#just as i should have been kinder in the things that i shared
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miijiu ¡ 14 hours ago
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Hello, sorry for the long text and for using English, my Chinese isn't good enough to write to you properly.
I wanted to thank you for always writing your thoughts about Silvaze ⚪🟣 and expressing your reasoning and/or passion behind the two. My favourite Sonic game story has always been 06, but the difficulty in finding others who also find love in the story due to the memes and universal hate (which I believe to be from of the lack of understanding of the themes and narrative) makes it rather lonely.
I'm glad to hear you share the same thoughts that ⚪ is essentially a "shonen protagonist" as he's the one who wants to become a hero for others (versus 🔵 who fights for what he likes, and ⚫ who fights against what he dislikes). ⚪ Thinks about the morality of it all; one of my favourite things is that... He didn't hesitate in killing 🔵 at first, even mocking 🔵, yet when 🌹 protects 🔵...!! Because ⚪ spent time with 🌹, he re-evaluates the situation and wonders if it's the right thing to do! His earnesty and kind-heart is what separates him from 🟣!! Where 🟣 says "you're so naive" (I do think it's better if it was localised as "you're too soft" due to the double meaning of naive...) as 🟣 believes they cannot miss their chance to change the future. I love how ⚪🟣's obligations ties them together yet their differences still show... And that's what 🟣 likes about ⚪: his kind heart. Even in the end when 🟣 sacrifices herself, I find it interesting the English doesn't seem to have this line: "you should be prepared to make sacrifices", where it highlights ⚪🟣's differences; 🟣 is willing to go to the extremes, and ⚪ believes there's always another way, a kinder way, a better solution where everyone can win. It's why ⚪ is hope.
... Sorry, I ended up rambling unnecessarily.
I'm just very thankful you express such love for 06 and the writing, and also bring your understanding of the characters to light as it helps people like me realise we're not alone in this thinking. It must be difficult to express these thoughts publicly as the cultural difference and fanon skews the representation largely causing discourse or arguments which are entirely biased, yet you preserve and persist, and you create and share, thank you so so much 🤍💜
This means so much.
I dont answer to tumblr questions in general. but your words r really heartwarming and I hope you dont mind me sharing.
I relates to what u said. some of ur wording and understandings even capture the very essense of their characterazations that I found difficult to express.
I rlly like how you interpret the 🦔"naivety" as "kindness". I think that works enough to convey the subtext of the original language, and showing Silver's character arc in 06.
Thank you so much.🙏🤍💜
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july-19th-club ¡ 2 years ago
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i've been blocked by this person so they will likely never see this, but in cause they're still looking - i sent you a real apology, that i meant, privately, after i'd had time to make sure i was able to approach it in an adult manner, and you responded by refusing to accept that my apology could be genuine. i don't know if it was my phrasing (i will apologize, and genuinely, for mistakes that i make, or posting things that wind up being cruel or unfair, but i will not participate in the 'grovel or you aren't really remorseful' culture that exists on sites like these. i am sorry that i shared something that hurt you. if i could have had a longer conversation with you, i would. my apology was real, and that is why it was not performative). BUT. because i can now no longer message you, i've decided if i have any chance of reaching out to you i will have to do it in public. if you do wind up reading this, i realize that you likely still will not believe me, or accept my sincerity. that's the nature of online interactions, i guess - we don't really ever know each other well enough to accept good faith from one another when we're mad.
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hightowered ¡ 7 months ago
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and you know i gotta say. the vast majority of the people losing their shit this weekend made it very clear that they do not understand the difference between "artists who want a measure of comfort in their lives" and "the billionaires actually being targeted by phrases like eat the rich." that is such a weird thing to be so proud to announce to the whole entire internet.
it's also extremely weird to behave as though any individual is entitled to an artist's work for free. or that the audience should be the final say in determining what an artist creates. there is a major difference between the betrayal of an artist who produces art and then banks on their social capital to engage in harmful, violent, bigoted behavior (like jk rowling) and the "betrayal" of an artist who decides that they should be or need to be compensated for their work. the latter isn't actually a betrayal at all. it's just a shift.
the thing is that the watcher boys didn't invent capitalism, they didn't invent the streaming model, they didn't invent youtube or patreon. they aren't getting 100% of the money from either. their merch doesn't magically appear as if made by elves while they sleep. their videos don't happen out of nowhere and without incurring bills. they have a business which employs people, and sure, you can say they employ too many people, but do they actually? a bunch of randos on the internet don't actually know that. they don't know these job titles, or how necessary it is to have everyone there. it's pure speculation. the entire company exists within a system they did not invent and are trying to stay afloat in said system while a bunch of assholes on the internet berate them for not acquiescing to their every whim at the expense of their artistic integrity, their ability to compensate their staff fairly, and their ability to keep making art.
and jumping from "i want to continue enjoying this artist's work for free" to "i think people should be fired and the remaining employees should be given greater responsibilities and more tasks to complete" is wild to me. there's nothing leftist in that and so trying to leverage leftist jargon to prove some sort of moral superiority is fucking wild, it's disingenuous, and it's sketchy as hell. you're allowed to be disappointed. you're not magically exempt from being told you're being an asshole if you decide your disappointment entitles you to take part in asshole behavior.
"but we don't want something heavily produced and we don't want these shows" then don't watch! that's it! don't watch! you are not being held hostage and forced to engage with this content. you have the choice not to. throwing a tantrum and launching racist vitriol at steven lim and demanding he step down as CEO shows a level of entitlement and childishness that, frankly, i wish they could have ignored, but they're both kinder & more patient than i am.
anyway congratulations to watcher on their new streaming service and their gorgeous new website, congratulations to the boys on a new step in their careers and on achieving something they've made clear they've wanted for ages, thank you to the boys for all their hard work and for sharing their creativity with us. thank you too for taking such a big and genuinely brave step to no longer be beholden to major corporations and advertisers so you can make the art you want to make. thank you to steven lim for taking so many steps back to keep the company running and for doing your best in a shit economy and while being targeted by this kind of nastiness online. and thank you to the entire team at @wearewatcher for continuing to do amazing work despite being treated like shit by the fan community at large on the internet while you're trying to make a living and create art. you all deserve better than you've been shown of late and i hate that such an exciting moment got overshadowed by so many temper tantrums.
because the whole fucking point, the dream, is getting to make the art that matters to them, without being held back. i'm sorry y'all don't want the heavily produced and high quality shit but your preferences as a member of an audience are not the law by which artists should abide. they are artists and they are free to, and deserve to, make the art they want to make.
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ghost-proofbaby ¡ 5 months ago
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kissing lessons
summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?
pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader
warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)
wc: 3.4k+
a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.
part 2
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Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.
Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone. 
Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable. 
Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her. 
It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with. 
“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?” 
“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”
“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”
You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring. 
Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under. 
The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin. 
You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised. 
The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all. 
It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends. 
And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake. 
“Against mine, I’d hope.” 
The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers. 
It had been nice. Really nice. 
You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal. 
But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen. 
You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores. 
It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals. 
Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended. 
“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”
Gross shit. 
The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to. 
You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked. 
“I��m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”
The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things. 
And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.
Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue. 
“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-” 
You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today. 
You cut her off with a kiss.
The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss. 
The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike. 
The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours. 
None of the boys at school could ever compare. 
Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird. 
It’s not. 
When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.
Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long. 
Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out. 
Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air. 
The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will. 
“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”
“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.” 
It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap. 
You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers. 
Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold. 
The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice. 
It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best. 
You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers. 
Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right? 
Is she feeling what I’m feeling? 
Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters. 
And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you. 
The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.
“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this. 
You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again. 
You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?” 
“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.” 
You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema. 
You want, and you want, and you want. 
And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over. 
Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful. 
You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello. 
They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi. 
Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another. 
You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend. 
They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”
“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing. 
“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”
You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.” 
She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”
“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?” 
You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl. 
“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?” 
Am I doing this right? 
“That definitely works.”
Is she feeling what I’m feeling?
“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.” 
“It’s a date.” 
It’s not. Only to you, never to her. 
But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst. 
One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you. 
Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs. 
Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you. 
Tonight’s not the night, though. 
One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.
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gay-dorito-dust ¡ 9 months ago
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HEYYYY
Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.
Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.
So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.
Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️
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Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.
‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.
‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.
‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’
Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.
‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…
Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.
The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.
‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’
Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’
You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.
He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.
‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.
‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.
Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’
You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’
‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’
‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.
‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.
‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’
‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.
While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.
You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.
‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.
‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.
‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.
‘Sorry.’ You apologised.
‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.
Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.
‘Nope.’ Dick started.
‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.
‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’
Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.
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astridthevalkyrie ¡ 8 months ago
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xavier thinks you're cruel when you smile. everything about you is different, to the point where it feels like you're just a whole different person sharing the same face as the woman he knew. but then, when he met you as a lightseeker, he'd thought the same thing, that you were nothing like his best friend who didn't have any grand dreams of becoming a grandis knight, and only thought of living today to the fullest because she knew she would not see tomorrow. and then he'd fallen for the woman sacrificing her blood, sweat and tears just so that she could be claimed as his. and as predicted, he's fallen for you for the third time now, and he realizes that your personality could change a million times over a million lives, and he will love you more and more each time he meets you. because no matter what you do and no matter what you are trying to be, your smile blinds him each and every time. and that is what he finds cruel, because it must be cruel to make him fall for that smile again and again and again, and surely there is a limit to how many people one man can fall in love with. perhaps he's the exception, or perhaps it doesn't count because you are still one person. either way, it is torture, torture in its sweetest form that he could never hate you for, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.
"mister deepspace hunter," you sing, poking his cheek with a chicken plushie, "you can't sleep, we've only seen two movies."
"how many more are there?"
"three more in this series, and then we start the next fantasy series."
"you're insane," he says sweetly, burrowing further under your favorite blanket.
with a giggle, you lay your head down on his lap, hair splayed out on what he deems is your rightful pillow. "it's not a movie night if we don't stay up the whole night."
he's about to tell you that both of you need sleep, that it's not healthy to stay up this late or to pull all-nighters, but then he gazes down to where you're grinning up at him, and his heart stops for a second, because you are so, so, so beautiful, and he's gone.
sleep can wait another day.
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zayne thinks you're cruel when you speak. you are reserved around him, and while he never thinks you should limit yourself, least of all on his behalf, maybe this is the most merciful path you can take. because once you do start speaking, once you place your hand over his across whichever table at whichever restaurant to go off on an excited ramble about your latest endeavor, everything else fades way. and it is cruel, to make him lose control all of all senses aside from sound. it is cruel to metaphorically force him on his knees to bend and dance to the sound of your voice and your voice alone. it leaves him vulnerable, to pain, to betrayal, to any and every harmful thing that could possibly be surrounding him, when he cannot observe, when he cannot fight, when he cannot be, while you are speaking. when every individual word you speak has its own unique significance, and he would not be able to kill anyone who interrupts you because he would not even realize it happened, too entranced by the spell you cast. he is not his own in those moments, he only belongs to you. and thankfully, nothing does befall him, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.
"what do you think?"
he pauses, hand in yours as the two of you walk, blinking at you a few times. "what do i think?"
"yeah, you, doctor," you tease, squeezing his fingers. "what do you think? i've been talking your head off for five minutes."
he is not jarred because he hadn't been paying attention, on the contrary he'd been hanging off your every word. his opinion simply does not matter as much in his eyes.
"i agree with you," he says, enjoying the way you beam at his concurrence, "but what did you think about the other article?"
predictably, you take the bait and launch into another long rant, and he wills this topic to last forever.
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rafayel thinks you're cruel when you sleep. so, so soundly you sleep, sometimes in his own bed because he offers it to you like a fool. you look beautiful when you sleep, which is half the problem, and he knows that it is all sorts of wrong to find you beautiful when he's also paralyzed because of how similar your appearance is to death. from a distance, he could never tell the difference. it is only when he is next to you, holding your slack wrist in his hands, that he can breathe easier by pressing his fingers to your pulse. and he is terrified that one day he won't feel it, because it has happened before. one moment you were there, alive and well and his, and the next you were in his arms, lifeless and limp and somehow still beautiful. so there is no way for him to calm his racing heart when he sees you asleep, and the reason it's cruel is because he knows he cannot disturb you. not you, who works so hard and needs your sleep more than anyone else. he cannot ask you to sit up and breathe and laugh and show him that you're still alive. even though he knows you would should he ask, because you are not actually cruel, you are far kinder than he deserves.
"hmm." your eyes are bleary as they blink awake, hardly aware of where you are.
he slides his arms around you from behind, hiding his face in your neck. "you can go back to sleep, was just making sure you were still alive."
a quiet huff escapes you, clearly annoyed at being woken up for such a ludicrous reason. "don't be annoying."
he wasn't trying to be, this time. "okay," he whispers, "sorry."
you turn all of a sudden, shifting in his arms until you're facing him, with a light glare. another apology is on his lips when you crossly tell him, "i was kidding. you're not annoying."
"i can be. sometimes," he admits softly.
"no." you press a deep kiss to his lips, and he understands now why some humans would rather choose to drown under the sea instead of going back to the surface. "you're not annoying. you're never annoying. i love you. okay?"
his voice is choked the next time he speaks, with your face hidden in his neck, soft puffs of air on his neck letting him know that you're still breathing. a tear runs down his cheek.
"okay."
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it-was-summer ¡ 2 months ago
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The Very First... Second... Third Night
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A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3
Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!
Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.
Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.
Word Count: 3,863
First Meeting
Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 
Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 
You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 
You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 
Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 
Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.
He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 
“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 
He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.
You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 
Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 
But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 
He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 
Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 
You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 
Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 
“That’s not-” 
A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 
He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 
“I don’t believe in guns.” 
“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 
Second Meeting
Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 
It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 
His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”
It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 
He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 
He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 
“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 
He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 
And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.
So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 
The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 
His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 
Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 
He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 
Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 
Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 
He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 
She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 
On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 
He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 
“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.
Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 
“Who?” 
“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 
Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.
Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 
Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 
It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 
Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 
Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 
He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 
“Is it the noise?” 
A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 
You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 
He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”
He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 
Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 
You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 
It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 
Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 
Third Meeting
It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 
So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 
Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 
He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 
A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 
He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 
“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 
You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 
“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 
You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 
“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”
“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 
“I’m Spencer.” 
You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 
You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 
Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 
You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 
Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”
You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 
“Third.” 
“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 
He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 
“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 
Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 
You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 
“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 
“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 
Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”
“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 
Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 
“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 
Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 
You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 
“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 
You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 
Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 
You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 
His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 
He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 
He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 
Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 
206 notes ¡ View notes
moodymisty ¡ 3 months ago
Note
Space marine trio gangbang anon read my fucking mind lol (I also have not played space marine 2 yet, but I hc that gadriel is into degrading praise rather than straight up degradation) like, please God, let me be their personal serf for whenever they need me, doesn't have ti be all of them at once. Just a titjob here, a quickie there. Hell, a hand job would probably enough for msot of them because of their repressed sexual desires. (I feel like a freaking beggar running around the univer going "spare cock? Please? Anyone have spare cock")
Author's note: oops?
Warnings: NSFW, Handjob, Very gentle degradation tbh not really much, Implied being shared among the three of them
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Surprisingly, Adeptus Administratum tasks aboard an astartes ship are somewhat lacking. Though it is more than possible that one of a few people had something to do with that.
You won't complain however, no one apart from the most vehemently obsessed would prefer writing tax reports over other things that occur aboard a battlebarge as large as this.
-- come to the astartes barracks --
Normally, they don't even bother with sending messages over vox. It's either quicker to send someone to get you, or get you themselves. Knowing the sender of the message had been far more surprising however.
You've known Titus the longest. He has said that he enjoys your company; Perhaps because unaugmented humans cannot bicker and snub him off in the same way fellow astartes can.
Charion was introduced to you by Titus not long after. He seems kind, almost kinder than Titus in a way; Though it's more than likely that he is simply less afraid to show it.
Gadriel... You don't know him well. You know of him, but he seems completely uninterested in you.
Completely uninterested in that.
You don't know if he was simply being obtuse when saying it, or if he genuinely didn't know what the words for what you are doing with his battle brothers are. He didn't seem to care either way anyways.
Which had made it all the more surprising when you huffed all the way to the astartes barracks, only to find Gadriel standing in the entryway of his quarters waiting. You had thought it just coincidence at first, until he purposely calls you closer while you look for Titus.
You come to him and squeeze inside his barracks from the doorway he mostly blocks- sizable even without armor. The door closes behind you with a dull hiss. It's barren other than the basics, and a few trophies.
"My lord... Do you require something?"
The look Gadriel gives you is more than unimpressed, and dare you think almost... Pouting?
"You call Charion Charion, you call Titus Demetrian, but I get Lord?"
You shirk a bit into yourself, shrugging your shoulders. Having to speak with him is more difficult than the others.
"Will all the due respect, I don't know you."
The look Gadriel gives isn't readable- though it could simply be because you really do not know him like you do his squadmates.
The astartes moves to drop himself sitting onto his bunk, and the horrible creak it lets out crying from his weight worries you it might collapse. Thankfully however, it holds. You don't know if it would've if he was any heavier.
"What you do with them, show me."
A vague question.
You stand dumbly and look at him, watching how his robes lay over his shoulders and chest. The longer you're silent, the most irritated he gets.
"Can you, can you be a bit more specific?"
He looks at your thoroughly unimpressed, eyes glancing you up and down. You feel pressed under his stare in a way you don't know if you like or not. It unsettles a bit, for sure.
"You know. The reason you always smell like them."
Oh. You know what he's referring to now.
Titus and Charion while seeming to genuinely enjoy your company, enjoy something else you offer them outside of the things a normal space marine should know of and desire. Titus had been the first. He's an older marine, hardened and stalwart in his duties but independent.
Titus had offered you to Charion, after you agreed. Hence why despite there being two of them, you still are referred to as being Titus'.
But Gadriel had shrugged them both off, content to have little to no interaction with you other than when he stumbles upon you in their company and the occasional requisition order.
You wonder what spurred on this sudden change.
Stepping closer, he watches you intently as you to try and figure out how to even start. Titus always wants to kiss you- to try and shove his larger tongue right down your throat. Would Gadriel even care? Does he even know how? Then again if he knows enough to demand you show him how you fuck his battle brothers, he would know such a thing, correct? Then again you're well aware from experience the gaps in their knowledge are vast crevasses that take a long time and are often, quite embarrassing to cross.
At least he is thoroughly clean, however. The last time Titus and his squad had been deployed it was a two and a half week rotation, and when they had returned, Titus had eagerly come to visit you and chat once out of armor.
He had however neglected to bathe in his excitement, and upon entering the same confined room as him, you had immediately retched all over the floor.
TItus then left to clean himself of whatever ungodly concoction of putrid things he was still covered in, and you scurried away until the serfs cleaned everything.
Gadriel in comparison smells, dare you say quite pleasant. A heady, musky male odor combined with an almost chemical smell hidden underneath. Titus had said it was from their extra organs, one in particular that embarrassingly, you forgot the name of.
You stand unsure as he watches and you can see him getting impatient, as you speak up again.
"Could you, perhaps be a bit more specific?" The look he gives you is insultingly unimpressed.
"Titus always calls you smart. I don't see it."
You purse your lips, a bit upset at the insult.
"My l- Gadriel, in my defense you are being quite vague..."
The astartes sighs and loses a bit of his rigid posture, letting himself slouch just a bit as the muscle and fat of his stomach folds. You don't know why you suddenly realize just how large he is in that exact moment- how he's still almost at your height while sitting.
"Give me what you give Titus."
That you can at least somewhat work with.
Stepping even closer, you can feel the way your heart is nervously stammering. You only know Gadriel a tiny bit, despite being part of Titus' main squad. He never seemed interested in you until now. He would tend to roll his eyes at particularly Titus giving you any sort of affection, or desiring it when you weren't around.
To get any closer however you decide to walk and place his left thigh between your own; His legs are spread decently far apart enough to make it difficult. The moment your hands touch his chest, you can see him glance down to see. One of them pushes higher to rest on his collarbone, feeling the rough scars on his skin as his robe shifts to reveal more skin.
"Titus says a lot of things about you."
You can feel the way his voice rumbles in his chest, incredibly deep. You swallow a knot in your throat.
"I hope they're good things..."
Gadriel's voice is stoic and lacking in obvious emotion, but it's a bit lighter than how he was earlier. You wish you could have any clue on what he was thinking.
"We will see."
Your other hand drifts lower, brushing across his stomach. You hear a small pack of astartes walk around outside, and you unconsciously glance towards the door while your hand twitches away.
"They aren't going to come in here. Quit behaving so nervously. You can do it."
His surprising addition to the end makes your face feel a bit warm, before pulling at the fabric used as underwear.
Astartes clothes are cheap, utilitarian and mass produced, and as it goes quite easy to put on and remove.
When you wrap your hand around his cock you can't even hear Gadriel make the slightest sound, gently dancing your fingers over his skin. You feel his cock twitch in your palm, leaning forward until your own breath is fanning over his skin. Attempting to ignore the way your cunt throbs and brushes against his thigh is a gargantuan task, but you attempt it none the less.
You're close enough that you think you can just barely hear the sound of his hearts, though it could also just be your own blood thumping in your ears. You feel his cock harden in your hand and as your palm drifts up and down his shaft you feel him let out the slightest exhale.
You know from experience that even the slightest slip ups for them are far more dramatic than you would think. If he slipped up enough to let out a heavy breath, you know that it's working.
Only for a moment do you pull away your hand to lick your palm, trying not to have so much dry friction. He doesn't seem to care, but you did. When you wrack your hand around his cock against and move faster, a bit rougher, Gadriel lets out a louder noise before one of his hands reaches to grab your waist.
"Throne girl,"
He grunts out, before you move away. The look he gives you is confused and irritated, as you try and move to kneel between his legs. You think he is about to reprimand him, before he realizes that you haven't decided to just leave him with an aching, leaking erection in the middle of the barracks.
Your jaw aches just at the sight of his cock before your face, wrapping your lips around his tip. Slowly you take more and more of him in your mouth and hear the way he lets out a surprisingly loud groan, feeling the wet heat of your mouth around over half of his cock. It's all that can fit; You wrap your hand around the rest while the other steadies yourself on his thigh.
You can taste the saltiness of skin, sweat and precum in your mouth, bobbing your head on his cock. You treat cautiously- you know he more than likely isn't going to last much longer and you know he will not warn you. While a mouth full of astartes cum isn't the worst thing- at least to you though you're sure it's probably an outlier opinion- you'd rather not end up with and unprepared mouthful so much so you choke.
"So this is what they've had you doing instead of Administratum duties?"
You hum to clear your throat and attempt to ignore the throbbing between your legs, looking up briefly to see his furrowed brow and flush to his skin. He lets out a large exhale through his nose, and you feel his cock throb in your mouth.
You think you hear him mumble something- a swear perhaps you don't know, but moments later he cums in your mouth, filling the pocket of your cheek and forcing you to quickly pull away more lest he do actually choke you. It almost hurts to swallow, but when you look up he's staring at you with that stoic astartes expression; Though something is underneath it.
"The chaplains would call this heretical, whoreish behavior." You pull away and wipe your mouth.
"Are you not the one who ordered me? And who let me do such things?" He watches you closely, sternly.
"That I did. And I order you to show me more."
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songbirdseung ¡ 9 months ago
Text
mr. green flag / park jongseong
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synopsis: after dating the wrong guys, you wanted to give up love and relationships. although, a man named park jongseong changed things for you.
pairing: nonidol!jay x nonidol!yn
warnings: cheating, red flag boyfriends, love triangles, cuss words
The bartender was most likely your best friend now since you basically came to the bar every week or two. Crying over a guy who definitely not worth your tears and time. But the bartender was very understanding of your situation and tried his very best to provide comfort and reassurance.
You found out his name was Terry. He's been working at the bar as his second job just to make extra money. Such a nice genuine guy, someone you wish you could date but for some reason, the universe hated your guts, or you just did so horrible in your past life that you need to be punished in this life.
"Okay, last one for tonight. You still got to drive yourself home" he slides your drink towards you with a serious but caring look on his face. "When are you going to break up with that douchebag?" all the arrows pointed to breaking up with him, but since you were so blinded, you couldn't just let him go. As stupid as it was, you loved him despite all the foolish and childish things he has done to you.
"I love you; I do. But I hate seeing you walk through the door with a frown on your face and tears running down your face. It's time you be single or date a good guy" terry doesn't know how many times he had already said these things to you, but he has to remind you every time.
On the drive home, you were dreading it. What if you open the door to your shared apartment with your boyfriend and see him banging another girl? why did you have to be so stupid and such a coward, why couldn't you just say the words "let's break up" or "I'm done" then follow up with a "get out of my apartment" then be over with it.
Luckily for you, the universe wanted to be a little bit kinder to you, you opened the door to your apartment and no, your boyfriend wasn't hooking up with someone. But you knew, he probably already did earlier in the day. As you make your way into the kitchen to drink some medicine and water, you receive a text from terry.
terry: don't forget what I said earlier, you can't say you forgot because we both know you're not drunk.
You sigh and head to your bedroom where your boyfriend is playing video games. You turn on the light and he immediately spin around in his chair and starts yelling at how you disrupted his game.
This is it; you just have to do it. Just say the words yn. "I'm breaking up you, by tomorrow morning, I expect you to be out of this house and my life."
That was a whole month ago, now you were currently single and moving on. Instead of being at the bar with terry, you were at the mall. "I'm proud of you yn, it's been a month and from what I've notice, you're doing great" you smile and nod, "I honestly did not know where the confidence came from when I broke up with him."
You recall all the times you got broken up with by your past 2 boyfriends. they all treated you the way your 3rd boyfriend did. Realizing that all these three, when you started dating them, they would put up a persona, a facade as if they were good guys and they would treat you the way you deserved. They promised things that turned to be absolutely bullshit and empty promises. Then down the road, they would slowly show their true colors and behaviors.
"Maybe I'm meant to be single, maybe i should just give up on relationships" terry listens to your rants and future goals. Listing down all the things you want to do now since you were free from manipulators and controlling men. "Who knows, Mr. right is just around the corner" he pretends to look around, but you miss the real intention or message behind that remark from terry.
Relationships and love were now long gone from your life, and you wanted it to stay that way. Being in those toxic and shitty relationships, you lost yourself. Now it was time to bring that lively and passionate girl back. to do so, old passions, goals, dreams were revisited and worked on again. as months passed, the old you started to resurface. You felt happy, you felt like yourself.
Once day, you went to visit your family house, and in that house, there was a basement where your old stuff was placed in boxes. You placed them there so no one could mess with them and for your old room to be used for whenever they had guest over. Looking through your stuff, you reached over for your guitar that was in its case. The instrument that was your whole life. It was quite upsetting that whenever you would play guitar in your apartment, your ex would get mad at you, claiming how loud you were and how bad you were at playing. it caused you to stop and feel insecure over something you so sure of since you were little. You placed the guitar on your lap and started playing, you haven't played in a long time, but muscle memory was helping you so much.
You got back on your game, focusing on school and looking for a part time job to earn money. You were spending so much time with yourself, you forgot to spend quality time with your friends too. You had terry, chaeryoung, and jake. You weren't a group, but you used to hang out with them separately.
Putting down the paint brush and picking up the disregarded phone on the floor, you dial jake's number. After a few rings he picks up with a sassy but not serious tone. "You remember I exist huh, yn?" you laugh in an apology and ask him if he wants to go out. To which he agrees and tells you he'd be there to pick you up in 15 minutes.
Jake and you go way back, you met him in Australia when you were on vacation. Everyone in your family were appreciating the view as they were sight-seeing. But you were more interested in the golden border collie that was staring back at you and wagging her tail as you made grabby hands at her. Only being 10 years old, your parents didn't let you go anywhere unsupervised, so they kept a tight hold on you, but you just had to pet the cute puppy. With enough wiggling out of their grasp and run away. "Hi, can i pet your puppy?" looking up at the lady who was holding the leash. She gives you the green light and starts asking you questions. "what's your name?" "Where are your parents?" "How old are you?" obviously, you answered her with respect. later, a young boy, who seems to be the son of the lady comes up and says hi. A very friendly boy with an Australian accent asks you if you wanna be friends.
That's where it all began. it was a long-distance friendship, not until jake decided to go back to Korea. You two have been glued to each other's hip since then, he was there for you for everything, for the good and bad. he's seen all the men you'd dated and unlike terry who was the "good cop", jake was the "bad cop" telling you how it was and even if it had to be said in the harshest way, he'd say it. When you told him you ended your recent relationship, happy was an understatement with how Jake felt.
Today, he still is your best friend. "Jake, stop letting me win, it ain't fun that way" stern look on your face as you stare at your best friend who is standing by the goal post. "I'm not, you're just really good" he shrugs his shoulders with that award winning smile. "you're not even moving; you're not even blocking the ball" you whine as you walk up to him.
The whole day was probably spent with Jake, it was getting dark, and it was time to part ways. or so you thought. Jake comes back to you after taking a call from a friend. "Hey, my friend Sunghoon called me saying how he has two extra tickets to that movie we were just talking about, you wanna go?" saying yes, you alert your parents with a text, letting them know you'll be home late.
On the way Jake opens up the topic of romance, asking for an update. "you're not seeing any losers, aren't you?" he chuckles, and he looks at the sour face you made. "No, I'm going to stay single for a long time" emphasize on the word long.
The whole time, you just thought that it would be the three of you, that you only had to meet Sunghoon. But no, you were standing there, with maybe the most good-looking guy you have ever seen. Jake would probably disagree and say it was him. Once you arrive and jake found Sunghoon, you immediately greet him and share banter, then another guy comes from the bathroom and greets you as well.
"Hi, I'm jay. You must be jake's friend he keeps complaining about." He jokes, and when he smiled, you might have just melted, he turns to Sunghoon, and you saw how sharp his jawline was. He was incredibly handsome that it makes you question if you should really give up on love or not.
"What do you mean, complaining...jake?!" you slap jake's arm and face your whole body towards him. "What have you been saying to them?!" you kept slapping his arm until he stops laughing and taking a hold of you. "I tell them how crazily stupid you are when it comes to dating and how I am tired of trying to save your ass yn" he explained while laughing like there was no tomorrow.
"If I was dating you, I think I'd be the one crazily in love" jay speaks and it makes your mind literally stop working, the cogs in your brain stopped and malfunctioned. "Damn you just met her, and you're already smitten?" Sunghoon chuckles and shakes his head, leading you all towards the room where the movie was going to play.
As the movie played, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jay, his profile illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. Each time your eyes met, a playful smile danced on his lips, igniting a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the theater's heating.
When the credits finally rolled, and the lights brightened, Jay turned to you with a grin. "Well, that was a rollercoaster," he remarked, his voice light with amusement. You chuckled in agreement, feeling a sense of ease settle between you. "Definitely kept us on the edge of our seats," you replied, matching his playful tone.
Stepping out into the cool evening air, the bustling chatter of the crowd surrounding you faded into the background as you and Jay fell into conversation. It was effortless, as if you'd known each other for years rather than mere hours. You found yourselves sharing anecdotes, swapping stories, and delving into shared interests with an enthusiasm that felt electric.
"So, what's your favorite movie of all time?" Jay asked, his eyes alight with curiosity as he turned to you. You paused, considering his question with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, tough one," you mused, a smile quirking at the corners of your lips. "But if I had to choose, I'd say 'Inception.' The whole concept of dreams within dreams just blows my mind."
Jay nodded, his own smile widening. "Ah, a fellow fan of mind-bending plots," he replied, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I'm more of a 'Shawshank Redemption' guy myself. Can't beat a classic."
As you continued to chat and laugh together, the connection between you deepened, each shared moment cementing the bond that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second. It was a feeling unlike any you'd experienced before, a sense of belonging and understanding that left you yearning for more.
And as you walked side by side, the city lights casting a gentle glow upon your faces, you couldn't shake the feeling that this unexpected encounter with Jay was just the beginning of something truly extraordinary.
After the movie, as you all parted ways, Jay lingered, asking if you'd like to grab a coffee sometime. His smile was genuine, his eyes kind, and in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope stir within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth exploring beyond the scars of your past relationships.
As you said goodbye to Jay and watched him walk away with a quickening heart, Jake nudged you playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone's got a fan," he teased, grinning mischievously.
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. "Shut up, Jake," you replied, nudging him back. But deep down, you couldn't deny the warmth that Jay's presence had ignited within you, a flicker of possibility in a heart once shrouded in doubt.
In the days that followed your encounter with Jay, your mind became consumed with swirling doubts and questions, overshadowing the initial excitement and warmth you felt in his presence. Despite the undeniable chemistry and the effortless connection you shared, the scars of past heartbreaks loomed large, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your burgeoning feelings.
As you went about your daily routine, thoughts of Jay lingered in the back of your mind, a constant presence that refused to be ignored. You found yourself replaying your conversations, analyzing every word and gesture, searching for signs of hidden agendas or red flags that might betray his true intentions.
"What if I'm just setting myself up for another disappointment?" you whispered to yourself, the weight of past betrayals heavy on your shoulders. The fear of being hurt again, of having your trust shattered and your heart broken, threatened to suffocate the budding hope that had dared to take root in your chest.
You confided in your closest friends, seeking their advice and perspective on the situation. Terry offered words of encouragement, reminding you of your resilience and strength in overcoming past obstacles. "Don't let fear dictate your happiness," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "Take a chance, yn. You deserve to find love again, and Jay might just be the one to help you rediscover it."
But despite Terry's reassurances, the nagging doubts persisted, gnawing at your confidence and filling your mind with endless what-ifs. What if history were to repeat itself? What if Jay turned out to be just like the others, another heartbreaker in disguise?
As you tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluding you in the late hours of the night, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gripped your heart. The prospect of opening yourself up to love once more felt both exhilarating and terrifying, a delicate balance between hope and fear that left you teetering on the edge of indecision.
With a sigh, you sank into the soft cushions, the weight of your worries pressing heavily upon you. "I just... I don't know what to do, Chaeryoung," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so afraid of getting hurt again, of making the same mistakes I've made in the past."
Chaeryoung listened attentively, her gaze unwavering as she reached out to gently grasp your hand in hers. "I understand, yn," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "But you can't let the fear of the past dictate your future. Sometimes, taking a chance on love means embracing the possibility of heartache, knowing that the journey is worth the risk."
You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as Chaeryoung's words struck a chord deep within you. "But what if I'm not strong enough to handle it?" you whispered, the fear of vulnerability threatening to consume you.
Chaeryoung squeezed your hand reassuringly, her expression filled with unwavering support. "You are stronger than you know, yn," she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "And you don't have to face this alone. I'll be here for you every step of the way, no matter what happens."
The day of your coffee date with Jay arrived, and despite the lingering doubts that still gnawed at the edges of your mind, you found yourself determined to embrace the opportunity with an open heart. As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down your outfit and running a nervous hand through your hair, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mingled with trepidation.
When you arrived, Jay was already there, waiting patiently at a table near the window with a warm smile on his lips. As you approached, his eyes lit up with genuine delight, and you felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at the sight of him.
"Hey, yn, I'm so glad you could make it," Jay said, rising from his seat to greet you with a friendly hug. "You look amazing."
You returned his smile with a shy grin of your own, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his easygoing demeanor. "Thanks, Jay," you replied, feeling a surge of gratitude for his kindness and understanding.
As you settled into your seats and engaged in conversation, you found yourself swept away by Jay's charm and wit, his easy laughter and genuine interest in getting to know you better putting you at ease. With each passing moment, the doubts and insecurities that had plagued you began to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of connection and possibility that left you breathless with anticipation.
Midway through the date, as the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Jay, you found yourself laughing at his animated retelling of a recent mishap at work. His eyes sparkled with amusement, his infectious laughter filling the air and drawing a smile to your lips.
"You wouldn't believe it," Jay exclaimed, his hands gesturing wildly as he recounted the comical series of events. "I swear, if it weren't for my quick thinking, we would have been knee-deep in paperwork!"
You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "Well, I'm glad you were able to save the day," you replied, unable to tear your gaze away from the twinkle in Jay's eyes. "Sounds like you're quite the hero."
Jay grinned, his dimples deepening as he leaned back in his chair. "Oh, you have no idea," he teased, his voice laced with playful exaggeration. "I've got a cape and everything."
The two of you shared a laugh, the tension easing between you as you basked in the warmth of each other's company. With each passing moment, you felt yourself growing more comfortable and at ease with Jay, the initial nerves of the date fading into the background as you lost yourself in the easy banter and shared laughter.
And as you shared another round of laughter with Jay, the doubts and insecurities that had once clouded your mind seemed to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of hope and possibility that whispered of new beginnings and endless horizons. With a smile on your lips and a lightness in your heart, you leaned in closer to Jay, eager to savor every moment of this unexpected journey that had brought you together.
As the evening drew to a close and the coffee shop began to empty out, you and Jay found yourselves lingering at your table, reluctant to part ways just yet. The easy conversation and shared laughter had created a bond between you that felt both comforting and exhilarating, leaving you reluctant to let the night end.
As you gathered your belongings and prepared to leave, Jay rose from his seat and offered you a warm smile. "Well, yn, I had a really great time tonight," he said sincerely, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle warmth that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.
You returned his smile, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you for the unexpected connection you had shared. "I did too, Jay," you replied, your voice soft with sincerity. "Thank you for such a wonderful evening."
As you made your way outside, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting embrace, Jay walked beside you in easy silence, his presence a reassuring presence at your side. The streets were quiet now, the bustling city fading into the background as you walked side by side, lost in your own thoughts.
When you finally reached your doorstep, you turned to face Jay, feeling a mixture of reluctance and anticipation swirling within you. "Well, this is me," you said with a hesitant smile, gesturing to the entrance of your building.
Jay nodded, his expression softening with a hint of regret. "Yeah, it is," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "I wish we could stay out here all night."
You chuckled softly, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of saying goodbye so soon. "Me too," you admitted, your heart heavy with the weight of impending separation.
For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the unspoken words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread. And then, without warning, Jay reached out to gently grasp your hand in his, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.
"I really want to kiss you right now, yn," Jay said softly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and respect. "But I don't want to rush things. I want to take things slow, and I want to make sure you feel comfortable every step of the way."
His words were like a balm to your weary heart, a reminder that not all men were like the ones who had hurt you in the past. And as you looked into Jay's eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and kindness reflected back at you, filling you with a sense of warmth and gratitude that you hadn't felt in a long time.
With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jay's hand gently, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding and compassion. "Thank you, Jay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I really appreciate that."
And as you stood there in the soft glow of the streetlights, the night stretching out before you like a canvas waiting to be painted, you knew that this unexpected encounter with Jay was just the beginning of a journey filled with hope, healing, and the promise of a love that was worth waiting for.
A few weeks had passed since your coffee date with Jay, and life had quickly resumed its hectic pace. Between work commitments, family obligations, and the occasional outing with friends, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of activity, the days blurring together in a haze of busyness and distraction.
Despite the outward appearance of normalcy, however, there was a lingering sense of restlessness that gnawed at the edges of your mind, a quiet unease that whispered of unresolved worries and unspoken fears. You had thrown yourself into your daily routines with a sense of determination and purpose, but beneath the surface, a part of you still felt adrift, searching for something elusive and intangible.
Your friends had noticed the change in you, their concerned glances and probing questions a constant reminder of the facade you had erected to shield yourself from their scrutiny. Terry, Chaeryoung, and Jake had all voiced their concerns, offering words of support and encouragement in their own unique ways, but you had brushed off their worries with a casual wave of your hand, insisting that you were fine and that there was nothing to be concerned about.
But deep down, you knew that wasn't entirely true. The truth was, you were struggling to keep up appearances, to maintain the facade of strength and resilience that you had carefully crafted to hide the vulnerability and uncertainty that lurked within. You were tired of pretending, tired of wearing a mask that no longer fit, but you didn't know how to let it go, how to break free from the chains that bound you to a life that felt increasingly hollow and unfulfilling.
It was on one such day, as you sat alone in your apartment, lost in a sea of thoughts and doubts, that there came a knock at your door. Startled from your reverie, you rose from your seat and made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.
When you opened the door, you were surprised to find Jay standing on the other side, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Hey, yn," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of the turmoil that lay beneath the surface. "Can I come in?"
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to explain the maelstrom of emotions that churned within you. But as you looked into Jay's eyes, you saw nothing but warmth and understanding reflected back at you, and you felt a sudden surge of gratitude for his unwavering support and compassion.
With a nod, you stepped aside to let Jay into your apartment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you. As he took a seat beside you on the couch, you felt a sense of relief wash over you at the prospect of finally opening up to someone who truly cared.
For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant rumble of traffic outside. And then, at last, Jay spoke, his voice gentle and reassuring.
"yn, I've noticed that you've been… distant lately," he began, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "And I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing. Is everything okay?"
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke off your words. But before you could reply, Jay reached out to gently grasp your hand in his, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions that raged within you.
"You don't have to pretend with me, yn," Jay said softly, his voice filled with quiet understanding. "Whatever you're going through, whatever you're feeling… I'm here for you. You don't have to face it alone."
And in that moment, as you looked into Jay's eyes and saw the depth of his sincerity and compassion, you knew that you had found someone worth opening up to, someone who would stand by your side through thick and thin, no matter what challenges lay ahead.
With a grateful smile, you squeezed Jay's hand gently, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the prospect of finally sharing your burdens with someone who truly cared. And as you began to open up to Jay, pouring out your fears and insecurities with a vulnerability you had never shown anyone before, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and optimism for the future.
In the days and weeks that followed, you found solace in the unwavering support and understanding of Jay, who stood by your side through every twist and turn of your journey. With his encouragement and guidance, you began to confront the demons of your past, slowly but surely breaking free from the chains that had bound you for so long.
Together, you navigated the highs and lows of life, sharing laughter and tears, triumphs and setbacks, as you embarked on a journey of self-discovery and healing. With Jay's love and support, you found the strength to confront your fears and insecurities head-on, embracing the challenges that lay before you with courage and resilience.
As your relationship with Jay blossomed and deepened, you found yourself constantly amazed by his thoughtfulness and consideration. Jay seemed to possess an innate understanding of your needs and boundaries, effortlessly navigating the intricacies of your heart with a sensitivity and empathy that left you feeling cherished and valued.
One evening, as you curled up on the couch together, lost in the pages of a book, Jay reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch light and tender against your skin. You looked up to find him gazing at you with an expression of quiet adoration, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter with affection.
Without a word, Jay leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin in a silent promise of love and devotion. And in that moment, as you felt the weight of his affection wash over you like a soothing balm, you knew with a certainty that this was where you belonged, in the arms of a man who loved you unconditionally, flaws and all.
In the days and weeks that followed, Jay continued to show his affection in the small but meaningful ways that spoke volumes of his love for you. Whether it was leaving notes of encouragement tucked into your lunch bag, surprising you with your favorite meal after a long day, or simply wrapping you in a warm embrace when you needed it most, Jay's gestures never failed to brighten your day and fill your heart with joy.
But what touched you most deeply was the way Jay always respected your boundaries and comfort levels, never pushing you to do anything you weren't ready for or comfortable with. Instead, he met you where you were, showering you with love and affection in the ways that felt most natural and comfortable to you.
And as you snuggled close to Jay on the couch, his arms wrapped protectively around you, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the man who had come into your life and filled it with so much love and happiness. With Jay by your side, you knew that you were truly blessed, and you vowed to cherish every moment you shared together, knowing that the love you had found was a rare and precious gift that would last a lifetime.
And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, you found yourself growing stronger and more confident with each passing day, no longer defined by the scars of your past but by the boundless possibilities of your future.
In Jay, you found not only a lover but a confidant, a partner who shared your hopes and dreams, fears and insecurities, and who stood by your side through thick and thin. Together, you forged a bond that was stronger than any obstacle, a love that transcended the trials and tribulations of life.
One evening, as you sat together on the balcony, watching the sun dip below the horizon in a blaze of fiery colors, you found yourselves lost in conversation, sharing your deepest thoughts and feelings with a vulnerability and honesty that only strengthened the bond between you.
"I never thought I'd find someone like you, yn," Jay said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Someone who truly understands me, who accepts me for who I am, flaws and all."
You turned to look at Jay, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "I feel the same way, Jay," you replied, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "You've shown me a kind of love and acceptance that I never knew was possible, and for that, I'm eternally grateful."
As you sat together in companionable silence, the soft murmur of the city below providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation, you felt a sense of peace settle over you like a warm blanket. With Jay by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm that came your way, knowing that his love and support would always be there to guide you through.
And as the stars began to twinkle overhead, casting their gentle glow upon you both, you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Jay's lips, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the man who had come into your life and filled it with so much joy and happiness. With Jay by your side, you knew that anything was possible, and you vowed to cherish every moment you shared together, knowing that your love was a bond that would last a lifetime.
And as you looked towards the horizon, your heart filled with gratitude for the unexpected twists and turns that had led you to this moment, you knew that with Jay by your side, the future held endless promise and possibility.
With a smile on your lips and a lightness in your heart, you stepped forward into the unknown, ready to embrace whatever adventures awaited you, knowing that as long as you had Jay by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way.
And so, as the sun set on one chapter of your life and rose on the next, you took Jay's hand in yours, ready to embark on a new journey filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.
For in Jay, you had found not only a partner but a soulmate, a kindred spirit who had walked through fire and brimstone to stand by your side, and for that, you would be eternally grateful.
And as you walked hand in hand into the sunset, the echoes of your laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the wind, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.
And so, with hearts full of hope and love, you stepped forward into the unknown, ready to embrace whatever adventures awaited you, knowing that as long as you had each other, the future held endless promise and possibility.
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uncle-fruity ¡ 2 years ago
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HEY! HEY, YOU! YEAH! YOU!
Have you ever heard the phrase, "Your friends aren't your therapists"?
If you've been on the internet enough, I think it's a sentiment that's pretty difficult to miss.
But you know what that means, right?
It's meant to warn people not to place too much personal baggage onto their friends when they should be unpacking it with a professional. It's to say that venting to your friends shouldn't be your main source of coping. That is to say: most of your friends are probably unqualified to untangle complex emotional & mental health problems, and if you expect them to endlessly listen to your problems & have them help "fix" you, then that's usually going to end up in stress and tension in your relationship (or worse).
Do you know what "Your friends aren't your therapists" DOESN'T mean?
It DOESN'T mean that you shouldn't ever seek any emotional support from your friends or that you should keep all your problems to yourself.
Yes, it's important to establish boundaries in all your relationships. If there's something you'd rather not hear from your friends (and vice versa) that should be talked about if it ever becomes relevant. If your friend is easily overwhelmed by a lot of emotion/stimulus, then you shouldn't dump serious emotional things without checking in to see if it's okay first. Over time, in a healthy communicative relationship, you get a feel for what's okay and what's not.
But goodness fucking me when I see folks say that they don't deserve to express their harder emotions because "friends aren't your therapists" I just... I mean woof y'all!
What kind of friend is a friend that doesn't care if you're upset? What kind of friend sees you struggling with something and tells you to deal with your own problems because they don't owe you anything? What kind of friend comes around only if you hide your pain at all times?
A fair-weather friend, that's what kind. A friend that's only around for the good times, and goes away during (metaphorical) storms.
If someone only wants to be a fair-weather friend, that's their prerogative. But I'm telling you all that you deserve the kind of friendship where your friends actually give a fuck about you. You deserve to take up space sometimes. You deserve to get heavy things off your chest with someone you love and trust.
If you want better, stronger, healthier friendships, it's important to understand that intimacy is about Knowing and Seeing and Experiencing someone authentically. Taking off whatever mask we wear to get through the world and being ourselves and sharing that with another person. Anger, pain, grief... tackling these issues with each other builds trust and intimacy and makes everyone involved feel more important & needed & cared about. Isn't that what all this is for?
Anyway, this is all to say: be open about your emotions. Communicate with your friends (& tbh in all your relationships). Learn each other's boundaries, but don't shut each other out just because emotions are scary to navigate at times.
Please be kinder to yourself. Seek intimate friendships, AND seek professional help when you need more support than your friends can provide. Just don't assume your friends can't give you any support! Assume that they love you and trust that they will tell you if they're at their limit. And if they *are* at their limit or if they just aren't comfortable with some conversations, respect that & don't try to force it onto them.
This has been a PSA. Thank you.
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simplyreveries ¡ 9 months ago
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just saw that requests are open 🗣️🗣️
I already asked this for housewardens, but can you maaayyyybbeeeee do the rest of the dorms with s/o who’s like their movies princess
yes!!<3
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trey clover
he finds it endearing with your curiosity, you always seem to be coming to him with questions upon questions about twisted wonderland. he sometimes forgets that this is all so new to you, whereas he has been used to this world his whole life. he chuckles in amusement and does gently advise you when dealing with certain people or things regarding this world. he wants to look out for you— you can’t help but make trey worry sometimes!
whenever you tend to get stubborn and talk back to others, such as riddle (who is equally as stubborn) you two get along but yet butt heads quite often with your attitudes. trey seems to make himself the mediator between you two, he shakes his head playfully and teases that you're too troublesome.
finds it flattering, but honestly a little difficult to concentrate whenever you’re around— only because you’re so impressed of such simple magic and things he can do naturally. when he absentmindedly uses it for cooking in such your wows and awes make him laugh, he’ll tell you he feels nervous though when it seems like he has an audience now haha.
ruggie bucchi
no because you genuinely made him nervous... when he had met you, he was expecting you to be some easy target or someone he thought he might try to get some madol out of... he was wrong. at first, he knew at that point you weren’t someone easily to be messed with in such a way. he eventually did grow a huge amount of respect for that.
ruggie snickers and laughs whenever you get confrontational with any sort of bothersome savanaclaw students or even leona— (surprisingly he doesn’t seem to respond much to that, he seems to back down around you as well). he enjoys how willingly you get into the face of others. whereas he's sneakier and unconfrontational you're pretty much the opposite here. he never seems worried about you though when it comes to that, he finds it amusing.
you two often get into playful banter with each other all the time- witty remarks and teasing. he loves it, there has been a few times you've managed to make him flustered.
jade leech
he truly thinks you're too innocent. too easily swayed, he finds it oh so endearing. not to mention, your fascination of this world makes him laugh. especially whenever you decide to approach him inquiring him about plants, animals, things he may have seen as he's always seeming to be out hiking in the woods and mountains that are near the school.
jade enjoys sharing what he knows- but he is able to give you more information about the coral sea since that's what he's known for most of his life. he suggests the idea of you visiting there sometime on your own accord. instead of when you were tangled into that deal with azul, he'd tease. he remembers the curiosity and awe as you went to the museum there.
your knack for collecting items is endearing to him, if there's a chance he's ever out somewhere- like a gift shop in another country, he makes sure to get something for you. he chuckles pleased when he sees the excited look on your face and rambling.
jamil viper
he admires and honestly even relates to your own personal desires of independence and exploring. jamil has always wanted to travel and see the world,, he tells you often that he wants you to come with him to not only his homeland but other places he was interested in and thinks you'll enjoy too. ever since chapter 4 he has been able to get some more space- and he wants to do that with you.
though he is used to kalim, being such a kinder person a school like this, he thinks you should still be cautious because of the students around you. whenever you show acts of kindness, he gently reminds you about people like octavinelle exist...!
jamil huffs at your stubbornness sometimes, even though he really is no different than you. so even if he does get a little frustrated (mostly only out of worry for you) he can't help but laugh because you two are similar in such ways. he lets you win.
rook hunt
we've seen his liking to neige,,,, he is no different with you. he finds your optimism for such a situation you're in truly beautiful. he thinks your perseverance through the chaos you've been thrown into and willingness to fix ramshackle up a little to be a bit homier was cute even.
rook has a habit always watching out for you. he can't help but feel some sense of wanting to protect when it comes to you. even though he can't help but already be around you all the time with how overly loving he is.
he easily developed such a fascination to you, he always found you somehow throughout the day. he adores your voice; he thinks it's the loveliest thing he's heard. he constantly comes out of nowhere- surprising you tell you how beautiful you sounded to him. rook claims he could listen to it all day and knowing him, he's not exaggerating.
lilia vanrouge
he doesn't show it in the most obvious way, it tends to come off more playful- but lilia does have a sense of protectiveness over you like malleus would. like i said though, he could easily play it off and twist it into him just finding you and popping up bizarrely from some ceiling, greeting you sweetly. he does seem to always have an eye on you. he thinks you're too good of a soul for a school like this sometimes.
finds your daydreamy and hopeful demeanor so,,, sweet. he is giggling as you tell him your hopes and ideas for your future. lilia tells you he'll make them happen. knowing what he's capable of.... he means it.
he'll grin and playfully twirl you to make you laugh - when he catches you off in your own world. he doesn't seem to really snap you out when you're off in your own world. he just watches you smitten; he laughs if you notice him staring and wouldn't deny it.
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wildernessuntothemselves ¡ 1 year ago
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Jealousy, Jealousy... | Final Part
A/N: this is the main ending. there is an alternative ending available for the other boy on patreon. the link for which is found at the end of this chapter.
Word count: 13k
Genre: Smut, angst, fluff
Warnings: fem!reader, mostly dom!reader, face-sitting, PIV sex, dirty talk, creampie, handjob, heartbreak.
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“Hey, baby.” You greet Yeonjun, giving him a kiss on the lips. “Ready to go?” 
You were picking him up to go home after a long day of work for the both of you. You had in mind a night of drinking wine and complaining about your day until you passed out in his arms and you can’t wait to get home already. 
“Just a little longer, doll.” He tells you and you immediately start whining. “Junnie… those two bottles of wine I bought aren’t gonna drink themselves. We gotta get cracking.” 
He chuckles tiredly. “While I appreciate your efforts to get me drunk, Beomgyu has composed a new song and I need to stay back to hear it.”
“Oh.” It’s still so weird to you how you now have to hear news about what your best friend is up to from other people. You used to know these things first. If this was a few months ago, you’d have already heard the song before anyone else did. But now you’re lucky if you even get to hear it at all. 
But that’s for the best. You’re doing good with Yeonjun. You’re doing good without Beomgyu. You’re breathing. You’re eating. Your heart is beating… maybe even for someone else for a change. It may have been excruciatingly painful at first–forcing yourself to step away from him, not seeking him out to try to make things better after your most recent fallout, not jumping at the chance when he reached out himself, pretending like you’re too busy to see him, making up excuses so you won’t be alone with him, building up your walls so maybe one day you can stand in a room with him and not have to hold back every cell of your body from throwing yourself at his feet and begging him to love you, but you’ve gotten a lot better at it. 
“Do you wanna listen to it?” Yeonjun asks when he sees your curiosity, but you hesitate. Should you? Maybe you should just wait in the car…
But when you see Beomgyu come out with his acoustic guitar and set it on his lap, you find yourself nodding and grabbing a seat next to Yeonjun. You miss hearing him sing. You miss being privy to his passions and whims. Maybe it's selfish of you to allow yourself the opportunity to witness more of him than you’re willing to give him but you never claimed to not be selfish. 
As if Beomgyu shares your thoughts, he glances at you, hesitating for a second and you can see the thoughts flitting behind his pretty eyes–you know him too well. Is he thinking about kicking you out? Does he not want you to hear the song because you’ve been keeping your distance from him? 
Eventually though he looks down at his guitar and starts to play, and as soon as the first words leave his lips, your heart drops. 
Oh, I’m falling in love
As time goes by
As my feelings grow 
I’m becoming more anxious
How deep is your love?
I want to ask
Couldn’t it be the same if not deeper? 
Your heart lurches in your chest at the lyrics. Falling in love? Is Beomgyu falling in love with Haeun? You know you have no right to feel hurt by this but you do. Why couldn’t he have loved you? What does he see in her that you couldn’t have given him? Is she prettier than you? Smarter? Kinder? Funnier? What was it that made you fall short of deserving his love? 
Seeing you change little by little
I’m afraid I’ll lose you
Not mine
My one minute, one second
Take them all
All my time is yours
Why?
Why have you changed?
Why are you so far away from me? 
Now we are at different paths. 
It hurts even more that it seems she’s not reciprocating his feelings. She has everything you want and she doesn’t even want it. He’s willing to give her everything but it seems it’s not enough for her. Oh how cruelly ironic. 
She seemed to be very into him before, at least after the band got more popular, and with every increase in their popularity, she attached herself to him more and more, but something must’ve gone wrong along the line. You have known for some time that Beomgyu and Haeun have been having relationship troubles but you don’t know exactly what because Beomgyu hasn’t told anyone but you guess it’s really bad if this song is about them. 
Is she in love with someone else? Has she lost interest? How could she do it so easily when it’s taking everything in you to do the same. Can she tell you her secret so you can stop suffering and give your heart completely to the man who actually wants it? 
How can I go back
To our beginning
When we were looking at the same place
The when we had the same heart
I hope you don’t know it
This feeling
Even though I love you
I still feel alone
He’s hiding it from her, afraid to reveal his feelings–maybe because he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way, that if he reveals them she’ll reject him. You know that feeling all too well. You wish you could protect him from it even if he was the cause of your own similar pain.
As the chorus repeats, you become even more sure that the song is about him. You can hear the anguish so clearly in his voice. Beomgyu has always been so talented, always able to give his all to the song and live it as if it’s his own, but you know him too well. You know this is real pain. 
I’m drowning in you
Don’t leave me like this
As the bridge reaches its climax, your body shakes, wanting to lunge forward and take him into your arms, to save him from himself even if it would tear you to pieces. But you can’t. You don’t have the right to anymore. All you can do is sit there and wait for him to finish his song, wait for the boys to discuss it as if it’s not his heart being laid out in the open to be dissected. 
“What do you think?” He asks once the song is over, biting the skin of his finger, a nervous habit you’ve always quietly found adorable. You would always grab his hand and kiss the poor finger better, scolding him for hurting himself, but secretly you loved it. You loved having his hand in yours. You loved having an excuse to press your lips against him. And you loved the smile he would always give you in response. 
“It’s really good." Kai says, impressed. "Didn’t know that someone as emotionally stunted as you could come up with such a moving song."
"Fuck off." Beomgyu mutters, not in the mood for jokes, obviously nervous to see what the others think. 
“Yeah, I like it too. You said you’re thinking of having violins in the opening?” Taehyun asks, picking up a music sheet. 
Beomgyu nods. “Yeah. I know we’ve never done that before but I feel like it would really add to the atmosphere of the song.” 
"I think it could be fun." Taehyun hums, turning to Soobin. “What do you think?” 
"I agree. It's good to experiment a bit while still maintaining our sound which I think this song does really well. It could expose us to more people while still not alienating our existing fanbase.” He praises and Beomgyu smiles, relieved at his song being so well-received by the other members. “I especially like the bridge part. I think once Yeonjun sings it, it would really elevate the song.” 
Beomgyu's face falls at that but he quickly covers it up. You furrow your eyebrows. That can't feel good, being compared negatively with Yeonjun, even if Soobin didn't mean it like that. 
You look at Yeonjun, who hadn't said a word so far. He was staring at Beomgyu weirdly. Did he not like the song? 
You nudge him, giving him a questioning look and he just shakes his head, smiling at you before saying, "I like it. Good job, man."
Beomgyu gives him a tense smile in response, and the group falls into an awkward silence for a few seconds–a weird tension hanging in the air, before Soobin clears his throat and begins discussing how they'll play the song, what parts could be improved and who will get which part. You don’t really listen anymore, just looking between Yeonjun and Beomgyu. 
Your boyfriend seems to have gotten over his weird reaction, now focused on the technicalities. Beomgyu is focused too but he doesn’t look as enthusiastic as you expected him to be–as you'd seen him get when talking about his songs before–and it's more proof to you that this is a very personal song to him. 
As the boys finally break up after a while, most of them going their separate ways to pack up their stuff and get ready to leave, your boyfriend stays behind with Soobin, still discussing something with him. That’s when you spot Beomgyu alone, putting his guitar in its case, and you take the opportunity to go talk to him, unable to hold yourself back this time. 
“Hey, Beomgyu, that song was really good.” You start by saying, wanting to congratulate him on a really good song but also needing an opener. But Beomgyu doesn’t say anything in response, simply giving you a blank look–which fucking hurt but you guess you deserve it–so you continue lamely, trying to get him to respond. “You’re really talented. I don’t think you’re gonna need to moonlight as a stripper anymore.” You try to joke but again he doesn’t really say anything, turning his attention back to his guitar bag which he zips up. 
“Umm… Beomgyu, that song… is it about you?” You bite the bullet, and he finally gives you some sort of response, albeit nonverbal. He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Is it about you and Haeun?” 
“What?” He frowns and you explain yourself nervously, hoping you weren’t overstepping boundaries that have sprung up in your absence. “Well, the song is about a guy who loves someone who doesn’t feel the same about him and how she’s changing and being distant… is that what’s happening with Haeun?” 
He sighs. “Maybe. So what?” 
You wince at his callousness, like he doesn’t have time for you. You suppose you brought it on yourself with the way you've been avoiding him. Still you ignore it, determined to tell him what you think anyway. “Well, if it is, you should tell her. Tell her how you feel, she might feel the same way and you don’t even know. You might both be pulling away when all you want is to be with each other.” Yes, you know how hypocritical it is of you to say that but you can’t imagine a world in which anyone would reject Beomgyu’s love. “If you love her then you should tell her, right?” 
He snorts. “What do you even know about how I feel? Do you have any idea about the amount of hurt and self-loathing it would cause me if she doesn’t feel the same way? How it would ruin our relationship if she’s not where I am?”
“I know.” You grit down on that same pain. “I know.”
He pauses, his anger burning out as soon as it ignites. Then he asks quietly, “Yeonjun?” 
You press down on your lips. You know if you say no then he might figure it out. He might finally discover your wretched secret, so you smile and nod, fully knowing how hypocritical you are being right now. You’re such a fucking coward, you disgust even yourself. 
“Right.” He is quiet for a minute, and the atmosphere is charged with weird, unreadable emotions that buzz in your ear and form sparks over your skin. You almost excuse yourself–not really wanting to leave despite how uncomfortable it is but knowing you should. You’ve said what you wanted to say. There is no good reason for you to linger around any longer. 
But then Beomgyu speaks again. "Are you happy?"
You pause, frowning in suspicion at the unexpected question, which Beomgyu notices right away and clarifies, "We haven't talked in a while. I wanna make sure you're doing alright." He says, tone genuine… and a bit sad. 
"I am." You allow, not being untruthful. You are alright, no matter how bad you feel doing it without him. "We're doing well. Yeonjun is as wonderful as ever. He is sweet and funny and he shows me something new everyday. Which is a bit scary for me–you know how I am afraid of change, but he makes it exciting.” 
“I’m glad. I want you to be happy.” He smiles at you. It doesn’t reach his eyes but you know he means it. “And I wish I could be there to see it for myself. Do you think you can let me?” 
That’s what you were afraid of. This is why you shouldn’t have talked to him. You knew he might use it to try to get back into your life, and you know how hard it would be for you to say no. But you do it anyway. You have to do it for yourself and for Yeonjun. 
“I can’t. Not now.” Each meager letter leaving your mouth feels like a blow to the heart. It lays battered in your chest, asking you why the hell you would refuse it its salvation, but you just push it down again, silencing it. 
“But I miss you.” His words come out choppy and weak, and you know he’s holding back tears. You hate him for it because it makes you want to cry too. “Don’t you miss me?”
“Of course, I miss you!” You whisper as if you don’t want the universe to hear it. "I'll always miss you. But I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I'm tired of the whiplash." 
"No more whiplash.” He shakes his head harshly, getting closer to you but you step back, causing pain to bloom across his teary face. “I get it now. I've worked through my stuff and I'm ready to be a real friend again." 
"Well, I haven't worked through mine.” You stand strong. Or as strongly as you can be under such duress. “I still need time and I will not have you rush me."
He moves back, shoulders hunched down. "I'm sorry." 
"I know." You say tiredly before walking away, your bruised heart bleeding out at the bottom of your chest.
____________
Beomgyu’s song has become some kind of a local sensation. It is being listened to by a lot of the young people in your city–resonating with many youths who have gone through similar heartbreaks. From small unrequited crushes to the person you love falling out of love with you–who hasn’t loved more than they have been loved before? 
The painfully relatable song has gained the boys a considerable amount of fame online too. They were being asked to do more gigs than ever. They’ve even gotten an interview, which you’re currently preparing them for, dressing them up to look their best on camera. 
Like always, you’ve left Beomgyu for last, dreading being close to him still. And he gives you every reason to, staring at you the whole time you fix his clothes. 
"What?" You finally ask, and he gives you a dumb look. "What?"
"You're staring." You tell him, and he averts his gaze. You can see from the ear poking out of his long hair that he’s blushing. "Oh. Didn't realize." 
Oh, how many times you’ve teased him over the way his ears turn red when he’s embarrassed. It was such an endearing quality in him, just one of the many small reasons that made up the whole of you loving him. 
You got back to styling him, pretending it doesn’t tug at your heartstrings anymore, and he goes back to staring at you. 
After a long beat of silence, he asks awkwardly, "So what are you up to? What's new with you?" 
"Well, I'm the creative director for this up and coming band's new song." You joke, trying to ease off the tension. Or maybe his cute involuntary reaction softened up your defenses a little bit.
"Oh, are they good?" He grins, falling gladly into your familiar banter. 
"They are, but I think their bass guitarist only got the job because of his looks."
He gives an affronted gasp. "What the hell? Hater! What, you think just because he's so pretty he can't possibly be talented too? Us pretty people are always misjudged."
"Oh, you poor pretty boy." You reach out to pinch his chin, before you realize what you’re doing and quickly take your hand away, clearing your throat and stepping back. “All done.” 
You give him a tense smile and turn to leave but his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. 
"Wait." He shouts, and you look down at his hand wrapped around your wrist. He notices your discomfort and immediately lets you go. "Do you want to get together for some food or a movie or something?"
Why does he have to make this so hard? Why does he do this every time? 
"Not yet." You repeat what you must’ve told him a dozen times before. You can't slip back into it. Because your skin still buzzes whenever you touch him and your heart clenches painfully around the hole he left in it whenever you see him. You need time apart to fully let the love you have for him go. 
"When?” He asks, frustrated. “When will it end? What can I do to help? What do you need me to do so you can be my friend again?"
"I need you to give me space." You say firmly, standing your ground. 
“But–”
“No buts, Beomgyu. You’re the one who made it this way. If you had been my friend when I needed you to, we wouldn’t have gotten into this situation. You need to deal with the consequences of your own actions.” 
He stares at the ground, not answering you. You sigh, turning around to leave with no restrictions this time. 
Though what you said to him about his previous behavior causing a rift between you wasn’t false, it wasn’t entirely the truth either. The other reason you felt you couldn’t be his friend again yet is that you’re still not over him, and you’ve made a promise to yourself and to Yeonjun that you will only be devoting yourself to him from now on, and Beomgyu being there is just going to hinder your progress. 
But as you watch the boys do their interview, you can’t help but feel guilty for what you’d said to Beomgyu. You know it was the right thing to do, but seeing him look so glum, his light dimmed and his spirits down, you wish you had held it off at least for later. 
He is acting nothing like his normal loud, talkative self. He looks down and doesn’t speak unless directly asked a question. It hurts your heart because you know the people watching this won’t get to see how funny and bright and passionate he is. They’ll see him as the quiet guy staring at his own feet. He might still get some fans who would be into the quiet, sad look but that’s not who Beomgyu is. That’s not what he wants to be known as. 
But the rest of the boys are covering for him well, especially Yeonjun. He is so charming, you know he’s gonna be stealing hearts left and right when this airs. He certainly has managed to put a smile on your face despite all the conflicting feelings you’re feeling, and you make sure he sees it whenever he glances in your direction. 
_______________
The boys are doing better than ever, more interviews and gigs coming in and filling their schedule up so rapidly they’ll barely have any free time soon. They’re already in talks with a record company looking to sign them. Which is why you’re actively savoring moments like this when you get to just hangout with Yeonjun at the mall, eating a snack as you take a break from shopping–one of your favorite activities to do as a couple. 
“Just think, soon enough we won’t even be able to do this. We’d be getting mobbed by crowds wanting your autograph and pushing me out of the way to take pictures of you.” You say to Yeonjun, half-joking. It might really happen one day with how quickly they’re gaining popularity. They might have small fame now but who knows what tomorrow will bring, and you believe in the boys. They’re talented enough to do it, and that both worries you and excites you. 
“Well, I’ll only ever have eyes for you.” He winks at you, and you give him a small smile.
In moments like this you should feel happy. You are happy. But your happiness is incomplete. It is shadowed by worry and doubt. Yeonjun is so wonderful. He is so sweet and he can be very caring, but sometimes you can’t help but question how much he really feels for you. It keeps you from letting yourself completely go with him. He tells you words that are supposed to be charming, but they don’t sound personal. They don’t feel deep. You know he likes you, but is he ever going to love you? 
Maybe you’re overthinking it. This is what a budding relationship is like–the novelty comes with uncertainty. The first times come with doubt. The young fire sometimes burns. You shouldn’t let yourself ruin it for you. 
Yes, your love for him isn’t as old and deep-rooted as your love for Beomgyu but maybe that’s a good thing. It will take time to grow and flourish and become something just as beautiful or even more so. In time, you can learn to let go of your all-consuming love for your best friend, cover that gaping hole that Beomgyu has left in your heart, forget about the way every time you see Beomgyu with her you feel like screaming out so loud the gods themselves will weep–
“Beomgyu.” You gasp, seeing him in front of you. Fuck, he’s like bloody marry. Call his name three times and he appears. 
You try to hide, putting your head down and attempting to cover your face with your hair but there is no mistaking Yeonjun’s bright orange head and Beomgyu quickly spots you and makes his way over to you with Haeun of all people. 
“Curse your stupid hair.” You hiss at Yeonjun just before Beomgyu and Haeun arrive at the table. 
"Hey, guys, are you on a date?" Beomgyu asks as if there was any doubt about it. 
"Yes, actually." Yeonjun tells him in a tone that clearly conveys that you don’t want to be disturbed, But Beomgyu doesn’t care, grabbing a chair and pulling it out. 
"Oh sweet." He sits down. "How have you guys been?"
“What are you doing, Beommie? We have a lot of shopping to do.” Haeun complains, and every time you hear her call him that you want to claw her tongue out.
"In a minute, baby. Let's rest our legs for a bit." He motions for Haeun to sit down, but she puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to rest.”
“Well then you go on and I’ll catch up with you.” He suggests and she huffs, deciding to sit down after all. Oh, joy.  
“But I can’t leave you alone, Beommie.” She whines, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck, making you almost hurl. 
Thankfully, Yeonjun takes your attention away from them. “So, what new crazy thing is your boss asking from you?” 
You turn fully to him, trying your best to ignore the disgusting intruders. “Ugh, don’t even get me started. This morning, she–”
“Boss? What boss?” Beomgyu interrupts, and you clench your teeth, preparing yourself before turning your head to look towards him. 
“The editor of Elements magazine. She saw the Frost shoot and wanted me to do a pictorial for them.” 
“Oh my god, that is amazing.” He shouts, startling Haeun who was so close to his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 
An awkward moment passes after his mindless question. Because we don’t talk? Because we’re not friends anymore? 
Eventually, you decide to just shrug. “I guess it must’ve slipped my mind.” 
“Right.” He clears his throat, going along. “Well, show me what you’ve done so far.” 
You hesitate, glancing at Yeonjun who sighs and gestures for you to go ahead. So you pull up your phone, showing him some of the pictures you’ve already taken.  
"Wow this is real artistic shit." Beomgyu awes and you laugh. Trust in Beomgyu to give such an un-nuanced but still somehow very flattering opinion. 
“I don’t get it. It’s just a guy in a bathtub.” Haeun speaks up, obviously intending to antagonize you. “My friend Jiwon takes better pictures than this and he didn’t even go to college. If that’s what they teach you at school then you’ve wasted your money.”
Oh fuck no. You may be spineless but you won’t allow Haeun of all people to make fun of your work. You prepare to launch into a screaming match with her condescending ass, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Beomgyu beats you to it. “Your friend Jiwon takes back camera pictures of weird strangers on the street and makes up an exaggerated or completely false backstory about them to try to make the obviously amateur pictures appear more interesting. How fucking original.”
Beomgyu’s quick defense of you makes your heart swell. Some things never change. 
“Yeah? Like this is original!” She sputters indignantly. 
“I know it’s nothing groundbreaking.” You interrupt their quarrel, “Like a guy in a tub staring longingly at the camera isn’t something that hasn’t exactly been done before but… umm, it’s actually inspired by your song. The colored water is supposed to represent love, you know the “I’m drowning in you” part? It’s killing him but he can’t get himself to get out. He wants to drown in it… I don’t know it may be stupid but I hope you don’t mind.” 
"Oh. No, I'm… flattered." He trails off, staring at you wide-eyed. “I didn’t think I would be able to inspire you again…” 
“Yeah, well...” You mumble bashfully, a charged moment passes over you as you stare silently at each other. 
"Are you done?" Haeun complains, and for once you’re thankful to her for cutting the strange moment. "I'm bored. Let's go." 
“We haven’t even eaten anything yet. Take a look at the menus and order something for us, won’t you?” He asks her, but doesn’t even wait for her response before turning back to you. "You know what would be hilarious. If you get the editor to let you do a shoot with the plastic watermelon dress you made."
“It’s not plastic.” You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly which dress he’s referring to. “It’s coral organza.”
“Looked like plastic to me.” He shrugs with a mischievous grin on his face. 
“That’s because you're fashion illiterate.” 
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m very fashion forward and hip.” He proclaims, sounding decidedly NOT neither fashion forward nor hip. 
“Yes, because a punk guitarist wearing ratty shirts and ripped jeans is so revolutionary.” You drawl teasingly and he pouts, pulling at his shirt. “Hey! You were there when I picked these out. You said I looked cool.” 
“Yeah, she’ll say you look cool wearing a garbage bag.” Yeonjun scoffs and you blush, realizing that you’ve completely neglected Yeonjun as soon as Beomgyu got here. You move back from your huddled forward stance to lean against your boyfriend.
“What?” Beomgyu asks and you quickly brush Yeonjun’s comment off. “Nothing. Now Yeonjun is very stylish. He knows all the trends and he knows how to make them work for him.” 
Beomgyu snorts, glancing at your hand that is caressing Yeonjun’s chest. “I don’t follow trends. I make trends.” 
“That’s right, baby. You’re a trendsetter.” Haeun coos, getting her hands on him too, touching him much more inappropriately than you were touching Yeonjun. 
But Beomgyu ignores her once again, asking you, "How did you even reach the editor of Elements?"
"Oh, Yeonjun knew her." Your hand falls down to wrap around Yeonjun’s, squeezing it reassuringly. 
“Of course, Yeonjun knows the editor." For some reason that piece of information really seemed to annoy Beomgyu. But you ignore his unnecessarily snarky tone and turn to smile at Yeonjun, hoping he’d forgive you for your earlier mishap. “Yeah, he’s amazing, isn’t he?” 
"Yes, he’s great.” Beomgyu mutters, standing up. “I think me and Haeun have stuff to do. Let’s go, baby."
"Yes!" She claps happily, standing up too. 
"Oh, okay. Bye, I guess." You mumble, watching them abruptly scurry off as you try to process the weird interaction.  "What's wrong with him?"
“Maybe he’s just being his usual weird self.” Yeonjun shrugs, removing his hand from yours, making you frown. "Or maybe he feels inadequate because I was able to get you the job and he couldn't."
"That's ridiculous." Why would Beomgyu feel inadequate about that? He doesn’t have any obligation to get you work. 
"Is it? If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too." 
"What?" The world suddenly screeches to a halt, as does Yeonjun. He looks at you, slowly contemplating something as if he doesn’t know that the world has stopped and is waiting on him. 
Finally, he sighs. "I tried to ignore it. Partly because the idiot is trying to hide it and partly because I like you, but ever since we got together, it's been pretty damn hard to ignore. Beomgyu is clearly in love with you.”
"No. You’re getting it wrong.” You shake your head, hoping to get rid of the cotton that has replaced your brain, your thoughts feeling fuzzy and slow as they travel through it. “He's just upset because he thinks us dating will drive me and him apart… which I guess has been true."
"No, he's upset because he wants to be with you and it's killing him to see us together.” Yeonjun clarifies, irritated at having to explain to you how some other guy is in love with you. 
"How can you be so sure? Did he tell you that?"
"He doesn't have to tell me. I have eyes…" He looks you up and down. "And well, I'm not stupid like you two."
"That's ridiculous." You denounce once more. 
"You said that already."
"Well, it is! Beomgyu doesn’t love me. I mean as a friend, sure but not… like that." 
"Oh my god, I'm dealing with two idiots. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m explaining this to you but here goes,” Yeonjun exclaims in frustration, obviously not enjoying this conversation any more than you are. “Think about it, no guy gets this worked up over just a fuck. His first explanation of his anger being just because he’s afraid our relationship is going to ruin the band was total bullshit. It was just to throw you off his scent and have a way to get you to stay away from me without revealing anything. And his second explanation is even more bullshit. Why the fuck would us being in a relationship make you lose him as a friend if he didn’t hold anything but platonic love for you? Why does he get mad every time you and I take a step forward in our relationship? Because he’s fucking in love with you. He literally wrote a whole song about how he’s secretly in love with you and it’s killing him that you’re not his!"
“That song was about me?” You ask and he gives you a look as if to say he can’t believe a single human being can be this dumb. “No, it’s obviously about the girl he’s been ignoring the entire time he was sat with us just so he could talk to you.” 
Your mouth opens slowly, tongue dry as it forms the words. "Let’s say he does love me. Why wouldn't he just tell me?"
"Why wouldn't you just tell him?"
You sputter uselessly for a while, not really saying anything. Until you give up and just stop, submerging the both of you in a suffocating silence. You’d think that your thoughts would be racing a million miles an hour right now, trying to process all this information, but nothing is going through your head except one question. 
Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? Beomgyu loves me? 
You’re only taken out of your looping thought when Yeonjun sighs again. "Well, this was fun while it lasted."
"What?" Your mouth hangs open, your frozen brain somehow still having enough power to be shocked. 
"You're obviously still completely in love with him. When he's there it's like you don't even see me. You don't see anyone else." Yeonjun says defeatedly. 
"No, I–" You try to deny, but he gives you a pointed look, daring you to lie to him. 
“Okay, I love him but I’m with you.” 
“Only to get over him.” 
You shake your head vehemently. “No. My feelings for you are real. Don’t you dare deny that.” 
“Maybe, but they’re not as strong as your feelings for him.” 
“But they can be.” You insist–trying to convince yourself or him, you don’t know.  Maybe if you give me the chance to–”
“To what? Wait and see if you’ll finally look for me first when you walk into a room instead of him? Pretend that I don’t know that time and distance haven’t dulled your love for him one bit? I can’t go on in a relationship where I know my partner will always be thinking ‘what if’. I won’t let myself be hurt like that by you. Not anymore.” 
You tear up. You were hurting him? You didn't even think he cared all that much. You must be a terrible judge of character to be getting both boys so wrong. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun. I never meant to hurt you. I really, really tried.” 
You really did. You didn’t do this just to get over Beomgyu. Yes, it was part of it, but you liked him too. You really thought this could work, and you really think it would have if Beomgyu wasn’t in the picture, and so you did everything in your power to take him out of it. You moved out from your apartment. You cut Beomgyu off. You dedicated yourself to Yeonjun. 
But how can you stop your heart from beating for Beomgyu? It’s entirely out of your control.  
"But you did anyway.” He says and you wince, one tear escaping your lashes and falling down the left side of your face. “Do you hate me?” 
“I could never hate you.” He sighs, and your lips tremble as you confess, “I wish you would. It might make me feel better.”
“Maybe you don’t deserve to feel better.” His words pierce your heart, and you know you deserve every ounce of pain it inflicts. 
“That’s fair.” 
You’re both silent for a long while–you trying to keep your tears under control, not wishing for him to see it as any intention to garner sympathy or guilt from him, and him sitting there quietly, his thoughts entirely hidden from you, but you know there is pain and anger in him. You can feel it radiating off of him. 
But eventually your tears dry out, and you gather enough courage to ask one last thing of him. “I know I have no right to ask this but can you not tell Beomgyu about us breaking up? I don’t want him to know yet. But don’t worry, I’ll gather my things and move out. You won’t have to live with me.”
"You're not done playing games?" He frowns and you shake your head. "I'm not. It’s just because you guys are working out that record deal and if anything goes wrong, I don’t want to risk ruining things for you.”
“Fine.” Yeonjun graciously accepts. “And you can stay. I’m not gonna kick you out into the street. I’m not that kinda guy.” 
____________________
Despite your love for Beomgyu, your break-up with Yeonjun wasn’t easy. You really liked him and had grown attached to him. And even though you still lived together, you hardly talked when it was just the two of you alone. You realize with time just how hurt he is by everything even though he tries his best to hide it from the others–not just because they think you’re still together, but because he has always refused to burden his younger members with his troubles, ever the selfless older brother. It’s one of the qualities you both admired and despised about him simultaneously. You wanted him to share his fears and worries, to lighten the load on his shoulders, and for a short while you were able to do that for him, but now that you’ve broken up, he’s left to carry all of it by himself again and with heartbreak to boot. 
You feel incredibly guilty about it, and you mourn for the love that could’ve blossomed between you had you not been so hung up about your best friend. The best friend you still haven’t talked to by the way. 
Yeonjun's words have not left your mind since the day he revealed everything to you. No moment passes by when you don't think about them. But you haven’t confronted Beomgyu about it yet because the record deal was still underway, and because you weren’t sure if Yeonjun is even right about it all. What if he’s wrong? 
Yeah, what? You'll ruin your friendship with Beomgyu? It's already in shambles anyway. Still, the rejection will be brutal. You've lived in the shadows for years. You're used to ignoring your feelings, that kind of pain is familiar to you now, but if you reveal them to Beomgyu and he shoots you down, you might not bear it. 
You'll tell him soon enough though, after the party tonight. The boys have finally reached an agreement with the record company and the contract has come through. They're officially signed to a label now and tonight’s party is a small celebration of that. 
You’ll do it after the party tonight. You’ll ask to talk to him after everyone leaves and you’ll confess everything. You're ready to come clean and end it all. Well, as ready as you can be. 
But as the party drags on, you get restless, and when you spot Beomgyu alone, refilling his drink, you can’t help but steal a little moment with him. 
“Congratulations, Beommie. I hear your song sealed the deal.” You smile widely, your lips buzzing with the desire to tell him what you really want to say–that you love him, that you’re proud of him, and that if his song is really about you then he needs to know that you’ve always been his. 
“Yeah. I’m not so useless after all.” Beomgyu’s reply is short and bitter. 
“What?” 
Yeonjun’s words ring in your ears. If I was in love with a girl and another guy gave her what I couldn't. I would be pretty bummed out too. Is this Beomgyu being insecure like Yeonjun said?
But before you can get him to clarify what he means, Haeun comes running over, incapable of leaving him alone for more than a minute. Can you really blame her? If you had him, you would never let him go either. 
“Baby, there you are! My star boy.” She throws her arms around him, pulling him into an open mouthed kiss that makes you want to vomit. 
You quickly retreat, not having missed the soft-core porn you used to witness while living with Beomgyu. Fucking Yeonjun, is this what he calls Beomgyu being in love with you? You don’t see him pushing her away or anything. He seems pretty happy with the kiss if his tongue in her mouth is any indication. 
"Foul." You mutter, swigging your cider, almost choking on it when a voice speaks up next to you. "That can't be good for the heart, huh?" 
You look at Yeonjun sheepishly, not sure if you can talk to him about this. After all, you did break up because of your love for the man currently getting his face sucked off by Haeun. So you just settle on mumbling out a weak yeah.
"Well, you know you could always fix it by confronting him about his undying love for you." He tells you and you can’t help but snort, annoyance overcoming your trepidation. "Yeah, right. He's so heartbroken, he's going to drown his sorrows in her pussy." 
“He’s just doing this because he thinks we’re still together. If he knows you’re free, I can guarantee you he’ll be dropping her so fast she won’t hit the ground before he’s on his knees for you.” 
“How can you be so confident?” You ask and he shrugs. “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.” 
He walks away, leaving you to think over his words. Funny, that’s how you feel about the sight still playing out in front of you, the disgusting view getting burned into your retinas. 
Deciding you needed a break, you slip away from the living room, heading towards the bathroom to wash your face off. But on the way there, you pass by your old room, stopping when you see the door slightly cracked open. 
Your feet take you inside without you realizing it, compelled by curiosity to see what he’s done with the room in your absence. Has he turned it into a gaming room? Is he using it for storage? Is he letting her use it as her own? Oh, god, you really hope not. Anything but that. 
But you’re surprised when you step inside and find it mostly empty except for your old mattress and a few items you must’ve forgotten during your move. A T-shirt here, a sleeping mask there–they were all strewn around on your bed with the odd piece of clothing from Beomgyu himself in the mix. 
You step closer, examining the items when something in particular catches your eyes. A flash of pink under a pillow that makes you reach forward to pull it out, realizing just what it was once it’s in your hands–a pair of pink panties. Your pink panties that you’d been missing for a while. Why does Beomgyu have this? You thought he just used this because he was so pent up he needed any form of release but now Haeun is never off his dick so why does he still do this? 
Could Yeonjun have been right all along?  
As you continue to hold it in your hands, puzzling over it, you hear the door open and close behind you and Beomgyu’s panicky voice calling out your name. 
"What are you doing in here?" He squeaks as if this wasn’t your room. Well, your old room but still. It’s not like he made any changes to it yet. 
You turn to face him with the panties in your hands, silent, and his eyes grow wide as he stammers, trying to explain himself. “These are old.” 
“They’re wet.” You say plainly, which means he has just used them, and he knows it too. 
He scoffs, attempting to appear unaffected. As if this is just a completely reasonable situation that you’ve blown way out of proportion. “Well–it’s just–they were on hand.” He gives you what may possibly be the flimsiest excuse in history. 
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
"Did you leave these out for me to see?" You question, and he rushes to deny. "No! I just forgot to put them away."
His eyes widen again at what he just said, basically admitting that he took them from you on purpose to do with them exactly what you had in mind. God, he's such a stupid loser. 
You walk towards him until you’re standing right in front of him, leaving him no room to breathe. “Make everyone leave.” 
“It’s our celebratory party, I can’t just–”
You grab his hand and put it under your skirt, pressing his fingers against your warm pussy. “And I want to give you your reward. Make them leave.” 
He looks at you, shocked, and suddenly you realize what you're asking of him. You're coming onto him after weeks of ignoring him. You're asking him to have sex with you when he has a girlfriend–when he thinks you have a boyfriend. Oh god. 
But then he gulps and says. "Okay."
You watch from behind the door as he stops the music and kicks everyone out, telling them that he doesn’t feel good and needs to rest, and when Kai complains loudly, he asks him if he’d like to stay back and hold his hair while he vomits. That quickly convinces everyone to take the party elsewhere, even his girlfriend. But one person knows better, and you see him peeking around Beomgyu to catch your hidden eyes. You share a look before he turns around and leaves the apartment. This is it. You’re going to do this. 
As soon as Beomgyu comes back, you pull him into a kiss, releasing your overflowing nerves with each frustrated and needy moan you let out against his lips. Fuck, you missed kissing him so much. His lips may not be as soft as Yeonjun’s–he may not be as good of a kisser–but god does he still make your heart sing. 
“Strip.” You order when you finally tear yourself away from him, though Beomgyu doesn’t make it easy, resisting you the first couple of times you try and pulling you right back into the hungry kiss. But you finally do, and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate to follow your cue then. 
After he’s all stripped down, he looks at you, gaze speaking of his own need to devour you. “Will you strip too?” 
“Do you want it?” You ask, putting on an alluring voice but deep down you were just nervous about letting him see you fully for the first time. Even though your experience with Yeonjun has made you gain confidence, you’re still insecure, especially when it comes to Beomgyu. You want to impress him. You want him to think you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You want him to forget about her. You want him to only think of you. 
Naturally, that is a lot to live up too. 
Beomgyu nods enthusiastically, somehow managing to come across as adorable in this situation. “Yes, please. Take it all off.” 
He tries to reach out to do it himself but you shake your head, pushing him onto the bed. 
“No. We do this my way.” You tell him, and he nods again, keeping himself in check. 
You reach for the zipper on your dress, hesitantly letting it fall to the floor. You aren’t wearing any bra so now you are almost nude except for your panties as you stand in front of him. 
“Fuck. You’re so hot.” He takes his cock into his hand, pumping it as he leers at you. You should feel dirty having him openly masturbate to the sight of you but it makes you feel so fucking good about yourself. It’s just what you needed–for him to show you how much he wants you. “Please, take off your panties too. Wanna see your pussy.” 
Despite his lewd display–or more accurately because of it–you’re given the courage to finally fully undress yourself in front of him, overcoming years of insecurities of what he’ll think of your body and any unfavorable comparisons he might make.
“Oh fuck–” He licks his lips, squeezing his cock as he stares at your pussy. “You’re perfect.”
“You think so?” You ask demurely, trying to hide your shock. Is he really telling the truth? It feels like it but you still need confirmation after years of doubting yourself.
“God, yes. Your tits are divine. I wanna suck on them and play with them all night. Your little pussy is so pretty, I wanna be buried in it forever. Come here, please, ride me, sit on my face, anything…” 
Is this what you were worried about all these years? He looks pretty fucking happy with what he’s seeing. Why were you so scared? You’re so mad at yourself for wasting all this time with self-doubt when you could’ve had him long ago. 
“You really need that?” You throw your panties at him, feeling more confident than ever after his proclamations. “Isn't this usually enough for you?” 
“No, please, you said you’d give me a reward." He whines, distraught at the thought of you being so close but not attainable yet again. "I’ve been good.” 
“Have you?” You scoff, straddling him, pressing your pussy against his cock and his body goes limp, letting you do what you want. “You’ve been nothing but a horndog, getting your rocks off wherever you can, whether it’s backstage getting sucked off by her or stealing my panties and fisting your cock with them. You’ve been such a bad boy.” 
“I’m sorry.” He slurs, mouth hanging open. 
"Are you? You seem to be enjoying this." 
"I'm sorry." He repeats again, staring at your pussy as it moves forwards and backwards over his cock, covering it in your slick. 
"You're fucking hopeless, Beomgyu. You'd do anything to get a piece of me, huh?"
"Yes." He nods eagerly, "Can you sit on my face?"
You laugh, climbing up his body until you’re hovering over his face and digging your fingers in his hair to keep his head down so he wouldn’t make any unwanted moves before you’re ready. "Is my pussy the only thing on your empty brain?"
"Uh-huh." He says dumbly, almost going cross eyes with the way he's staring at your pussy. You fucking love it. This is what you needed–to be needed. And Beomgyu gives it all to you without you even asking for it. 
"Good boy." You tell him and he shoots you a searing look at that–at you finally calling him that again–before you sit down on his face. 
You try not to put too much weight on him, not wanting to hurt him but Beomgyu has other ideas. He grabs your ass and pulls you down on his ready mouth, tongue flicking out to give eager licks to your already wet pussy. 
"Bad–bad boy–" You hiss, pulling at his hair but he won't let go, too intent on eating you out, nuzzling his whole lower face into your pussy, his tongue and lips alternating between long messy licks and needy sucking motions, his nose brushing against your clit every now and then in his fervor. 
"Fuck, Beomgyu slow down." 
But that word isn't in Beomgyu's dictionary, not when he's wanted this for so long. His fingers dig into your ass, making sure you can’t escape as his tongue presses inside your hole, flicking around as much as he can while your pussy flutters around it.
"So good–tastes so good." He slurs, drool and your juices covering his lower face but he doesn’t even care. In fact if anything it turns him on if his hard, leaking cock that you see when you throw a glance backwards is anything to go by. 
"You fucking the air, Beommie?" You pant, not faring much better than him but needing to tease him anyway. "Need my pussy this bad?"
But Beomgyu can't be teased. Not when he's so shameless. 
"Yes. Will you sit on my cock?" 
"How bad do you need it?" You sit up, pulling away from him and cutting off strings of your combined need. 
"So bad. Feels like I might die without it." 
"You sound like a horny fuckboy, Beommie. You know I only like good boys." You chastise, and Beomgyu shoots back, "Is that why you’re dating a whore?"
You growl, sinking back on his face, this time not caring so much about your weight over him. "Don't talk about Yeonjun like that."
He turns his face to the side to nip at your thigh in protest so you just straighten his head again and sit down on him fully, not allowing him any space to move. "You know the only whore here is you. So stick your tongue out like a good whore and let me ride it or I'll leave your dirty cock all red and weeping."
He whines in fear, sticking his tongue out for you, not daring to risk it. You move yourself over him, grinding your pussy over his tongue as he stares up at you pleadingly. 
“You like it, baby? You like me using you to get off?” 
He moans out in response, not having any other way to communicate his agreement and not willing to pull away from you. But you hear a wet noise coming from behind you and you look back to see him fisting his cock, clearly excited by it all. He wants this as much as you do. He has been begging for it for so long, and so you’re not so cruel as to make him take his hand away, but you need to make sure your excitement doesn’t end too soon. 
“Fuck, you really wanted this, huh? Can’t help yourself whenever you get a taste of this pussy?” You tease, and he whines again, his cock thrusting into his own fist pitifully. “But don’t get too excited. You want to feel this pussy around you, don’t you?”
The needy noises he keeps letting out vibrate against your pussy, driving you even wilder as you pull on his hair harshly and desperately grind yourself on his tongue, your high so close you could taste it. 
“Good boy, gonna make me cum… you want it? Want me to cum all of that pretty face?” You growl, and his hands leave his cock to grab your ass, pressing you so tightly against him, you worry that he won’t be able to breathe. 
But Beomgyu clearly loves it. He wants you to do it. He moves your hips so you’re fucking his face harder, faster, all while those slutty eyes of his never leave your face. 
“I’m cumming–fuck, Beommie… good boy–” You scream, shuddering as you cum over him. But as you stop moving, paralyzed by the intense orgasm, he starts moving his tongue, lapping up every drop you let out, giving your pussy open mouthed filthy kisses as he wraps his lips around you and eagerly sticks his tongue into your hole to get even more. 
You have to pull away from him when it becomes too much, and Beomgyu chases after you, not having had his fill yet somehow. He's still so needy that he ends up pushing you down and laying over you, his lips incessant against yours as his cock lays heavy on your pussy. 
You tug on his hair, finally detaching his lips from yours. "That's enough, Beomgyu."
“I made you cum.” He says in a daze, a stupid smile on his face. 
“Yes, you did.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb before sticking it in his mouth, letting him suck on it. It’s useless of course. The entire bottom half of his face was glistening with your cum. Not that you were actually trying to clean him up. You liked seeing him covered in you too much. “Ready for your reward, baby?” 
“Fuck, yes, please.” He groans, his hips bucking up against you, gliding his cock against your wet pussy. "Wanna fuck you so bad. Can I put it in now?"
"Are you gonna keep being a good boy for me? Gonna listen to my instructions and not let your cock take over your dumb brain and make you hump me like a dog?"
He shakes his head even though he was literally humping you right now. "I'll listen. I'll be so good."
"Okay, Beommie. You can put it in–slowly!" 
He rushes to push his cock inside your pussy, only stopping when it's all the way inside you. "Oh god–I'm finally inside you. Wanted it for so long."
This is exactly what you had been missing. This is what you needed that Yeonjun wasn't able to give to you. Beomgyu isn't shy when expressing how much he wants you. He'll beg and plead until you give it to him. 
"Can I move, baby?" He asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. 
You nod. "Go ahead. But slowly."
He makes a valiant effort, pulling his hips back and thrusting in slowly, shuddering every time his cock is fully enveloped by your pussy. 
“Good?" You ask as if his mouth wasn't hung open, as if his eyes weren't all hazy, as if he wasn't holding onto you for dear life.
"So good. Can't believe I'm fucking you."
Neither can you. You had really begun to lose hope but here you are, laid on your back with Beomgyu fucking you, following your instruction as best he could–the strain of it obvious on his face. It's everything you wanted and you finally have it. 
"Can I touch your tits?" He pleads, giving you his classic puppy eyes and you smile. "Go ahead, honey." 
He groans, reaching out and cupping them in his hands. "Oh god. Missed them." He leans down and attaches his lips to them, biting and kissing all over them as his hips pick up speed. 
"Beomgyu…" You warn, pulling on his hair. He fights against you, looking up but not detaching from your tits. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. You want me to feel good too, don't you?"
He nods, his face still firmly buried in your lips but finally letting go of your nipple to moan out, "Yes, wanna make you feel better than anyone else." 
His own words rile him up and he bites down on the skin next to your areola, making sure not to hurt you but still expressing his frustration. 
"You're such a bratty baby." You scold him, but in reality you love it. You love how possessive and needy he is acting. It doesn't allow a single negative or insecure thought to enter your mind. How could it when he's so obvious about his need for you? "You can go faster now, baby."
"Oh, thank you." He groans, hips picking up speed. 
"Better, honey?" You pant, brushing his wet hair out of his face so you can fully see how lost he is in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. 
"So much better. Never wanna stop." He leans down, kissing you harshly, lips opening and closing around yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth hungrily. His hands grab at your thighs, pushing them against your body as he goes even faster, a constant stream of whines and whimpers released into your mouth. 
You force yourself to sober up despite the smoldering fire breaking out in your body from the way he's fucking you so good. You want him to keep going. You want him to keep fucking you until your mind has turned to mush and your limbs have turned to jelly. But you can’t let him have it this easily. You can't let him get away with the amount of pain and suffering he has caused you. He needs to feel it too, even if just a fraction of it. He needs to feel the longing and despair he has made you feel for so long. 
"Slow down." You order, pulling his head away from you, doing it extra mean just the way he likes it. 
"No, no, please." He cries, not slowing down. "Please… I thought this was a reward. You’re driving me crazy." 
"Do you want me to push you down and tie your hand to the headboard to make sure you behave?" You threaten, trying to keep your voice under control against the incessant thrusts of his cock into your poor pussy. "It's only gonna be worse for you."
"No. No. Wanna keep touching you." He blabbers, hands groping at every inch of you he could reach, worried you'd make good on your threats. 
"Then be good." You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls on your nipples before kneading the soft flesh.
"I will. I'm your good boy, right?" He slurs, his hips slowing down. 
Damn, he's really addicted to hearing you say that, huh?
"Yes, you are. You’re my best boy." You coo, stroking his soft hair and he nuzzles into your hand like a puppy, seeking any form of contact with you. 
"Thank you." He groans, fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold himself back, his poor cock screaming at him to just take you like he wants. "So pretty. Look so pretty getting fucked." 
"Yeah? Is it how you imagined it when you'd fuck my panties?" You ask but once again Beomgyu has no shame, his hips faltering at the reminder of his debauched actions. 
"Better. So pretty. So tight. Could stay in your cunt forever." He almost drools at the thought, and you really believe he'd love to do just that. 
"Dirty boy. Dirty little boy going all dumb for me." You stroke his face lovingly and he peers at you with pleading eyes. "Baby, please, hurts… can I go faster?"
"Aw, poor pup, do you need to hammer your cock into my pussy that bad?" You scold, giving his face light slaps. 
"Uh-huh… will make you feel good. I promise." He babbles, his hips already going faster as if he's sure you'll give him permission. 
"No." This may or may not be the one and only time you get to fuck him. You need to savor it. "Slow down."
Your hands go to his hips, clawing at his skin to slow down his thrusts and he relents, albeit begrudgingly. "You're so mean."
"But you love it." You laugh at his tearful pout. "God, you love it so much you can't stop shaking your hips like a whore. It's like you've never been fucked before.” 
"I haven't. You’re my first.” He admits, knocking any remaining breath out of your lungs.
This is his first time. He and Haeun never did it? What the fuck?
"Did you let him fuck you?" He asks, and you stay silent. He knows you’ve fucked Yeonjun. There is no way he thinks you live with Yeonjun and aren’t fucking him. But then again, he hasn’t fucked Haeun, and you were so sure that he did. 
"Did you?" He asks again, an edge to his voice and you nod minutely. "I didn't know. I thought you and Haeun–"
Beomgyu's whole face changes. "God, you're such a slut. Fucking two men at the same time."
You immediately get defensive. Yeonjun was your boyfriend. You had dated for months. You’re not a whore for fucking him. It would be more understandable if he’s referring to the fact (or what he thinks is a fact) of you fucking him when you have a boyfriend, but you’re almost certain that’s not what he’s upset about. He’s just jealous you’ve fucked Yeonjun at all.  "Just because she won't let you put it in, doesn't make me a slut."
That just angers him more, and he practically bends you in half as his dick pumps in and out of you at a brutal pace, his anger at what you’ve done making him lose it, not caring about your instructions anymore. "I hate you."
You laugh, fighting hard to hide the pain his statement elicits in your gut as well as to keep your voice steady as he practically plows his cock into you. God, he makes you so mad but he’s fucking you so good. 
"But you sure love my pussy." 
"My pussy." He growls, catching you off guard once again. He bends his head down to kiss your neck harshly, and can already feel the marks blooming there under his teeth. "Mine. Not his. All mine."
"What?” You sputter. Is this it? Is this how he confesses to you? “Beomgyu, what–”
"Shut up." He smacks your ass, not willing to hear your protests right now. "You've played with me long enough. Now be good and take it." 
Played with him? What the hell is he talking about? You’ve never played with him. But any attempt to get a sane answer out of him right now is useless as the sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room and Beomgyu latches his mouth onto yours, trying to dominate you in a way he has never attempted to do before–as if he’s trying to prove that you really are his. 
And you are. He may not know it but you’ve always been his.
But his strong facade is paper-thin and you can see right through it to the insecure boy below when he pulls back to look at you. “Fuck, why did you have to be so pretty?”
“Make me cum, Beommie.” You murmur, moving a hand between your bodies to rest over your pussy, your middle and index fingers on either side of his cock as it fucks into you. “Do you feel how wet I am for you? I’m soaking the bed, baby.” 
“Fuck…” He pulls your hand away, taking a look at how wet it has become already before he grunts and pushes one of your thighs against the bed to allow space for his own hand between your bodies, quickly finding your pussy to rub your clit. 
“Oh… oh, fuck… baby…” You gasp, back arching as you’re quickly hurled towards your orgasm. “That’s it, honey. Make me cum on your big cock.” 
He groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy begins to clench around him. “Don’t talk like that. Gonna make me lose it.” 
“It riles you up when I talk dirty to you? Tell you how good you're fucking me?”
He nods. 
“Dirty boy.” You moan out for him, “Do it. Empty that cock inside me. Want my pussy dripping with you.” 
“Holy s-shit,” Beomgyu cries, and you feel his cum shooting inside of you, his hips not stopping for a second. And though his thrusts become erratic, his thumb keeps up its assault on your clit until your pussy is clamping down on his cock and milking the last drops of cum from him. “Good girl. My good girl.” 
He fucks you through your orgasm, babbling on about how pretty you are and how well you took it. He looks so fucking pathetic with his shiny eyes and needy whimpers that before you even know it, he’s ripping another orgasm out of your already fucked out body. 
“Goddammit, Beomgyu…” You squeal, toes curling at the very intense second orgasm, your body shuddering with the unexpected sharp waves of pleasure racking through it. And through it all, Beomgyu continues fucking you. You can feel his cock begin to harden once again inside you, and as the brutal second orgasm leaves your body, you wince at the overstimulation, putting your hands against his sweaty chest and starting to push him away.  
“That’s enough, Beomgyu. I can’t take any more.” 
But he resists you, shaking his head. “One more. Please, one more.” 
“No.” You tell him firmly, “Don’t be bad. Pull out.” 
He searches your face for any hint of leniency, his big pretty eyes trying to convince you to change your mind but you can’t. He’s fucked you so hard, your poor pussy requires a much needed rest. 
You both watch as he slowly pulls out, his once again hard cock glistening with your cum and his, his seed dripping down your ass now that he wasn’t plugging your pussy up. 
“Oh, baby, does that hurt?” You coo, grabbing his cock. He lets out a sigh of relief as you begin stroking it. “Yeah. So bad.” 
The little shit is milking this, but you play along. “Poor baby. Let me make it go away.” You grin, suddenly speeding up, the slide of your hand so easy when his cock is well-lubricated. You make sure to maintain your position, with him hovering over your splayed open body so he can rake his eyes over it, and you clearly seeing him struggling to choose where to look between your tits that jiggle as you jerk him off quickly, the cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, and your swollen lips as you swipe your tongue over them. 
It doesn’t take long for you to have him spilling his seed again, landing on your tummy as he doubles over and buries his head in your neck. 
“That’s it, good boy.” You praise him, using your free hand to stroke his long hair that you love so much. 
You let him lay there for a whole, catching his breath that is so irregular and stuttered that you almost don’t notice when he starts crying if it wasn’t for the hot tears falling on your skin. 
“Beomgyu?” You call out, and a heart-breaking sob breaks out of his chest. 
"Please, come back to me." He croaks against your neck. 
"What?" You sit up, making him sit up with you and pulling his face away from your shoulder so you can look at him, your heart sinking at the tears streaming down his face. "I can't fucking bear seeing you with him any longer. It hurts so much."
Oh fuck. 
"Beomgyu… Yeonjun isn't–" You try to explain that you and Yeonjun had broken up but he cuts you off. 
"It's not him, it's you!" He shouts, "I love you and I can't bear it any longer. And I know it's selfish and that you don't love me back, at least not in that way, but then you keep messing with me."
He loves you? He really loves you?
"But I thought you loved Haeun?" You need to know what exactly is happening with him and Haeun first. 
"I thought I did too but whenever I'm with her, I find myself thinking of you. You’re always in my head, it ruins every moment I have with her. She hates you too, you know? She can't stand how much I love you. The reason we haven't fucked is not because she won't put out. It's because I only want you. I didn't want to lose it to anyone else but you."
"Beomgyu–"
"But you don’t fucking care. You just see me as your disgusting best friend who you can play with and push away when you're done with him and I can't even bring myself to hate you for it. That's how much I love you. So just please… please give me a break."
“You think I was playing with you?” The idea seems absurd to you. How can he possibly think that? You've done everything in your power to not show how much you love him but never in your wildest dreams would you think that would mean he would see it as you playing with him. 
“Weren’t you? I mean the way you spoke to me… you always pushed me away. I had to beg each time for you to even kiss me.” He peers at you, pain and vulnerability shining in his eyes as he recalls the way you treated him. 
Fuck, you've been so obsessed with not letting your love for him show that you've done the same thing to him you thought he was doing to you. Knowing that pain all too well, you can’t bear the thought of being the cause of it.
You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, intending to pour out your own feelings the same way he did, hoping to staunch the flood of heartbreak you’re witnessing and calm him down enough for him to realize you feel the same way. 
But his reaction wasn't what you expected. He breaks down crying. "You're so cruel."
"No, no! I love you too!" Your hands are in a flurry around his face, wiping his tears, stroking his hair, caressing his cheeks, anything to calm him down.
"What? This is not funny." He sobs, looking like a wounded animal. Your heart aches at the sight. 
"No, fuck, I've loved you for years! The whole friends with benefits thing I started was just an excuse to have a way to be with you."
He stares at you in utter shock, the confusion the only thing stopping his tears from drowning you. "But you never even hinted that you liked me. You called me all kinds of names, freak, disgusting, pervert…"
"I thought you liked these..." You trail off sheepishly. 
"I did but it still makes a guy think.” He mumbles, his fingers playing with yours nervously. “You wouldn’t let me touch you or kiss you." 
"I was afraid if I let you kiss me, I wouldn't want you to stop. And I didn’t want you to touch me because I was afraid you wouldn’t like what you saw." It sounds so silly now that you're saying it out loud–now that you know he loves you and has wanted you just as badly.  
"That's stupid. I had already seen it all." He tells you casually and you frown. "When?"
"You don't always shut the door when you're changing." He shrugs. 
"Pervert!" You gasp, hitting him with no real power behind it. "What about you? You never hinted at anything either.  You only ever talked about my body."
"Well, it did start just physical but I quickly realized that I'm in love with you. Then I kept only mentioning your body because you'd freak out on me whenever I hinted at anything else."
"Fair." You pout, realizing you’ve done as much to hurt yourself as he did. 
"I didn't want to let it show that I loved you because I was so afraid you'd pull away like you did a couple of times. And then you were with Yeonjun and it fucking killed me so I had to pretend it was just sexual."
"Oh god, that's exactly what I've been doing.” You cover your face with your hands, mortified at your stupidity. We're fucking dumbasses."
“Yes, we are.” He replies fondly, taking your hands away from your face so you can look at him, refusing to let you hide anymore. "So you'll break up with him and be with me?"
"We broke up a while back.” You admit sheepishly. “He said he can't be with me when you and I are clearly in love with each other."
“So let me get this straight, Yeonjun could tell we love each other but somehow we, the two people involved, didn’t have a clue?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you nod. “I think it’s safe to say we won’t be winning any genius awards anytime soon.” 
“We could win the biggest dumbasses award though.” He cracks a smile, pulling you close to him and resting his forehead against yours. 
“No one could even compete.” You grin, kissing him. He immediately deepens the kiss, frantic and hungry still. 
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Beommie. We have all the time in the world.” You tease as if you weren’t just as needy, making him whine. “I can’t help it. You made me yearn for so long.”
“Yearn? Oh, that’s bad. I made you use the word yearn.” 
He yanks your legs up, sending the rest of your body flying backwards and hitting the mattress, your loud giggles quickly covered by his mouth as he kisses you harshly, his teeth biting down on your lips in annoyance when you still don’t stop laughing. 
“Stop it.” He whines in defeat as he pulls back, and you try to keep your giggles under control, his pout is entirely too devastating to look at. 
"Are you gonna break up with her?" You ask and he doesn't hesitate to say, "Of course."
That makes you smile, happy with how easily he chose you, but then a thought pops into your mind and you frown. "You know, I hated her but I still feel kinda bad for fucking you behind her back." You really do. You've never condoned cheating, even if it was on someone as vile as Haeun. 
"Oh you mean the same way she fucked the whole football team?" He counters and you gape at him, "God damn. Why did you even stay with her for that long?"
He shrugs. "Needed a distraction. And to not come across as a loser in front of you. I mean you were with Yeonjun. I couldn't just be alone."
"Oh, honey…" You coo, but anything you planned to say is suddenly forgotten as you feel his cock pressing against your entrance. 
"Beommie!" You squeak. “What are you doing?” 
"You thought we were done? You spread your legs for my bandmate. I'm gonna have to look at him every day knowing he had you first. I gotta make sure you and everyone else knows who exactly you belong to."
It may not be the most healthy coping mechanism, but you’ll let him have it for now. You’re sure you wouldn't be very happy if you were in his position either. Besides, getting to fuck Beomgyu isn’t exactly what you would consider a punishment. 
_________
A/N: Click here for the Yeonjun ending on Patreon.
Also for my patreons, you could suggest a scene from gyu's pov and I'll choose one. There will also most likely be some drabbles about oc and gyu's life after the ending (mostly smut featuring our favorite desperate boy lol) and some will be released on tumblr and others will be exclusive to patreon.
Patreons may also suggest a continuation of a previous fic/drabble. I will do my best to release at least something monthly on there.
Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world@stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog@viaaasdiary@ho3forkpop@skzvcr@th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop
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igotanidea ¡ 6 months ago
Text
3 minutes: Jason Todd x reader
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Warnings: SMUT MDNI! swearing
***
Hey Jason, can I ask you something?
Y/N and Jason were cuddling and kissing on the couch, things started to become a little heated and then, out of the sudden, she got into a questioning mood.
Obviously, Jason wasn’t exactly content with the unexpected shift, but gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to just continue with the steamy make out session, he nodded with the calm expression on his face.
If only she knew how much it took from him to keep it.  
“Sure thing, babe. What’s on your mind?”
“Which girl would you prefer: a skinny, pretty and a little sad, shy one or a little heavier, sassy, funny and energetic one?”
“Well…” he muttered, considering the answer. He was going to be as honest as possible without hurting Y/n’s feelings. “While I suppose initially a pretty girl would get my attention I do like when there’s more depth to people. And sassy humor is pretty much essential for me?”
“Was that a question or an answer?” she teased, catching up with his hesitant tone.
“Don’t you know me? I think that by now you should realize that looks are not everything.”
“Duh!” she chuckled, kissing the tip of his nose playfully “Did you think I was with you cause you are handsome?” she repeated her action “Cause you are not.” The seriousness of her tone was bellied by a grin. “At all.”
“Oh really? And here I thought I was your personal male supermodel.” He laughed wholeheartedly pushing her away as she teased him. “But hey, it’s on the inside what counts. And when it comes to that – you got plenty going on.”
“So I’m like your kinder joy?”
“That’s actually quite an accurate description. Sweet on the inside if you are patient enough to tear through the foil.”
“Wow. Um- I didn’t actually expect you to use such an illustrative comparison….”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He smirked with a face full of complacency. Always in your corner when you are feeling down.”
“Thank you… I guess I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately. Except not the little. And not lately.”
“Good thing you got me here then, huh? Now can we please forget about that and focus on us?”
“Mh. Where were we then?” she whispered seductively leaning forwards brushing her lips over his softly.
“Right where we belong.” He responded by pulling her to him, kissing passionately, trailing lips down her neck, feeling the heat rise again.
“Yeah… Yeah, I think I’m starting to remember something…”
“What do you remember, baby?” Jason whispered against her skin, caressing her shoulder, pulling the strap of her top down.
“Something good…” she hummed, closing eyes and letting him continue his ministrations “Something so good…”
“Care to share?” In a blink of an eye she was laying on the couch on her back, Jason’s hands moving over her belly “or would you rather keep it a secret?” he leaned down nipping at her earlobe.
“Isn't it exciting to know that there are some things that stay just between us...?” She moaned softly, tilting her head and caressing his chest.
“Definitely.” Jason nuzzled his nose into her chest, inhaling her scent “Just you and me having something special.” Once more he captured her lips, tangling fingers in her hair, keeping her head in place, not that she was going anywhere.
The soft sigh that left her lips only aroused him more when he rolled on his back, pulling her with him so she was on top, straddling him.
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way, princess.”
She laid on top of him, her full body weight pressing him into the mattress, tracing hands down his sides, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. The effect was almost immediate. Jason arched into her touch, his cock hardening at the feel of her fingers on his bare skin.
“You drive me crazy…” he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, grinding against her, though still in clothes. Regardless, the undeniable need for friction was too much to just lay still. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to me…”
“I sure as hell hope you wouldn't...” She kissed his neck, grinding her hips on him as well.
“Fuck, I don’t even want to imagine another woman-“ he gripped her hips, continuing the movement.
“Don’t ever mention another woman when we’re together.” She almost hissed, cutting his sentence in the middle, biting on his neck, leaving a hickey and licking the stinging place.
There was no way to deny that her possessiveness and marking the territory attitude only turned him harder.
“I’m not planning on it.” He responded, tangling fingers in her hair, guiding her head lower on his neck. “Besides, I already got the only woman I need.”
“The only one you’ll ever need.” She corrected, raising her gaze on him.
“The only one I’ll ever need…” his tone was hoarse and sultry as he leaned to her again.
Being stopped with Y/N’s grip on his chin.
“Be a good boy and strip for me, will you?” She gave him a look full of fire that left him lost like a little puppy, ready to follow the orders of the owner.
“Well since you asked so nicely—” Y/N moved away from him to give him space to undress and the sudden loss of contact made him almost tear his clothes away. Anything to get her body against him again, not that he was going to let her win this. “But remember, baby, payback’s a bitch…”
“Well then, how about I make it up to you then?”
She slid down, standing on the bed foot, starting to take off her clothing piece by piece. Turning it into a sensual striptease. Tracing her body while removing her shirt, inch by painful inch. Shaking her hips while taking off the skirt. Bending down in a little provocative manner during the removal of her tights.
Almost daring him to make a move on her.
But Jason was hypnotized with her every gesture. Eyes wide with desire, hands clutching the sheets, wanting both to pin her underneath him and to watch this show forever. Evidence of his lust was obvious in his naked body, not that he would ever do much to hide it. If anything – the hardness was rather supposed to be exposed for her to lure her in. 
Nonetheless, Y/N seemed to be lost in the world of her own, continuing her dance. Caressing and playing with her breast before unclasping the bra, sliding it off her body, freeing her chest from confinements, and finally -- sliding down her panties. The moment they both were waiting for, one more than the other.
“Fuck, Y/N…. You do know just how to turn me on, don’t you?”
In response, she crawled to the head of the bed, leaning on all fours, while searching for his lips.
“I can’t get enough of you…” his hands slid down her back, all the way to her butt, kneading the flesh there.
“That’s kind of the plan…”  she pressed her chest to his torso, brushing over him like a wild feline, tracing kisses down his neck, unrestrained by anything.
“Yes, kitten… show me how you want me…” he slapped her ass playfully, one hand kept on palming her butt, while he used the other to start stroking himself.
“Oh now, you’re doing my job for me….?” With a gentle pat, she removed his fingers from his cock and wrapped her own around him.
“Fuck… fuck, Y/N, yes… keep doing that baby….” He groaned, closing eyes and moving against her hand. “Make me yours…”
“You’re going to be a good boy for me?” she stroked him harder, focusing her eyes on him.
“Yes, yes ma’am, I’ll be whatever you want, just don’t stop…”
“Don't worry my pretty baby... I’m not stopping any time soon...” She flicked her thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the pre cum and pulling it to her mouth, licking the droplets with the tip of her tongue.
“So goddamn hot…” Jason groaned from the back of his throat.
“You can touch me too, my little bird…” she whispered in his ear, sliding a little closer to him once more, making it more than obvious where she wanted his touch.
“Like that?” he cupped her breast, letting the familiar weight adjust to his hand. Squeezing and twisting her nipple in a way that made her squirm and gasp for air. The way he knew she liked.”
“Oh yes…”
“That’s right, kitten. You enjoy my touch, cause it’s the only one you’ll ever get for the rest of your life. You’re mine.”
“Fuck, I love it when you get a little possessive.” She placed her hands on his on her chest, showing him to touch her harder.
“And I love it when you get so vulnerable and open with me…”
“Oh I am open.” She smirked, hooking one leg over his hip, straddling him, but not taking in yet “I am so open. And so wet.”
“I can tell.” He grabbed her waist, trying to pull her down, kissing like a wild man, unable to stop even though she kept on pulling away from time to time. Purposefully. To leave him wanting and needy. “Don’t fucking do that, kitten.” He groaned chasing her lips, his tone both a threat and a pleading and with the sudden pressure on her body she knew she would be sporting bruises the other day. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you>?”
“Yeah, I do. But don’t worry, I will abuse my power in all the pleasurable ways.” Y/n hummed lifting her hips, hovering mere inches over his shaft.
Jason’s eyes darkened with desire.
“Abuse me all you want. Just … don’t… fucking… stop…  Please…”
“Oh my pretty boy... My heart is breaking seeing you hurting...” She slowly sank to his length. “Is it better now...?” She tenderly brushed hair from his sweaty forehead, observing his eyes falling closed feeling her wrapped around him like that.
“So much better…” he gasped, caressing her back, wanting so much more, but frozen in this moment. He buried face in his hair, breathing in her scent. The smell of her shampoo, the musky aroma of incoming sex and the individual one of her body. Irreplaceable. Hitting all his olfactory sensors, bringing out the feeling of home. She was his home. His everything.  “Y/n….” he whispered “fuck…”
 “Is it warm for my little bird?”
“Yeah, it’s getting warmer, all right. And most of that heat is because of you.” He nibbled on her neck, leaving love bites on the entire length.
“Cause I’m so hot?” she started rocking her hips on him
“You have no fucking idea.” He grabbed her waist and started thrusting forwards with almost extraordinary energy and enthusiasm. “And I fucking love it.”
As the unexpected force of his movement made her jump and stumble forwards, she instinctively reached for his shoulders to find balance and purchase.
“I got you kitten. Hold on tight.” He catches her easily, pulling her down on him easily, digging fingers into her flesh, guiding their movements together. “That’s right. Ride me, kitten.”
One of her hands rested on his shoulder blade, the other on his chest as she picked up the pace. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back, allowing him to control the movements of her hips while thrusting upwards. His eyes were focused solely on the way their bodies unite, making sure to his just the right spot inside her, to make her yearn, burn and shudder with need and pleasure. So fucking beautiful towering over him, lost in the tryst.
Just like him.
There was something erotic about the way she takes him inside to the halt, and then lets him out. Her body opening to him like a wild flower opens to the sun, allowing its warmth and love kisses to caress its petals.
That’s what she meant to him.
She was like a rose – beautiful but not helpless, with thorns.
Like a poppy – vibrant and standing out amongst other flowers on the meadow.
Like a  cherry blossom – magical, soft to the touch but also so ephemeral and fragile if not looked after properly.
He was going to take care of her.
Forever.
“Jason…” she moaned, pressing his head into her chest, running fingers through his hair “Jason…” in the last surge of desire she grabbed his cheeks and looked straight into his eyes.
“Don’t ever stop Y/N—”
“Never-“ she gasped, not breaking eye contact for even a second, seeing the universe in his eyes. “Never-oh!”
As their climaxes approached and hit them like a tsunami wave, bringing the breath of freshness and coolness, but also threatening to wash them off the face of the earth, they held tightly to one another. Like she was his lifeline and he was her rock.
Just like in the biblical parable, that says you cannot build a house on the sand, Jason and Y/N were one’s another solid foundation. A base to build a house on.
For house is not a place, but a person.
Even when he fell back on the bed, exhausted and sweaty, facing the ceiling with mind reeling from love, pleasure and inexplicable need to lock her away from the world, his hold on her waist did not falter for a second. Only now, it was much more tender, softer, though still needy. The irony of the situation was truly textbook. She couldn’t be closer to him and yet, he was still missing her.
After a moment of heavy breathing she climbed off his lap (more like rolled off) and took the rightful spot on the side of the bed, which was hers by design. Even though they were both on their backs, their bodies found a way to one another as she reached for his hand entwining their fingers. Simple gesture, nothing really, and yet amongst lovers sharing true love, if that thing was to ever exist outside of novels, it meant everything.
After a moment, as on cue, they both rolled over to look into each other’s eyes.
“Hi.” She smiled cupping his cheek
“Hi yourself, kitten.” He responded by taking her wrist and kissing her knuckles softly.
“Did you know that statistically the round between couples lasts 3 minutes?”
“Way to ruin the mood with your nonsensical facts, Y/N!”
“it’s not nonsensical. I’m only saying that you are far more than stereotypical to me.”
“Because of how long I can last?” he raised an eyebrow  incredulously, but it was quickly followed by a glint of amusement in his eyes. Despite everything he loved being praised on his performance skills.
“Because of everything-“ she whispered lovingly.
“Oh, stop now.” He grunted, pulling her to his chest, forcing her face down onto his skin so she wouldn’t notice the tears brimming in his eyes. “Otherwise I might think you love me or something.” A single tear escaped his eye at the feeling of being complete.
“I’d hate to implant false beliefs in your head.”
“That would be such a mess, right?”
“How about we keep on cleaning it together?” her soft voice reached his ears, serving as a counterpart for his feigned gruffness.
“Now that doesn’t sound so bad.” He smiled, pulling the covers on their entangled forms, allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing she was there to stay.
A comfort that made him feel warmer than under the blanket.
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celandeline ¡ 7 months ago
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Over The Wall
Carl Grimes X Reader, oneshot
Dedicated to @grimesdotcom , as promised :)
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You only know a handful of things about Carl Grimes. 
There's the obvious things, of course. You know that he likes comic books. Whenever you see him, save for when he’s with Judith, he’s got his nose pressed between the pages, his sheriffs hat and long hair blocking out the rest of the world. You know that he’s a good shot - you’d have been dead when those people with Ws on their heads if it weren’t for him. 
Then there’s the things that you know just for yourself. You know that he has the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, even if he only does have the one now. You know that he’s got a terrible farmer’s tan, and that he sunburns ridiculously easily. You know that he makes you stomach do funny flips whenever he smiles at you - you know you’ve got a crush on him. 
You also know that almost every day, he disappears over the wall. 
It’s always in the afternoon, after Judith’s been put down for her nap. You can see him from your attic bedroom window as he slips out the back door of his house and steals across the lawn, bag slung over his shoulder bouncing as he jogs. He’s by no means a graceful climber - more than once you’ve seen him almost fall - but it never takes him more than a few minutes to swing himself over the top of the wall and disappear. 
There’s plenty of things you don’t know about Carl Grimes - chiefly, where he sneaks off to every day. But you’re dying to find out. 
So you wait on the back porch of the house you share with Aaron and Eric, with a bag of your things and a knife in your belt, until the afternoon sun hangs in the sky, and you see a distant figure, only recognizable by his sheriff's hat, start towards the wall. 
You follow after him at a distance, ducking behind one of the neighbors sheds as he glances behind him before starting to climb. You wait until he’s all the way over the wall before you begin to haul yourself up, shoes slipping against the smooth metal. Maybe you should be kinder to his climbing abilities - it’s harder than it looks. 
Still, you manage to swing yourself up and over, quickly surveying the immediate area before carefully climbing down. You jump the last few feet, landing with a soft thump on the ground. You’ve just started brushing the grit off your hands when you hear the click of a gun behind you. 
Your stomach drops, and slowly, you turn around, hands raised, to see Carl pointing his little handgun at you. You drop your hands when you see that it’s him. “Really?”
“Oh.” He clicks the safety back on, and tucks the gun back into his belt. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was you following me… why are you following me?”
“How did you know I was following you?” You shoot back. 
He gives you a look. “You didn’t even wait until I was over the wall to come after me.”
“I didn’t want to lose you and end up not being able to find wherever it is that you sneak off to all the time.” You say. 
“So, what? You’re just curious?”
“Maybe.” You admit, a little sheepish. It sounds so stupid when he says it, like you’re just a little kid who wants to figure out what mom’s hiding in the cabinets you can’t reach. 
He rolls his eye, and breezes past you, into the woods. “You could have just asked.”
“You told Ron to fuck off when he asked.” You said, following after him. 
“Ron’s a dick. You’re not.”
Your stomach flips at that - it’s the nicest thing he’s ever said directly to you - but you shove the feeling down. “Thanks, I guess.”
He doesn’t say anything, simply leading you deeper into the woods, following a path that’s invisible to you. Eventually, the trees thin out a bit, and he stops in front of a small clearing. It’s obvious that he’s cleaned it up a bit - the ground is largely clear of leaves, and he’s strung a tarp between some of the trees as a makeshift roof. There’s a few logs, arranged like couches, and a few seat cushions that have seen better days. A dirty cooler sits at the base of a tree, and a crate covered with a plastic bag next to it. 
“This is it.” Carl says, walking over to the crate and pulling the plastic bag off the top to reveal some comic books. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, this is really cool.” You say. “I mean, yeah, it’s less cool than you sneaking out to kill walkers or something but it’s still cool.”
“Thanks.” He says, shooting you a small smile. “It’s just my getaway from all the people in Alexandria, I guess. Just somewhere for me to be actually alone.”
“Oh.” You hadn’t thought about that - that maybe his routine climbing over the wall had more to do with peace than it did secrecy. “Sorry - I can go-”
“No, it’s fine.” He says quickly, cutting you off. “I mean, I don’t mind… and you climbed over the wall to get here so you should at least rest a little before climbing back over.”
“Yeah.” You agree, smiling. “I don’t know how you do that every day, I already know my shoulders are going to be killing me tomorrow.”
He grins, and sits down against one of the logs. “You get used to it.”
You sit down as well, leaning against the log across from him, the soles of your shoes brushing against the soles of his boots when you stretch your legs out. You watch as he closes his eye, peace sweeping across his face as he rests his head against the back of the log, tilting his nose up towards the sun. The way the sunlight dapples through the leaves paints him in spotty colors, but it doesn’t diminish his beauty at all. You find yourself entranced with the way the shadows dance across his face, and you don’t know how long you stare at him before he cracks his eye back open. 
“What?” He asks. 
“What?” You try to play it off. 
“You’re just looking at me.” He says.
“You’re sitting directly in front of me.” You deflect. 
“Yeah, but you’re always looking at me.” He closes his eye again, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. 
You scoff, and try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. Caught. “Am not.”
“Are too.” He shoots back. 
“Maybe I just zone out a lot.” You try. 
He actually laughs at that, and opens his eye again, sitting up from his lazy sprawl. “C’mon.” He says. “It’s just us. You can admit you think I’m cute. Promise I won’t tell anybody.”
You close your eyes, tipping your head back against the log you’re resting against so that he can’t see your face. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life - you thought you were being discreet. But maybe he’s more observant than you gave him credit for; after all, it didn’t even take him more than the distance between your back porch and the wall for him to figure out you were following him. 
“Was I really that obvious?” You ask, still refusing to look at him. 
“I mean, kind of. You just stare at me, like, all the time.” You can hear him grinning. “At first I thought it was just the eye, but you look at my hands a lot too, so…”
It’s humiliating, how easily he figured you out. And you can hear him smiling, it’s in the tone of his voice. At least he’s not outright laughing at you - you think you’d actually die on the spot if he did. 
“I should go home.” You say, picking your head back up off the log to stand up. “Sorry for following you-”
“No, what?” Carl stands up with you. “I’m not mad or anything, it’s just-”
“Funny?” You fill in the blank for him, pinning him with a look. He just blinks at you, obviously taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting you to notice how amused he is with this. You sigh, and grab your bag from where you set it next to you. “Figures. You are such a dick, Carl Grimes.”
You turn away from him, starting back towards the wall. Hurried footsteps tell you he’s following you, but you don’t turn around, not until he grabs you by the wrist and makes you. 
You meet his icy blue gaze. “What now?”
“It’s not funny.” He says, brows furrowed. “I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s cute. I like that you have a crush on me, ‘cause I like you, too.”
You just look at him for a minute, trying to determine if he’s being honest or not. “If you’re just saying that to, I don’t know, get me to say something embarrassing and make fun of me, I swear to God-”
You don’t get to finish your sentence because he rolls his eye, and then presses his lips to yours, insistent. It takes you a second to realize what he’s doing, but when it clicks, you melt into it, kissing him back with the same intensity. When he pulls back, you can see the beginnings of a smile on his lips. 
“I mean it. I like you.” He says. “Wouldn’t have shown you my secret spot otherwise.”
You can’t stop yourself from grinning. “I guess I believe you now.” You joke. “But if I say I don’t will you kiss me again?”
“You can just ask.” He says, leaning in to connect your lips again. 
It’s better, now that you know it’s coming - less sloppy. You take the opportunity to wind your arms around his shoulders, playing with the silky tresses of his hair. You’re the one to break it this time, pulling back to rest your forehead against his, looking deep into his pretty blue eye.
“Sorry for calling you a dick.” You say. “And thinking you were laughing at me.”
“S’okay.” He says. “Do you, maybe, wanna come back to the spot with me? Hang out?”
“Yeah.” You say, grinning. “Sounds great.”
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itsmarsss ¡ 7 months ago
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Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 3 - The Imp
How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)
He's not just a bitch! He's a bitch with a backstory.
pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus
Word Count: 3,140
Warnings: a lot of trauma related stuff, a lot of self-deprecating thoughts, some things are canon-compliant and some are my own, i think that's it, also hey look it's the reason blitzø wanted to sneak into ozzie's so bad!
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Blitzø has been called many different things throughout his life. 
Most of those things have been insults but, hey, who’s keeping track? 
From an entitled prick to a selfish asshole to shit-for-brains to imp scum to… well, you get the gist of it. You name it, he’s been called it. And he was perfectly fine with being all of those things.
He’d decided very early on that he would own any titles he was given if it meant he had any sort of control over how they affected him. 
And it worked. If he was going to be called useless, or selfish, or a low-level regardless of what he did, he was just going to let himself become all of those things. If no one expects anything good to come from him anyway, why should he even care to try? This wouldn’t help stop them saying all those awful things he hated to hear about himself, but at the very least he’d be at peace knowing he wasn’t spending his entire life humiliating himself for the off-chance that someone would see him the way he wanted them to.
That way, he’d always have the upper hand.
Growing up in the circus, Blitzø learned at a very young age that he was no more than a collateral to his father. ‘Useless’ at being sufficiently entertaining, as he always heard he was, Blitzø understood entirely too well that he was only kept around for the simplest of all things he was: unpaid labor and an obligation.
At times, in his teenage years, he’d start to wonder if he would ever have been kept around at all if it weren’t for his mother.  
And sometimes, well into adulthood already, Blitzø would find himself hurting people. Really hurting people. Sometimes even on purpose, without ever fully understanding why he did what he did. Most of the time he would try and ignore it, or pretend not to care, try to convince himself it was for the best that he kept his distance from people. 
But, at certain times, thoughts of his mother would consume him. Would she be proud of who he had become? 
He hardly thought so. 
There were times when he would even find himself wondering who he could have grown up to be had she stayed around for longer. Would he be nice? Kind? Caring?
Would he be loved?
But she wasn’t around, and that was his fault, he kept reminding himself. And that wasn’t fucking fair. 
His mother was always kinder than his father ever was. She was sweet and caring and always made sure to check on him. The moments they spent together were always his favorite as a kid. 
When she was with him, it almost felt like nothing else mattered, as if her presence could shield him from anything- he always blindly believed her when she told him time and time again that everything would be okay. It was a nice feeling. 
She was always full of life, always the soul of every room she entered, always cheering Blitzø back up when he was down. She was always pure light.
Except when his father was around. 
Blitzø loathed the way her demeanor changed around him, how she minimized herself to be next to him. When he was young, he’d always toyed in his mind with the idea of her being two different people who shared the same body: there was his mother, and there was his father’s wife. 
His mother was kind, compassionate, caring, free. His father’s wife was cold, quiet, dull.  
Fizzarolli entered his life really early on. 
At merely seven years old, he was taken into the circus after losing his parents in a freak accident, and Blitzø remembers the day they met clear as day.
Fizz was small. At the young age of eight years old, Blitzø vividly remembers his mind conjuring the term ‘fragile’ to describe him. 
Scared and vulnerable, Fizzarolli was an emotional creature, only a kid, after all. And that demanded care. At first, Blitzø really didn’t enjoy having to share his mother as a caregiver in the slightest. He was also only a kid, after all.
As time passed, though, he grew to quite like Fizz’s presence. He’d never really been much too surrounded by other kids, as it’d always been only him and his parents, and now he had a best friend! Someone to talk to and play with all the time, and who was as eager for a friend as he was himself. 
A couple years later, at ten years old, Blitzø received news from his parents: he was going to be a big brother. His father didn’t seem to express too many feelings about that- he never really expressed much other than disdain when it came to him, for the matter, but his mom seemed excited. 
Blitzø wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about it. Sure, he got used to sharing his life with Fizz, but that was enough, wasn’t it? Things were good as they were, why mess it up with another kid?
When Barbie was born, Blitzø made it his personal goal to express just how much he disliked the idea of having a sibling- but that only lasted a few weeks. A few weeks of being rude and purposefully stubborn were enough for him to notice how hurt his mother was that he was acting that way, especially when she was already clearly overwhelmed with taking care of the baby along with himself and Fizzarolli. 
Being the reason for his mother’s tears was the thing he hated the most in the whole wide world.
And so he stopped. It took him many months for his feelings about his sister to really change, but he decided he wouldn’t be so mean about it anymore, for his mom’s sake. And, with time, he grew used to his sister too. Sure, she was annoying and extremely clingy, as all babies and younger siblings are, and yes, he’d still act annoyed at her, but he started to not mind it as much.
He started to care.
At ten years old, too, on a random day, something rather unusual happened: his father came looking for him after a show, prompting him to stand up from the floor where he’d been playing with Fizz and their balloon horses, because he’d been… sold?
Yeah, that’s right. His dad told him, normal as ever, that apparently one of the Goetia princes had seen their part of the show earlier, and his father wanted to, quite literally, purchase Blitzø for the rest of the day. 
“Ew. Why?”
“Because money!” That always seemed to answer plenty when it came to Good Old Cash.
He was dragged to the Goetia palace with a purpose: to steal everything he could. That didn’t feel right nor did it feel safe. After all, who knew what sort of bad things could happen to him if he got caught stealing from royalty? He was young, but he knew they weren’t demons you wanted to mess with. 
He was scared. 
But they needed the money, and his dad had pulled the card that could get him to do basically anything he was asked to: ‘don’t you want to help your mother?’
Of course he’d do anything to help mama. 
Getting back home, he felt bad. Because the prince had been kind to him the entire time. Because the prince was naive, clearly not even having considered the possibility of Blitzø having been there to do what he did. Because everything his dad had told him about the big bad royals seemed to fall flat with Stolas. 
Getting back home, he still struggled to understand why he had been the one chosen to go, and not Fizz, when Fizz was clearly a better… well, everything… than he was. 
It was all too confusing, growing up with Fizz. As much as he loved him, there would always be a part of him that felt jealous, insecure around him. Because, to him, it seemed his best friend was everything he wanted to be and everything he wanted to be seen as. A better entertainer, a better friend, a better kid to his parents. Everything Blitzø could never live up to.
But, as he grew older, he came more and more to the realization that it wasn’t Fizz’s fault. It was all his parents. Or, rather, it was mostly his father. He was the one who put the two against each other, when, time and time again, they showed they only wished to work together, to be kids, to be friends… or more, maybe?
On the day of Fizarolli’s 17th birthday, Blitzø had been set on confessing the feelings he’d come to nurture towards the boy. Never used to this sort of thing, the only person he’d told about it was his mom, who had smiled oh-so-sweetly at him and hugged him as he let out tears, assuring him that it was okay for him to feel that way, even if it was scary. He’d prepared a badly rehearsed but well-meaning speech, written something for him in a birthday card, and even gone as far as stealing a rose from someone’s backyard to give him too.
Fizzarolli would have never even dreamed he’d have ever done all that for him, because he didn’t give him the card, and he didn’t give him the rose, and he didn’t tell him how he felt. Because there Fizz stood, laughing with his friends- friends! Friends who looked better and acted cooler and who were so, so much more interesting than Blitzø could ever be. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he was still young. He still let his jealousy get the best of him, still let the frustration of feeling pathetic for even considering the chance that his best friend could feel the same way he did consume him.
But, as angry, as frustrated, as sad as he was, he never meant for it all to happen.
The fire changed everything.
His mother was gone because of him. His best friend almost died because of him. Barbie only went unharmed in sheer, dumb luck. Everyone’s lives were ruined, and it was all his fault. 
And so he decided he’d be better off far away. Not forever. Not for long. But, for now, everyone was sure to be better off without him near. He’d caused enough destruction already and he’d forever have the scars to remind him.
So he left. Simple as day, he told a crying, barely eight-year-old Barbie he’d be back soon and left a note for his father to find and give Fizz when he recovered. 
Not forever. Not for long. 
The next time he saw his sister again was nine years later. And he tried. He so desperately tried to be present again. But Barbie didn’t seem to think it was fair of him to go no-contact for so many years. Yes, their father sucked- but leaving meant he left her to grow up alone with him. She lost a mother too. He wished things were different, but couldn’t blame her.
Two years later, at nineteen years old, was the first time Barbie had to be checked into rehab. Blitzø went there to visit every week, of course, but she never let him in. 
Just like Fizz, no matter how many times he tried, she simply didn’t want to see him.
After the fire happened, Blitzø decided he wouldn’t work as a clown ever again, cutting short his own big, flashy dreams.
 But that was the only thing he ever learned to do, and that made things difficult. For years on end, he had to jump from one job to another, trying to find anything he could to make a living for himself. 
He was never all that eager to admit to this part of his past, but there were times during which he’d slept on the streets or forced himself onto one one-night stand after the other just to have a place to crash. At some point, he found himself gambling the little money he got from working here and there. 
That’s how he met Verosika Mayday, anyway. At a cheap, dark, dirty club in Lust, as he tried to drink his sorrows away and let his luck decide whether he’d be able to pay for his stay at some gross little inn room down in Greed for the night or not, and she tried to kickstart her singing career, standing on the poor-lit makeshift stage with her electric-pink electric guitar and singing something barely anyone was paying any attention to.
A few years later came Loona. And Loona was love at first sight. At first, he wasn’t looking for a hellhound like her to adopt. He wanted a pet. 
But she looked so scared and angry, and so, so much like himself. She was about to be thrown out of the system into the streets to fend for herself at only eighteen. He knew what that was like entirely all too well, and he knew it wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t exactly the most sensitive person ever, but if only he could be something like a family to her, if only he could help her in any way so she didn't have to be all alone…
He adopted her immediately. 
It was a crazy idea, for many, very obvious reasons. First off, he’d just started making enough to make rent for a one-bedroom apartment in a shitty side of imp city. Second off, even though he was doing slightly better, he still barely made enough to feed himself alone. Third off, he had no fucking clue how to be a parent. Much less how to parent a teenager. 
But he made it work. He promised himself he’d make it work. He worked everywhere he could find, doing anything he possibly could (and, in hell, that meant anything), at any crazy hour, to make enough to support Loona. He bought books about parenting that he couldn't really read much of because most of them were targeted to soon-to-be parents of… well, babies, and included nonsense, fancy-pants words he didn’t have the patience to try and understand, but he tried his best to be a good parent to her. 
He never forced her to call him dad or anything of the sort, because he could understand how that was probably hard. He still couldn’t stop himself from shedding a few emotional tears when she did, even if most times were slip-ups. 
About a year or so later, he was set on a goal: he wanted to make a living for himself. Really make a living. Blitzø was tired of putting himself through every single job he could find just to barely make enough for him and Loona.
Well, it’s not exactly like he’d be the winner in a competition for the best morals in hell.
He started stealing. What? This was hell! 
The lifestyle went surprisingly well for him. He wasn’t making bank, but it beat working like 24 hours a day to barely survive. As time went on, though, he started getting more and more confident. Stealing more, from wealthier, more influential people, pushing himself to do better each time things went well for him, having fun with letting things get more violent and subsequently bringing attention to himself. 
He was bound to steal too close to the sun someday. After a particularly… well, greedy robbery down by the Greed ring, things went south quickly, resulting in his arrest. 
Jail sucked, but honestly, he’d had worse. And, hey, his cellmate was sufficiently cool. 
Moxxie wouldn’t tell him much about his past or how he ended up there, but that wasn’t to worry when he didn’t particularly want to do the same either. What mattered was he had a plan to escape and a plan for after that and Moxxie could be of assistance. 
Escaping wasn’t easy, and the two of them didn’t leave exactly unharmed, but it was successful. 
The grand plan for after that was to start a company that specified in hired assassinations. Moxxie wasn’t perfectly happy with the idea, but damn was he good with a gun. 
But two not-even-that-much-experienced assassins didn’t really make a company, did they?
After a lot of convincing, even though they didn’t even keep in contact quite as much as they used to anymore, he somehow got y/n, a succubus he’d become friends with about a year before, to agree to work with them. 
Okay, three’s a crowd. 
Millie joined in not long after. 
Four’s a party. Or, well, an assassination company.
They worked phenomenally well all together as a team- even Loona was brought into the business, though Blitzø never really let her participate in the killing. Business went okay… until it didn’t. Things didn’t work as well in reality as they did in their minds- not for very long, at least. 
And so Blitzø had to bring back into light the same dumb, far-fetched idea he’d had a year earlier.
“What if we could kill humans?” He blurted out during a meeting in which the point of discussion was how to increase business.
You made a face at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 
“I mean it. Like, imagine how many of these sinners are walking around here just double-dying to have someone that they hate up there dead too. We’d have clients like forever!”
“If that were possible, Blitzø.,” Millie chimed in.
“It is possible.”
“Boss, no offense, but did you hit your head again?” Moxxie questioned, understandably confused.
“Y/n knows what I'm talking about!”
“What? No I don't.”
“Yeah you do. Your best friend Ozzie-boy has something that could let us do that.”
“Are you- wait.” There’s no fucking way. “When we met- were you- were you trying to steal an asmodean crystal?”
“I was not not trying to steal an asmodean crystal.”
“Uh, what is an asmodean crystal?” Loona asked, and you were surprised she’d even been paying attention.
You sighed. “Asmodeus has these enchanted crystals that can be used to create portals to the living world. We- uh- we get to use them at times. When necessary.”
“See? It’s perfect! He’d totally give you one.”
“Not for this. I think you forgot Fizzarolli hates your guts. Ozzie’s not gonna give me a crystal so I can help you with something. Really what the fuck did you even do to this guy?”
Blitzø ignored your last question completely. “He let you work with me,” he commented, matter-of-factly.
“He’s not my owner, asshole. But no. It’s not happening.”
Well, he'd really hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but… he did know someone else who had a little something that could grant access to the living world.
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A/N: I bet with so much complaining yall werent expecting this to actually come out huh expect the unexpected
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screeching-bunny ¡ 1 year ago
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hi love ur work sm
can we have part 3 of yandere General i wanna know how their life after marriage and how he treats her
Yandere! General pt.3
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Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
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Pt.2
You were afraid of your new husband and Yandere! General was well aware of this. He knew that after everything he's pulled it would take a while before you could fully love and trust him. Surprisingly, after getting married he starts to become softer and would often do acts of service for you. Although he was a lot kinder to you, you were still wary of him and tensed whenever he was around. Which is how you were right now, laying bed with your husband as stiff as a board. Yandere! General was currently big spooning you as he slept and whenever you tried to wiggle out, his grip only kept on getting tighter. You had a feeling that he was probably still awake and was just doing this on purpose. Every night he would do this as if he felt comfort in knowing that you were trapped in his arms. There was nothing that you could do about it so you just let it happen.
When mornings would come he would always make sure to wake up bright and early to cook you some breakfast. Even though he has maids to do the cooking he won’t let them, this is because you once complimented his cooking and he’s been living this high for a while. Surprisingly, he has really good cooking skills and it never fails to amaze you each time. Due to traveling and his many battles during war in other countries he knows a wide variety of recipes. He’s always whipping up something new for you each time. If he can, he always makes sure to whip your food into a cute shape for you to eat. It’s a part of his creative process so don’t question it.
As time goes on you begin to warm up to your husband due to how soft he is with you. After all, he did stop you from marrying an old man and from your family so you honestly can’t complain too much. On weekends, he likes to take long strolls hand-in-hand through the meadows and tell you stories about his many adventures. Sometimes, the two of you would engage in mock "strategy battles" in the garden where Yandere! General would always allow you to outwit him. Another thing that he enjoys is going on picnics with you, where he would playfully lift you up as the two of you crossed a little stream. Yandere! General loves dancing under the moonlight with you and he'd twirl you around like you were young sweethearts on their first date. He just finds you really adorable and cute.
Yandere! General can’t be home all the time due to his job and would make sure that you’re well taken care of when he’s gone. Will leave small notes for you to find from him all over the mansion like a treasure hunt. He makes sure that it’s damn near impossible for you to have any chance of escape and hires people to monitor your every move. When he’s out in war he’d make sure to stop by any shop that catches his eye to buy any clothes, accessories, trinkets, etc that he thinks that you might like.
Soldier: “Sir, what do you think our next course of action should be? ….. Sir?”
Yandere! General: *currently window shopping for you*
Soldier: “....”
Everytime he arrives back home he makes sure to never come back empty handed and will always bring back flowers for you. The flowers are proudly placed in the middle of the dining room table. He cherishes quiet nights by the fireplace, reading books and sharing laughter. He’d have you read aloud the book that you’re indulging yourself in so he can enjoy it with you. Occasionally, you would even fall asleep on the couch, wrapped right in his arms, reminding him of the peace he found with you. He lives for moments like these and when it's time to take you to bed he’d walk in circles in the living room just to hold onto you a little longer.
Fall is filled with the two of you making leaf piles that he would throw you into. During this time of year the two of you harvest apples together so that he can bake you an apple pie. Winter time is filled with joyous hours where the two of you would build snowmen, engaging in friendly snowball fights that often ended with laughter and playful kisses in the snow. During the springtime you are bombarded with many flowers and homemade chocolates. Then the two of you would plant flowers in the garden together. In the summer, when the fireflies adorned the night sky, Yandere! General craftily builds you a swing in the oak garden. Where the two of you would spend countless evenings gently swaying back and forth, laughing like carefree children, and promising (totally not Yandere! General forcing you to say this) to stay together, no matter where life's journey took you.
When he feels stressed, he comes to you for comfort. He finds solace having you in his arms. To him it feels like you're a haven of peace and love. He only shows his soft sides to you and never to others. Dislikes it when anyone sees him that way and would gouge out their eyes if they ever did. Isn’t very transparent about the things that are bothering him, he’d rather not have you stress or worry about it. Views you as something that’s delicate even if you’re not and believes that he can break you anytime he puts too much strength in you. Which is also another reason why he keeps weapons away from you.
As I said before Yandere! General is the type of guy who likes to maintain order and likes when his rules are followed. Make sure to absolutely never piss him off. So as long as you follow them and don’t disrespect him then he’s a fairly good husband but if not then he’s very harsh on the punishments. Follow his rules unless you wanna say goodbye to one of your legs.
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