#it was very funny to look through my notifs and see it be filled with your name pfftttt hope you had fun!

[soappox]

You are literally so right

thank you! i pride myself on my massive brain and overspecific opinions

i do a little bow

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When they call you clingy, so you distance yourself | Hyung Line

Warnings: Cursing

Pt2, Pt3 Maknaeline

(X)

BANGCHAN |

You walked into Chan’s studio, quietly shutting the door behind you, as to not startle him.

“Hey Chris, can we talk for a second?”

You watched as your boyfriend of a year and a half continued to type away, not acknowledging your question.

“Chris? Did you hear me?”

“Yes I heard you. I just didn't answer."

"Well, it would be nice for a little acknowledgment, I asked if we could talk." You state politely. You understood that Chan was stressed, but you believed it was basic courtesy to at least acknowledge someone - let alone your significant other - when they asked you a question.

"Well, I'm kind of busy at the moment."

"I understand it will only take two minutes ba-"

“Dammit Y/N! I'm busy right now can't you see?" He snaps. Turning towards you and showing you the screen of his laptop.

You open your mouth to speak and tell him just why you needed to talk to him at this very second but he interrupted you.

"When we first started dating, I get that you told me you were clingy. I also get that I told you I liked clingy. But my god, Y/N you're not just clingy you're fucking obsessive. And always at the wrong times! You want space when I actually have time. Yet you decide to stroll in here trying to start a damn conversation when you can clearly see I'm trying to play damage control from a fucking dumbass trainee thinking it was funny to mess with my tracks. I'm already stressed as fuck about that, yet I have you breathing down my neck like some obsessive stalker. Like for five minutes just leave me alone!"

You stiffened at Chan’s tone. It was very rare that Chan would ever raise his voice. He managed his frustrations very well and was aware of how sensitive you were so he was always careful about confrontation.

He turned around and had his back hunched over his laptop as he typed and clicked away furiously, unaware of the tears that were quickly springing to your eyes. You were frozen in place, your heart beating uncontrollably.

It took a minute before you were even able to take a breath.

You stood there long enough for Felix to come bursting through the door to come update Chan about something unimportant to the task at hand. The same task that he had snapped at you for interrupting.

And you think that what hurt most. The way the frown on his face was lessened when talking to the younger male and his cute chuckle even popped out once or twice.

You finally were able to pull yourself out of the studio, leaving behind the coat you had absentmindedly placed down out of habit when you had come in and opted to take your purse.

The air was brisk and had that dry smell it always gained before it snowed.

Your apartment was close to the studio, a 25-minute walk at most so you always opted to take a stroll when visiting Chan, but you were on a tight schedule so within a minute you were in a taxi heading home.

And just as quickly you were back in a taxi heading to the airport.

You knew it was petty of you to mute Chris's notifications. But the fact that he snapped at you was just the tip of the iceberg. You knew that once he calmed down, he would immediately be filled with guilt. And you would rather not have your phone being blown up by multiple people at once.

Are you headed to the airport?

You responded to your brother's message with a thumbs up and turned on your DND before the screen darkened with a click.

You glanced at your watch and sighed.

You'd be on a plane heading home in less than an hour and weren't even able to kiss Chris goodbye.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

MINHO |

"You're clingy as hell." Minho mumbled under his breath, thinking you wouldn't hear. But oh did you hear.

"Lee Minho what did you just say?"

He let out a sharp breath and looked up from his phone. "I called you clingy." He stated boldly, his voice even yet loud enough to be heard by Hyunjin and Han who quickly scurried away to the other half of the suite.

"And what about me is so clingy?"

Minho chuckled sarcastically. "Oh I don't Y/N, do you want me to recap the entire day for you?"

You had joined the kids on their trip to Paris. While they had been here numerous times, this was your first time traveling here and due to the anxiety of being in a new place, you attached yourself to Minho's hip since it was your first day here.

You didn't intend to be overbearing, nor did you intend to be up his ass for the entire week and a half long trip, but you wanted to get used to the surroundings and you felt most comfortable doing that with your boyfriend. Yesterday being your first day you spent the entirety of it with Minho. You had noticed quickly how his excitement had turned into unease and straight up irritation after a while. It was a weird phase of emotions considering how happy he had been but you had amounted it to you accidentally taking a wrong turn and missing a fireworks show Minho had been talking about all day. You had come into his room early this morning to apologize, but instead were meant by an overly irritable boyfriend.

"It's because I've never been here before! Did you expect me to not to ask you to show me around?"

"Y/N there is a difference between a tour guide and a fucking babysitter. You pulled me along to everywhere you wanted to go. I had plans yesterday! Certain things that I was hoping to do. I made an entire schedule and everything, but just because you wouldn't agree to be toured around the city by Chan you ruined all of that. Then you spent the entire day just pulling me along. If you wanted someone to give you an overly extensive run down of everything and keep you company, why don't you ask someone closer to your personality like Jisung or Jeongin? I'm sure they'd love talking of the ears of all the local with you. Shit, you'd probably become some street show you three."

You sucked in your cheeks and took a breath.

"That was uncalled for, you have no need to bring anyone else into this discussion."

Minho chuckled sarcastically.

"Discussion? What is there to discuss? The amount of time I want you to leave me alone? Hell, why not the entire fucking trip?" He spat out.

"You're an ass Minho."

"Yeah well at least I'm not a pain in someone else's."

You felt your bottom lip start to tremble and your chin shake.

Don't cry. You'll just be a crybaby.

"And here come the water works." He groans as if he read your mind, getting up from his bed and heading towards the room where the rest of the guys were probably trying to keep occupied as to not hear your arguing.

"So what? You're just gonna walk away?" You call out.

"YOU'RE PROVING MY FUCKING POINT!" He shouted, finally at his breaking point. "It was a mistake asking you to come on this trip." He said turning around one final time and opening the door to the other side of the suite. "I never should have asked."

"Well you know what, maybe this trip isn't the only thing you should have never asked about. And I'm starting to realize that maybe it's not the only thing I never should have said yes to." You spit out turning on your heel and slamming the door.

You furiously wiped at the tears that were sticking to your face and threw your hood up over your head as you headed to your room to contemplate what would become of you two now.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

CHANGBIN |

It was irritating to you the way Changbin was interacting with the female barista. And the irritation must have shown on your face because when he handed you your iced latte, he raised an eyebrow.

"Is everything okay jagiya?"

You sighed as you guys stepped out the shop and started making your way back towards the studio. Changbin had been really busy the last couple of weeks with preparing for a special release and collabing with a few other groups, so you hadn't been able to be around your boyfriend as often as you'd like. So you had agreed on meeting during his lunch every other day, even if the times varied.

"You just seemed really flirty with that barista." You mumbled. "It was obvious she was into you too. I mean who wouldn't you're the Seo Changbin." You giggled elbowing him playfully. You pulled out your phone to make sure there was enough time for you to walk Changbin back or if you would have to take an Uber. You nodded at the time and swiped away a few notifications from Minho.

You expected Changbin to laugh or reassure you like he usually did when you brought up his flirty habits. Instead he snorted into his cup as he took a sip of the dark liquid.

"Jealous much?"

You laughed a little. "Why would I be jealous? She isn't the one who has been dating you for three years." You said hip bumping him, but he stepped away from you rather brashly.

"Well it seems like you are because you have to bring up me and my so called flirting ever single time I talk to anyone of the female species."

"Bin it was just a joke-"

"Well I'm not joking when I say you're acting clingy as fuck." His tone was way off and he seemed to realize the shit he was setting himself up to be put in because he stopped mid stride and turned around to you with an agitated sigh.

"Do you...I don't know want to run that by me again?" You ask, firming your stance.

"God, Y/N, don't make this a big thing. Its just been a day-"

"No, no. You don't get to use that excuse Changbin. We're supposed to talk through these things. You don't just get to say something like that and then act like you didn't."

You guys stood at an impasse for a moment until he spoke up rolling his eyes.

"Fine. I think you're being clingy." He said simple. "Jealousy falls under clinginess and I think you're being jealous so therefore you are being clingy."

"Changbin it was a fucking joke! You've never reacted this way before so I don't know why you're acting this way now!"

Changbin just rolled his eyes and continued in the direction of the studio.

"Seo Changbin, where are you going?"

"To work Y/N. You know, maybe if you actually picked up a more stable job then you wouldn't have as much time to be up my ass and exaggerating about things that aren't things you should be butt hurt about."

You stiffened at Changbin's low blow and took a breath.

"We need to fix this before it gets out of hand." You grit out.

"Well maybe I don't want to fix this." He looked at his watch. "I'm late now so why don't you just drink your latte and go home to cool off."

The condescending voice Changbin was using sent you over the edge. You were angry to the point of tears.

You chucked your nearly full iced latte at him. It hit his chest with a thud, and the coffee made a rather pretty pattern on his pristine white shirt.

"Maybe that'll help you cool yourself off. Fuck you Changbin." You pushed past him and waved down the closest taxi.

Your phone was buzzing in your pocket and you pulled it out.

"Hey, are you and Changbin on your way back? I need to go over some choreography and we're filming tiktoks right when he gets back."

You did the best you could to keep your voice level when responding to Minho.

"He's on his way back now. But you need to get him a new shirt because being the dumbass he is he likes to make a mess of perfectly good things."

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

HYUNJIN|

You were never very happy having to attend events with Hyunjin. It wasn't that you didn't like spending time with him, or in turn spending time with the guys events.

It was just you felt insecure being the plus one of someone like Hyunjin.

It was no secret to anyone how those who knew and perceived Hwang Hyunjin's existence thought of him.

He had a beauty that rivaled any masterpiece that had ever been painted. The elegance of a tiger lily with the face of an angel.

You knew of many people who would jump at the opportunity to be with Hyunjin. For the past 11 months you had been with him you had your fair share of run ins with crazy fans or pop stars of the like.

Once your relationship had gone public a month ago you found yourself being compared to the female idols in the industry even more than you has expected.

It seemed to be the general consensus that not many people viewed you as "beautiful enough" to be with someone like Hyunjin.

You didn't take it to heart because you decided to have the outlook of nobody being beautiful enough for Hyunjin - let alone the people writing those hateful comments considering they were most likely delusional pre-teens who made the most out of pocket edits and were in desperate need of some grass groping.

But after a month it was starting to get to you slightly. Especially as you had come across one of those edits, since you had been tagged in it after someone found your personal account.

The amount of hate messages were starting to get to change your perception on things. Because the more you were hearing it the more you were seeing and believeing it.

"Jinnie do you think that my shoulders look weird in this dress?" You walked into your living room where Hyunjin was sitting. He looked up and a bright smile showed on his face.

"I think you look beautiful jagiya!" He said standing up. He looked other worldly in his tuxedo.

"And my hair?"

"Perfect." He said placing a kiss on your forehead. "We have to leave now if we want to make it on time. Or else I would look at you all night."

By the time you had been at the event for thirty minutes you already wanted to go home. You felt like the ugliest person there, and you couldn't help but feel the eyes of many people on you.

Ever couple of minutes you found yourself looking for Hyunjin's reassurance.

"Does my stomach look bloated?"

"Is my makeup fine?"

"Can you see the pimple on my chin?"

"Are my nails okay?"

"Do I look ugly?"

"Should I make my hair look like hers next time?

Hyunjin was reassuring you, but after the third or fourth questioning of the night his answers became generic.

When he was talking to an idol and his significant other you couldn't help but start comparing yourself to her. She was so pretty.

"Hyunjin should I run home and change?" You asked quietly in English. You were doing your best to learn Korean so it would be easier to communicate with Hyunjin's parents when the time came that your families were to get closer. You wanted it to be a surprise when the time came, because you knew how much Hyunjin wanted you to get along with his family, when when the time came to meet them - he wanted to get along with your family.

"You're girlfriend is pretty clingy isn't she?" The other idol asked in his native language, assuming you didn't speak korean because of your fluency in english.

"Yeah she is extremely clingy." Hyunjin replied. "Might be the clingiest girl I've ever met."

You looked at the other idols girlfriend and she made a face, and then laughed.

"You can tell she is a foreigner by the way she acts. No one is ever as clingy as foreign partners." She joked and all three of them were laughing.

Well there is the hundredth insecurity to list.

You looked at them and tried to control your facial expressions.

"We were just telling him that you are so adorable." The girl told you.

You chuckled uncomfortably and looked over at Hyunjin. He smiled and blinked cutely at you.

You smiled back as Hyunjin turned towards the couple again to continue his conversation.

And all you could do was smile back as you pretended to not understand the words Hyunjin didn’t even realize hurt you.

[winwintea]

my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever. 

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write. 

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.  

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react. 

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence. 

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night. 

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles. 

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside. 

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well. 

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it. 

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long. 

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo. 

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen. 

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm. 

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long. 

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought. 

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve. 

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down. 

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him. 

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work. 

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to. 

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

[dovesdreaming]

Text me when you’re done killing people

Summary: You text Wade pictures of his two favourite girls while he’s working. He always loves to hear from you.

Request

Masterlist

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Wade’s phone vibrated in his pocket mid-fight, right as he finished tossing a grenade at a group of particularly unfriendly henchmen. He had a few seconds before it exploded, so, naturally, he pulled out his phone with a flourish and checked the screen.

[You]: Miss you already! ❤️

A picture followed, and Wade’s heart did a little flip under the red-and-black suit. It was you, sitting on the couch with Dogpool, the tiny mutant dog perched on your lap, both of you looking into the camera with the sweetest expressions. You were wearing one of Wade’s old hoodies, the one that was three sizes too big for you, and Dogpool had a little bandana around his neck that you’d probably put on him. Wade grinned, staring at the picture as the grenade detonated behind him with a satisfying boom. Blood and chaos erupted in the background, but he barely noticed. His phone buzzed again.

[You]: Dogpool’s missing you too! Here’s a video!

He clicked the video, ducking instinctively as a stray bullet whizzed past his head. The video was short but sweet: Dogpool, standing on the couch, wagging his tail and barking excitedly. In the background, you laughed, your voice like music to Wade’s ears, even through the muffled speaker. “Dogpool, where’s Daddy? Where’s Wade?” you asked in the video. Dogpool barked even louder, as if he knew exactly who you were talking about. Wade’s grin stretched wider under the mask.

“Ugh, my heart," Wade muttered to himself, clutching his phone dramatically to his chest. He dodged a sword swing from a very angry assassin and ducked behind a crate for a brief second to type out a response.

[Wade]: Daddy’s coming home soon, babe! Just gotta finish slaughtering these no-good villains and I’ll be back to my favorite girls 💕 PS: you look cute in my hoodie. And Dogpool's killin' it with that bandana!

He hit send just as a goon rounded the corner, gun raised. Without looking up from his phone, Wade raised his other hand and shot the guy square in the chest. He watched him collapse, then glanced back down at his phone, eagerly awaiting your next text. Another vibration. His heart did that funny thing again.

[You]: We’re waiting for you! I’ll have snacks ready when you get home. Also, Dogpool is being too cute. He’s drooling all over your side of the bed 😂

Attached was another picture of Dogpool sprawled out on the bed, tiny paws flopped over Wade’s pillow, his tongue hanging out as he slept. Wade could practically hear your laugh in his head as he stared at the picture. He barely noticed the team of henchmen coming his way until the last second. With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and pulled out his katanas, leaping into action with a series of precise, bloody strikes. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll make this quick!” Wade called over his shoulder. “I’ve got two ladies waiting for me at home, and I’m not about to disappoint”. As the last of the enemies fell, Wade wiped off his katanas and slid them back into their sheaths. With the job done, he grabbed his phone again, a giddy thrill rushing through him at the sight of another text notification.

[You]: Come back to us soon. We miss you, Wade. I’ll always be here when you get home.

He paused, leaning against a wall as he reread the message. His heart warmed, like it always did when you sent things like that. Sometimes, it still felt unreal that someone as amazing as you would actually wait for him, love him, despite everything. Despite him. He quickly typed back:

[Wade]: I’m on my way, babe. You, me, and Dogpool = Best family ever. See you soon ❤️ PS: prepare for excessive cuddles.

And with that, Wade holstered his weapons, slung his bag over his shoulder, and took off toward home. Because no matter how many jobs he took, how much chaos and bloodshed filled his days, he always had something, someone, to come back to. And that was all that mattered.

[jasntodds]

Burial Plot [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Summary: Jason thinks back on memories of your relationship

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, mentions of injuries, self-deprecating thoughts (jason), mentions of previous homelessness, mention of addiction (not jason or the reader), mentions of blood, character death, open ending

Words: 8,451

A/n: Dayseeker dropped Replica and Burial Plot really did something for me (again). If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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The cold Gotham breeze nips at Jason’s cheeks as his hands grip the ledge of the roof so hard the solid concrete almost wants to collapse at his feet. The streets are busy below him, the streetlights and buildings illuminating the otherwise dark and gloomy city. Something here manifests and metastasizes into something cruel and unusual, a type of suffering that almost brings the city pure and unfiltered joy. It’s something about this city that feels unbearably cruel sometimes.

Gotham always felt like it was filled of poison with no antidote so maybe that’s why Jason always managed to find himself back in the dreary city.

It’s how he always saw himself, drenched in poison, ruining everything around him even when he desperately tries not to. It’s as if he was cursed from the very beginning and the more he tries the more he messes up. Even coming back from the dead didn’t seem right since even Bruce wanted nothing to do with him. It took him so long to even get into the family’s good graces again because even when he would try his hardest, it always blew up in his face. So, to Jason, there had to be something wrong with him.

But, then, there was you.

Jason remembers the first time you had a proper conversation. You'd met a handful of times prior but never really talked past the usual pleasantries. Dick had asked for your help on a mission even when Jason insisted they had enough help with the other bats and a few of their tag-a-longs. But, Dick insisted.

----

“Red Hood.” You’d snickered through your mask as you watched Jason on his stomach watching the building in front of you through binoculars.

“Something funny?” Jason quipped back with a gentle force of annoyance.

He could do this himself. He did not need to be teamed up with anyone and he had no clue why of all people, he was teamed up with you. You didn't even know each other. At least Jason knew the other bats and their ability and capabilities. You were an unknown factor in this even if he trusted Dick's opinion on you. He knew he could do this himself...in peace and quiet.

“Irony.” You’d stated back. “Red Hood. Joker. Boom.” You shrugged dramatically, earning a glance from Jason. You couldn’t see it through the helmet, but if looks could kill, you’d have been dead on the spot. “It’s not a very threatening name.” Your voice was nonchalant it made Jason want to groan for ten minutes.

“Excuse me?” Jason shook his head.

“I mean…Red Hood." You stated again, just as casually as before. "Not very threatening for a guy who decapitates people and blows people up.”

Jason moved the binoculars from the helmet and looked back at you. “Okay, so what would you have suggested then, huh?” Jason questioned and he’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t somehow both annoyed to hell and back and also, a bit intrigued about where you’d go with this as you knew anything at all about him.

“I think it would have been hilarious if you kept the Robin mantle actually.” Your voice had been airy and filled with amusement as a smile reached your eyes.

Jason had to bite back his own snicker. “Don’t think anyone would else would have.”

“Well, that’s cause they have shit senses of humor. I mean if I hear Dick say one more pun tonight, I think I’ll have an aneurism.”

“Yeah.” Jason lets out a chuckle this time and you felt as though you had won something from it. “His jokes are the fucking worst.” Jason almost groans through the helmet. “But yours aren’t much better, princess.” Jason stated before picking up the binoculars again to go back to watching the building.

A genuine smile came over your features. “I know.”

Jason's eyes had softened when he’d glanced back over at you. Something about how you held yourself during the stakeout, the ease of the conversation and you bringing up his death. He knew your fighting style, knew about your powers. He knew what you could do and how well off you were and how you were able to perfectly handle yourself. But, the ease of you held yourself on that rooftop was as if everything else were going to be easy for you even if it wasn’t. It was interesting and a bit fun.

“How’d Dick rope you into this anyway?” Jason had asked as he kept his eyes on the building.

“I had nothing else to do.” You laughed softly.

It was true. You didn't and Dick asked. His jokes might be bad but he was always one of your best friends so you'd always help when he asked. But, it wasn't all that big of an ask when Dick mentioned Jason would be helping, too. Maybe you had asked to be teamed with him instead of Steph or Tim this time.

“How about you? Dick said you don’t do the team thing very often.” You asked.

“Had nothing else going on.” Jason had chuckled softly. “If Dick was asking me and everyone else, I felt like I had to help." Jason stated even if he didn't really mind helping out his siblings.

“That’s nice of you.” You’d said.

“It’s nothing.” Jason keeps his eyes on the building you were supposed to be watching.

It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t the least bit intrigued by your friend’s brother. Dick talked about him often enough. You knew stories about The Red Hood. Jason Todd had almost seemed interesting from your perspective. The misfit son who gets brutally murdered and comes back to be, somehow, more of the misfit troublemaker that pisses everyone off. Hero turned anti-hero (you’d refused to call him a villain). It was tragic but he still comes back and instead of deciding to make innocent people suffer like most other people would do if they were him, he decided to just do something about it. Maybe his methods are a bit extreme and maybe he’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s doing something for the greater good. That’s not all bad and you’d always thought that was still better than him doing worse or doing nothing. You’d always thought that made him more interesting, more admirable.

And, maybe it doesn’t hurt that he’s kind of pretty with the blue eyes and white streak of contrast amongst the rest of his black hair.

“So…” You cleared your throat.

Jason looked back at you and then back to the building. “What?”

“Are you always so broody?” You asked bluntly as you moved your eyes back to him.

“I’m not broody.” Jason snapped. He was not broody, he was just busy.

“Kind of are.” You’d smiled with confidence.

“We’re supposed—“

“Blah blah blah." You waved him off because you knew exactly what he was going to say. "I know. We are. We can do the stakeout and get to know each other.”

You were not bad company. But, you were blunt and talkative. Jason didn't really know what to make of it, really. This small conversation had shown him that you would ask and say whatever crossed your mind and he has learned that is not always a good thing. Though, your bluntness and how casual you were about the whole thing was a bit intriguing. This was a job, however, and Jason did not come to make friends with Dick's friend.

“Who the hell said I wanted to get to know you?” Jason had snarked back.

“Ouch.” You huffed as you started feeling a little disheartened. “That was mean.” Your nose had scrunched under your mask.

“Look, princess, we’re on a job. That’s all it is. Don’t take it personally.” Jason shook his head and he didn't intend to hurt your feelings but this was supposed to just be a job.

“You can't me princess and one minute it sounds fine but condescending the next. That’s weird. And the job doesn't have to be boring. Doesn’t silence ever bother you?” You’d asked and it was that question that always irked him.

It’s silent a lot for him. He’s used to it but silence is still deafening. Since getting into the good graces with the family finally, it hadn't been as bad. There was usually someone calling him or something he needed to tell one of them. But, silence can eat at him still. It bothered him, just not on a mission or a job. Silence there was always fine though he didn't think that was entirely the point of your question.

“I’m sorry.” Jason muttered. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. Just wanna get this shit done.” He hadn’t looked back at you once.

You were still intrigued by him. You still wanted to get to know him even if he didn't want to get to know you yet. It wasn't some secret Jason was guarded. That was fine. It didn't really bother you. So, maybe it was dumb then but you decided to just go for it.

“Wanna grab something to eat after then?” You asked bluntly, getting Jason’s attention.

“What?” Jason asked quickly as he turned his head to look at you again.

“Like food?” You quipped. “You and me. Food, get to know each other.” Your voice had sounded a little more nervous this time.

"You actually want to get to know me?" Jason questioned. "Thought you were making conversation."

"Well..." You shrugged softly. "Yeah, conversation but I also want to get to know you. You seem fun." You'd managed to pull off a cheeky smile with your last sentence.

Jason had actually laughed. “I seem fun?”

“Are you an owl?” You quipped back as you matched his laughter. “Yeah, Red Hood seems like he’d be fun." You urged. "Get food with me.” You shrugged softly as hope echoed into your eyes.

Jason almost said no. Lately, he regrets not saying no. He should have. He swears left and right, up and down, every piece of him should have just said no. But, he thought you were pretty and funny and interesting. It’d been a while since Jason just got to know someone. He thought it would have been nice and you had so much hope in your eyes, he wasn't sure he could have mustered up a no if he really tried. There was something about you that made him interested enough to just get food. That would be all it would be. Just food. A no was never going to be an answer.

“Fine but I pick the place.” Jason stated before he looked back at the building.

You’d beamed from under the mask, a rush of heat coming to your cheeks. “Okay, Red.” You nearly laughed. “I trust you.”

----

Jason's legs are trembling and it's getting harder to breathe. It is as if his own memories are strangling him from the inside out, a desperate attempt to suck the life out of him one last time. He used to look at that night with a sense of fondness, almost nostalgia because of how far the two of you had come in three years. But, now it's just tainted memories haunted by the vision of you and the false concept of Jason Todd being allowed to be happy.

He remembers so vividly you telling him you trusted him as if it were somehow something so easy for you. You trusted him and you barely knew him. Jason knew then Dick likely told you some stuff about him, Steph, too probably. Maybe the other bats if you ever asked but under no circumstances should you have just so blindly trusted him after meeting him a handful of times, this having been one of the only actual conversations you had. But you did and something about it made Jason both want to jump off the roof and fall right onto the concrete below him and make his heart melt from his chest.

He thinks about it for just that single second, it was nice. It was a silly thought, he swears it was. No one should trust him because people trust him and then they get hurt, right? That’s how the story goes. In one way or another, they get hurt. Maybe it’s Jason doing the hurting in his typical self-destruction way or it’s worse. But, they get hurt. You trusted him and he thinks that’s the exact moment he should have evacuated. That night changed everything because he didn’t. He didn’t evacuate like he had all but been trained to do. He went to get food with you.

----

“So, tell me about you, Jason Todd.” You had grinned wickedly at him as you pointed a limp french fry at him from across the booth.

Jason shook his head as he leaned back. “Like what?”

“Dunno.” You shrugged and the grin never left your face. “What do you like to do for fun?” You asked so sincerely Jason had burst into a fit of laughter.

It echoes through the small diner. Booms off the booth and the glasses. You’d thought it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His nose had scrunched and his head tilted back. The laugh was hearty and somehow soft. It fit him so well and he seemed so genuinely happy.

“What I do for fun? That’s what you want to know?” Jason quipped back as he caught his breath.

“I’m sorry that question wasn’t up to your standards?” You had laughed back and Jason felt his heart skip a single beat.

“No, not that. Of all things you could ask though, that’s what you want to know?” Jason asked.

“Well, yeah.” You’d answered easily. “I know what you do for a living. So, what do you like to do when you’re not doing that?”

There was something so honest and sincere about how you’d asked, Jason almost felt comfortable laying it out. His interests are his and in a way, he always likes keeping them a little close to his chest. Some things he doesn’t tell everyone but others…it’s okay that they know but they’re his. But you were eating your fries, just waiting, filled with hope.

“I like to read.” Jason stated simply as he plucked one of his fries from his plate.

“Oh! Like what?” You asked with eyes wide as you put an elbow on the table to lean in. Dick said Jason was guarded so you didn’t think you’d get too much out of him tonight but you were so relieved you got something from him.

Maybe you’d had a crush on him from a distance for a while.

“Uh..” Jason offered an awkward chuckle. “Like Jane Austen.” Jason shrugged. “Mary Shelley.”

You shook your head in surprise. “Not what I expected.”

“Yeah, yeah--” Jason had started to wave you off.

“No, I mean, I dunno. Thought it’d be like…Godfather-type books. Or something.” You were the one who offered an awkward chuckle that time. “I love Frankenstein.” You'd said it softly with a tender smile and Jason felt relieved.

Jason had asked you what it was about Frankenstein you liked so much and you just went on a whole ramble about it. Jason hung onto every word as if your voice was the sound of his favorite song played on repeat. He just...listened and something about the way he smiled made your heart jump and spin. You may not have had the excessive amount of trauma Jason did but...there was always something that felt comforting when someone let you ramble and he did. Not once did he seem bored or disinterested and then you got to watch his face light up when you asked him why he liked Jane Austen and what his favorites were.

It was Jason's turn to ramble and it wasn't much at first but the more he got going, it was like the more excited about it he got. His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he got a little more dramatic and he relaxed a little in his seat. Jason didn't get a lot of chances to really ramble about his interests, not like this. But, you gave him that in the little diner booth and it felt comforting. It felt nice. It was fun and he'd have been lying if he said he didn't really enjoy it. And the more you asked about his interests and participated in conversation, the more comfortable he felt.

He was still guarded but you shared some interests so it felt easier to let the conversation go where it wanted, bouncing back and forth between some of both of your favorites and hobbies. It felt good to let go for a few hours. You wanted to get to know him and as it would have turned out, he was really enjoying getting to know you, too.

“What else do you do for fun?” Jason asked as he rested his elbow on the table, now a few hours into this getting to know each other thing.

“Ask broody men out to get food.” You’d laughed that was more of a snicker as if you were proud of yourself for the comment and it got Jason to chuckle right back.

“Oh, so I’m just a meal ticket tonight?!” Jason had asked with sarcasm.

“And a conversation!” You had defended, the both of you laughing.

“I am so hurt.” Jason had said it dramatically, easily.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Your eyes had widened with sarcasm. “How will you ever recover?” You faked a whine, a hand over your heart and then Jason gained this smirk.

Jason knew it was getting to be early in the morning and you'd have to end this whole thing soon but that did not mean he didn't want to continue getting to know you. You were right. This was fun and maybe he liked your company after all. He liked how easy you made this whole thing seem. No part of him really wanted this to end so he decided to go for it, just as you did.

“What are you doing Thursday?” Jason asked bluntly.

It caught you off guard and it took everything in you not to burst at the seams. You hoped Jason didn’t notice.

He did.

“Uh…” You stuttered with a gushy smile. “Nothing, I don’t think.” You bit the inside of your cheek to try to calm down the smile while you failed miserably. “What’d you have in mind?”

----

Tears are hot on Jason’s cheeks as he remembers that night as if it had just happened. His teeth are clenched so hard they might just shatter right through his gums. His breathing is quick and everything starts to ache.

You had been so happy that he asked you to do something with him, he never thought twice about taking it back. The thought could have crept up on him and he would have shoved it into the darkest corner of his mind because the idea of disappointing you nearly shattered him. He didn’t even know you but there was hope and kindness and sarcasm and you were funny. You didn’t care. You told him Red Hood was not scary. You looked at him with kindness and hope, two things most people do not look at him with and he felt important for those four hours in that booth with you. So, he decided to take that risk.

Risks are a part of his daily life. They are usually calculated and you had told him they were not always calculated in a way that was really all too beneficial to him. The odds were never on his side very often. But that’s just part of the job, something you did understand. Jason was used to risk. His whole life had been one risk after the other just to survive. He was good at taking risks and showing them he didn’t care. This was a risk he wishes he never took though. Showing you these parts of himself and finally letting his guard down. He regrets that risk because he had just done what he always does and wouldn’t have caved about it, none of this would have happened because you would have given up. He bites his tongue as he remembers the exact moment he wanted to flee and decided not to.

----

You were on a rooftop in Crime Alley, not too high up and below you, Jason was kneeling in front of a few kids. You were not spying on him. You were supposed to meet up together while you were in Gotham, this was the spot but apparently, the kids had other ideas. He was just kneeling down to their level, no helmet and a smile beaming back at them. The two kids who couldn’t have been older than seven, looked at him like he was their hero. Jason was not the scary Red Hood who blows people up with c4 or the guy who will decapitate people to get what he wants from other people or the guy who might as well be a sharpshooter and is not afraid to display it. They do not look at him like a weapon. They look at him like he will protect them and he is so kind.

You’d been on a few dates over the last few months, nothing too serious even if neither of you were looking or talking to anyone else. It was nothing too serious even if you both talked nearly nonstop and maybe you couldn’t stop thinking about each other. But, it’d only been a few dates and you didn’t know each other too well yet and that was okay. But, something you had learned was that Jason is very kind. He is a huge asshole but he is so kind. Innocent people, kids, he is nice to them, far nicer than most people are. Jason Todd can and will kill people but he is not as ruthless and calloused as other people think he is and maybe have convinced him he is. So you had sat on that rooftop and watched him with those kids.

He laughed at what you would only assume were bad jokes and Jason never let the smile fall from his lips. It was just the two kids at first then there were five and then ten. He somehow had gathered a group of kids who were just interested in meeting the Red Hood. One of them had a scraped knee so you watched as Jason pulled out a bandaid from his tactical belt. You couldn’t make it out but you did see it was purple and black. He spent an hour just entertaining these kids before they finally decided to disburse.

“Kids, huh?” You had asked once your feet were on solid ground.

Jason quickly turned around, a quirked brow raised as he looked to the roof. “How long were you watching me?”

“Well, I’m never late so…” Your mask covered your smile but he could tell by the way you looked down and the crinkles by your eyes you were smiling. “You’re different with them.” You stated, blunt as always.

“Well, they’re kids so….” Jason said, unsure what your point would have been.

You nodded. “Yeah, I mean…kids…the, uh, the homeless, sex workers, addicts. You're different. You’re different with people here.” You pointed it out because you'd noticed before.

This was your third time in Crime Alley with Jason and he was always different here. It was always rooted in an understanding and a genuine kindness and empathy for things people have dealt with. He never treated someone differently because of their circumstances and instead, he fought for them. You'd seen your fair share of people being cruel to kids and the homeless, sex workers, addicts, the poor. Jason just isn't. Jason gave you a little more faith in humanity.

Meanwhile, Jason could never wrap his head around your bluntness. You never cared how something sounded or how it came off. You just said what you were thinking. That scared him. And made him feel at ease. He knew he would never have to question your intentions but he also had absolutely no idea what you were thinking.

“Grew up here.” Jason pulled in a breath as he rested the helmet on his hip. “I know what it's like.” Jason admitted and it was a small sliver of information he gave up willingly.

You had nodded softly. “Yeah, uh…Dick said you grew up here. Shit was hard for you until Bruce caught you.”

Jason had let out this sort of scoff that was almost a chuckle as he looked up to the sky and then the right. You couldn't tell if it was something bitter in him that was turning or something pleasant. You'd have put your bet on something bitter if he'd asked.

“Yeah, something like that.” Jason looked back to you, shifting his weight.

Dick had warned you to be careful. It was not to be mean towards Jason by any means. It was more because Dick knew Jason tended to push and self-sabotage things. He wanted you not to pry too much too quick. You knew you’d likely have to ask him direct questions if there were things you wanted to know but you knew not to pry too much. You didn’t want to scare him off but it’s been a few months and a few dates and you were curious about it. You wanted to know what made Jason Todd, Jason Todd.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You asked and you were cautious, something you never really were when asking him things.

Jason had hesitated for a second. It was not a secret. He just prefers to not talk about himself and there was a little bit of something bitter thinking about all of it. Thinking about his life in Crime Alley brings back to him meeting Bruce and then dying. It brings him back to coming back and the way Bruce looked at him like he were a monster before throwing a baterang at his neck. It was the way Jason couldn’t figure out why they couldn’t just forgive each other. It brings back bitterness and pain he can’t quite explain. But, it wasn’t all bad and if he were being really honest, he kind of really liked you. Maybe he could tell you some things about it. You'd yet to give him any reason to not tell you so he decided to take that risk and let you into a small part of his world.

“What’d ya wanna know?” Jason asked before he put the helmet back on.

“Uh…” You weren’t sure if he’d be okay to talk about it so you were unprepared. “Whatever you wanna tell me.” You stated simply as you closed the distance between you.

“Well,” Jason cleared his throat. “It wasn’t all bad.” Jason managed a chuckle before he started telling you things about growing up here and things about his parents, helping you better understand him as a person while also allowing Jason’s trust in you to grow.

----

He stands on this rooftop, desperately begging to go back in time and take the risk back. He wants to fall back to three years ago and rip that night from the both of you. You will be disappointed but that is significantly better than this. Jason swears it is better than this. He can not have you. That is fine. You will do better, you will find better, you always deserved better. He wants to go back and take everything back.

His hands are gripping the cement as if that’ll send him into the past and it only makes his chest feel like it might split open and spill his heart out. He'd dig his own hand into his ribcage and rip his heart from his chest if it would fix any of this. Jason's hands shake with his grip and he would do anything, sacrifice anything he could just to go back. He wants to take it all back even if it’ll hurt you because he remembers that time you told him you had a crush on him.

----

“How long?!” Jason had scrunched his face, confused and insane amused.

“Like a year.” It was more of an awkward giggle that you let out. “I don’t know!” You threw your arm out dramatically, almost regretting telling him. You knew he would be teasing you forever over it now.

“You’ve liked me for a year?” Jason chuckled. “Fucking why? You didn’t even know me!” Jason repositioned on the couch, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he faced you.

“That was part of the fun!” Your eyes had widened as you defended yourself. “I don’t know. Something about the white streak of hair and broad shoulders and…” You pulled in a breath as you shook your head at him, more to try and tease him. “I don’t know. I thought you seemed interesting.”

Dick introduced you at one of the Wayne party things they had at the manor. You were so nervous you could have died right then and there. It really was something about the white streak of hair and the broad shoulders, the thick thighs, and the way his eyes were so damn pretty you could have combusted. His canines were a bit sharp so it looked like he had tiny fangs when the sun hit them just right. Jason didn’t say too much but you thought he was pretty. And you caught glimpses of him throughout the day, laughing with his siblings and rolling his eyes at Bruce and helping Alfred with some of the food. He was big and tall and a little intimidating but not when he was just existing with his family and you found that interesting. The crush went from there.

“Was this before or after Dick told you about me?" Jason had raised a brow, still trying to fathom why you were so interested in him without having had a single conversation.

"After." You answered simply. "He told me all of your stories pretty early on into the friendship. Got to hear all about the kids of Bruce Wayne and company." You stated with a soft smile.

"Why then?" It was a genuine question he had. "And why didn't you say anything for a year?" Jason probably wouldn't have said anything at all if it were him but he's surprised you waited so long since you never seemed to hide any of your emotions.

"I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it." You laughed softly, looking down for a second before looking back to him. "I didn't see you often, thought maybe it'd fade but it did not." You scrunched your nose as your smile grew. "But, uh, I don't know. Dick told me you died and how and…that you guys didn’t get along to put it lightly…since you came back. At first. You were all good then now but it took awhile. But then I meet you and…” You shook your head. “You didn’t seem…mean or…threatening. I don’t know.” You could feel the heat start to burn your cheeks.

You had only heard the story from Dick's point of view at that time. You've since gotten Jason's side but only hearing Dick's was different. There was anger and a sense of betrayal even if it wasn't rightfully placed. It was as if Jason being brought back brought back all of their guilt and grief, too but they never had any way to deal with it. They didn't know where to put it so they put it on the person that caused it, in a roundabout way. It wasn't right and it wasn't right what Jason was doing either. It was just a mess of miscommunication and the inability to move on. Dick spoke fondly of Jason by the time you met, but he told you about all of it so despite his kind words about Jason, you thought maybe he'd be a bit mean and cold and broody and intimidating. But he was not. He was warm and kind and he looked happy. You found it interesting that after everything, Jason was not a cold and cruel person.

“Hey, you can’t go around saying I’m not threatening.” Jason had given you this teasing grin. “You’ll ruin my rep.”

You let out a snort. “Didn’t you just save like a litter of kittens from a car, gave the driver the dirtiest look I had ever seen, and then wouldn’t leave the shelter until they told you they would be fine? Did you not just do that two days ago? Did you not call today to check on them?”

“I’m sorry, should I have let that dickhead hit the kittens?!” Jason asked in horror.

“No!” You let out this laugh that Jason nearly melted into. “I’m just saying, it is not me saying you aren’t threatening. It is going to be those kittens. They’re gonna tell all the other kittens and they’re gonna show up here and then you’re gonna have beef with Selina. I don’t think that’s something you want.” You shrugged casually, trying to withhold your own laugh.

Jason’s booming laugh consumed his entire apartment. “I did not realize saving those kittens would have such a butterfly effect on my relationship with Selina.”

“Shut up!” You groaned as you tossed your head back.

“Okay can we go back to you having a massive crush on me for a year?” Jason eyed you with big doe eyes, mocking you.

“I hate you.” You deadpanned.

“No, you don’t.” Jason pulled in a breath as he gained a giant smile. “Because of your crush on me.” He batted his eyes at you and you wanted to kiss the growing smirk right off of his lips.

“Yeah, I hate you actually. You suck.” You crossed your arms and gave him a fake pout. “My feelings are hurt and everything!”

Jason chuckled before he grabbed your hand from your arm. “I hurt your feelings?” Jason questioned with disbelief, knowing damn well he did not.

“Yes, you did.” You struggled desperately not to break into a fit of laughter as Jason pulled you into his lap.

“You look really hurt.” Jason nodded his head sarcastically, his eyes looking up at you and you thought you'd melt into him.

“I am!” You said it dramatically as a laugh slipped from your lips.

“Right.” Jason nodded his head, his hands coming to your hips. “I am so sorry, could you ever think to forgive me?” Jason questioned with so much sarcasm, you thought he’d start to lose his composure.

“I don’t know.” You answered with a dramatic pout.

Jason let out a laugh. “Your big ole crush on me won’t let you stay mad at me.” Jason leaned toward you, his eyes dodging to your lips.

“You are insufferable.” You stated quietly.

“Sure.” Jason muttered before his hand came to your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. “So insufferable.” Jason muttered against your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You rolled your eyes and Jason did not waste a single second more to complete the request.

----

Jason remembers how happy it all was. You were like this beam of light in his life and for once, it didn’t seem so damn grim. Half the time, he didn’t care if he came home or not. But then you started dating and he fell so hard for you that he didn’t think he’d ever stop falling. And suddenly, there was this big reason to come home every night. The loss of him for you would hurt, even if it were momentary. And…he liked being able to come home to you on weekends when you'd stay in Gotham. He liked having someone to come home to. He liked being happy and having a reason to be happy.

Half that time he didn’t care if he came home or not and that caused its fair share of fights. Jason's breath shakes in the cold breeze as his chin quivers, remembering the fights you'd have about it. There were never many because you just didn't fight. Jason would sometimes push and pull, try to sabotage things and you always just called him on his shit, rarely ever even raising your voice at him. But, these fights happened because you cared about him and Jason didn't know what he was supposed to do with that. He was never entirely sure if he could carry it even though you became one of the most important people in his life. He thought you'd leave, maybe, until the last time you fought about it. As tears spill from his eyes, he remembers the last fight you ever had about him being careful.

----

“Why the fuck are you mad now?” Jason groaned from the bathroom as he cleaned up the first aid supplies.

“I don’t fucking know, Jay. Why the fuck would I be mad?!” You yelled back, storming through his apartment. Everything felt too tight, too hard, too much.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have fucking asked!” Jason yelled back as he followed you into the living room.

You didn’t normally fight and if you did, it was small stuff. Not this. This felt big. It had scared him because as much as he loved to push, he didn't want to lose you. It was never about him, it was always about you deserving better than him or deserving more. But, he almost felt paralyzed at the thought this fight wasn't going to be like the others. He thought you'd finally had it.

“Maybe that’s the problem.” It was more a mutter but Jason was close enough to you not that he heard it.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Jason questioned and he could feel his heart breaking into pieces through his throat.

“Maybe you should fucking know why I’m pissed. But you don’t. Did you ever consider that is the problem, Jay?”

It was not that you were even mad. It was that you were worried about him. You'd just cleaned up a few really nasty cuts again and that was fine. You didn't mind. He always did it for you, too. It was part of the job. It was how frequent it happen and how nonchalant he always was about the whole damn thing. It terrified you and you'd told him over and over. He was normally a good listener but...not when it came to this. And it hurt.

“You were fine earlier! Now you’re not?!” Jason looked to the ceiling in frustration. “I am not a damn mind reader!”

You nearly pulled your hair out. “I am not asking to be a mind reader!” You screamed back at him as tears burned your eyes. “I am asking you to fucking listen to me!”

“I do listen--”

“No! I get it.” You caved, bringing your voice back down but it is far more in frustration. “I get what you do. I am not asking you to give it up. I am asking you to be careful.” The last few words had come out as a plea and the fury and annoyance Jason had disappeared.

“That’s just part of the job.” Jason tried to defend softly this time.

“We both know you can be more careful, Jay.” You said it so candidly that Jason felt guilty for not trying harder. You were right. “Uh…I, uh, I had a nightmare a few nights ago.” You confessed. “And, uh, it was about you. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since because it felt really real. And then today…it just…” You shook your head. “This has been…the best year of my life.” You admitted as your chin started to wrinkle and your bottom lip quivered. “Because of you so I think…about losing you and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Jason almost felt frozen because he couldn't tell where this was going to go and he wasn’t sure where he wanted it to go. The only thing he did know was that he didn't want you worrying so much about him and he felt guilty for putting it on you.

“I know it’s part of the job.” You nodded easily. “I know. I do it, too. But that doesn't make it hurt any less.” You admitted. “And I just…I wish you would be a little bit more careful because I love you.”

Everything froze for Jason. The idea of being loved is almost something he had chased for so long, he never thought he’d get it. He always chased it only to bite it when it comes close to him. It’s scary. The idea of someone loving him and him loving someone else. What if he fucks it up like he’s done to everything else? He couldn't believe he hadn’t fucked this up yet. You’ve clocked him self-sabotaging a few times, he hadn’t in a while but you caught it. You swore he never needed to because you liked him for him. You didn’t care about the dark and scary shit inside his head or the things he’d done. That never mattered to you because he is kind and a good person. He never could believe it but he chose to trust you anyway. And now he was standing here and he had no idea what to do because he could run but the idea of that made him want to burn through the floor.

“What?” Jason finally got out.

“I love you.” You said it again, honestly. It wasn't really how you wanted to tell him. You knew you would eventually but Jason can be a little skittish so you only wanted to do it when you thought he was ready to hear it. You were not sure if he was ready but you couldn't hide it from him anymore. “It’s okay if you don’t feel that way.” You nodded your head even if you didn’t think that was the problem. “Or if you’re unsure if you can say it. I just…I wanted to tell you so maybe…” You had let out a breath. “You’ll know why I worry and I want you to be more careful. I know that…this might not go the way we want in the end but…I just want you to try.”

He thought he didn’t deserve you. He did not deserve that sort of kindness or care or worry but you offered it so easily. You offered it to him as if it was the same as taking a breath. You offered an understanding with it. It’s something even Jason didn’t think about much, you being the one that didn’t make it home. He pushed it away because he felt like he might fall into the center of the earth if that would happen. It would be earth-shattering to him if it were you. You were at least careful when you would go on patrol and he did think that would help, to know you tried to come home to him. It is not fair to not offer you the same deal.

Jason closed the distance between you and you didn’t think he’d say it back which was okay. It would hurt but he had told you so much. Ever since that night months ago when you asked about his childhood, he had told you so much. You knew about being homeless and the things he has witnessed even as a child. You knew. You knew the horrors he had encountered through his life and if it were you, you weren't so sure you would offer those words. But just because he may not be able to say them, did not mean he did not deserve to know how you felt. That did not mean he did not deserve to know people loved him and they wanted him to stay alive. It would hurt but you thought it’d be fine because you knew he loved you.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Jason stated, his voice rough and honest as a hand came to your cheek. His thumb rubbed over your cheek as you nodded against him. “I’ll be careful.” He stated. “I didn’t know.” He admitted.

“I know.” You started back, eyes locked on his. They were red and his eyes were a deep shade of blue like he was on the verge of bursting into tears. “That’s why I told you.”

“Promise, I’ll be more careful out there.” Jason nodded down at you. “I, uh…” Jason pulled in a breath. “I love you, too.” He said carefully but honestly as a gentle smile came to your face.

“Was hoping you did.” You nodded back at him. “I’m sorry for getting so mad. Just worry.”

“It’s okay.” Jason pulled you into him, his arms engulfing you. “I know you worry. I’m sorry for yelling back.” Jason apologized, placing a kiss to your head.

“Can we just get takeout?” You let out a soft laugh, looking up to him. “We can eat and watch some bad reality TV.”

Jason let out a laugh. “What food were you feeling?”

----

A sob rips through Jason’s throat, clawing its way into the cold of Gotham’s air. His legs give out before he can catch a breath and he collapses onto the pavement of the roof. It all hurts. Every piece of his body is aching and crashing like it never should have made it this far. His arms and legs shake as he turns to rest his back against the ledge. He pulls his legs to his chest as his face becomes soaked in his own tears. His lungs start to burn with every sob as he can’t get a full breath in. The world around him starts to spin and it all hurts. Why does it have to hurt so much? He loves you and he will always love you and it will always be painful.

----

Lightning ripped through the sky and you were handling yourself as you always did. You were good on your own. But that night, five days ago, was different. It was different because it was not some big bad that would be the cause. All of that was going so well. It was a simple mistake. Wrong timing. An accident.

Jason had been fighting one of the goons, a nasty fistfight. The goon had some sort of training. Jason was confident, he’d beat him he put up a hell of a fight. It was a hell of a fight until it turned more brutal, getting more physical with punches and kicks, the goon picking Jason up and trying to throw him across the lot. It was getting messy while you were dealing with one of the metas. You were throwing lightning bolts as fast as you could manage while minding where Jason was. It should have been fine because you’d done this before. But, Jason tripped.

He tripped over something left on the ground and that gave the goon enough of a gap to grab him. When he was grabbed, Jason was thrown right into a pile of glass and metal just as you were throwing a lightning bolt in that direction at the meta. You missed Jason but you hit the reflective metals, sending the bolt back to you.

You went down immediately and Jason stopped breathing. The goon and meta took off while Jason was back on his feet, rushing over to you. Panic had flooded his body in that exact instant. You went down hard and the lightning threw you back. He knew.

He pulled your body into his lap, checking for a pulse and trying to feel if you were breathing only to find nothing. His hands were shaking so bad he could barely hold you in his lap.

He called your name with a tremble of his voice. “Come on, you gotta wake up.” He said it quietly, trying to keep himself together, desperately still trying to find a pulse. “Wake up.” He said it more sternly that time as he shook your head lightly.

You were lifeless in his lap and he was at a loss. What is he supposed to do?!

He moved to put your back on the ground and he started CPR before he used the comms to get ahold of Oracle. He told her what happened as he performed CPR, desperate to bring you back to him. You had to come back, right? It was your own lightning bolt. How can you be killed by your own powers? That sounds like such a rip-off. And Jason bit his sobs back because it shouldn’t have been you. It couldn't be you. It was supposed to be him because he needed to be more careful. He didn’t have powers. He already died before. He put a bomb in his helmet. It was supposed to be him to go first but you were not breathing.

You wouldn't breathe.

He tried and he tried until the other bats started showing to offer some help. He tried and tried and tried and it wasn’t good enough because the lightning was too much and he was clumsy. He fucking tripped and he slipped and that was it. It led you to getting hurt. It led you to getting killed. It is all his fault.

----

Jason’s hands cover his face as he keeps sobbing, nausea filling his stomach. His stomach is in agonizing pain and he can’t bear to even attempt to pull himself together. What is he supposed to do? It’s his fault. He can never forgive himself for it and he knows it. You deserved better and he should have just said no three years ago. Had he just turned you down, you’d be alive and off somewhere living your life. Had he just been more careful. It doesn’t matter that everyone has tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault because he always sees it that way. And he misses you.

He wakes up and he misses you and that’s if he can even get any damn sleep. He wakes up and he misses you and he tries to eat and he misses you. Bruce comes over to check on him and he misses you. He sees some of your stuff littered over his apartment and he misses you. His entire chest feels like it might cave right in every single second of every day. It’s as if he is dragging his feet from one minute to the next with no real destination or desire. He moves because he has no choice. He just wants the pain to stop. He wants you back. You didn’t deserve to die.

How he is ever supposed to move on from this? From you?

The memories he once looked back on are now tainted with pain. And that is the only thing he has left of you. What is he supposed to do?

How is he supposed to live with the pain of losing you?

Hands rest on Jason’s knees, gentle and soft, gathering Jason’s attention. Jason’s own sobs were so loud, he entirely missed the presence of another person coming onto the roof with him and he missed the sound of footsteps approaching and then stopping in front of him. He missed it all and not a single part of him even cares. But, he looks up anyway and his breath catches in his throat as his eyes widen. How?

“Jay?” Your voice is quiet and broken with the sight of him.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

[loser-jpg]

Best 4th in the North

A common occurrence between the housewarden of Savanaclaw and the prefect of Ramshackle was moments spent at sunset, lying on Leonas bed. Leona would use Dee as a pillow, trapping him underneath, with him really not seeming to care as he spent the time scrolling through his phone or distracting himself with his thoughts on the occasions Leona was unsuccessful in getting him to nap with him.

Moments like these Dee would speak to Leona, not often expecting an answer, more to fill the silence, or possibly just a love of hearing his own voice.

"Oh, it's the fourth of July."

Leona glanced up to see Dee looking at his phone, eyes wide at the screen.

"...And?" Leona looked at him in confusion, what did the date mater? Last he knew there wasn't anything important today.

"Back home today's a holiday. A fairly stupid one, in my opinion, but I just happened to notice." Dee paused for a minute, staring at the ceiling as he thought. "Though I did like my families traditions."

"Hmm?" Leona hummed in a low tone, he wasn't actually interested in the topic, but he liked hearing Dee talk, and it was nicer to be somewhat invested in the conversation.

"We'd go up north to my grandparents house, cook out, play yard games, and when the sun started to set me, my sister, and my cousins would light sparklers- OH!" Dee sat up, moving fast enough to almost give Leona whiplash. "I need to tell you the story of how the table exploded!"

"...How what?" Leona was even more confused than before, especially with the excited look Dee had at remembering whatever this story was.

"How the table exploded one year! My dad set up all the sparklers on this glass table, and had the candle to light them on it too, and my uncle accidentally got some of the sparklers sitting on the table on fire so all of them were popping and the table shattered. It was actually really funny, because my cousin just grabbed the hose and sprayed all the broken glass even though the fire was already out." Dee giggled a bit, settling back down as if the fire hazard horror story he had just shared was some fond childhood memory.

"How in the world is that story supposed to be funny."

"It just is. Anyway, once it would get properly dark we would go down to town hall and sit on the steps to watch the fireworks show...It'd be nice to see fireworks here."

The last part was said almost in a whisper, as though it was a thought he intended to keep to himself rather than share with Leona.

"Whys that." Leonas words were mumbled and quiet, with him seemingly balancing the edge between sleep and consciousness.

"The sky here is a lot clearer than back home. I always thought it was so cool how many stars you could see. You really only saw that many when you went out to the north country, but here you see a ton. I figured that'd mean fireworks would look cool too."

Leona couldn't say he was fond of fireworks. Maybe there had been a time where he was, but in recent years any celebration that used them only served to remind him of troublesome memories.

When Cheka had been born the whole of Sunrise City celebrated the entire day, ending it with a gruesome amount of fireworks. Leona assumed the same happened when his brother had been born, but of course he wouldn't know. Leona doubted anyone set off fireworks to celebrate his birth.

Only a few days later Leona was woken up by an annoying amount of notifications on his phone, the fact that they were from his boyfriend being the only reason he didn't ignore them entirely. The notifications consisted of a string of messages accompanied by a single image.

Herbivore:

I FOUND BACKYARD FIREWORKS AT SAMS!!!

[insert image]

GET UR ASS OVER HERE RN

PLEASE

PLEASE

PLEASE

:DDDD

Leona half debated not responding, or at the very least saying he wasn't getting up to go all the way over to Ramshackle, but another message was sent before he could decide.

you have read receipts on i know u saw if u dont show up ill set them off in savaclaw causing who knows how many problems O-O (<- face for intimidation factor)

Leona didn't actually care if Dee did set of fireworks in Savaclaw, but he was obviously very excited, so Leona decided to indulge him.

Fuzz head:

Alright, alright. Gimme a minute.

Herbivore:

lame ass dude usin proper grammar in text

Fuzz head:

Or maybe I wont.

Herbivore:

NO WAIT SRY IM SRY PLS COME OVER ToT

Leona chuckled at the stupidity of the conversation, and then the stupidity of the contact name Dee had given him. He'd have to come up with something more ridiculous to change Dee's contact to.

By the time Leona made his way over to Ramshackle, unsurprisingly quite a bit after Dee had texted him, Dee was already setting up a small yet colorful box on the concrete away from both the building and the grass. He waved Leona over when he saw him and Leona saw more boxes a ways away.

"I got a lighter too at Sam's, somehow he always has what I want."

It was a surprisingly true statement, that shop was always stocked with things you'd never expect, seemingly just after you had thought of needing it.

Dee waved Leona back away from the box, as he leaned down to light the fuse. Leona took a handful of steps back and watched Dee race over shortly after, with the small firework lighting as soon as Dee had stepped out of the way.

It was pathetic in Leona's opinion. But Dee wore a stupid grin on his face at the sight, and the way the bursts of light illuminated his face in the dark was quite a sight.

Leona wrapped an arm around Dee's shoulder, pulling him into his side to watch the firework finish and flicker out. As Dee pulled away from Leona to set up the next firework, Grim came running out from Ramshackle.

"Mrah! Hench-human what was that noise!" Grim ran past Leona and up to Dee, grabbing onto his leg.

"It was the firework, I told you I was setting them off but you said you didn't care." Dee looked down at Grim who was seemingly on the verge of tears.

"Well stop it!"

"Hah, the furballs scared." Leona laughed at Grim as Dee leaned down to pick him up anyway.

"I am not! The great Grim is not afraid of some measly fireworks!" Grim struggled in Dee's grasp, trying to pick a fight with Leona from too far away.

Dee groaned in annoyance at the two, "Then do you want to try lighting one?" He leaned down again pointing to the fuse on the next firework. "Use a small flame to light it."

Grim hesitated before blowing a flame on it, Dee pulling him away right after to join Leona again at a safe distance. Leona watched as Grim cowered back into Dee's arms for a moment before growing accustomed to the loud cracks and the bright light.

Grim jumped out of Dee's arms as the firework died, looking over to the pile near them. Both Leona and Dee could tell that his fear had subsided and instead was replaced by awe at the small show of lights.

"Set up another one! I will light another! Haha!"

Dee laughed, but grabbed another anyway, Grim following him to light it and run out of the way. The two continued like that, sometimes even lighting two at a time, as the pile of fireworks left grew smaller and smaller.

Maybe fireworks were a nice thing after all.

[deblklesb]

CAN U PLSS WRITE MORE CAMGIRL or (pornstar 😜) ABBY AND READER IM BEGGING PLSSS

NO CUS i was actually (🤓☝🏾) planning to write a full oneshot about them BUT i guess I'll just throw stuff here and see where i get 🚶🏾‍♀️

(a/n: i'm writing this for like 3 hours now and this turned out to be a full oneshot i guess..... tell me if y'all want me to continue/post more of this au!! I'll tag "au camgirl!abby x camgirl!reader on both parts so y'all can find it)

[(MDNI), fluff, casual hanging out, descriptions of a explicit video, some sexual content later]

reblogs are highly appreciated!

After the first collaboration, the side of the internet that knew you both was set on fire. Your inbox was overflowing and you did the usual: stepped back a little until the notifications slowed down and you could answer messages or look over them to say stuff in the next casual livestream you did every two weeks.

But here is the thing: you couldn't get Abby out of your head. And you understood it wasn't like the other collaborations you did before, because later that day she actually texted you and on top of that you felt a different glee inside.

Abby: my inbox is so full I'll probably never be able to se all the messages

You: tell me about it! same here

Abby: i was actually stretching a little. think you marked by back forever with your nails (and they're not long)

You: sorry 😅

You: but hey... that's good, ppl will know how good you fucked me

Abby: i think ppl have a lil more than some scratches on my back to realize that

Abby: and i sure have those, a video, and some good sweet memories to get off

Maybe you'd become good friends, you thought. Abby was actually a very nice woman, funny and good to be around. You hoped you could keep in touch.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Oh my fucking God, Abby", you moaned with a sigh, eyes closed to properly enjoy that delicious sensation filling your body right now.

The way your body was feeling warm and almost too self-conscious about the things around.

All due to the tasteful hot chocolate making you almost alive again.

"Guess I can make you moan in other ways then", she smirked, getting a punch in the arm next. "Getting too bold for my taste", the blonde sat next to you on the bed, pulling the duvet to cover you both.

The rainy day was perfect to watch some movies and hang out lazily on the bed, and Abby immediately accepted your invitation. After a week or so just texting, you felt like you both could do some hanging out, right? (It had absolutely nothing to do with you craving being with her again)

"Oh right, why don't you come and put me in my place?", you chuckled, finally setting the TV.

"Honestly today it's too cold, let's watch the movie and see what happens later"

You hummed, two hands on the mug enjoying the heat spreading through your palms.

Abby was one of the most chill persons you'd known, and the moment was heartwarming and comfortable. After finishing the hot chocolates, you put the mugs on the side table. Then you widen your eyes with the feeling of a strong arm wrapping your waist, a strong body closer to yours as your face, for whatever reason, heats up.

"Is this okay?", her voice sounds good against your flesh, face resting on your chest. Abby is snuggling you and it feels good. Too good.

"Yeah, totally", you put your arm around her shoulders.

During the whole movie you keep caressing her hair and arm, trying to ignore the subtle turnings of your stomach - not literally, but that type of turns that goes up to your chest. Telling yourself it was probably the hot drink, and not the way her thumb kept making invisible patterns on your waist, or the strong muscles against yours and the domestic aurea of it all.

That night, after Abby left, you actually got off on the thought of her fucking you. But it wasn't memories that filled your mind or the vision of one of her videos. No, it was imagination. You'd imagine her getting home and kissing you, fucking you on the dinner table, saying how much she missed you and looking too needy for your touches against her while she makes you cum.

Maybe, just maybe, things were going another route.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

@/AAndrsnStuff • thinking about her (@/nsfwmenace)

You keep looking at the video playing on your screen and trying to rationalize the fact that you were tagged. She was actually talking about you.

In said midia, Abby was... Using her strap. And you knew that she was probably using the textured gadget that would rub against her pussy, on the base. On the bed, positioned in the direction of the strap, was a console in the shape of a vagina, and she was thrusting into it.

She was fucking a toy thinking about you. Hard and steady, making use of her athletic shape, hips moving in a way that made your legs clench together. Her breasts moved with the impact, an arm holding the console on place as the other rested on the headboard.

Her moans were so delicious to hear even on the phones, but were better when you remembered how they felt in person. Her breath was choppy and you just wanted to be there, under her, to pull her close and feel her all around you.

Inside your panties your core clenched around nothing. Your fingertips itched to touch her.

Before the end of the video, Abby stopped fucking the toy and loosen up the harness, strap falling on the bed before she starts rubbing her clit fast and needy. Her moans increase as she puts the other hand being her on the bed, sustaining the weight of her torso tilted back. And by the way she almost screams, her legs tremble and her abdomen contracts, you just know Abby was coming hard.

She was coming thinking about you.

"Fuck", you mumble, heartbeat fast and face warm.

Before leaving the app you look at a comment briefly.

wAIT wdym "thinking of her", you didn't use a strap on the collab video.......

That person was right, you didn't. There was no strap on the video posted by you both. But there was one when you both fucked a couple of weeks after.

And you keep thinking about that when you impulsively call her. And when you say "come here. The door will be open", before even letting her speak anything.

When Abby gets in your apartment, locking the door behind her, she immediately notices the light coming from your bedroom. She happily takes off the shoes and it's ready to, smirking, ask you how did you like the surprise. But she's caught off guard by a strangled moan, your moan, and the sound goes straight to her cunt.

If only you knew how she was going insane thinking about you. Looking at the nudes you shared and remembering how hot you felt around her fingers, her tongue, on top of her while riding her thigh, underneath her when taking her cock. You were so fucking warm and she was freezing away from you, hypnotized like a moth by the flame.

"Abby", and your voice, oh, your voice.

She woke up in the middle of the night, before recording that video, because she had the most vivid dream. You were next to her on bed, and somehow she just knew it was your shared bed, masturbating and calling for her. So fucking needy, looking gorgeous, and the way you called for her made her whole body shake. In the dream she had to keep looking and listening to you, admiring your features as you used a hand to massage you core.

But now she didn't had to lay down and wait. She could touch you in the better ways, and opening the door to reveal your figure humping a pillow and playing with your own nipples, Abby felt a deep desire burning inside. Something more than just attraction and need. The same thing she felt when, in the dream, something told her that bed belonged to the both of you.

Gulping, Abby sighed and remembered how good it felt to be with you watching movies. Simply hanging out and realizing she really enjoyed your company. She came to think, for some time, that your friendship would be so good... But after that dream something shifted, and seeing you in that moment started to solidify this change.

[anothergameofwickedgrace]

A smutty follow-up fic to "Hot for Teacher." Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Blitzø x Stolas

Words: ~2,100

Relevant Tags: Mutual Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Established Relationship

AO3 Link

Summary: "Professor" Blitzø requested Stolas make a video for him as "extra credit".

Stolas happily delivered.

Extra Credit

Almost done bacon sizzled in the pan as Blitzø stood at the stove, making breakfast for himself and Loona.

Blitzø's phone dinged from where he had left it on the couch, notifying him that he had a message.

"Hey, Loonie. Can you check and see if that's M&M? Mills said they might need us to pick them up a little later than usual." He asked, glancing over at Loona who was currently lounging on said couch, watching TV.

Loona grabbed his phone from the armrest and clicked the screen on to look at his newest notification.

"Nope. It's Stolas. Looks like he sent you a video." She answered casually.

"Weird. He usually sleeps in. Why would he be sending me a video so early in the—" Blitzø thought out loud before it clicked in his brain. "Shit! Don't open that!"

He dropped the tongs he was using and rushed into the living room to grab his phone from Loona.

She easily let him have it.

"I've seen some of the shit you guys send each other. Trust me when I say I had absolutely no intention of doing that."

Blitzø clicked the notification and opened his messages to Stolas. It was indeed exactly what he thought. The now full-sized still on the video confirmed that as it showed Stolas, legs splaid with his fingers buried deep inside himself. Blitzø felt the blood in his body start to flood rapidly downward to his crotch.

While he was distracted, Loona perked up some, sniffing the air.

"Uh, Blitzø..." She glanced over to the pan of bacon that was starting to burn.

Blitzø didn't seem to hear her or notice, very much not paying attention to anything around him. His lower lip caught reflexively between his teeth as he slowly scrubbed through the video for a short little preview, only to cause more blood to vacate the upper half of his body.

"Blitzø." Loona turned to look at Blitzø, giving him a funny look as he just stood there. She stared at him and his apparent obliviousness before something (unfortunately) caught her eye. Something that had become painfully noticable.

"Oh, EW!"  She scolded, looking and sounding disgusted. She chucked the remote at his head, which hit Blitzø with a hard thunk. "Stop giving yourself a boner and go save the bacon!"

"Hey!" Blitzø exclaimed as he rubbed where the remote had hit him. "Why did you—"

Having his attention snapped away from his phone, he quickly noticed the kitchen starting to fill with smoke.

"Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit." Blitzø rushed over to the stove and took the pan off the heat, putting the pan down on an unheated eye. He grabbed a kitchen towel and waved it around in the air to try and disperse the smoke so it didn't set of the fire alarm.

Once the smoke cleared, Blitzø turned his attention to their breakfast. The bacon, if you could still even call it that, was almost completely charred and black. Whether or not any was salvageable still was questionable.

"You like your bacon extra crispy, right?" Blitzø called out with a bashfully guilty smile.

Loona just rolled her eyes.

An attempt of saving breakfast and a carpool later, the I.M.P. team arrived at the office.

Blitzø stood in the center of the room and clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.

"Alright team. Let's get the day started. You all know what to do. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office. I have very important work to do, so don't need me."

"Yeah, sure, 'work'. That's what you're doing. Totally not going to jack off in your office to whatever video Stolas sent you this morning." Loona commented offhandedly.

"What? I—" Blitzø made an assortment of noises, trying to form words to dispute that. "T-that is totally not what I was going to do." He replied defensively, eyes shifting side to side, failing to not sound or appear suspicious.

"Uh-huh. Tell that to my burnt breakfast." Loona walked over to her desk, plopping down in the chair and kicking her feet up as she got on her phone.

"I— That's—..." Words were not coming easily to him. "Shut up, Loona." Blitzø huffed, crossing his arms.

"Why are you so disgusting?" Moxxie asked plainly and retoricly.

"Everybody's a fuckin' critic." Blitzø threw his hands up. He continued, acting dramatic and trying to sound justified."I guess I'll just go lock myself in my office since everyone feels the need to attack me and my good name."

"Isn't that just what you were going to do anyways?" Millie asked, sounding amused.

Blitzø opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, and then promptly closed it, turning on his heel and walking to his office without another word. He closed the door behind him and locked it with a click.

"Bunch of smart-asses." He muttered under his breath, heading over to sit at his desk. He sat down in his chair, reclining back in it as much as it would allow before pulling out his phone.

"Now lets see just what this bitch sent." He said to himself with a little smirk.

Blitzø opened up Stolas messages and clicked his volume up loud enough to hear but quiet enough that no one else could. He tapped play.

"Hello, Professor." Stolas's voice drawled through the speaker of the phone. "I have the extra assignment, just as you asked."

Stolas looked into the camera with a playfully seductive look.

"I do hope it will be to your standards." 

"Oh, I'm sure it will." Blitzø mused.

The camera zoomed away from his face, moving so Stolas's whole body was in frame. Blitzø realized he had to have been using his magic to levitate his phone in order to record this.

Stolas sat back on his bed, propped slightly on his pillows. He ran a hand slowly down his chest and stomach as his legs spread open nice and wide, bent at the knee. He leaned further back and shifted his hips so he was sitting on his tail bone, fingers sliding down further till they reached his cloaca.

Blitzø's hand that was not currently holding his phone found it's way down to the front on his pants as Stolas brought the camera in closer, focusing on his fingers rubbing circles at his entrance, slicking up the feathers around it with the precum leaking from him.

"As you can see, I've been thinking a lot about our little 'tutoring' session." Stolas made a show of pressing a digit slightly inside himself just to pull out again, a string of wetness following his finger to prove his point.

Blitzø couldn't see his face at the moment, but he could hear the smirk in his voice.

"It's been doing–" Stolas pressed his finger fully inside of him, sighing the last word out as he did. "–wonders."

Blitzø pressed against his crotch as he felt his pants tightening uncomfortably. He popped up the button and zipper, knowing it was only going to get worse, and slid a hand inside.

The camera pulled back enough that Stolas's face was also in frame. He pumped his finger in and out, rubbing up inside himself before slipping in another finger.

Blitzø watched him, pupils blown, rubbing himself through the fabric of his boxers.

"Is this position good? It's close to how you showed me." Both fingers continued to move inside him. He let his head fall back some as he arched slightly. Breathy sounds were tumbling from his mouth.

Wetness dampened the fabric as Blitzø continued to rub himself, beads of precum seeping through.

"Or would this position be preferable?" Stolas pulled his fingers momentarily free and rolled over onto his stomach. He lifted his hips upward into the air and deepened his stance, parting his legs out wider. He raised his tail up to reveal his cloaca, fluffing his tail feathers to make them look fuller.

Blitzø grinned wide at the display.

"Now if that ain't a pretty sight." He admired, freeing his rock hard cock from its confines in order to stroke it.

Stolas reached behind himself and slipped his fingers back inside. He rocked back against his two fingers and turned his head backwards to look at the camera, a naughty smile caught under his beak.

"I must admit, Professor, I feel as if I'm doing something wrong." He pressed a third finger past his entrance, spreading them apart inside him as he kept fingering himself. "It feels so good, but I'm up to three fingers now and I still feel too empty." He lamented. "After having your big, thick cock inside me, I don't think my fingers could ever be enough."

A devious and mischievous smirk split across Stolas's face.

"Good thing I brought a little bit of help. I do hope you don't mind." Stolas said, holding up his hand to summon said 'help' into his palm.

It was a dildo. A large red dildo. A large red dildo that Stolas was slowly running his tongue up as he looked directly into the camera lens.

Blitzø swore he was trying to kill him.

Reaching behind him and making a show of it, Stolas pressed the dildo to his entrance, slowly pushing it inside himself.

"Mmmm. This feels sooo much better." Stolas was gazing at the camera from beneath his lashes, a dirty little smile playing on his face.

The fucker knew exactly what he was doing.

And fuck if it wasn't working.

Blitzø watched him as he maneuvered the toy in and out of himself. It stretched Stolas open so nicely, so wide, his cloaca so snugly hugging it.

"Hopefully you don't consider this cheating, but I had a little trick I thought you might like."

Stolas levitated the toy into the air and floated the dildo behind him, holding it stationary there. The camera moved and, keeping the base of the dildo just out of frame, he raised and angled it in a way that made it look as if Blitzø was behind him holding the camera. Slowly, Stolas pushed back, pressing the toy inside himself.

Yep. He was trying to kill him.

"That's a real cheap trick, Stols." Blitzø groaned, squeezing the base of his cock as more arousal coursed through his body.

Stolas let soft little sounds fall from his beak as he fucked himself back onto Blitzø's fake dick, keeping his tail curled up to not obstruct any of the veiw. His head was turned to the camera once more, and Blitzø drank in the pure pleasure on his face.

"So fuckin' hot." Blitzø breathed out, easily imagining that was his own cock he was watching. He knew just how tight and wet Stolas would feel around him if it were.

"Oh, Blitzy." Stolas breathed out in breathy moan as he continued fucking himself, clearly lost in whatever it was that he was currently imagining. Too much in his own head to keep up with the roleplay.

Blitzø's lip caught between his teeth as the sound of him moaning his name shot even more heat straight downward. He pumped his length in time with Stolas's movements, soaking in the sounds he was making.

He could hear Stolas's breathing becoming harder and more labored. It shone clear on his flushed face how close to the edge he was.

As expected, Stolas didn't last much longer. He let out a loud moan as he hit his climax and floated the camera in for a close up, shifting his position so he was kneeling. The force of the spasms of his cloaca was causing cum to ooze out of him and down the dildo. He slowly pulled it from his body, intentionally clenching as he slipped it from him to cause even more cum to slide down the toy.

"Fuck." The movement of Blitzø's hand became much more frenzied as he felt himself creeping closer to his own orgasm.

The camera refocused itself back on Stolas's still flushed face. With a naughty look, Stolas brought the dildo to his mouth, licking his own release from it in long, slow licks before sucking it fully clean, looking directly into the camera the whole time.

Aaaand that definitely did it.

Blitzø bit down on his lower lip to stifle a groan as he hit climax, cum spurting up from his cock and running down his fingers and hand.

"I hope I did a good job, Professor." Stolas had a minxy smile on his face as he pressed a soft kiss to the tip of the dildo and winked. The video ended there.

Blitzø grinned lazily as he sank down in his chair. With a hand still wrapped around his dick, he snapped a picture of the aftermath before texting Stolas "A+++" in response, followed by the photo.

People say teaching can be a rewarding profession. Blitzø was very inclined to agree.

.

[leogichidaa]

Tbh I always headcanoned that Regulus was seen as the “thinner, less handsome” version of Sirius was because of both actual health issues and a more reserved/inward personality. I guess in my head I always saw that he had some health issues as a kid, but they would have been things that were fixed with time. And that Walburga didn’t understand that just because Sirius was an energetic prodigy in every sense of the word, doesn’t mean that his brother would be the same, and that’s ok!

Ergo, if Reg survived and was able to grow on his own terms and get healthier, more filled out, AND relaxed a bit while reforming his moral compass, the only difference physically between him and Sirius would be that he has a slimmer build and is a little shorter. Other than that the resemblance would be uncanny, he’d look like a reserved Sirius ( instead of idk reserved and dour 🧐)

Tbh I always saw a fully grown Regulus as tall as an average tall guy (like 6 feet even). Sirius just sets unrealistic expectations by existing 😂.

Oh geez, sorry it's taken almost a month to respond to this 😖 I must have missed it when I was going through my notifications after getting out of the hospital and I just saw it.

I like the hc of Regulus having health issues as a kid. I think sickly Victorian-esque child suits him. Making him a second-born child prone to illness also happens to slot him very nicely into Adlerian psychoanalytic theory (Alfred Adler, known among other things for his creation of the "inferiority complex" concept and theories about the impact of birth order on one's personality, was himself was a sickly child and a second born son who was intensely jealous of his older brother) and there's little I love more than psychoanalyzing my beloved fictional characters to death.

I can definitely see Walburga not understanding Regulus' temperament at all. She seems to have been quite an energetic woman and, as you said, Sirius set the bar and he set it abnormally high. This is why I am partial to the idea that Orion is more mild-mannered (by no means actually mild, but comparatively) and that there's some sort of kinship between Regulus and his father, neither of whom enjoy the loud, dramatic displays that Sirius and Walburga seem to relish in.

Ok so, based on your theory about Regulus surviving, I am imagining an AU where Regulus survives and fucks off somewhere lovely and warm and spends a decade and change relaxing and enjoying his new life away from any familial responsibilities or reminders of his past. He grows into a healthy adult, and is mildly dismayed that he is the spitting image of his brother. One day in the middle of the summer, he starts getting funny looks from people and has to evade the muggle police a handful of times because his face is plastered all over the news as a wanted criminal. Of course it's not his face, it's Sirius', but they look similar enough that it forces him to go even further into hiding.

Adult Regulus can be tall, he can be 6' if he likes, as long as his growth spurt is a year or two delayed, not until late adolescence. I'm partial to him being average/slightly below average height as a child/early adolescent.

I suppose, canonically, that would mean that he'd finally grow to his full height only to die shortly after. Live fast, die young, leave a tall corpse or something.

[chaeinedup]

Hot and cold

CH05- Night breeze

Warning: none :)

previous// //next

[4:30PM]

Y/n: Why am I kinda nervous? or excited? or anxious?

Yunjin: You're out of practice ahah.

Y/n: Don't say thaaaat!

NingNing: Girls this is important, out of practice or not it's a big deal!!! One of us is getting some development in the romance department!!

Yunjin: Okay she's definitely more excited than you are ahah.

Y/n: He told me to bring a jacket so we're going somewhere chilly I think.

Ningning: Do not worry I will make you look the absolute cutest and comfy of course. Let's go to my room my closet is better.

[6:30PM]

You had one hour left and you didn't know what to do with your time. You were fully ready, the girls had headed to the gym and there you were alone with your thoughts. The reason why Yunjin joked you were out of practice it's actually because it's true. Not many people know about your last relationship but the ones that do saw how much of a toll it took on you. You promised yourself you wouldn't put yourself through such pain again.

Obviously you've had your fair share of flirtatious moments here and there but nothing ever bloomed from that. But Jake did make it easy to like him, he's sweet, funny, really really smart and extremely pretty as well. When he came to your house to drop off your airpods you felt something you haven't in a long time. A certain fuzyness or butterflies or whatever people like to call it. Part of you was excited to have a new crush but the other was scared of all the possible outcomes. What if it goes wrong? What if it's a bet? What if he's using you?

Suffering with hypothetical situations was your specialty but you didn't take pride in it. You want to protect yourself so much you end up hurting yourself in the process. You know this does more harm than good but it is quite hard to leave such habit when you've had it all your life.

The sound of a notification broke your thought process and you took it from your lap to read the text. It was Jake saying he was waiting outside. You look at the time and 7:20pm. You could've sworn only 5 minutes had passed but you were happy he saved you from your own thoughts.

You got up, not forgetting your bag and stepped outside. It was colder than any of your stylists had predicted and you made a mental note to tell them a skirt wasn't a smart move. You were very happy with how you looked, it's been way too long since you really dressed up.

Carefully, you crossed the street, opening the car door to get in. You made yourself comfortable and thanked jake in your head for having the heating on.

Jake: I see you brought a jacket, I'm kinda sad about it.

Ah yes he's so sad about, like his beautiful smile wasn't on full display.

Y/n: I must say I did have help choosing such a pretty outfit. One day I'll introduce you to my stylists.

Jake: Stylists? You brought the big guns, am I really that special?

Y/n: Wouldnt you like to know that ahha just drive.

[9:00PM]

Y/n: It was very nice of you to prepare this. It was a beautiful picnic thank you.

Jake: You're welcome. I'm glad you were impressed ahah.

Y/n: Woah there, let's not exagerate cowboy. I'm grateful not impressed ahah.

Jake: And I'm no longer sad since you still needed my jacket.

Y/n: The girls and I shoud've definetely checked the weather the skirt wasn't a brilliant idea.

Jake: I think it was a great idea. You look good and i got to inderectely warm you.

Y/n: I kinda wished it would've been directely.

You were looking at his eyes waiting for maybe a scoff or a laugh but you instead got a expectant look and shy smile. Jake has this "smooth" "everything under control" look all the time so you'd assumed his response would be filled with confidence but instead he looked like a happy puppy. The sight was melting your heart which made you freeze in place and get too much in your head. The only thing that brought you back to reality were his arms around you.

He had sat himself behind you hugging your frame with one arm and the other, rearranging his jacket on your legs so the cool breeze of the beach wouldn't touch your soft skin.

Jake: You could've said it earlier. It would've been my pleasure.

Y/n: I guess I was waiting for you to just do it.

Jake smiled behind you. To him this was the comfirmation he needed. That you were into him as much as he was into you. His heart was skipping so many beats he was hoping you wouldnt notice it since your head was on his chest. He was the happiest guy alive and the luckiest one too.

He soflty kissed your temple, letting you both to enjoy the view infront of you. To you the ocean, and to him, you.

[forhyune]

hello bae. i started crying (real) (not clickbait).

i remember exactly where i was and what i was doing and what time of day it was when i got this notif. i stopped everything i was doing and read through this like three separate times bc i was just in a state of pure, ecstatic disbelief that u took the time to write such a comprehensive, complimentary thought piece about my favorite fic i've ever written :') i do not deserve you and i never will. THANK YOU so much. though those words cannot even begin to encompass my feelings for u and this rb. let me respond to your comments line by line...

you took this character in ‘crying lightning’ (the song) and completely fleshed out her personality in your fic. the reader is not just a fill-in, or an idea, she really does personify the song. I think I could believe she inspired the song, and not vice versa.

seriously i think u and i were meant to be. and that this fic was written for you before i ever knew you existed. to hear ur perspective on how the song and the mc built off each other is so, so validating bc u know both of them so well; what an honor it is that the reader personified the song for u, to the degree that she might've inspired the song and not vice versa. one of the craziest and most impactful things anyone's said about my writing. thank you so much.

(if i can take a moment to rant about the song bc you've done a wonderful thing and given me the opportunity to do so. but i really do love the song so much and moreover i love the woman that he's singing about. because alex turner always has a way with words but he seemed so especially enraptured by this beautiful, unattainable mess of a human that these lyrics in particular wound their way straight to my soul. "Said, "You're mistaken if you're thinking that I haven't been called "cold" before" / As you bit into your strawberry lace" / "And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons" / "you knew I was approaching your throne" / "With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache" / "Stood and puffed your chest out like you never lost a war" and of course: "Uninviting / But not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are / Crying lightning" like aren't these absolutely INSANE? the stories that these words hold. just ignited something within me i suppose)

the characterization in this fic is phenomenal, not just for the reader character but for hyunjin as well...timeskipping can get confusing very easily and you kept it linear, so it was very easy to follow. and exciting to read, because we see the little ways their relationship progresses instead of the jarring difference between their introduction and the end of the fic. 

thank you for enjoying the characterization and the way the fic's timing was formatted <333 i had a lot of fun taking them around the world over the course of a year and YES exactly that, showing their relationship progress little by little because hyunjin's goal of "melting" her was never going to happen overnight and, conversely, mc was only going to let him in in due time. u get me!!!

I really enjoyed ‘the game’ we saw being played out between hyunjin and the reader as well...I really like how hyunjin is always looking at mc, and truly seeing her as well...and in the rare moments he’s not observing her she is studying him back. and I loved this dynamic of slowly falling for each other more and more with everything they learn about the other. it’s also funny how in the opening scene they’re so comfortable together, and you see them mostly understanding each other with little effort while the cab driver doesn’t understand them at all. two complex people making a complex relationship, but it makes perfect sense to them.

this whole paragraph lowkey had me tearing up because it's crazy to hear the crying lightning couple deconstructed and laid out in your words; you expressed them so, so beautifully, like "in the rare moments he's not observing her she is studying him back" / "two complex people making a complex relationship, but it makes sense to them" like a thousand times yes that's exactly what i was trying to go for and you have no idea how happy it makes me that this is how they came off to you.

also i loved the way you analyzed the presence of the cab driver as representative of them being difficult for other people to read because nobody will ever reach the level of understanding they have for each other; i didn't think about him that way, more wrote him in as an avenue for comedic relief, but i think you're absolutely right. i adore your insights so much. you are always showing me new sides to my own writing, not unlike crying lightning mc shows hyun new sides of himself with every look she puts him in :')

their dynamic was just perfect too. I loved their hot and cold; hyunjin being immediately smitten and mc having a cold reputation that she’s sort of resigned herself too...I love the opposites attract we see with them, because I think in some ways they’re very similar and that’s why they understand each other...she really doesn’t open up easily and tries to freeze people out when they warm up to her. but we know even though she tries to keep her distance, we can see hyunjin rubbing off on her when she brings him the towel.

i admit i am a big sucker for "hyun falls first" trope because that's so fucking HIM ... our romantic, imaginative, kindhearted man who only need catch one (1) glimpse of someone to theorize they were made for him. he's also said outright, way after i wrote crying lightning funnily enough, that his type is someone who seems cold at first but has a gentle interior, so i feel as though that speaks volumes to his capacity for patience and protection, that he'd be so prepared to return his love interest's coldness with unconditional warmth no matter how long it took for them to start accepting it or, in this mc's case, to start feeling as though they deserved it. that sort of push-and-pull was exactly the kind of dynamic i wanted to write into their characters, so once again i'm so glad that you perceived them exactly that way. see what i mean? this whole fic was written for you

and finally: the hotel room scene. my favorite part of this fic, where we see the total clash of their opposing traits. mc finally cracks and crumbles...hyunjin finally shelves his own passion to calm down for her. like he is still very much in love and has an emotional response, but for once he’s not having this dramatic display of emotions or throwing himself at her. he takes the more careful approach because he can see that she’s finally lost her composure and she needs a level head to bring her back and reassure her. and at the end of it all, all the games they have been playing with each other, he is still there to admire the strength of her vulnerability. they’ve been dancing around these walls and opportunities, but hyunjin shows that he really is serious about her. and in turn, he gets to truly see her for the first time as a result of all the quiet studying and (overt) pining he has been doing.

YOU. YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

i truly almost cried again. idk throughout this entire rb i've been asking myself if this is really about something i wrote but that sentiment was especially strong during this segment. u don't understand this was so. trippy. i didn't have any actual thematic thought processes while writing this scene—i tend not to think at all while i write—so for you to describe the scene like this and strip their conversation down to their most important tenets while also encapsulating those tenets so concisely and accurately is LIFE-CHANGING.

i really loved your notion that this convo was the conclusion of their games at long last; a last round, if you will, because now everyone's cards are on the table. they're all in now. i also really loved your juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability in the same sentence bc at the end of the day that's what this whole fucking fic is about. not hyunjin or mc or how they fall in love but the idea that vulnerability should be admired and cherished and considered as sacred as strength, if not considered a kind of strength, or even its prerequisite.

like i've said time and time again, i feel as though you see straight through this fic and its characters and everything that happens to them, and i will never have the words to express how meaningful it is to a silly college student who word-vomits into a google doc every now and then how incredible of an honor it is to have someone like you to read and see my creations. i love you so much

I love this pairing and as I’ve already said before, I am a ‘crying lightning’ enjoyer lol the love you get on this fic is very well deserved. it was a pleasure to read it, and I’m so happy about the extended content that goes with it. also ‘ace’ is def on my tbr. I love seeing the different ways you write hyunjin and I know it will be a treat to see your next portrayal...thank you for waiting on my feedback and if you ever want to ramble about this masterpiece, you know where to find me 🫶🏻

well. in terms of rambling about cl i fear you've had enough to last a lifetime 😭 dw i will be releasing you from the chains of my yapfest shortly. BUT i would be very curious to know your feelings thoughts on ace hyun because i have mentioned before that that couple's dynamic feels vaguely reminiscent of cl's (albeit much happier overall. mc is not quite as depressed and hyun is a little more of a fool). i hope you enjoy the fic as well if/when u get around to reading it.

thank you, again. i love you, again. i cannot say it enough.

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives

warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia. again, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED.

warnings (cont'd.)・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

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[arleneworld22]

Good night

I think It's a bit sad that you are not looking for new music, but I understand it too, I'm someone who likes to listening the same 20 songs again and again, sometimes youtube goes on shuffle and I end find new songs to enjoy, but I actually never looking for new ones, it's like... they just come to me(? I guess, but also as I spend a lot of time on IG I end up find new music because of reels jeje.

I also have a playlist, that I made it through the years, I never have the courage to listen it complete because is fill about too much emotions about you, but I most of the time listening the same songs separated, if you want me to send it to you just tell me.

My family is fine, and yeah your teory it's right, he is very tall and he is just 18yo, he likes to calls me "mi hermanita", because he likes to laugh about I'm his older shorty sister. Pandemic changes him a lot, he is more focus in his studies, and his habit to reading (because I make too much pressure on him to help him with his comunication and writing skills) and now he becomes someone very deeper to talk about, he has very strong ideas and when he doesn´t know somenthing he ask for everything even more than when he was a kid, and somehow it leaves you thinking and reflectioning. My mom practice volleyball now, she finishes the day veeery very tired and sometimes sore, but she enjoy it a lot, she made new friends and have... I think she has a better social life than me looool.

I have 2 bad experiences with alcohol (you know one) the other is a long story (the stress and pain that I felt makes me free me of alcohol for like... I think one year complete because of trauma I guess) with a happy ending, I already over it, if you want to know it just ask for; but since these two I take a lot of care about that, i don't like beer so I just drink sweet wine and apple cider but I'm still doing it carefully and a few times a year; I become very extrovert too when I drink but that's was exactly what got me in troubles, so I drink just a little.

I think it's very cute and perffect to stay at home and watch something, as he doesn´t like to stay frecquently at home we hang out somewhere, most of the time just to walk or hang out with our friends, well currently we spend time at home too but because I end up tired from work, I propose him if we could have nap dates and he acepted so I'm excited for that.

Don´t worry about the notifications, actually I get distracted veery easy and I end up checking your blog like ten or fifteen (or more) times a day, so we both are weirdos about this.

I never write about my sign class, because I didn't think you would be interested into it, I'm going to ASOME (Asociacion de Sordos de Mexicali) is a little near to your home I think, I like this school because the teachers are deaf and they are the perfect teachers for this.

Thank you for your kind words and your funny condolences.

I know this test is veeery stalker but that kind of ankward questions helps to undersand better the person who is answering the test. HAHAHAHAHAHA I CAN FEEL THAT "Omg No. Way" I had the same reaction when I see your type personality.

But excuse me?! water being passive,?! You didn't pay attention to Katara and her blood's mater?!, water isn't passive, water is always in move, though everything in it's way, I think you could be water master for sure because water is the element of change, you are calm most of the time but as the water, there is alwas an energy pushing you towards, and that makes you change, everything around you helps to you to change, you can go calm or strong and always somehow carry everything with you as a river or sea does.

Hey if we are going to talk about dangerous skills, as airbender I could learn to steal air from a body you know? (actually I don't know, I just made it up) but I think air is more my element and I truly could like to be The Avatar

The anime... I wasn't sure if you wanted to know the name, it's Sekaiichi hatsukoi, it doesn't have an ending as anime, and the manga neither lol, it's on going so I still don't know how it ends, if you want to read it I warning you that is a (+18) manga, I didn't know that! so you decide if you want to continue that way hahaha, I wanted to share you the ending with no specific reasons, just wanted to share it with you because I really love it.

I already watched lucky star, like, idk four times I guess, I remember learned the final choreography when I was teenager, I really enjoy to dance, Nichijou is in my list, and I never listened Azumanga daioh, but I'm going to added.

I'm not sure if I'm going to see him this weekend, I told him not, but I'm between rest on sunday or go to the church with his family, they are christians and I like to see how they talk about God's love and the high energy they share in the service I like that, but I'm still not sure.

I know it's very late but I always check if what I wrote has sense because I don't usually write in english, sorry.

Also tell me more about her, it helps me too to face the reality, I know I said I was fine with that but few days after you say "she said yes" I started to feel confuse and then sad, and more sad, and cried, and get angry, cried again, then happy, the bittersweet feeling, and now I'm kinda of fine but I think it's not enough, so it would help me read more about her, write as much as you want, be a little cruel, I'm not afraid to feel some pain.

[navybrat817]

Would you be interested in writing a drabble for my favourite DJ?

“Why are you laughing? I am trying to sex you up right now. What’s so funny?”

For you? Anything!

Good for a Laugh

Pairing: Mickey Henry x Female Reader Summary: Mickey unintentionally makes you laugh. Word Count: Almost 630 Warnings: Laughter, implied oral, hot man wearing panties, balls, I don't even know what these warnings are at this point, Mickey Henry (he’s a warning, okay?) A/N: Hey, lovelies! Life has been crazy, so why not something short and fun for Sinday? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by the talented @vase-of-lilies. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world! Masterlist

When it came to sex, Mickey Henry could do no wrong in your eyes. Maybe it was because he looked like a mix of a god and sin incarnate with his sun kissed skin and ocean blue eyes. It could have also been because he was confident without being arrogant about his sexual prowess. It wasn't an easy line to toe, but he made it seem effortless. It was part of his charm.

But tonight when he walked in, his arms opened wide as he smiled from ear to ear?

You laughed.

And it wasn't a dismissive snort or a giggle. It was a soft sound that grew the longer you stared at him. He raised an eyebrow as the sound filled the room, clutching your stomach and nearly falling off the edge of your bed. Your sides ached and it took a second to make your head stop spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

Kind of like after the mind shattering orgasms he gave you.

“Why are you laughing? I am trying to sex you up right now. What’s so funny?”

You didn't mean to laugh. You truly didn't. And seeing the small pout on his face as his hands went to his hips, you feared you'd start all over again. But you couldn't. Not if you wanted to feel the rings on his fingers dig into your skin within the next few minutes.

"I'm sorry. It's just…" you gestured to his bulge. "My panties? Really?"

Mickey smirked as he did a small spin. The blue lace made him look prettier, which you didn't think was possible. You also wished you could smack his handsome face because why did his ass look better in your underwear? 

"Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about. I mean. They're kind of comfortable, but I prefer you without them. Easier access and all that."

Your chaotic man, always ready for a good time with you. "They look good on you."

He sauntered over to where you sat and part of you was tempted to grab him a pair of heels, just to see how well he could walk in them. "Then why are you laughing?" he questioned, running his palms along the top of your thighs.

You shivered as he leaned down, just out of reach for a kiss. "Your balls are out."

Mickey took a couple of steps back, which gave you a nice eyeful as his hand went to his crotch to feel. "Thought I tucked them in."

The laughter began to bubble up from your throat again as he tried to push them into the fabric. You discovered very early on that he was packing heavy when it came to those bad boys. Your panties didn't stand a chance. "Did you not FEEL a draft?"

"I mean, I felt a little cold," he chuckled as he ran his other hand through his fluffy hair. "I carry a lot of heat down there, baby. They're huge."

"They are," you agreed, clenching as you pictured them smacking against your bare skin. "And I'm ready for you to sex me up."

"I didn't ruin the moment?" he smiled, showing that he was unphased by your earlier laughter.

You slid off the edge of the bed to drop to your knees, smiling as you gently pushed his hand away. One of the reasons you loved him was because he made you laugh. He always showed you a good time. He deserved the same.

"Never. Feel free to wear any of my panties you want."

"Any of them?" he groaned, his head tipping back as you mouthed at the fabric.

"Yep. In fact, let's see if I can make you ruin these before you even get inside me."

*****

Happy Sinday. Love and thanks! ❤️

[obislittleone]

Who Are You Really (3)

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader

A/n: i made a playlist for this because I was just listening to so many good songs when writung these parts and they all just make it more badass.... so I linked the playlist ur welcome

Playlist

Warnings: ��️No Way Home Spoilers Under the Cut⚠️ also a little angst and breakfast

You woke up and smelled something you hadn’t in a very long time. Home cooked breakfast. You almost wondered if you went in there what would be waiting for you. Even the distant sounds remimnded you of your mother’s cooking. 

You slowly sat up, blocking the sun from the curtains in order to wake up properly. No need to blind yourself so early in the morning... Funny, it didn’t feel early in the morning. You glanced at the clock and mentally slapped yourself. Even on a day without school, you were trying to maintain a schedule, which you’d slept long past. This whole morning felt like a fever dream... sleeping in, homecooked breakfast. You needed to investigate to see where that smell was coming from.

You let your bare feet pad across your room to the door, peaking through at first to see what was going on. Of course, with the enhanced senses, he could tell you were watching him. He’d let it slide. 

You were quiet, entering without letting him know. He’d hand it to you, anyone without his abilities wouldn’t be able to tell you were there. You didn’t necassarily care to hide, though. You were quite impressed, you’d brought home a lost Spider-Man, almost as if he were a stray dog.... and now he was making you food. 

“It smells good,” you told him, sitting down at the stool by your counter top. It was a small and usually cramped area, but it was comfortable. Your kitchen was no bigger than your bathroom, and you were amazed he was able to navigate it so easily. You crashed into things all the time, and you lived here. “I didn’t even know I had eggs.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I just thought it was the least I could do after everything,” he chuckled, handing you a plate. You smiled and shook your head. He couldn’t possibly know how happy this made you. 

“Not at all, I don’t think I’ve had actual breakfast since the blip, so thanks,” you said, taking a forkful into your mouth. He gave a quick nod and then sat down beside you in the cramped space, still comfortable. You'd said 'the blip' maybe ten times to him, and be didn't know what it meant. You wondered if the Peter you knew had all these talents as well, or if it was just this one. You grew more accustomed to this one, he was an easier companion. “I also can’t cook, so...”

“My aunt taught me.”

“Aunt May?” 

“Yeah, how’d you-?” he paused mid question, dropping his head in realization. “Right.”

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re actually a lot different from the Peter I know,” you assure him, nudging his shoulder with yours. He chuckled for a moment and turned to you in curiosity. 

“How so?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a bite of food. It wasn’t quite describable. It was almost unrecognizable, but you could see it just by being next to him. It wasn’t the same when you sat next to Peter in English. 

“You just are.”

He looked at you sweetly. He expected you to list perhaps a physical difference, something you could easily point out... Damnit he had nice eyes.

You heard your notifications going off in the other room, having an excuse to break the long stare and run to your phone. You apologized half way there, realizing you might be a few minutes. Your phone had the screen filled with un-dealt with notifications. “Shoot.”

Three missed calls from J. Jonah Jameson, five texts from the company number, and a news story. You opened them, one at a time. Jameson left no voicemails, but did make his position very clear through the compant text saying ‘You’re Fired!’ in all caps. As bad as that was, it was the least of your worries right now. The news story that popped up gave you a bad feeling, and you thought you might consult the Spider person nearby about what it meant.

“Hey, Parker?” you came back to your stool, sitting down and showing him the video of the electricity towers in the woods. “You know anything about him?”

Peter furrowed his brows before his eyes narrowed in surprise of what he was seeing. He knew exactly who that was, and what he was here to do.

“Max? That can’t be him, he died...” nothing made sense lately.

“It could be possible that holes in your timline opened up in different places... The concept of space and time is the same in every universe, or at least I’m assuming it is, so given that a multiversal intercept happened, maybe the times of which you were pulled from differed.”

“So then the only way for us to get back to our timelines would be to find the source and go back through separately...”

“We really need to find Peter, he might know why all of this is happening,” you got off of your stool, going to fish for some bigger clothes. You didn’t think your house guest would want to walk around wearing a onsie without having to. 

You were a pretty good detective, or at least you pretended to be. You had to hack the school records to find Peter’s address, and that in itself took way longer than it should have. It was about sunset when you finally arrived at the apartment building, which was quite broken down, and had broken windows all around one floor. You were assuming that was the apartment you were looking for. 

Walking up to the entrance, you came face to face with a whole bunch of buzzers that were taped off. Must be for the privacy of the other tenants after the reveal of Spider-Man. “Well, that’s unfortunate...”

You walked around to the side of the building that faced the alley, finding a dumpster that could give you a leg up. You started climbing from there. You were indeed rusty, but climbing wasn’t necassarily something you had to keep your practice up on. You were almost to the floor intended when you looked back down on the ground to see if Peter followed. 

“Peter?” You asked, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

“Yeah?” The voice above your head made you look up. He was squatting on the ledge outside of Peter’s window. Sneaky son of a-

“Help me up, will ya?” You held your hand out and he nodded, pulling you so that you stood beside him. The proximity was very close, and there wasn’t any room for stepping back. You knelt down, looking inside the window, recognizing the backpack on the desk. He used to get new backpacks all the time, but this one he’d had since the blip. 

You lifted the window and climbed in slowly, wanting to be aware of any potential threats. You entered the room and waited for him to follow. The place was dead silent, and looking around, it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for several days. Those glass breaks were new, maybe even hours old. You went to the other rooms, yelling for Peter but he was nowhere to be found... neither was Aunt May.

“No one’s here,” You informed your accomplice, going back to the window of the bedroom to get out. 

“Wait, wait... shouldn’t we stay here incase someone comes back?” He suggested, but you were sure no one would be returning. 

“Trust me, with the backlash he’s gotten, he’s probably never coming back here.”

With that you were out the window, seeing that the sun was beginning to go down. It would be easier to be inconspicuous in the dark, but you also would have to avoid street trash. The perverted men in the alleys, the scum of the earth. You’d delt with them before, but now you had a Spider-Man to coincide with. 

“Hey,” he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to him and draping your arms around his shoulders. “Hold on.”

You did as instructed, keeping a close grip while he jumped from the ledge. It took you by surprise, but once you hit the ground, you let go of him immediately. Your heart was racing already, you didn’t need to worsen the affects by holding onto him.

Luckily, your phone blasted with a new news notification to prevent any awkward tension. You opened the video, and heaved in a deep breath, tensing up over the things displayed. The monsters from yesterday had all gotten out and into the city, and a few new ones joined them, all causing havoc around them.

“What’s wrong?”

You turned the phone, giving him a chance to see the video from the beginning. His eyes widened as he saw his old friend Dr. Connors also on the screen and in his full lizard form.

“Let’s head back to my place, we need to suit up...” 

.

.

.

Thank you guys for making this series so popular... I'm seeing the movie again Monday so gonna get more inspo!!

TAGS:

@dangerdolns @mads-weasley @little-precious-baby @imay4bank @tinktohispan @buckycuddles @stoatwashere @blackanblue @nikt-wazny-y @thottio @glytchfic @navs-bhat @taina-eny @parker-natasha @yuujichan @tinker-hell @ardepy @the-little-book-princess05 @nobody7102

[yunverse]

[ ☆ ] ── REALITY CHECK❕

TEN | ON MY MIND

wc: 1.3k+

── ✰. [ 3:45 PM ] "YOU'RE ON MY MIND."

The backside stairwell was Sunghoon's personal meet up spot in the novel. It was a place devoid of any gossiping students and the annoying squeeks of sneakers dragging across the floors. It was Sunghoon's personal quiet space and the only reasonable explanation that he would've gone there was to either sort out his own thoughts or meet Yui.

Sunghoon had just exited the same stairwell moments ago, eyebrows knitted together, possibly frustrated by what had transpired. He always carried himself in a aloof manner, never smiling at anyone who passed by, but today his aura seemed to grow colder with every step he took. He sent everyone who passed by an annoyed glare as if they were clogging up the hallways, making it difficult for people to pass by — and yn was no exception. The boy proceeded to send her a glare as she walked past, not saying a single word.

In the novel, sunghoon never got angry at Yui, nor did he ever raise his voice at her, which lead to yn mentally crossing out the possibility of Yui being present in those stairwells.

Maybe he was just having a personal issue and needed some alone time.

Or maybe he was lecturing a younger player from their football team.

Yn had lots of ideas in mind.

But the last thing she expected to see was sora, sobbing into her own palms in the empty backside stairwell. Her back was facing towards her, but yn could clearly hear the soft sniffles and see the way her body heaved.

Sora was never known to cry in the original novel, rather, she was a villain who was the cause of other people's tears. A ruthless bully, who was entertained by the pain and agony her victims would expirence. She was someone who found it funny when people begged for help. But some how, the sniffling girl in front of yn seemed fragile, broken and most importantly, misunderstood.

Before yn could initiate any conversation with the girl, she felt her phone lightly buzzing in her inner blazer pocket. Closing the door once again without a single peak, yn left sora to her privacy as she strolled down the empty halls, looking through the texts she had received.

Her phone had been constantly going off, filled with notifications from her group chat and Ning ning stringing broken words together in her direct messages.

What had gone on that had them just key smashing every second?

Checking the group chat for context wasn't the best choice as hundreds of messages were exchanged throughout the past ten minutes. But before yn could keep scrolling, the girl heard yelling and gasps come from the main hall area. The commotion wasn't one that could go unnoticed, and yn, who had spent her weeks watching every novel moment unravel in front of her was definitely not going to miss whatever was going on near the main entrance.

Rushing down the stairs, yn wriggled through the chaos to get a better view of what was going on. People were fighting, but she couldn't quite make out the two figures were. Her first instinct was to think of Jay and Jake. It was around this time when they had a big fight in the novel revolving around Yui. However, yn had no comfirmation of this as the crowd wasn't very forgiving, and she ended up in the back of the crowd, near the brick walls.

Attempting to cure her curiousity, she looked over the shoulders of others, tiptoeing as she squinted her eyes to get a better view. "Gosh I can't see anything, who's fighting?" She spoke, still shifting from left to right, attempting to peak over the shoulders of the jam-packed crowd.

She expected a random student beside her to answer, but instead there was a pause and a light chuckle.

"So now you want to talk to me huh angel? Youre not mad anymore" The voice spoke, stealing Yn's attention instantly.

Her head snapped towards the boy who leaned on the brick wall with his arms crossed, seemingly amused by your presence instead of the fight was boring him a second ago. Yn mentally cursed at herself, rolling her eyes in frustration. There were hundereds of students. How damned could her luck have been to be standing beside none other than Lee Heeseung himself.

"I don't have time for you Heeseung," yn spoke, gluing her eyes back at the crowd who was now "booing" at whatever had just transpired. "Who's fighting?"

"Aw don't be so impatient. Don't you think it's a little unfair that you went a day completely ignoring me without giving me an explanation, and now you're talking to me as If nothing happened?" He questioned, proud of what he just said.

Before you could answer the boy, the crowd shifted slightly, leaving you a slim opening between the shoulders of the people infront of you.

It was just as you expected. Peering through the crowd, yn could clearly make out Jay, who was on top of Jake, punching him as the boy underneath attempted to retaliate.

In the novel, the same exact fight had occurred and the reasoning the novel gave its readers was that Jay was jealous of Jake's closeness with Yui. What made it worse is that Yui was the one, who stopped the fight and took Jake to the infirmary, completely ignoring Jay's bruises.

A romantic development between Jake and Yui would then flourish from the on, and the two would end up dating the day after.

However, the two boy's incoherent exchanged words right now didn't seem to be about Yui.

"Your mind must be clouded with all this chaos huh? Your eyes arre practically glued on the fight." Heeseung spoke, snapping Yn back to reality.

The girl sighed, steeping back. Yes, the fight was getting a little overwhelming, but she knew Yui would show up anytime to stop the fight. "Then what are you doing, Mr. Captain? Your teammates are practically fighting the the death, and here you are, watching it go down as if it was some entertainment reality show."

Yn's words earned her another amused chuckle from the boy who's smug grin never seemed to leave his lips. "I don't know, they'll get over it in a bit. They're always like that. And besides, I have more important things on my mind."

"And what's that?" Yn scoffed, waiting for Heeseung to make up some random bullshit.

"You." He spoke sternly, smiling dropping immediately as his eyes stared directly into hers. His tone was unwavering, without an inking of it being a joke, causing yn to jolt slightly under his cold hard gaze.

Before the girl could say anything, Heeseung's mouth curved back into his regular grin. "I'm kidding," he snickered. "But speaking of 'you,' why are you ignoring me."

Letting go the weird shift in Heeseung personality a second ago, Yn awkwardly laughed, trying to make up some random excuse that wouldn't leave room for any. suspicions.

"If you're gonna give me some half-assed excuse, I don't wanna hear it." Heeseung spoke, interfering with her thoughts once again. "Instead, just don't leave me hanging like that ever again."

Before Yn could respond, there was a high-pitched shout, coming from the left side of the hallway. Yui came, rushing down the cramped hallway, squeezing herself through the crowd, yelling for the boys to stop.

"Oh here it is, the end of the shit show where Yui drags Jake away." Yn thought, shifting her attention back to the commotion created by Jake and Jay.

A typical "stop, this is not you moment." But yn found it interesting to see it go down in real life.

She knew at the end of the day, she'd end up feeling bad for Jay who was completely ignored by Yui in the novel. When yn first read that part of the novel, she slightly blamed Yui for just leaving Jay there, saddened by jealousy and the bruises left on his face.

But to Yn's suprise, everything somehow went a different route ever since heeseung had texted her.

Because instead of grabbing Jake's hand, Yui instead grabbed Jay's instead, leaving Jake to stand alone in the crowd.

✰. PREVIOUS / MASTERLIST / NEXT

SYNOPSIS › Shocked by the sudden revelations, yn realizes that she has been pulled into another world belonging to her favourite reverse-harem novel as the female lead’s best friend. Content with her new life, she excitedly watches from the sidelines knowing every single encounter in the novel would be unravelling right in front of her. However, as time goes on, she slowly comes to the horrifying realization that the characters she seemingly idolized are not who they seem to be.

[☆] — author's note: oh em gee an update finally! Sorry for making you guys wait so long ;_; but heeseung?? what's up with the whole "you?" And also yui?? And Jay??? Hmm

[annab-nana]

you’re not as funny as you think you are from the a list with nathan drake in a kinda frenimies to lovers situation would be just. so. perfect.

omg i love your mind!!

also woohoo for my first nathan fic 🎉

warnings: drinking, mentions of sex, suggestive, probably a typo or two if i’m honest

❀ masterlist ❀

you were what was to be considered as a “regular” at the bar nathan worked at. you’d tried going to other bars but nothing really compared to that specific one. it was close in distance from your apartment. the prices weren’t too bad. the guys that hung around there weren’t awful either and it was nice to have a bartender there that knew what you liked.

you wouldn’t have to say anything at all. nathan could tell by looking at you what you were in the mood for. in the beginning, he’d ask just to be sure, but he became more confident and never missed, even now as he slid over the blackberry lemonade you always started with when you were looking for someone to bring home.

“you chose a slim night to look for a hookup,” nathan filled you in as he watched your eyes scour the basically barren bar.

“sometimes it fills up quick,” you tried to up your hopes, though you and nathan both knew that was very unlikely.

he decided to speak up on it. “that’s only during the weekend. it’s wednesday.”

“why do i always come here if you’re just gonna shit on my dreams?” you grumbled before taking a sip of your drink, the vodka that was mixed in burning your throat a little on the way down.

“you come for me.”

you rolled your eyes at him while continuing to sip of your drink. his words were true in the sense he was trying to imply—even if you didn’t know it yet.

“don’t give me that look. i know you and what you like to drink.”

“i could get another bartender to know me, you know?”

he bit back a smirk. “that’d take a while and you are all about convenience. it’s better to come to me than to go through the whole process again.”

he waited a moment before continuing when you decided to stay quiet. “also, i think you like me for other reasons than knowing your drinks.”

“ha ha,” you said sarcastically as you sipped some more.

“look around. there’s no one else to take to bed and i get off in ten minutes so it’s looking like i’m your last option unless you want snoozy steve over there.”

you both looked over to the older man who was passed out on the table in the back corner, beer in hand and drool dripping down his chin. you physically shuddered at the thought before turning back to nathan.

“you’re not as funny as you think you are, nate.” you slurped up your last bit of beverage before sliding your cup his way which he took. all you could see was sincerity when he looked at you with his big brown eyes.

“i’m not joking,” he stated, his stare meeting yours.

you let out a sigh, pretending like you weren’t already giving into him. “ten minutes?”

his smile widened when he nodded. “i can make it five if you’re done drinking so i can clean up.”

“five minutes?” you whined but this time he could tell you were playing. you both knew you were going home with him, something you each secretly longed for that was finally coming to fruition.

“six if you keep talking,” he jeered right back.

you put your hands up in surrender, miming the action of zipping your lips, locking them shut, and tossing the key out. nathan let out a chuckle before he began wiping down the counter.

your line of sight fell from his face which was focused on cleaning to his forearm, watching how his arm moved as he worked. knowing that arm would be working on you soon, you grew impatient but you knew nathan would make your time very much worth it in the end.

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