiful, you know you’re not, why is he lying to you? And if he’s lying to you about this then, logically, maybe he’s lying to you about wanting you at all. maybe he’s lying about his love. maybe he’s with you because you know who he is and he’s worried about being turned into the police and maybe—

and you’re burying your head in your hands and then it’s “c’mon sweet girl, look at yourself, c’mon— fuck you’re beautiful, look at you- fuck-” and you’re shaking your head because if you open your eyes you will see nothing but every single flaw on your body, and if this is a kindness shouldn’t it feel good? but it doesn’t it doesn’t it doesn’t, and you don’t want it, and he’s asking now, softly, as his fingers move from your clit to push inside you and find your g-spot, asking you to look at how beautiful you are taking him. and there’s pleasure there, but it seems very far away, like it’s happening to someone else because he couldn’t possibly be talking to you. and he keeps asking, keeps praising, keeps using that terrible awful attempted kindness of a lie and you can feel him hard against your back but you know neither of you are going to come like this. you call yellow. he stills, slipping his fingers out of your cunt.

“What is it, sweet girl? what do you need?”

and you keep your head buried in your hands, trying not to cry, and ask if you can do something else. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but Frank, this… this isn’t making me feel better. I don’t feel that way about myself and you just insisting I should isn’t going to make me feel that way.”

It’s a long moment of silence before he says, “I’m gonna move us so we’re facing away from the mirror, yeah?”

“Okay,” you agree.

he moves his legs so they’re no longer on either side of yours before grabbing your waist and laying you down on your sides, facing each other. Your hands fall away from your face, even though your eyes stay closed, and he kissed your forehead, once, gently. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, yeah? don’t like seeing you like this.”

you take a breath, try to put your emotions into words. “I can’t— I can’t be told that you think I’m beautiful like that. It feels like a lie.”

“S’not a lie,” he says, with barely concealed fury. “You’re so fucking gorgeous sometimes I don’t even know how I got you.”

and you shake your head because he’s just making it worse and worse. “I know you think that and it’s very nice of you-" he scoffs at that description but you keep going “but I don’t feel that way. If you’re telling me that then I need it in a…. a different way. A way that doesn’t feel like it’s for me.”

it takes him another second to say, “alright sweet girl. alright.” he presses another kiss to your forehead. “you want something else right now, or do you just want this?” and you don’t want sex anymore, haven’t really wanted it since he started with the “beautiful”s, and you hesitate, because you feel bad that your insecurities mean he’s not getting to come, but you realize that he’s only half hard now. You’ve already ruined the mood.

“Just this,” you say, and you stay like that, wrapped up in each other for a long while.

he lets it go, doesn’t bring it up again. acts like he never realized your insecurities in the first place, except for how he’ll drape an arm over the largest part of your stomach instead of your waist when you cuddle, or the way he’ll sometimes grope your flat ass like it’s big enough to bother when you kiss or fuck. And you forget about the conversation altogether.

and then it’s a couple of months later, and he’s spent the last hour making you come over and over and over until you’re overstimulated, legs shaking. thoughts are hard and words are harder and all you know is that you’re his good little slut, and you take him so well. you’re trying to beg for mercy, but you think it’s coming out more as a collection of mumbled syllables that might form “please”, if one’s being generous.

“C’mon, you got one more for me, sweet girl. one more for me.”

you whine because you can’t take it you can’t take it how can you take it when you’re already this wrecked?

“shshsh… c’mon sweet girl, c’mon.” your back is to his front, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “open your eyes. open your eyes.” you can’t you can’t you can’t— “be a good whore, and open your eyes,” he orders lowly, and you gasp and you do, finding your reflection staring back at you. it might’ve caught you off guard but you’re already so fucked out that it only just registers.

“there she is.” He pulls your leg out to the side, the mess he’s made of your folds on display. He places a finger on top of your clit, but offers no additional pressure. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful covered in my cum.”

You whine, because the barely-there touch on your clit and the brush of his cock against your entrance are cruel cruel cruel. You try moving your hips, try to sink onto him, but his hand moves from your leg to your hip, holding you in place.

“Don’t,” he warns, and you have no choice but to obey the easy power in his voice. “Wanna look at you like this. Fuck you’re gorgeous. Think I could keep you like this all the time. You want that, huh? Want me to keep you like this, ready to be fucked like a good whore whenever I want.”

You don’t even try to answer, mesmerized by the sight of your swollen pussy painted with white, his thick cock visible below.

“You’re so beautiful. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you’re beautiful,” he says, more softly this time, and the words start to break through your fucked-out headspace. Then he’s thrusting into you, rough and deep, and any thoughts you might’ve had are lost as he hits your g-spot with each thrust, fingers busy on your clit. Your eyes slip closed, and he orders you to open them again. “Watch as I fuck you,” he says, speeding up his pace, and you’re begging, pleading, but for what you don’t know. For more, for less? It doesn’t matter. Your entire purpose has narrowed down pleasing him. “Tell me how beautiful you are taking me.”

You know he knows you lost your words a while ago. You manage a high sound of pleasure, watching his cock split you open with each thrust. “Say it,” he orders again. “Need my girl’s pretty voice in my ear when I come inside her again. ” You’re stuttering now, mumbling, trying to form the words. “Say it.”

“ ‘M so- pretty- taking your- your cock. Frank!” You eventually manage, rolling your hips, watching him disappear inside you. The sight is so erotic, you think you could come from that alone.

“Keep goin’ sweet girl, c’mon-” and his voice is lower and lower in your ear, the way it always is when he gets close.

“ ‘M beautiful- covered- in your cum-! Please please please, Frank, please-”

“Once more for me sweetheart, need it to come, need to hear you say it-”

“ ‘M beautiful- I’m - I’m - beautiful-” and the hand on your hip moves to band around your waist as he moves faster, until you are nothing but sensation, nothing but his beautiful little slut, so good for him, so good for him. “I’m- I’m- I’m-“

Still in his thrall, you come again, writhing on his cock, watching your bodies as you do. You can see the flushed skin of your cheeks and neck and chest, see the taut muscles of his thighs and arms as he fucks you. From here, you can’t see the small flaws of your body just the shapes and the colors. Then he comes with a low noise in your ear, and you keep your eyes open, watching as his face goes loose, soothed in a way you rarely see. It’s beautiful.

He rests his head against your shoulder and you sigh happily, still not quite back to yourself. He uses his grip on you to fall backwards into the mattress, tipping onto your sides as he slips out of your cunt. You both make a small sound at the loss, but you’re not back to yourself enough to ask him to stay inside you.

You stay there for a long moment, wrapped up in each other. But eventually the adrenaline starts to fade, and you realize what that last part of the scene was. Your request, from months ago.

As if he can sense that you’ve come back to yourself, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Too much?”

“Was that for me, or for you?” you blurt, instead of an answer. The intense pleasure you had just been made to feel seems now to have returned as grief, the warning of tears thick in your voice.

It takes him a second to respond, and then he’s shifting on the mattress. “Hey. Look at me.”

Trying to blink back the tears, you roll over to face him. He’s propped up on an elbow, looking at you with such love and care and concern in his dark eyes the tears become that much harder to stop. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. His hands reach out to wrap around your wrists, and pull them away from your face, and you give up trying to stop them.

Frank wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Was for both of us, yeah? You’re so goddamn beautiful, and I get to see it every day but you don’t. Watching us like that, together? Never would of thought of it, but it was… fuck, yeah, it was for both of us.”

And that’s an answer you can accept, can appreciate. Maybe the only one. But the tears don’t stop, and he kisses your forehead. “How ‘bout we go shower, huh? That was… I pushed you hard. Let’s go shower.”

You nod, and he pulls you towards the en-suite, warms up the water and then helps you in, stepping in afterwards before beginning to wash your skin from the mess he'd made on you. You stand there, trying to stop yourself from crying, not entirely sure where the tears came from in the first place. But when you try to stifle your quiet noises, Frank tips your chin up, forces you to look at him.

"Don't pull that. Let it out, sweet girl. Let it out." It's the same thing you say to him when he comes home from a bad night, or when the nightmares chase him out of sleep. You let yourself sob for something you can't quite put words to. Frank holds you up through it all, massaging your scalp and washing your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear.

he gets out only when your tears have finally stopped, a few minutes before you to change the sheets, then comes back to turn off the water and bundle you in a towel. he dries you off before pulling you back to the bedroom, helping you underneath the covers and turning off the light.

You're both on your sides, facing each other in the dark. You can feel him hesitate, trying to decide if he should reach for you. You move closer, burying your face in juncture between his neck and his shoulder, breathing in his scent. His arm wraps around your back and brings you closer.

"You're not lying to me." Your words are quiet, little more than a mumble against his skin.

He doesn't have to ask about what. "Haven't lied to you since I told you my name. Won't start now."

You hum. "This won't be... enough to fix it."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna keep telling you. Gonna tell you whenever you let me. As many times as you need before you stop asking, yeah?"

You sigh happily. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you. I really, really, love you."

He kisses the top of your head. "Love you too."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the water heater

lilac, chapter three

a/n: ...don't ask me how late it got when i wrote this.... i was on a roll that day and time just turned into a weird soup.

summary: “Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, totally inaccurate description of tinkering with a water heater just for the sake of making them fall in love

word count: 1137

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“Well, maybe if you just–”

“Dad! Just–…” you swallowed the rest of the heated statement that nearly escaped your lips, mentally counting to three before glaring back at the man who was breathing down your neck, “do you remember when I was 12 and you had the clever idea of attempting to install that new sink in room 5?”

Already knowing where this story was gonna go, Harvey quietly replied, “…yeah…”

“And just who, pray tell, fixed it after you made the pipes uncontrollably spurt out water, consequently flooding the entire room?”

“…you did…”

“That’s right,” you sucked on another tense breath before continuing, “so, unless you’ve somehow improved that skill since then, which, I’m sorry dad, but I highly doubt that you have, please, just let me handle it alone.”

“…alright, fine,” he ultimately backed off, nearing the basement stairs, “but I’ll be right up by the front desk if you need me.” 

“I won’t,” you called over your shoulder as you redirected your attention to the hopeless pipes, “but thanks.”

Letting the illuminated spot from the small flashlight clutched in your palm guide your vision, you checked each and every rusty tube. 

After too many pokes and prods, you finally found the source of the problem. Stepping over towards the main pipeline you bend down and reached through tickling cobwebs to turn the paint-chipped knob clockwise, shutting all of the water off.

Before your spine managed to straighten back out, you felt your blood begin to boil as you heard the sound of heavy footsteps once again ascending the crooked staircase.

“Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

“Hey,” Pete’s deep voice echoed throughout the dim space, sounding the way that hot chocolate felt. 

“Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to see you here, in my basement of all places, but, um, what are you–, what can I help you with?” 

“Nothing ma'am,” he took a step closer, “it’s what I can help you with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Harvey sent me down here to take a look at something.”

“Oh, did he now…” that was the last you needed in order to lose your patience.  

“Yeah,” Pete’s eyes tracked your form as you riffled through the open metal toolbox and yanked out a wrench. 

“Well,” you huffed as you began to loosen the various hexagon-shaped fittings snug on the pipes spiderwebbing out from the bulky water heater apparatus, the labour of the task presenting itself in your vexed voice, “you can tell my dad that I’m still just fine and don’t need any help!” the tool on your palm then inadvertently slammed against one of the pipes, the clanging and therapeutic blow snapping you enough out of your ire to take a step back. Squeezing your eyes shut a moment, you let out a deep sigh before parting your lips once more to speak, “I’m sorry, it was very kind of you to offer your help, but I’m okay.” 

Fully expecting him to just take off, his stationary stance caught you off guard, “so, the water heater’s acting up?”

“It’s fucking ancient, that’s what it is,” you replied as you returned to twist the remainder of the fittings, “should have updated it long ago, but no, no, that never happened,” you continued to grumble mostly to yourself at this point, “of course it’s much more fun to let me handle it down the line when the hot water outlet is completely rusted over and clogged up to the point of no return, you know, that’s just so much more fun…” your words then faded away as you attempted to turn a knob that in no way wanted to corporate.

Quietly cursing underneath your breath, you tried to put all your weight into it as you strained to turn the stuck fitting. 

But just then, from out of nowhere, you felt the wrench begin to turn, but that victory wasn’t the only thing you suddenly felt. Engulfing your own, the comparatively massive hand of Pete enveloped yours as if it wasn’t even there to begin with, helping you turn it as though the metal was made out of butter. 

Blinking up at him after it finally twisted completely, his intimidating stature seemed even more towering up close. 

“Uh,” you slipped your hand out from under his calloused palm, “thank you…”

“No, problem,” you promptly whirled around to avoid his piercing gaze, busying yourself by riffling through the toolbox without any purpose whatsoever, “so your old man’s not helping you out in renovating this place?”

“Well, he’s brilliant at a lot of things, but those skills in particular have never really been in his bailiwick–, wait…” you kept your back turned to him as you asked, “how do you know that I’m renovating?” 

“People in this town like to talk, a lot,” he breathed out the essence of a laugh, “and that includes your father.”

“Ah, okay…”

Spinning around once again, you kept your eyes steadfast on the dusty pipes, though after what only felt like a second, Pete unexpectedly proposed, “hey, what do you say I lend you a hand?”

“What?” 

“Well,” hands clasped together in front of him, the digits on one of them dug into the palm of the other as he spoke, “I’m no stranger to fixing things, so it might help make it fly by a bit faster than if you try and get through it all on your own.”

Unable to detect if this was just some strange joke or not, you verified, “I’m sorry, but are you legitimately offering me your help in renovating this place right now?”

“Yes.” 

“Seriously?” you bellowed a little louder than you’d intended, earning just a small nod from him in confirmation, “I–…” you blinked back at him, downright dumbfounded, “that’s incredibly generous of you, but I can’t really afford to hire you right now…”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to hire me, just let me help out a bit.”

“Pete, I can’t let you do that, not without any form of compensation.”

“Well, then just pay me in free coffee till it’s done,” he attempted to joke, though it didn’t manage to crack a smile on your lips. 

“This is not funny, Pete.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, still in a startlingly light-hearted tone, “you clearly don’t know yet just much coffee I tend to drink on average every day,” seeing you not budge an inch, he then dropped the attempt with a gentle nod, “fine, how about we just take a look at a price at a later date? Decide on it later when it’s all done, and you start making a profit again?” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mysticcollectionbee]

Loki season 2 Ep.5

(SPOILERS)

This just gonna be a list of things I’m obsessing over in the new episode by order of importance to me (I’m sorry):

GOD. OF. STORIES. Buildup. YES!!! From the episode title to Loki specifically mentioning saving their stories (only other time he mentioned stories to represent a person’s life was in the very first episode of this show I think). I’m way too excited.

Mobius…I’m sorry this will be mainly Lokius based. *Ahem* Mobius a single dad who can’t shut up about being single and the only person he talks about stuff that isn’t just Jet-Ski related is Loki. Everyone else he meets he kinda just stays on topic but Loki; “Hey, stranger who might of followed me from work, want a beer? I’m also a single dad.” And two things I feel like I see differently than a lot of the fandom: a) I don’t think Don (Just remembered that’s his name) has a dead wife. Like, who describes your wife being dead as ‘Long gone’ and immediately tries to pawn off a belonging that you used as a couple? b) People saying the kids act like Loki and Thor which means Mobius represents Odin but…Odin kinda sucked as a dad? And Frigga was a MASSIVE part of raising the kids, so an Odin variant being able to step in is. Unrealistic. Oh and Hela? Hi??? Hela exists. So nah, I think they made it that way the same way they made Thor adopt Love, to fix the mistakes of the past generation with the new ones. Thor is raising Love unlike how his father raised him. Loki could raise the brothers to not have the same issues he had with his own brother, and what they both had issues with when raised together by Odin.

(Last one was long) I think I made a theory a long time ago that Casey/Frank was related to the unsolved case of the guys escaping Alcatraz. Could be wrong, if not, hey one of my theories was right!

O.B. my baby boi was a failed Sci-Fi writer that ended up inspiring the god of stories to save all the stories across the multiverse. He’s secretly the most important writer character in the MCU :’)

B-15 being a nurse makes a lot of sense and explains why she became softer and more focused on helping others after she got her memories back. Her true nature of helping others came back to her, which probably ask explains why she really hate the idea of pruning people again.

I want to talk about Sylvie and all the neat stuff about her…But my Bi brain keeps getting distracted by that scene of her without her jacket…She’s- she’s great here too 👍

Final unimportant thing: Any Doctor who fan get time explanation flashback the moment O.B picked up that mug with pens in it? “I’m a pen in a mug?” “Yes you are, Donna Noble.”

[rainboq]

Meowdy!

I just wanted to start by saying that I adore Statistics and Purity Through a Prism.

Do you have any general advice you can give to less experienced writers? I’m also hella into making LiS fics, but I’m still trying to find my footing. Plus most of my projects fizzle out around chapter 5, and I’m not sure how to get momentum back after taking a break 😂🥰 how do you write stories that go for so long?

Thanks!

First of all thank you very much for enjoying my fanfics! I'm sorry that I haven't updated anything in a while, life and original fiction projects have pretty much taken over (I'll be self publishing a novel in the next few months).

For general advice, consider the following.

Keep an idea diary. Write down your ideas, just because you have nothing to go with it doesn't mean you won't later and don't be afraid to mash things together.

Learn about story telling as a craft. Study any and every medium and think about how to apply their lessons to word smithing. I highly recommend Every Frame a Painting, Thomas Flight, Hello Future Me, and Ellen Brock.

Read everything twice. Once for pleasure, once to tear it apart to figure out how the sausage is made. Dissect word choice, structure, pacing, foreshadowing, all of it. If you want to get better as an author, get better at media analysis.

Ask yourself why a project fizzles out. Did you lose sight of your original goal? Is it not turning out the way you hoped? Can you not remember where you wanted it to go? I tend to write with a few very specific scenes fixed in my head and I need to massage the characters to make those scenes happen and make sense. For Prism that was Kate and Chloe's clifftop kiss. Everything after that was kinda ad-libbed.

Embrace failure. Enjoy failure. Fail faster. As the Frizz would say: take chances, make mistakes, and get messy! You will learn more from your mistakes than from your successes. It's okay to be disappointed and upset when things don't go your way, but then dust yourself off and figure out what went wrong where and learn your lessons. (Just because you can write a novel in 3 months doesn't mean you should)

Your ideas are crap. It's okay, mine are too. Ideas always suck, they become good when you actually write the stories and find your blind spots. Make it work in the edit. You can change things right up until you publish, so play around and have fun.

It's okay to not finish projects. Use them as learning experiences. Practice writing better and better hooks. Find character's voices. Toy around with premises.

Practice with a purpose. With everything you write, pick something you want to focus on. Dialogue, pacing, structure, action, word play, imagery, etc. Pick something, study, execute.

Keep it simple. Elevator pitches are 30 words or less. If you can't summarize the crux of your story simply and succinctly, consider revising your idea to make it less complicated. Prism's premise is literally "What if Max never went to Blackwell". Statistic's premise is "What if Chloe was a homeless trans girl dealing for Frank". Complicated premises aren't bad, but they make executing much harder, and you don't need them to tell a good story.

Don't stop. Always be reading, writing, and thinking. Your creativity is a muscle, work it out. Hit the brain gym regularly with focus and intent and you'll see the growth.

I hope these help and good luck!

[steadfastpetrel]

Worth Existing (or, Frank Webster Gives Keegan An Existential Crisis)

been busy this semester, but have a reflection comic I got away with making for an information history class! it's rambling, but i had some fun digesting my thoughts.

image descriptions from alt: The title page contains the title “Worth Existing, or: Frank Webster gives Keegan an existential crisis.” In front of a mirror, Keegan stands with their back facing the viewer as a reflection of them as a librarian looks back worriedly.

Page 1 features a sequential cartoonish sequence of Keegan’s head rolling and landing on his shoulders. He says: “Finding out how we’ve come to view our information society has been a ride. My pea brain can only fit so much, ideas only roll vaguely when I try to talk about what I’ve learned, but I’m at least seeing things from new eyes. More specifically…”

Dialogue continues on Page 2, 3 panels sequentially zoom in on a horrified Keegan. She says, “I’m seeing how much Frank Webster hates libraries.” The quote from the book she’s reading is as follows: “Moreover, library staff have benefited disproportionately from the establishment of these services, being provided with secure and pleasant (if not lavishly remunerated) employment. Why, one might ask, does the public purse need to support the likes of Agatha Christie and Jeremy Clarkson when their books are readily available for cheap purchase and their literary merit, still more their intellectual and uplifting qualities, are at best of minor significance. Such observations raise questions regarding the efficacy with which public libraries actually operate. It follows that a driving force behind their establishment and continued state support, the appeal to mitigate the inequalities of capitalism in the informational domain, seems to have been less than fully effective.” End quote.

Page 3 has Keegan looking with hands clasped, paused. They then look at the camera, asking “Did the dude just insult Agatha Christie?” The bottom has them lying on their bed, looking up at the ceiling in thought, saying “There’s something that just bugged me ever since I read that chapter. I never really understood the theory we talked about in class, it’s a skill I’m working on, but the weird beef he has with libraries at least gave me a vibe on ‘Hayekian Neoliberalism.’ And also how weird it is that capitalism got so far into deciding what’s worth existing. If the thing I wanna do with my life is worth existing.”

On Page 4, Keegan walks with his crutches as the dialogue continues. “I could go on for hours about all that sucks with Webster’s opinions! Of course I want the staff to ‘disproportionately’ benefit from their work. Unlike books, people have to eat! What’s ironic about Webster’s whole spiel about the efficacy of libraries is that he provides several examples of figures from his area heavily aided by libraries. Panels feature novelist John Banville, author Jeannette Winterson, and sociologist Richard Hoggart. Keegan continues and says, “And yet he goes on to be like…”

Page 5, a sock puppet speaks angrily: “People are getting free books and are hurting the poor bookseller! Libraries are stupid because it doesn’t miraculously fix the inequalities of capitalism!” To the side, the text says “Artist’s exaggeration. Don’t take this seriously.” Bottom panel contains Keegan pointing with her thumb at Frank Webster’s Wikipedia page. She says, “I wouldn’t be so hung up if this was some random guy, but considering this guy is so largely quoted and touted in my field of information sciences? Ouch obviously doesn’t cut how much all that stung.”

Page 6 contains an Asian man with a bun protesting banned books. The next panel contains a white woman with a turtleneck reading in a library as a winter storm brews outside. Keegan off-screen says, “While Webster calls libraries ‘censors of society,’ librarians are fighting vehemently against book bannings! And the way he says that public libraries are ‘captured by the better-off section of society?’ Like what, you’re going to ignore how libraries act as comfortable spaces for folks without housing during harsher months?”

On Page 7 a gavel bangs on a panel. “As if that’s not enough, publishers are suing libraries for distributing e-books, calling them ‘direct economic competitors’ when, if anything, they often support these publishers and their authors by buying multiple copies, hosting events and collaborating with local businesses.” As an example, the comic features a scene of a Black woman in a cardigan talking to a white cashier with a shaved head. She says to them, “I just read this at my library earlier and just needed to get my own copy! Can’t believe it took me this long to discover this author!” A panel below, a pair of hands scoops sand and watches it flow from their fingers. Keegan says, “I don’t know. Even in good company, it sometimes feels like the future is slipping through my fingers.”

Page 8 is a pillar of falling sand. Embedded in it is an Apple pencil, a floating feather, and a book. Keegan narrates, “As an artist and a writer, it’s wondering if I’ll be prioritized over a generative AI that doesn’t have to eat or sleep. As a birder, it’s wondering if the backyard visitors I always see at my feeder will end up as myths and taxidermied specimens. As a librarian, it’s wondering if the institutions I often called home will be felled by the swift axe that the invisible hand holds. It’s a weird feeling of perpetual free fall for a drop that is light years away.”

Page 9, Keegan is holding a book to the sky as they read it. They narrate “Learning is a language I’ve always used to make sense of the thoughts I’ve had swirling in my brain. Finding out ‘information capitalism’ was a thing was like learning about the leash that has pulled at my throat since I entered the schooling system. I am learning because I am not a person, but a tool to be put to a trade. The world around me whispers in my ear…”

“Feel wonder if you must, but don’t linger long enough to turn in something too late.” On page 10, Keegan lies on a grassy field looking up with the book on his chest. He narrates, “I can’t deny that’s a message hard to unhear. As of now, I don’t think I remember much before 2022 other than the grades I got.”

On page 11, a hand wipes a bathroom wall with a sponge. The bottom of the page is filled with floating bubbles. Keegan narrates, “This sounds silly, but I was in tears when I heard about the concept of degrowth this past week. It could’ve been the clorox I was using to clean my bathroom, but the toil of my body and mind must’ve come to some crashing conclusion when I listened past what we were assigned.” The quote goes, They’re essentially making the argument that if we stay on this growth path, the only end to that is, you know, our own extinction. They are not just saying it’s not possible. They’re also saying it’s not desirable. It’s the kind of life that you and I ultimately do not want. We don’t want to drown in just stuff. We want to have a life. We want to have time for each other. We want to have time for creative thinking and art and love and kindness.” The quote ends. It comes from Vox’s Blame Capitalism: Degrowing Pains and is spoken by Dirk Phillipsen.

On page 12, Keegan sits in the bathtub with a few tears. Narration goes, “It was just nice that someone smarter than me in this topic wants the same things I do. Time to live and space to breathe. I know it’s not a perfect solution, but it’s one of those moments that culminate to tears when you’re having a rough week. This time, it was the reminder that this doesn’t have to be all there is to it. That there were people echoing my heartfelt belief that the system that tears down those I love doesn’t have to stay.

Page 13. A frog and toad book. “One-sided beef with Frank Webster aside, this unit has bolstered my love for librarianship. As hastily made and rambling this comic went, I realize I feel this strongly because I love this field so much. Against all odds, even as the internet grew to commodify knowledge, libraries adapted to the best of their abilities for their patrons. Why should some British dude make me wonder if libraries will continue to exist? As depressing as learning about capitalism gets, it’s helpful to understand the hand that takes from you. To understand why and how I’ve always been hurt by the systems that be and make sure I can lighten the blow for those who come after. I’ve learned there’s a lot that can come out of being so sad and scared about the future. Sometimes drawing it out (even if you turn in a late assignment) reminds you that there’s still so much ahead. That, and the fact I should probably read Frog and Toad sometime. So, uh, I’m gonna do that now. Bye!"

The references page lists several sources: Frank Webster’s “Theories of the Information Society.” An article by Brewster Kahle called, “The US library system, once the best in the world, faces death by a thousand cuts.” An article by Rachel Kramer Bussel called, “How Libraries Help Authors Boost Book Sales.” And a podcast episode from Vox’s Today Explained hosted by Noel King, titled “Blame Capitalism: Degrowing Pains.” end descriptions.

[oldmanenjoyer]

Hi it’s the Wally anon! Thank you for answering my question and I wanted to ask for a long request if you’re up for it:

Can you do a Wally x reader who has a secret identity of a supervillain with powers(you can choose the power)? When they are in their disguise, they are loud, bombastic and demanding (like a Disney villain). They don’t hurt anyone but they do often declare the neighbourhood as theirs, demands stuff from the neighbours and ruin major events when they don’t get their way. They even paint on the neighbour stuff to signify that something is theirs. When they are not in their disguise, they are nice, helpful and shy to cover their tracks and no one would guess their true identity. I like the idea of The neighbours talking together about how the villain( you can choose the supervillain name) is such a terrible person and how they plan to get them back while the culprit is helping them bake a pie while they rant. They would never know until the reader falls for Wally. They continue get closer to him and he falls for them as well until after a while, he finds out about their secret( you can choose how he finds out). He then confronts them in their disguised form as they kidnap his friends and he exposes them in secret and says he wouldn’t like to get closer to a bully and they start to go through a redemption arc. All of this is your choice. I’m just giving the form and I want to see it in your writing. I’m excited about it if you ok with taking it on.

No one in the Neighborhood truly understood you. Antagonist as you were, none of them seemed to get that in order to have balance, good needed to be compared to bad. How could you be happy without being sad first? You tried to show them, donned silly outfits and a mask to flock throughout the neighborhood and cause mayhem, truly terrible things that showed them how true happiness felt.

And it worked! Your displays of terror led to the neighborhood coming closer together. Julie and Frank would work together to fix decorations. Poppy and Howdy would remake ruined food. Barnaby and Eddie would call a truce long enough to fetch anything anybody needed. Sally would happily lead the entire gang along. And you? You'd find yourself working with Wally, at the behest of the others.

Seems your feelings weren't as hidden as you thought. But that's okay. None of them suspected you. Why would they? You were what Julie liked to call a shrinking violet. Too much attention had you cowing away from a group activity, no matter how fun. You blushed easily, held hands with everyone, you cried when the villain destroyed your work. You were the last suspect to be on the list.

So how did he figure you out?

Wally was too observant for his own good. His eyes bore into you like black holes, sucking in all the light around them.

You clutched the crumbled paper heart in your hands, ripping it in half.

"You're a bully." Wally said, matter of fact.

"I'm helping the neighborhood." You retorted, ignoring the hollowness in your chest. "Things are too. . . peaceful. Without drama, without a common enemy, you'd start hating one another!"

"No." Wally said with a shake of his head. "We wouldn't. Because we're friends. Friends trust each other." He glanced away, like he couldn't be bothered to look at you. It hurt more than it should. "I trusted you. I thought you trusted me."

You hiked your shoulders up. "The world-"

"The neighborhood loves you." Wally interrupted. He turned away fully now, and you get so mad. But who were you mad at? Him? The world? Yourself? You couldn't tell. "But you don't love the neighborhood, huh?" He walked away, and you stood amidst your destruction, unsatisfied with this result. "Goodnight, neighbor."

You cringed. Guess first name basis was lost.

As you were left alone, your emotions began to rise over you, strong waves ready to drown you in their intensity. The disappointment Wally showed somehow made all of your intentions seem. . . insignificant. You didn't feel justified anymore, even if you knew how things would turn out tomorrow. That is, if Wally didn't tattle on you.

You shook your head.

Maybe. . . maybe you should rethink some things. Maybe the neighborhood was due some peace from villains and drama. And maybe the neighbors, who were all so kind to you, deserved apologies. Sincere ones.

But that could be handled in the morning.

[amhrosina]

Frank isn’t sure he should be here. In fact, he knows he shouldn’t, has never allowed himself the pleasure of imagining it, and can’t remember making the decision to come. The latter was likely on account of the probable concussion he’d received earlier – having a piece of plywood swung at your head will do that to you – but either way, he’s here now, and his vision is beginning to double.  

Matt swings the door open, startled out of his sleep by a familiar scent that he’s never dreamt of smelling in his home. At first, only for a moment, he thinks Frank may be on his doorstep to kill him, but the thought vanishes when Frank tumbles forward, directly into his open arms. 

A hearty rattle rumbles through Frank’s chest as he sucks in a breath. Matt’s scent overwhelms him, makes the ache in his chest expand into an all-encompassing desire coursing throughout his body chanting more, more, more. Matt’s arms wrap around him, and the tentative press of his cheek against Frank’s head sends a warm tingle down Frank’s spine.  

You shouldn’t be here. 

Frank ignores the voice, his voice, screaming at him in his head.  

Go home, Frank. He doesn’t want you.  

“Fuck,” he heaves, gripping Matt with tight fingers, “you.”  

Matt stiffens, and suddenly the warmth in the gentle press of his fingers, the heat in his cheeks, vanishes. Frank gets the urge to bash his head against the wall.  

“Have you been drinking?” Matt asks, disappointment ringing clear in Frank’s ears. Frank is having a hard time standing straight, even with Matt’s arms holding him up.  

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

He can’t help it – the anger, the tone. He could’ve just as easily told Matt he hadn’t been drinking, and in fact, couldn’t think of any other person he’d want to be with at this point in time, but the probable (definite) concussion muddied his thoughts, making it impossible to offer Matt anything but his rage.  

“Go home, Frank.”  

Go home, Frank. 

Frank wanted to. He knew it was a mistake coming here, knew Matt would never accept his foul, broken, and bloodied hands. He gives it a good effort at first, pushing away from Matt, only to end up flailing to the floor, groaning on impact. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?” 

Matt is angry. This is better than nothing, Frank decides, even though his head is pounding, and he can’t seem to keep both eyes open at the same time. It meant Matt was still capable of feeling something for Frank.  

“Thought your bat sonar worked better than this.” Frank manages, gasping like a fish at the crack in his ribs. The plywood, apparently, was much thicker than expected.  

Matt stills, tilting his head to the side, then pounces. Warmth returns to Matt’s fingers, now sliding Frank’s shirt up his torso. Frank snorts at the idea of Matt lifting his shirt to assess the damage when he couldn’t physically see anything. Matt tries to ignore the muscled crevices that run in deep lines down Frank’s abdomen. Both men are silent as Matt does the only thing he remembers how to do: fix the people he loves.  

When Frank’s shirt is finally lowered, Matt’s fingers linger on the bottom seam, toying with the fabric. Frank cups Matt’s hands, watching the curve of his lips tilt upwards. Frank loses his breath, and if he were standing, he probably would’ve lost his balance too. Matt’s smile hits him like a ton of bricks, and he feels the warmth of it rush through his body – an addictive, adrenaline-rush of a feeling.  

Matt can sense it, too – can feel it in Frank’s heartbeat, can taste the electricity in the air. The feeling is not unwelcome.  

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[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I'm tired of getting sick every month before getting my period why does God hate women -Danny Words: 2,621 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Smoke And Mirrors' -by Imagine Dragons

LIII: Ask Me Again When I'm Mentally Stable

Letting Percy and Leo go together on a mission without her supervision gives her so much anxiety. Her boyfriend and her brother get along, Percy hasn't said much, but he's probably going to support Leo's idea because he's insane like that. Loyalty is his fatal flaw and everything... 

Ara can't relate, she does what she can to help her friends, yes, but at the same time, when the strain of holding onto someone isn't worth it, she relaxes her grip. Leo used to be like that: escaping foster homes, keeping everyone at arm's length—it was only when Ara showed up that he started to have trouble letting go.

"Stop," Jason captures her hand and pulls it away from her forehead. "You'll end up drawing blood."

"I'm anxious and there's nothing to fix..." She glances at the smoke rising from his injury. "Unless I count you as one of my broken toys. Juno said the wound affects your spirit—if you let me try my empath touch..."

"I have to heal myself."

"And you decide to take it as some test?" Ara raises a brow. "Gods, will you ever stop being so Roman?"

Jason smiles. "I think that's literally the problem."

"Ah, so this is another identity crisis?" Ara crosses her arms. "You go through those way too often."

"You and Leo are insufferable," Jason rolls his eyes. "You push people's buttons so we focus on being angry at you instead of your problems."

"Listen, ever since Rome was founded you guys have desperately tried to be like us, so in my opinion, you're the most Roman fella that's ever lived in the last century, I don't see what the fuss is about."

"You're the youngest child of Olympus that's ever existed, the youngest General, and that makes you twice as scary. I know it's easier said than done, but you should follow Eros's advice and—"

"You're currently dying and you're trying to tell me how to live?"

Jason doesn't yield. "You taught me that no one but me gets to decide who I am—you declared yourself daughter of Olympus, so why are you acting like Leo won't make it? Now it's not the time to question willpower."

Ara and Jason hold a staring competition, but Jason's got that stupid wolfish glare, so she can't outdo him. She turns and faces the skyline before her.

"When it was just my life I was handling, it was easy to say that stuff. But I found out stubbornness has messed up multiple lifetimes... Leo's life is on the line, I can't lie just to make myself feel better."

"Who says it's a lie?"

"I can't hold the curse to my way of perceiving the world," she says irritatedly. "Leo's idea is very romantic, but he's not considering the effort it'll take to defeat Gaea, he's underestimating the situation."

"Leo is smarter than that," Jason reasons. "And you know that."

Ara groans. "Wits are nothing if you have nowhere to put them. He doesn't have a solid plan, and the curse is clear: He can't save himself."

"Yeah, and he's not trying to," Jason replies. "He's going to save Calypso and you instead."

Ara hears a thump followed by muffled screams at the other end of the trireme. "Stay here."

"Did you tell Leo about our fighting style?" Percy asks while Frank and Leo take Nike downstairs.

"What?"

"When we were about to fight he said 'I distract, you attack'."

Ara starts going downstairs to look at the goddess. "It doesn't surprise me. Leo's always been more comfortable being a distraction."

Percy follows her. "You two are more similar than I thought. Or he's really similar to who you used to be—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've changed," Ara says grumpily. "Save it."

"No—wait," Percy catches her wrist and stops her. "You have changed, and I thought it was something bad, but not anymore."

"What is your point, Percy?" She presses.

"You grew up," he continues. "And it sucks that I couldn't be there to help you, but it had to be this way. After Bianca, I didn't want you out of sight," his hand remains around her wrist, and Ara can feel his angst. "When Beckendorf died, I thought you hated me, and then Mike died and I... I thought you wanted to get away from me. I got scared and confused, but while I was in Tartarus—"

"You don't have to talk about it—"

"While I was in Tartarus," he insists. "We ran into a herd of arai. The more we slayed, the more curses fell upon me and Annabeth, it was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, but what they say about you in camp, they don't know what they're talking about. You're powerful and resourceful, and they're afraid of that. I was too, but that doesn't make you bad. I'm sorry."

Ara pouts and pulls Percy into a tight hug. "Thank you."

"I want you to be safe," he says, voice muffled by the hug. "I know it's absurd, but you're my little sister. If something bad ever happened to you..."

"I'm sorry too. I knew you loved me, but there was a second voice telling me I didn't matter and I was jealous of how things were just given to you, even if I knew they came at a high price..."

"We used to tell each other everything," he looks down at her. "What happened?"

Ara ponders his question. "You can make mistakes, but in front of your family?" Ara swallows the lump in her throat. "It's like twisting a blade in your gut. We stepped out so we wouldn't bleed in front of each other."

Leo's voice comes from downstairs. "Sunshine, come meet our new buddy!"

Percy clears his throat. "You should go... You and Leo should talk to her."

"You gagged a goddess."

"What you're trying to say is 'Oh my gods, thank you so much for bringing Nike so she can help my hot boyfriend!'," Leo says tauntingly.

"Oh my gods, you guys, thank you for disrespecting another goddess!" Ara replies sarcastically. "Can someone explain the gag?"

"She threatened to curse us," Frank shrugs. "Considering three out of the four people present were already dealing with curses, we decided not to risk it."

Ara crouches next to the goddess. "Lady Nike, I'll take off the gag if you promise not to curse us, yes?"

"Wait," Leo stops her. "Before you do that, there's something you should know."

Ara pulls her hand back and scowls. "What is it? Is her spit deadly or something?"

"She said one of us has to die to defeat Gaea, that it's destined to be that way," Frank says tensely. "Leo believes it's him and... at this point, it makes sense."

"She also said there's a way to defeat death," Leo's eyes are shining. "The Physician's Cure. Ever heard of it?"

Nothing comes to mind. Ara shakes her head. "Is she willing to share more on that?"

"Well, she mentioned a few things—poison, a god's heartbeat, and the curse of Delos..."

Ara raises a brow. "That's where Artemis and Apollo were born." Leo smirks, pleased with how things are lining up to match his plan. "Don't look so proud, the goddess of victory just said you're a prescribed loser."

"I wear the title as a badge of honor," Leo looks at Nike and nods. "Alright, take the gag off."

"I'll gather the others," Frank tells them. "Let's hold a meeting in an hour? So you can tell us what Nike said."

"Yeah, big guy—thank you," Leo pats his shoulder amicably.

"Stop thanking us, we're planning your death," Frank scolds him.

 Ara waves him off. "Don't waste your breath, he enjoys being a martyr."

"You bet I do! Finally, people give me the prince treatment I deserve!"

"Get out of here before you become a murder witness," Ara warns Frank.

"My eyes are closed, General," Frank turns and leaves the stables.

The girl seizes a corner of the tape over the goddess's mouth. "If you place a curse on us, I'll dismantle your wings and use them to rebuild my bronze dragon. Got it?"

The goddess nods, and so Ara removes the tape. Nike complains dramatically, but she doesn't curse them, mostly because she's too busy staring at Ara with hungry eyes. "Daughter of Olympus," the words are like honey in her mouth. "My Greek champion, I'll grant you answers."

"Thank you," Ara says politely. "Tell me about the Physician's Cure."

Nike responds heatedly. "It's a cheap trick. People who die are losers, they shouldn't get a second chance."

"Understandable," she continues patiently. "But you told them that to defeat Gaea, Leo must die. If he dies, then Leo would've won, right? He'd have a right to a reward."

Nike ponders. "Well..."

"Without Leo's death, there would be no victory," Ara continues with charmspeak. "He deserves to come back. It's a big war—bigger than the one my brother and I fought against Kronos. Wouldn't you like to have another Greek champion?"

"That would be nice..." Nike's eyes glisten with longing. 

"Wouldn't that be the ultimate victory, defeating death?"

"Maybe," the goddess's eye twitches. "Yes."

"We'll get you that milestone," Ara says earnestly.

Nike stares at Leo like she can't wait to carve him into the perfect shape. "You'll be my new champion, Leo Valdez?"

"Absolutely," he smiles confidently. "I was born to win."

The minute her consciousness slips into dreamland, Nico Di Angelo pops into view and grabs her shoulder. "You should see this." Ara gets yanked into his dream, standing in the middle of the rec room. "This is from the latest meeting," Nico glares at the teenagers. "You'll love it."

"...Something's wrong."

Jake Mason clears his throat. "Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who's leading the attack—Octavian what's-his-name. If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I'd go into hiding out of shame."

"I agree," Will sighs. "I wish I was a better archer... I wouldn't mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father's gifts to stop this war... Unfortunately, I'm just a healer."

"Your talents are essential," Chiron tells him. "I fear we'll need them soon enough. As for seeing the future... what about the harpy Ella? Has she offered any advice from the Sibylline Books?"

"The poor thing is scared out of her wits," Rachel makes a face. "Harpies hate being imprisoned. Ever since the Romans surrounded us... well, she feels trapped. She knows Octavian means to capture her. It's all Tyson and I can do to keep her from flying away."

"Which would be suicide." Butch, son of Iris, grumbles. "With those Roman eagles in the air, flying isn't safe. I've already lost two pegasi."

"At least Tyson brought some of his Cyclops friends to help out," Rachel offers. "That's a little good news."

"A dozen full-grown Cyclopes? That's a lot of good news!" Connor laughs, he's seated next to Lily. "Plus, Lou Ellen and the Hecate kids have been putting up magic barriers, and the whole Hermes cabin has been lining the hills with traps and snares and all kinds of nice surprises for the Romans!"

Jake glares at him. "Most of which you stole from Bunker Nine and the Hephaestus cabin."

"They even stole the landmines from around the Ares cabin," Clarisse complains. "How do you steal live landmines?"

"We commandeered them for the war effort." Connor eats a handful of salt crackers, probably stolen from Jake's secret stash too. "You guys have plenty of toys, you can share! Ara would want you to."

That shuts up Jake and Clarisse. Chiron takes advantage of it. "Grover? What news from the nature spirits?"

"Even on a good day, it's hard to organize nymphs and dryads," Grover looks exhausted. "With Gaia stirring, they're almost as disoriented as the gods. Katie and Miranda from the Demeter cabin are out there right now trying to help, but if the Earth Mother wakes... Well, I can't promise the woods will be safe. Or the hills. Or the strawberry fields. Or—"

"Great." Jake looks at Clovis and shakes him a bit when he starts to close his eyes. "So what do we do?"

"Attack!" Clarisse says, making everyone jump. "The Romans are getting more reinforcements by the day. We know they plan to invade on August first. Why should we let them set the timetable? I can only guess they're waiting to gather more forces. They already outnumber us. We should attack now, before they get any stronger; take the fight to them!"

Lily looks at her brother, asking him to speak as the Athena counselor. "Clarisse, I get your point. But have you studied Roman engineering? Their temporary camp is better defended than Camp Half-Blood. Attack them at their base, and we'd be massacred."

"So we just wait? Let them get all their forces prepared while Gaia gets closer to waking? I have Coach Hedge's pregnant wife under my protection. I am not going to let anything happen to her. I owe Hedge my life. Besides, I've been training the campers more than you have, Malcolm. Their morale is low. Everybody is scared. If we're under siege another nine days—"

"We should stick to Annabeth's plan." Connor tries to control Clarisse's frustration. "We have to hold out until she gets that magic Athena statue back here."

"You mean if that Roman praetor gets the statue back here," Clarisse scoffs. "I don't understand what Annabeth was thinking, collaborating with the enemy. Even if the Roman manages to bring us the statue—which is impossible—we're supposed to trust that will bring peace? The statue arrives and suddenly the Romans lay down their weapons and start dancing around, throwing flowers? Ara once gave me crap for not standing on business, and I won't disappoint her a second time."

"Don't hold onto the stuff she said before becoming a General," Lily speaks at last. "We haven't heard from her in a month—"

"Are you suggesting we listen to you?" Clarisse snaps. "For that to happen, you'd need to speak up, Saggio."

Lily's cheeks flush. "Well, isn't that what I'm doing? I know none of you believe Ara is the camp's curse, but I also know some of you are blinded by your personal history with her—"

"Mostly you..." Jake mumbles.

Lily's voice gets a little drier. "I might've argued with Ara but I'm still second in command. I think it nonsensical to consider what she'd do when she's not here—she won't be here on time to deal with this, so we should be thinking for ourselves. I agree with Clarisse, that statue might not fix things..."

She looks at the older girl, Lily is one of the few people Clarisse treats like a fighter of her range, which sometimes can be funny, considering Lily barely reaches her shoulder.

"But we won't attack. Throwing the first punch is never a good idea, and Romans are A-class bullies who know fear is the best tool for prompt subjugation, don't let them trick you into digging our grave."

Clarisse scrutinizes Lily as if searching for the best area to stab her, but eventually, she gives in. "Birdy and I go a long way back, I do not want to fail her like I failed her sister... If you think this is the way..."

Rachel leans forward. "Annabeth and Ara know what they're doing. We have to try for peace. Unless we can unite the Greeks and Romans, the gods won't be healed. Unless the gods are healed, there's no way we can kill the giants. And unless we kill the giants—"

"Gaia wakes," Connor makes a face. "Game over. Look, Clarisse, Annabeth sent me a message from Tartarus. From fricking Tartarus. Anybody who can do that... hey, I listen to them."

"And let's not forget that in Lily's latest dream, Ara was fighting three immortals at once—and she was winning," Jake raises a brow. "If stalling gives her time to come back and end this, then heck, I'm nothing but stale."

Lily frowns. "That's... not the best analogy, but thank you, Jake." The girl shows him a brief smile that doesn't go unnoticed by Connor, who glares at Jake as he stuffs more salt crackers in his mouth.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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[mischas]

What would've happened if season 2 started differently if DJ never existed? Let's face it the guy was a snooze.

Oh yes, the DJ storyline sucks. And for many reasons. The actors don't have chemistry, he looks so much older than even Ben (which he was!), the borderline racist tone, the extremely classist tone, and the character switch they do on Marissa to make her reduce him to "the yard guy" which we know s1 Marissa would never dream of doing. She dated Ryan for a year without giving a toss about what his upbringing means to be enmeshed with hers. So that's all so frustrating.

Something this show did was resolve their storylines very poorly. They move at breakneck speed and it caught up with them in s2 when they had to scramble. And I understand to a degree, this is network tv in the 2000s, but we know now that JS and co needed to be reigned the fuck in even in s1 so they wouldn't exhaust every decent storyline in two episodes.

So anyway, in order for RM to ever have a chance of a real reunion, I'd have Marissa and Ryan really get into what tore them apart pre-Theresa. Which was Oliver. And the show demonized Marissa for it entirely which was insane (and led to character backlash online which JS was voraciously paying attention to). Marissa plays catch-up to Ryan's moral superiority from then on and it's infuriating. So I'd fix that shit. Remind the audience that Ryan broke her trust first with breaking into her locker and stealing her letter. Something that other teen shows, particular supernatural ones, do is ponder the idea of your beloved's agency vs their safety. The show says that Ryan is in the right for breaking into her locker because he's right that Oliver is evil/crazy/in love with Marissa/possibly putting her in danger. And it's an interesting moral dilemma if done well, but they don't do shit with it in the aftermath. Marissa has to painfully grovel at Ryan's feet all because she didn't believe him when he had zero evidence. Ridiculous.

And because this is tv let's distill this into a scene at the end of 202 when Ryan gets to go home feeling morally superior about breaking things off with Marissa before they've even started again because he's so concerned with her white lie. Like whatever dude. Like he hasn't been sleeping in Theresa's bed all summer. I imagine Marissa coming to him after the carnival and pushing him about these things. Also, it drives me crazy that 127 even has Ryan not fully gleeful about Theresa possibly getting an abortion. Sandy is the only one making sense there. Ryan is 17 years old yet they want him to have the countenance of someone who's 35. That's a problem throughout the show, really. I'm not saying he'd be skipping around Newport joyful but it is so insane to play it out like this is a wanted pregnancy for anyone involved. And for it to happen to the one Latinx character they've semi-centered (in southern California!) is... something. As well as the DV storyline and the original Eddie storyline they really wanted to go with. God, a mess. Anyway. When Ryan is informed of the supposed miscarriage in 201, we're supposed to believe Ryan doesn't even see Theresa for... months? She tells him not to come back but come on this is Ryan! Ryan who we're told is noble and good. He wouldn't go back to Chino to even hug her??? It's so crystal clear that the show wants to quickly move past this bomb they created in s1. Anyway, I'd want Ryan and Marissa to have a real conversation about how that summer impacted their lives and that'd inevitably bring up how he slept with Theresa two whole seconds after the Oliver melodrama blew up. Which could bring about a frank discussion about how they both use sex as a distraction rather than an act of love.

And let's say they talk about these things and still decide they shouldn't be together, I think that'd bring with it a good tension. Keep them in one another's lives because they're in the same circles. Maybe even do similar storylines with other love interests, but sprinkle in some pining and close encounters that give audiences what they really want. It's partly what SS get in s2, though the show drops the ball on why they're not together since they don't flesh out Seth's reasons for leaving beyond 201 and they don't come close to touching Summer's abandonment issues like they should.

If it's clear that I've thought about this before, you'd be right. Lol. I think s2 has an ok framework but could've been tweaked even a little bit to be really, really good.

[crossover-enthusiast]

Do you have any random spooky month headcanons you want to share? This is an excuse to go on a rant about any sort of spooky month stuff that's been rattiling in your brain.

my brainrot is strong and I rlly like your headcanons so jhdskfhg

Firstly - thank you omg

Second! I have a bunch of headcanons but unfortunately my brain has decided to dump them all into a box and put them on a shelf I can't reach, so I'm just going to ramble about whatever

People almost never talk about Streber having technical know-how and I'm mad about that

Like the camera mirror is so clever, how long did that take to plan? How'd he come up with it?? Did he make the cape himself or did he get someone else to do it???

Also talked about this with @interdimensionalvoid a bit but I love the idea that Streber hates being babied, he is independent and wants to be scene as such

Another reason it sucks for him to be down an arm lmao

I don't want this to entirely be about Streber soo headcanon lightning round:

Radford is actually colorblind and his glasses are color corrective. Them resembling 3D glasses is just a funny coincidence

I keep flip-flopping between Dexter adopting cats as a buffer if he goes without work for a while vs him having one cat that he absolutely adores and would never harm because both sound really good

Rick is acquainted with most of the town bc of his job hopping

Also if Rick's in the mood for it he tells really good jokes

Frank has low empathy and is v selfish

He does genuinely care for Skid and Pump tho, and still cares for his old friend group (even if the only one he sees nowadays is Lila if he's lucky)

Also yes I'm not over the idea of them all being friends there is so much p o t e n t i a l

Jaune has ADHD and her husband has autism. Ross has... something, haven't figured it out yet

As an addendum to the above, all the Hatz are neurodivergent

The cult broke the thieves out of jail when they broke Bob out of jail, as a "yeah why not, they could be useful" thing. They gave the two an amulet to keep track of them and Fat Thief wears it under his sweater, not knowing he really shouldn't

They tried to pawn it off but the pawn shop just would not accept it for some reason

Dexter's funky eye is genetic and also a lazy eye. Both his glasses and goggles are prescription and even though it's technically fixed he still wears them

The Hobomen are army deserters. They probably could have found a job in town, but being hobos was more enticing

Shotty once tried to teach John's daughter how to use a shotgun and John nearly capped him for it

Speaking of her, she's friends with Robert's little sister! They're a Skid and Pump-esque duo and frequently get into Mischief

I have more but I'm still struggling to reach the box!! I'm open to headcanon dumping anytime though, just ask :>

[lightningandfireinmybones]

omg girlie congratulations on the interview success!! the smut prompts are so hard to choose from sddsczmx like how do i choose 1-140 ok hmmm maybe “i can’t sleep without you here” and “spend the night with me” “don’t be afraid it’s just me” in a valaemond breaking up when they're young but slowly finding their way back to each other world? maybe “no panties?” “open your mouth" “get on your hands and knees, right now” “guess i’ll have to cum inside you then” “i don’t know what to do then 'let me teach you” for a horny one? please pick and choose whatever you want!! i will go feral over anything you write!

bestie thank you!!! trying not to get too excited but also celebrating small victories so

we’re gonna go w/ the first three for a softish   “i can’t sleep without you here” and “spend the night with me” “don’t be afraid it’s just me” (9, 12, 53)

It’s the silence, really, that wakes her up. Valaena wasn’t sleeping well to begin with, the bed big and empty, but what little sleep she was able to find slips between her grasp like sand out of an hourglass. The world feels too still, too tense, like it’s waiting on something.

Or someone, rather.

When she turns over and sees the shadow in the plush chair under the window, she doesn’t scream, but she does suck in a sharp gasp, sitting up so fast her head spins.

“Don’t be afraid,” the shadow says, deep and steady, “it’s just me.”

“Aemond,” Valaena breathes, taking in the gleam of moonlight off the sharp planes of his face. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He shrugs, limbs long and loose. With just moonlight on his pale skin and the dark black of his clothes sucking in all the available light, he looks like a god, coming to the earth to watch over her.

“I can’t sleep without you,” Aemond admits, voice frank and a little wrecked. “Needed to make sure you were okay.”

Safety infuses in her, the irritation she thought she’d feel at his presence nonexistent. 

“I can’t sleep without you here, either. The bed feels too big.”

If she was hoping Aemond would move at that, she’s sorely disappointed. He just stares at her, scar a knot of white flesh in the moonlight. His eye wanders down her form, from the way her tank top is slipping off her shoulders, leaving so much of her exposed to his gaze, to the way her fingers bunch in the comforter. Valaena is surprised by how much she longs for him to throw off his stupid trench coat and crawl into bed with her. 

“Are you going to call your guard dogs on me?” Aemond asks sardonically, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arms of the chair.

“Daemon and Jace aren’t here. Nobody is. They’re taking Joffrey to tour colleges,” Valaena admits, sheets slipping down further. Her tank top is doing little to cover her anymore, but she can’t bring herself to fix it, not when Aemond is looking at her like that after so long without him.

He shakes his head. “They should know better than to leave you alone. You attract trouble like a magnet. A girl like you, all alone in this big house, by herself?”

She knows she shouldn’t, knows this is a bad idea. She does it anyway, tilting her head to the side until her loose curls spill over one shoulder in the way she knows drives him crazy.

“Then stay the night. Ward off any trouble I may get into.”

Finally, Aemond moves, prowling closer like a jungle cat until he’s right above her, forcing her chin up to maintain eye contact.

“And what if I am the trouble, Valaena? Hm?”

This close, he smells like cedar and the rain still gleaming in the silver of his hair. Her thighs clench together, she can’t help it. Even through the barrier of the sheets and comforter, his keen eye catches the movement.

“You leave me but you still want me. You really are my little slut, aren’t you?” Aemond leans in closer, so close she can smell the mint and the scotch on his breath.

“I am,” Valaena gasps out. “Please, Aemond.”

So gently, he brushes his lips against the hot skin of her forehead. 

“I’m not a one-night stand, Valaena. Don’t ask me to stay unless you want it all.”

Words die in her throat. She wants him, she needs him, she’s terrified of life without him. These past weeks have been hard enough, she can’t imagine a life without Aemond.

“Please,” she says brokenly, the Valyrian spilling out. “Take me. In every way.”

Aemond’s smile is a vicious slash in the moonlight. 

“With pleasure, Sweet Girl.”

[beej-hunnicutt]

Okayyy, I grabbed a bunch of this year's (plus one from December, technically two) actually like "finished drawings" and ramble abt the good, the bad, and the ugly. I just watched an artists tier their art. So yeah lol maybe I'm in the mood to ramble abt mine lol. Below the cut because...so many pictures lol.

Like, don't get me wrong, I loooooove this Frances drawing, but like. It's kinda just there. Like I feel good when I see it. But I WANT IT TO FEEL MORE AAAAA. Like I'm sure abt almost all of these, I just wish I had given it an atmosphere. I actually think this has a cute light palette it actually kinda works. But I wish I had actual lighting in it <3. Where is the vibe and scene?! I think I should go old photograph. Which is what I wanted to do, but I have no idea how. I still plan on expanding out this drawing, maybe changing it slightly, so hopefully, I will do that better!! I also kinda put this Andy with it. Because I feel kinda the same abt it. I think both lack shadows too, which goes with lack of environment. But I think the soft feel of Andy's is nice! I'm glad I colored it. And actually think I like how undefined the background it on this one. It does something for me! Oh didn't mean it, but love the contrast of the complimentary book cover! Didn't intend that, just picked a book I enjoy and think Andy would enjoy. But like that affect.

Despite really feeling like Andy is still not mixed with the background, I actually really like this one! I think toneally it has a vibe. And it's just like a portrait so I cannot complain too much!

I really enjoy this Mary and Frank piece! I love the colors and like how its kinda painterly but still heavily influenced by the sketch and it can still be seen. I like that I attempted more usage of different hues, not sticking to the main color. Like Mary's sleeve? LOVE THAT. Same with the sweater detail on Frank! I put the Kik one with it because for a quick sketch turned painting I think it is good. I like the vibe. I think I should either heavily fix it or redo it. I think if I keep going at it, I can make it a piece I am really proud of!

Okay, admittedly, I put these together because they're kinda the same size but lol. Andy; tried something new, think I heavily failed. But I DO like the colors and like I tried texture, though you can tell I didn't know what to do with it lol. The Lincoln, this piece is rlly old, AND IT WAS BADDDD. I think the half assed fixed version is 1000% better. It's by no means perfect. I rEALLY like the shadow of his head on the pillow. But aha, just wish there was more. But overall not terrible! I like it for what it is. And has a special place for being like my first Lincoln piece that wasn't just his fatigues one. :")

LOVE THE VIBE, I like Grayscale, like the intense shadow. I think the shadows on him could be a but nicer of course. And I do think his hair was kinda poorly done but oh well. I am not the biggest fan of his face? It's not bad, but I think I have done better John faces. I do know; I detailed his face in color and I think I like that better lol.

Lincoln, like, I like the face and coloring of that but it's just so meh. It's a figure like I always do. I like the coloring a lot more when I went back and added deeper shadows. But idk. It's okay </3. And oh!! I group a different Lincoln picture with this one, it has no background but the shadows on his uniform are SO good. It made me loooovve the drawing. And is still a fave. It is what inspired me to add deeper shadows here.

And I've never shared this version of this John drawing. It's a shaving cream prank. Dear God. Help me. I love how John's body turned out. I think his face is nice; its okay. I think I sucked at again giving him a shadow. I couldn't commit to the main shadow and I think it just kinda sucked all life from it. With the Lincoln drawing I don't like the background. With the John one I am torn. I think I should have detailed the ground more? Maybe? Idk. These two, Frank by the water and Andy reading, were all close together and done in January, and they all kinda have the same bckgrnd theme. Idk how I feel abt that choice. For the guys' anyways.

Actually seeing all of these were nice! Because I actually do like nearly all of these pieces! And I feel nervous but very inspired to keep trying to motivate myself to finally take that final step. And maybe try to play into that for the entire piece, not just adding it at the end...and not adding it. I rlly want to try to get a bit more creative too, like interesting things not just person standing there. But idk.

If you read all of this. Omg thank you sorry for rambling your ear off!!! 🫂💗

[giggle-me-this]

[ Formal ] - Dona

[ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― Dona greets Nate in formal partywear (spoiler: it’s a wedding dress)

@outterridge @xiomarawinters @loxley-blair-lockhart @harrixtpinnock @virtuoshosh

It was Dona’s wedding day, and Nate kind of couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

I mean, okay—his cousin had sent out those invitations like, a month ago. But like—hasty, much? Who wanted to get married after only a month of being engaged, let alone to someone you barely even knew, whose family-or-whatever-those-evil-cunts-had-been had basically, almost brainwashed you into ditching all your friends and family and committing murder?

And worst of all—a Christmas wedding.

Though Nate supposed it was like…nicely decorated. Sort of. Someone had charmed a quaint little covered outdoor courtyard to feel deep-summer warm, even though it was winter. There were low-hanging lights that twinkled like fireflies, and Loxley had strung up long strands of earthy vines and soft moss. It was—cozy, if you were into that kind of thing. Cute in a backcountry, shotgun-swamp-wedding sort of way. It was…? The word Nate was looking for was—

“Homey,” Xiomara observed flatly, ultimately failing (but trying nonetheless, which was big of her) to hide the note of distaste in her tone. She and Nate were dawdling at the back of the venue uncomfortably as they scoped out a place to sit that wouldn’t, like, completely suck.

“How about over there with…” Nate started to suggest, spotting the back of Loxley’s head and Piper Oliver’s technicolor hair. But at the venomous glare his girlfriend fixed on him, Nate pivoted quickly to: “…um, Ruma?”

The hedge witch and hypnotherapist had allegedly been invaluable in helping to repair much of the mental damage that Dona’s fiancé had suffered, when his mental wards were dismantled. Xi pursed her lips, considering, and then gave a stiff nod when she deemed her own therapist’s company to be the option that was least appalling.

She walked toward the empty seats near Ruma, and Nate followed. But before he could sit down, someone caught his arm.

It was Harriet, and unlike the other bridesmaids (Dona’s flatmates) who were awaited to stand up next to the bride in dresses of rich honey-gold, Nate’s sister was wearing a suit. Not entirely unlike the one Nate was wearing, actually; Harriet had been stealing from his closet less abashedly, these days.

If Harriet hadn’t had the stupid bridesmaid obligations, sitting next to her would have been a no-brainer.

“Don wants to see you,” Harriet said with a hint of impatience—like it was Nate’s fault things were being held up despite him knowing nothing about it. Which—fair, he guessed.

“…now?” Nate said skeptically. And his sister’s I-really-don’t-have-time-for-your-stupid-questions look was all the answer Nate needed.

He told Xi he would be right back, and then made his way to a back room that was being guarded by Dona’s maid of honor—the annoying flatmate, with the long dark hair. Tall boots that went above her knee were visible beneath the long slit in her dress. Nate was pretty sure Xiomara knew her.

The Gryffindor’s arms were akimbo and she was glaring absolute murder at Nate before he’d even said a word, which like—what the fuck, honestly? He opened his mouth to say something, but instead the girl stepped right up to him and shoved a finger into his chest. “Just so you know, asshole—I think this is a really stupid idea and I don’t support it at all. To be frank, I don’t even know why you and Xi were invited. But, this is Dona’s day, and what she says goes, and if you do one single thing to disrupt from her happiness today, god help me I will have one of my many undead friends rip out your stupid throat and gorge themselves on your blood. Got it?”

“Um—sure?” Was all that Nate could think to say to this, and after another minute of staring him down, she finally let him through.

“So, your maid of honor is a psychopath…” Nate said as he entered the bridal suite, in lieu of an entrance line. And now that Nate was in here, what he really wanted to do was just fuck what the crazy Gryffindor had said, and give his cousin his big speech about all the reasons why this wedding was seriously not a good idea…

But then Dona turned around and faced Nate, and fuck, she looked—breathtaking. She was fucking beaming at Nate in a way that lit up her whole face—a smile Nate had certainly not earned the right to have bestowed upon him, in all the many years of disappointing and upsetting his cousin that they’d lived through to get here. No one smiled at Nathaniel Pinnock that way—and he expected no one else ever would.

Her hair was done up in the most stunning, intricate braids, which were coiled at the top of her head like a crown, the long lace of her veil nestled beneath. And her modest gown was a rich ivory that made her skin seem to glow, dark and radiant like she kept a living sun locked inside her body.

Nate was rendered speechless, and Dona smiled with kindness and humble affection at the moronic look on his face.

“You look great, Dona,” Nate said, finally. And that wasn’t enough—never enough.

“Thanks…” she replied, fidgeting with the bateau neckline of her gown. And even though her experiences had hardened the once-innocent Healer, made her bolder—the old Dona peeked through, for a moment, in her nervous blush. “…I know it’s last minute, Nate, but—I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure, anything,” Nate said, without hesitation. And it was true.

Then Dona took a deep breath, and she said, “I need someone to walk me down the aisle, and give me away.”

Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting. Nate raised up his hands, shifting back. “Dona, I...I mean, why would you—surely Aunt Cat should be the one to—”

“My mom needs to sit out there with yours—to take care of her, so she doesn’t get confused. So I want it to be you.” Nate shifted uncomfortably; sure, he could manage not being a total dick long enough to get through this thing without making a fuss. But this?

Dona’s big round eyes got even bigger and rounder, and she said: “…please, Nate?”

Well, shit. He heaved a long and dramatic sigh, and then smirked. “Fine, fine. But the whole puppy-dog face is a cheap fucking shot, and you know it.”

And then Dona threw herself at Nate to give him a crushing hug, and Nate, despite himself, found that he was smiling.