#me whispering the name in the mirror to myself occasionally.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

identity crisis

[bunnysbrainrot]

Too Sweet

A series inspired by Hozier’s ‘Too Sweet’.

Relationship: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: No sexually explicit content, at least not yet. Some slight fluff? Slow burn vibes? Joel is kind of a dick (for once in my writings), but a protective dick.

Summary: You’re one of the newest arrivals in Jackson after a long trip to seek refuge. Now that you’re settling in, one of Jackson’s most integral men is the head of your first patrol. Will Joel be able to set aside that gruff demeanor for the sake of meeting someone new?

A/N: I’m so sorry about my recent hiatus, everyone. I’ve thought of this series for a while, to get me inspired again and to work towards something bigger. I’ve also thought about having some sections/chapters be from Joel’s perspective. Thoughts on that? Sorry it’s nothing spicy yet, but we’ll work up to it. Tensionnnn

The sound of birds echoed outside your bedroom window. By some miracle, you’d found a community, after so many months wandering either alone, or with the occasional group, but never for long. The mattress beneath you squeaks as you shift in your bed. Normally an irksome noise, but it reminded you that you were finally safe.

A faint light of dawn trickles through the gaps in the curtains, streaking around the room in a periwinkle hue. Your sluggish grog was slowly wearing off, while you processed your plans for that day. It was a Thursday, according to your new watch. God, you hadn’t realized how much you missed being able to tell the time. Who knows truly how long you’d been out there. Days blurring together, the minutes excruciatingly drawn out without company.

It was nice to be a part of something again.

Finally, you sat up in bed, rolling your head to stretch your neck. How long had it been since you had a proper pillow?

A smile crept onto your face. You’re better rested than ever, but an anxiety still ate away at you. Today was your first patrol outside of Jackson. You weren’t alone, of course, but the expectations you held for yourself could be your downfall.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you whispered to yourself.

Walking over to your dresser, you eyed yourself in a dusty mirror above the chest of drawers. A kind woman named Maria had provided you with a few new outfits when you’d first arrived a week ago. In the meantime until today, she’d given you those days to process and settle, and you were grateful for her patience.

When Maria had asked you what role you’d like in the community, she could see the steely glint in your eyes. Well seasoned from years of fighting and running, yet still a kernel of a protective rage.

You had expressed to her of your journey before finding Jackson. On that day she asked you how many of the dead you had taken out thus far.

“In total, by myself, well over three hundred, I would say. I don’t know, I think I lost track at some point.”

Her expression shifted to one of assurance, like they’d just gotten a worthy addition to their town. Someone who could protect what they’d all built.

She explained the basics of patrols, the routes laid out on an old map, with hand drawn trails and indicators of the area. You made an attempt to remember as much as you could, but surely you’d get good practice being out there, actually doing it.

————

You check yourself before heading out the front door. This time of year, the weather has started to warm up, so your opted for a t-shirt, jeans, a light jacket, and a ‘new’ pair of hand-me-down boots.

The air outside was cleaner than you’d imagined. The scent of early morning breakfasts wafted through the breeze, bringing a pang to your stomach. Maria hadn’t mentioned how long patrols would take; you debated if you had time to grab something from a stall in the heart of town. Other residents had been given spaces to cook for the community, giving out easy meals for these hardworking people.

Turns out you did have time, to your relief. In a matter of minutes, you held a piping hot breakfast sandwich in your hands, its heat seeping into your chilled fingers.

A few folks wave a friendly ‘hello’ as you trek to the Southern side of Jackson, to its border wall to meet up with your patrol group. There was a huddle of both peiple and horses, you noticed, as you got closer. One of the people turned to you, giving a wave in recognition.

“Hi, am I late? I thought I’d have time to get breakfast,” you explained.

There was a woman with kind eyes who spoke next, “Not at all, these bastards just insist on getting up at 5:30.”

“That sure is an early start.”

“It gets them cranky like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied, quickly cut off by a new voice.

It was a gentleman who called to the group, “We all here?”

His voice wasn’t commanding, but it did put people into gear to check themselves. Clearly he was the one in charge of this patrol. The look in his eyes told you all you needed to know.

He might be someone to watch.

You turn to the woman, “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t know anyone here yet. Is there any way you could give me a run-down of who everyone is?”

With a smile, she listed off the names of your group members, pointing them out. Some of them noticed and waved, others gave a slight smile, and others asked for your name. All were introduced until it was down to the man who’d rounded the group.

“And, that’s Joel. He’s head of the patrol.”

Your eyes shot to Joel now that you could put a name to the face. There was a moment of pause when you met his gaze, a moment frozen in time from his stare. He scanned over your face, down to your shoddy boots, and back to your eyes.

His expression doesn’t soften as he says, “Glad to have ya with us. Should be a horse on the way for you.”

Joel turns to face the gate as he rummages through his pockets for a folded map. He unfolds the paper until it spans across his horse’s shoulders.

The rhythmic clonk of a horse’s hooves came from behind. A familiar face approached with a stunning mare, it’s Maria.

“Mornin’ everyone, that should be it,” Maria traded off with you, handing you the mare’s lead. She spoke louder, announcing to the group. “Y’all stay safe out there. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it is getting warmer. Keep an eye out for groups.”

Members of your party nodded before Maria walked off, giving greetings to other folks who’d just begun to bustle around.

Your attention shifted back, specifically to Joel. It seemed that whatever he says, goes, so that’s what you’d follow.

Two men at the top of the wall made their way to the edges of the gate, hauling it open. Golden sunlight peeked above the mountains ahead, casting the world in a yellow glow.

Joel nodded, then a gruff, “Be smart. Stay close.”

————

The sun was overhead now. You’d been out here for hours, keeping an eye out for any infected that roamed too close to camp. A while ago, you spotted one trapped in an abandoned cabin. Which was quickly dispatched by one of the men in your party.

That cycle repeated almost wordlessly amongst you all. Hardly a single word had been uttered aside from Joel’s occasional command or redirection.

For the most part, things were going smoothly. And after a few minutes of some peace and quiet, you realized you’d strayed away from your spot in the formation. Your horse had fallen in pace with a beautiful brown stallion, riding on top, was none other than the leader.

Joel.

You’d turned to see who it was, but were quickly met with another intense stare. Your gaze darts to the side as you issue an apology, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to get so ahead of everyone.”

For the first time his expression does soften. A slight hint or kindness in his eyes. The corners of his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.

“It happens. Just… keep a lil’ distance. You’re new, can’t have you rushing ahead without someone else with you.”

The words would form a lecture if it weren’t for his tone. It wasn’t scrutinizing, but rather soft and protective.

His advice brings a smile out of you. A genuine one, for the first time in a while. Perhaps he wasn’t as much of a hard-ass as you’d assumed. You tug your horse’s reins to slow her pace, creating a few feet of space between you and Joel.

Yet even still, that smile he gave you kept your heart racing.

It would be a horrible idea, to fawn after him.

Right?

That thought had no effect on the tightness in your chest, or the fluttering in your stomach. Perhaps it was simply happiness that someone so hardened could be so easily friendly. A hard exhale later, you told yourself that it was the camaraderie that flustered you.

—

The group had made their journey back to town. Aside from the occasional runner, there wasn’t much defense needed this morning. Once your group returned, you’d have lunch and trade off with the next group, and share your findings before they venture out.

You had let your mind wander as you rode with the group.

In a split second, your mare bucks in fright. There was no time to assess what scared her before you were shooting ahead, flying past your patrol group.

“Nonononono- NO! It’s alright, it’s alright-“ you cry, but it falls on deaf ears of a scared animal. Tugging on the reins made no difference. You still shot ahead of the others, directionless without someone to guide you.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re safe! You’re okay. It’s gone!” You plead to the horse to slow down. The reassurances don’t seem to be enough.

A thundering set of footsteps is heard behind you. In a swift move, Joel jabbed his horse with his heel, pushing himself to race ahead of you.

With the rush of the air and galloping hooves, you could hardly make out his instructions.

“What?!” You shouted.

“Pull the reins! And I mean pull!”

You gripped the leather of the reins, drawing them to your chest, tugging your horse’s head back and away. Her pace slowed, but she kept running, now to the left. You could make out a curse from Joel as he redirected.

In a stroke of luck, he made some headway. Joel’s horse zoomed forward, and merged directly in front of yours, and the interruption slowed the mare’s pace just enough.

Another tug of the reins helps her into a steady beat. Joel was directly ahead, now turned to the side to block more of the path. Your horse huffed and threw her head frustratedly. In that short time you had no clue just how far you’d strayed away - looking backwards told you that it was at least a few hundred meters.

Embarrassment showed in your flushed cheeks and wild expression, looking to Joel for some sort of scolding.

“I think something scared her. I.. I didn’t get a chance to see, it all happened so fast-“

Joel raised a hand to stop you mid-sentence. He didn’t wear a smile like before, but his expression wasn’t angry. If anything, he had that protective look once again.

“I know. They’re skittish, ‘specially her. She needs a little more control than the others.”

It’s a reassurance, truthfully. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing you weren’t on the shit list on the first day. Your breathing had slowed down now, though your heart still raced wildly in your chest.

He scanned your face thoroughly before he asked, “You alright?”

A nod is what you could muster. It’s enough for Joel to give a nod back before waving to the folks behind you, the rest of the group, to call them over.

“Maybe next time I’ll have a more confident horse. No offense….” you paused, “what’s her name?”

Joel’s lips tugged into a smile, “That’s Belle you’re ridin’. Poor girl hasn’t been out in a while, so she’s not as warmed up to this. But you did good with her, all things considered. Handled it well.”

You reached down to pat Belle on the side of her cheek, caressing her carefully.

“It’s okay, Belle. We’re with you. You’re alright now.”

A smile vanished from Joel’s face when you look back up at him. He cleared his throat, his eyes skirting away until your party began to join up with you two.

“It’s all good. Belle got the jitters. Let’s head home.”

With that explanation out of the way, the team could finally resume their return home. Along the way, Joel didn’t have much else to say, much to anyone actually. His silence was solemn - definitely not any invitation to strike up conversation.

Perhaps that’s how he’d always be - resigned, reserved, and off limits to everyone. A part of you ached at the thought of it.

For Joel, that loneliness could be his downfall.

Hi guys! Thanks for reading, I’m sorry if it seems a little boring, but it’s for the sake of the story building. TRUST it will get nasty soon. 🥰

[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ I . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Warnings: none i don’t think. a lot of awkward eye contact..

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

The radio was blaring through my small bedroom, a mix of song, news, and adverts played as I looked at myself in the mirror. My baby blue dress that landed just above my knees swayed slightly in the wind from the open window.

Starting a new school is always difficult, especially when the one you’re joining is the first co-education school in France. Being one of the only 12 girls joining the school was going to be challenging, but it was the only school my parents would allow me to go to, my older brother already going there.

“Y/N! Hurry up or you’re going to be late.” My mother called as I pulled on my white cardigan and turned off the radio, the September breeze giving me goosebumps.

Making my way downstairs I throw my satchel over my shoulder clumsily before apologising.

“Stay close to your brother today, I don’t know how well you’ll get on in a school like that.” My mother instructed, smoothing out the shoulders of my cardigan.

I nodded in agreement, turning my head to look behind at my brother.

“And you, look after her, I don’t want anything to happen that could stain our name.” Mother said sternly to him.

He rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of toast and walking past us to pick up his coat.

“Come on then.” He said reluctantly while opening the door.

My mother let go of my shoulders before giving me a re-assuring smile and I left the house with him.

“Don’t talk to me unless you need to, don’t provoke anyone, don’t get into trouble.” My brother, Michael, said as he pulled on his jacket.

I nodded at him before looking down at my feet, black shoes clanking against the pebble road.

The street wasn’t very quiet, a few people walking past with groceries, or riding on a bike. The soft hum of cars from a close road filling the street along with distant chatter.

Soon we arrived at the gates. I stopped as soon as I realised how many boys there, Michael looking back at me in confusion.

Scanning the grounds I noticed two girls stood by a board and relief washed over me. I followed slightly behind my brother in an attempt to shield myself as I walked through the crowd of boys.

He walked over to his friends, greeting them, while I walked over to the only two girls there, no longer able to hide behind my brother.

I felt all eyes on me as I walked towards them, my eyes looking at the ground but occasionally looking up at where I was going.

“Go talk to her!”

“How many are there going to be again?”

“She’s pretty.”

My eye was caught by a boy a few feet away from me, he was tall, had glasses, and was standing with a couple of other people.

I immediately looked back down at me feet once I realised he was looking back at me, his eye brows slightly raised.

“I was scared for a minute, I thought I was the only girl.” I giggled once I had reached the two girls that were looking at the board.

“So did I, I just waited by the gates until Michèle here turned up!” The girl with short black hair exclaimed, “I’m Simone.”

“I’m Y/N.” I smiled back at them both as they nodded their heads.

“It feels like everyone’s staring at us!” Simone says nervously, turning her head slightly to look around.

“They are.” Me and Michèle say in unison before giggling slightly.

“Who was that you walked in with Y/N?” Michèle asks me, tilting her head.

“Oh that was my brother, Michael.”

“That’s handy, having a brother in this school, I wouldn’t feel as scared.” Simone turns back to us with a small smile.

I hear foot steps coming up behind me in the distance, “I think a boys coming over here.” I whisper to the both of them, not daring to turn around.

They both look behind me quickly before trying to make themselves look busy, turning back to the board.

The foot steps still behind me.

“Oh no…” The boy sighs.

“Is there a problem?” Michèle questions him as we all turn to look at him curiously.

“My home room teacher is Bluebeard.” He states, turning to look at us and the board nervously.

“Bluebeard?” I ask.

“Yeah, we all call her Bluebeard.”

“Her? I thought you were talking about a man.”

“I thought Bluebeard would have a beard, but now it seems ridiculous.” Michèle giggled beside me.

The chatter from the boys around us got louder and we turned to see what was happening.

A girl with long blonde hair and a dark blue dress walks through the grounds, her hair and dress swaying in the wind as she carries her coat in her hand.

“Do you know her?”

The boy just shakes his head softly.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the boy from before stand up, his friends encouraging him, and looking our way.

Just then the bell rings, and he stands awkwardly.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After what felt like an hours long speech from one of the teachers, we finally made our way into our classrooms.

Luckily I was in the same class as Simone and Michèle, which made me feel much more relieved.

They sat down at a desk near the window, me taking a seat close to them as most of the tables were already taken.

The girl from before was one of the last ones to walk in. She stopped at the front of the class, scanning for a place to sit.

We made eye contact quickly before she looked away. She went to sit in front of me, next to the boy from the billboard before.

His feet shuffled against the wooden floor as she placed her things down.

The classroom was bustling, everyone waiting for the teacher to walk in.

I picked up on a conversation to the left of me:

“You can talk to her at lunch?”

“I will, I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

Curiously, I turned my head to look at who was talking before making eye contact with the boy from before. He was leaning on his desk, arms folded as he looked at me through the rims of his glasses. His eyes were shadowed and dark as he looked into mine.

I quickly turned away, embarrassed that I was caught looking at him.

Just then the teacher walked in, an old woman woman with straight posture. The class goes silent as I zone out.

“What’s your name?” ‘Bluebeard’ calls out sternly. I snapped back into reality, scared she was calling on me, but she was looking at the desk in front.

“Annick Sabiani.” The blonde girl stated as she stood up.

“And do you think it’s okay to sit next to a boy? Grab your things.”

Annick reaches down for her bag, but is quickly stopped.

“Not you! Pichon, grab your things and move to the back.”

“Mrs Giraud, I can’t see from the back.” Pichon complained while hesitantly picking up his bag.

“Back row, now!” Her voice pierced.

Annick sat down as he stood up and walked towards the back. I gave him a look of sympathy before he tripped up.

The boy with the glasses laughed with his friends and they watched Pichon. I glared at him and he turned to look at me, his laughs quietening slightly before he raised his eye brows at me.

“Quiet!” Mrs Giraud shouted before I turned back to face the board.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next class was no different. I still sat alone, Michèle and Simone at the desk to my right.

There was soft laughter and chattering on my left again, except I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

I zoned out again and next thing I knew Michèle was standing up for a boy named Laubrac.

“But it’s not his fault, he didn’t do it!” She exclaimed as she stood up.

Soon they were both sent out of the classroom, and I turned to look at Simone. She was already looking at me with a nervous smile.

Looking back at the board I felt a pair of eyes on me. Slowly I turned to look, and it was the same boy again, chewing on the end of his pen as we made eye contact.

This time he was the first one to break it, looking back at the board quickly when he realised he had been caught.

I slowly turned away, admiring his features as I did so, before focusing back on the teacher.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: i have a habit of writing two chapters then disappearing so hopefully i carry on with this one 😭

[boyfhee]

CLOSEST FRIEND AND MORE ⋆ pjs

prompt · “i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you with anyone else.” “what does that mean?” “what do you think it means?” · requested

g · fluff warnings · light profanities, mentions of injury wc · 0.8k

note · writer's block is real and it sucks

“and then, that bastard, that cheating lying bastard, blatantly lied in front of everyone and said that, i pushed him during the game. seriously— can you believe that?” a scoff falls off your lips and you recall the moments from your PE class this morning, which more or less morphed into a fight between you and one of your classmates who claims to have been pushed by you in a game of dodgeball and sprained his ankle when in reality, he practically launched himself towards you and all you did was step aside to save yourself. 

and jay, he’s hearing this story for the fifth time today, in different narratives from different people, with more colourful words for the said boy being served by them on a silver platter.

“no, i really can’t believe that,” he responds sarcastically, eyes focused on the evening sky and then the road as a soft smile rested upon his lips, throughout the walk from school to your place. 

“jay,” you slow down, the extra emphasis on his name to get a serious reply, making him turn to look at you. you stare at him for a second while he mirrors the same blank look at you, before a faint sigh slips off your lips. “you’ve been really quiet today, you know?” 

and not just today but for the past four to five days. jay is a quiet person, actually, but not quiet quiet, not the quiet where you hear six words maximum from him in twenty-four hours. you wouldn’t say you and jay are super close or the bestest of friends and yet still, you can hear him whisper from behind you during classes, making you laugh occasionally, sneaking notes from under the desks, everything that makes maths more bearable for you and everything whose absence for days now has you concerned. 

“is that so?”

“mhm, i almost forgot your voice,” which is an exaggeration on your part, but you’re pretty sure it would have come true had the silence game continued for a few more days. “are you okay, though? is there anything you’re worried about, anything you’d like to tell me?” 

a brief pause follows, a moment of silence yet again, filled with the shuffling of your footsteps on the pavement as he swings your hand back and forth, holding it a little tighter. “well, there is something i’m worried about but i can figure it out myself,” 

you step in front of him, getting a better look at his face and his eyes meet yours. “are you sure?”

“i am,” 

you see your house now, the first one as soon as you'd take the next left. walks with jay are less frequent. he’s either busy with his other friends or after school stuff that your homeroom teacher assigns him, much to his disappointment. walks with him are less often but are always fun, hands intertwined as you both take all the time in the world to cover the ten minutes walking distance from school to your house, since he insists on walking you home everyday. 

walks with him are less common, this might be your ninth or tenth time, but they’re already something you look forward to ever since you wake up. you realise that walks with jay might be the only chance to get to know him better, and thus, you take the opportunity. 

“i know you don’t like stressing people out with your own problems and you rarely talk about them, but i want you to know that you can rely on me,” the two of you finally stop in front of your house and you stand in front of him, taking both of his hands into yours. “you’re one of my closest friends, i’m here if you never need someone to listen to you,” 

he has known you for one month, barely, and you’re asking him to spill his worries to you as if they’re your own, but how does he tell you that you’re the reason he’s losing track of day, noon and night, wondering if there’s even a little chance that you feel the same way as he feels towards you? 

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt the way i do with you, with anyone else,” but the words escape his mouth, leaving him surprised too, as if he has lost control over his thoughts, letting his heart take over his mind, allowing it to make all the decisions. 

you feel your heart skipping beats and pacing relentlessly, quite sure going to pop out of your chest any second. “what does that mean?” 

how does he tell you that you’re the one making him worried with all these feelings that he has for you? 

“what do you think it means?” and the smile on your face morphs into hesitation, heat rising up your cheeks as he takes a step towards you. another string of silence follows as you try to come up with words, but before you could even sort out your thoughts, jay beats you to it. “see you tomorrow,” 

and that’s all he says before walking away, because you consider him one of your closest friends, so how does he tell you that he’s inexplicably in love with you, and that he wants to be something more? 

[soshirohoshinasimp]

All I wanted was you.

All I Wanted Was You

I used to think love was supposed to feel like sunlight—warm, comforting, a soft touch that made you feel safe. But for me, love always felt more like a storm. Chaotic. Intense. Uncontrollable. And somehow, I kept finding myself drawn to it, over and over again, like a moth to a flame.

Your name had always been a whisper in the back of my mind. At first, it was subtle—just the occasional glance, a fleeting smile, a word of encouragement. But I convinced myself it meant something more. It had to, didn’t it? You had to see something in me too. Maybe you hadn’t yet, but that was okay. I’d make you see. I’d make you want me.

The first time you hurt me was so small I almost didn’t notice. A joke at my expense, a teasing comment meant to make your friends laugh, but it stung nonetheless. It felt like something deep inside me cracked, but I brushed it off. You didn’t mean it. You never meant to hurt me, right?

The second time was harder to ignore. It was in your eyes, the way they flickered over me, dismissing me like I was nothing more than a passing thought. You’d chosen someone else, someone with a smile that was brighter than mine, someone with a laugh that carried further. You left me standing there, feeling small, but I swore I wouldn’t let it matter. I’d make you see me. You just needed time.

And I believed it.

I believed that if I loved you hard enough, if I let my feelings burn for you like an inferno, you’d feel something too. That’s what love was supposed to be, wasn’t it? A connection so deep that it could pull someone out of their own darkness. And maybe, just maybe, I could be the light for you.

But each time you hurt me, each time you overlooked me or dismissed me, the pain only made me cling to you harder. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t stop wanting you, even when I knew you were the source of my misery.

There were nights when I stood in front of my mirror, asking myself what was wrong with me. Why did I let you cut me so deeply? But somehow, your absence hurt more than anything you could do to me. I found myself drowning in the idea of you, a phantom that I chased in every shadow, in every laugh that wasn’t mine, in every conversation that didn’t include me.

I tried to pull away. I swore I would. But like a moth drawn to the flame, I always found my way back to you. I needed you. I wanted you. I convinced myself it was the only way to feel whole.

And then, one day, you stopped pretending. It wasn’t a sudden thing, no grand confrontation. It was the slow, inevitable unraveling. You no longer saw me as someone to admire, someone to care for. I was just a ghost to you. I didn’t matter anymore, and maybe, just maybe, I’d never truly mattered at all.

The worst part wasn’t that you let me go. It was that I let myself stay. I’d been burning for so long that I didn’t know how to stop. I couldn’t see that you were never the flame I thought you were, just a flicker that hurt every time I got too close.

But still, I kept trying to get close. All I wanted was you.

Even when you broke me.

Even when you didn’t deserve my love.

Even when I knew better.

Because, in the end, all I wanted was you.

why does whenever I cry, my writing is better?

[atinycafe]

just want yeosang to sit between my thighs while he rubs his face on my boobs because he's had a hard day and nothing but his oral fixation can help himmmmMMmMmmM

warnings: nsfw under the cut, fem bodied reader, breast play, poc friendly!! (no mention of pink nips), acc very soft, use of pet names (baby), no penetration, no orgasm, yeo is so bbygirl, 1.2k wrds author's notes: i had to physically stop myself from writing boobs so many times. like i just wanted to use the word boobs so bad but i have 2 much respect 4 yeosang masterlist

the front door swings open, and you immediately recognize yeosang's arrival by the distinct sound of his sneakers hitting the floor. you divert your attention from the manga scans on your phone, glancing at the oversized clock mounted above your bedroom door. it proudly displays the time: 11 pm. you chuckle to yourself, realizing you could've easily checked your phone for the time instead of craning your neck towards the clock.

after a few minutes, yeosang enters the room, a half-empty smoothie cup in his hands. you recall preparing that smoothie for him earlier, sending him a picture of the ingredients and asking which fruits he preferred. a soft smile graces your lips as you realize his eagerness to taste it, evident by how he immediately went for the smoothie upon entering your home. he casually tosses his adidas jacket onto the nearby sofa chair before gulping down the berry juice. placing the glass on the nightstand, where it typically resides, he heads to the bathroom.

wordlessly, he begins his nightly skincare routine while you return to your manga. yeosang is a quiet lover, and his silence doesn't bother you. you know he'll seek your company when he's ready. occasionally, you steal glances at him in the bathroom from your room, furrowing your brows when you notice he's brushing his teeth after applying creams to his face.

once he finishes everything, he returns to the room and approaches the bluetooth stereo radio. connecting his phone, a song starts playing in the background—lana del rey's "million dollar man" fills the room. yeosang then turns towards you, his bangs obscuring his eyes, and playfully leaps onto the bed, crawling towards the space created by your outstretched arms, which cradle your phone. you emit a soft chuckle, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of his head as he nestles his face against your chest, inhaling deeply.

"did you have a good day, yeo?" you whisper, your tone tender as you pose the question. he huffs softly, shaking his head from side to side, prompting a frown to form on your face. pulling his head away from your body, where he was nearly suffocating himself, you place both palms on his face and lightly squeeze, coaxing a pout from his lips.

"what happened, baby? do you want to talk about it?" you ask, mirroring his pout as he mumbles something about it being "just comeback season." you hum in understanding. he averts his gaze momentarily, lost in thought, before nervously meeting your eyes once more. sensing the wheels turning in his mind, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively.

"can i… can i do something? it'll make me feel better," he clears his throat, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks beneath your fingers. you nod, confused as to why he feels the need to ask your permission for anything.

biting his lip, he moves your hands from his face and leans towards you, resting his face in the crook of your neck. he peppers open-mouthed kisses along your skin, teasingly nibbling on the flesh as he gradually works his way downward, softly biting your collarbone.

oh. okay.

you adjust yourself against the soft pillows supporting your back, finding a comfortable position as yeosang continues his tender exploration. the camisole you're wearing fails to conceal your cleavage, which elicits a contented sigh from him as he settles against the gentle swell of your breasts. his tongue ventures out, tracing leisurely patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of delicate sensations in its wake. his eyes shut, and you can almost sense the flutter of his lashes with each movement he makes.

relaxing into the plush mounds of pillows, you allow yourself to surrender to the soothing rhythm of his tongue, which lulls you into a state of tranquil bliss. with closed eyes, your fingers find their way into his hair, gently combing through the dark strands as he lowers the edges of your chemisette, unveiling your chest. a small, throaty sound escapes him as his gaze fixates on them, already anticipating the weight of them that will soon grace his tongue.

he wastes no time, eagerly seizing both of your breasts and pressing them together, relishing in the delightful sensation of their softness in his palms. he increases the pressure, observing how the flesh swells and fills the spaces between his fingers, fighting off a moan that threatens to escape his lips, unlike you. your breath comes out in heavy pants, the stimulation evoking small whimpers from you.

"thought it was supposed to be me who's enjoying this," he playfully teases, to which you respond with a pleading "stop," accompanied by a chuckle from him. finally, he bends down to take one of your breasts into his mouth, his warm tongue making contact with the slowly hardening bud, eliciting a pleasurable response from you.

he swirls his tongue around the darker flesh and applies a firm suction. the sudden action elicits a moan from your lips, and you can sense him smiling against your skin. he nibbles softly, gripping onto the bud and tugging at it before eventually releasing his hold.

he moans out, unable to contain his desire, "fuck, your tits are perfect. i wish i could have them in my mouth all the time," his voice filled with longing as he admires the glistening, wet flesh under the room's illumination.

moving to the other breast, he lightly pinches the bud, coaxing it to awaken, and you let out a delighted squeal. "sorry baby, i'll make it better," he reassures you before capturing the sensitive nipple between his lips, slurping loudly before releasing it. his gaze fixates on the string of saliva that connects you both, unable to resist the temptation. he lowers himself once again, running his tongue flat against the moist skin.

drawing back momentarily, he brings your breasts together once more, deliberately spitting on them, his fingers now gliding through the slick liquid, teasing the sensitive flesh. lost in the intensity of the moment, his touch becomes more forceful, squeezing, pinching, and pressing firmly upon the now sensitized mounds. you make no effort to stifle the moans that escape your lips, your fingers tightly grasping his hair. his focus snaps back to reality when you pull him into a quick kiss.

"you have to let me fuck them next time," he muses absentmindedly, and you eagerly nod in agreement. the mere thought of his pretty dick sliding through them, the sensation of his pulsating shaft pressing against your skin, sends a wave of excitement coursing through your being, leaving you feeling light-headed with anticipation.

his mouth now wide open, he eagerly takes in as much flesh as possible, his weight pressing down on you as he fully relaxes into the moment. sucking with gentle motions, the hypnotic rhythm lulls his mind into a blissful haze, momentarily erasing thoughts of demanding choreography and lingering musical notes. in this intimate space, it's only the two of you.

the weightiness of your breast causes his tongue to slacken, allowing drool to escape from his mouth, unabashedly cascading onto your unsuspecting nipple. his other hand skillfully works, pumping and occasionally rolling the bud between his dexterous fingertips.

soon enough, sleep overtakes him, his mouth still latched onto your breast, while his palm remains pressed flat against the other. you offer a soft smile as you hear the muffled snores escaping from his mouth, harmonizing with the warmth of your body. grabbing your phone, you open the camera and swiftly capture a series of selfies you'll send him tomorrow at work to tease him.

[guqwrvte]

if you’re still taking requests,, could i ask for a meet cute with idol!taehyung? 🥺🥺 could be any dynamic you want!! hope that’s okay <3

⨽ pairing: (soloist) idol!taehyung x reader

⨽ genre: fluff

⨽ warnings: none i think of!

⨽ word count: 1305

⨽ a/n: not sure if this is what you wanted, but i tried! i hope you like it! <3

---

You looked at your phone screen as you nervously fiddled with your fingers, waiting for the call to be connected. 

You couldn't believe that this was happening. You were about to get on a call with the Kim Taehyung. 

At the start of this week, you opened Twitter to see Taehyung had posted a tweet asking fans to enter their names and contact details into a google form because he was going to call some lucky fans. He explained that the winners would be picked based on the number of their submission and the help of google's random number generator. 

You decided to take a chance and filled it in, not expecting to win... especially after the artist posted about how he received over 500 thousand submissions. 

But to your surprise, on Wednesday, you received an SMS from a staff member stating that you were one of the lucky fans to have won a video call. After checking when you were available, they asked you to be ready to call on Friday at 9 pm. 

It was seven minutes past nine, and you were sitting in your room, phone up and leaning against a pile of books as you waited for your phone call with Taehyung to be connected. 

You sighed as you glanced at your mirror, wondering if you should've dressed up a little more. Your hair was in a low ponytail, and you wore a light grey hoodie and white shorts. You weren't wearing any heavy make-up, considering how after the call ended, you were probably going to sleep. You didn't want to waste time removing heavy make-up. 

"Should I have dressed up a bit like the other fans seem to do?" You whispered to yourself.  

This was your first time going on a fan call. From what you saw from tiktoks and videos on Twitter of fans going on calls with their favourite artists, they always seemed dressed up. Either their hair looked amazing, they were in beautiful outfits, or their make-up was on fleek. Sometimes they were all three.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't realise the call connected until you heard a "Hello?"

Your eyes widened, and you turned to the screen to see Taehyung setting his phone up somewhere.   

"y/n, right?" he asked with a smile once the movement had stopped. 

As you slowly nodded, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked, despite being bare-faced and in casual attire. His hair was long and fluffy, almost covering his eyes, and he wore a light grey hoodie.

"Oh! We're matching!" he giggled, pointing to his screen. "And finally, someone who won't make me feel underdressed. Everyone else was dressed in flashy and cool clothing, hair done and make-up looking fire."

"I... I thought about dressing up," you softly said, feeling shy. You couldn't believe you were talking to one of your favourite artists. 

"Well, thank God you didn't," he dramatically sighed before resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "Anyway, sorry for answering late. Did I keep you waiting long?"

"It's okay, and n-no not- not really," you stuttered, mentally cursing yourself for being like this. 

"Are you feeling nervous?" Taehyung asked, cocking his head to the side, and you nodded. "There's no reason to be! Just think of me as a friend and speak comfortably."

'That's not going to be easy,' you thought. 

"Tell me about yourself, y/n. I love getting to know about the people who listen to my music," he smiled. "If you don't want to do that, just tell me a random story."

"Uh, okay," you said, shifting in your chair. "I'll tell you a little about myself, then tell you a story."

"Sure! Go ahead."

You began to speak, telling Taehyung little things about yourself, occasionally agreeing with you on some of your likes and dislikes. 

"You don't like coffee much either?" He asked when you briefly mentioned how you preferred tea compared to coffee. 

After getting to know you a bit, you moved on to telling him random stories from your life. 

Talking to Taehyung wasn't as awkward as you thought it'd be. It didn't feel like you were talking to your favourite artist anymore... it felt like you were talking to a friend. 

You didn't realise how much time you had spent on the phone with him until your bedtime alarm rang, telling you it was half past ten. 

You and Taehyung had talked for almost one and a half hours. 

"Is someone calling you?' Taehyung asked. 

"No, uhm, it's my alarm," you told him, turning it off. "I'm supposed to be going to bed soon."

"What time do you normally go to bed?" he asked. "It's almost eleven! We've been talking for a while. 

"Eleven," you told him. "And how were we able to talk for so long?"

"The time for artists to talk to fans is shorter when they're in a group. Not to mention there are a lot more fans waiting for their call to be connected," he explained. "I have more time to talk to fans because I'm taking calls during the weekend too. You're the last fan I'm talking to for today, so there's no time limit."

"What's the longest you've talked to a fan?" You asked, wondering how much time he spent talking to others. 

"How long have we been talking for?" 

"About an hour and a half," you replied, looking at the time again. 

"That's the longest I've talked to a fan," he chuckled. "You're an interesting person, y/n. I liked hearing your stories and getting to know you a little."

It was true. 

Most fan calls barely exceeded 45 minutes because things between him and the fan were awkward (no matter how hard or many times he tried to lighten the mood), or fans were weird and crossed some lines. 

There were a couple of good and 'normal' ones, but there were more bad than good. 

"I'd love to tell you more, but I need to prepare for bed. I have a busy day tomorrow," you frowned, and a playful pout appeared on his face. 

You couldn't believe that you were the one who was ending this conversation. You really didn't want to, but you had to. 

"Aw, I was hoping we could talk longer, but I understand. When will I get to talk to you again?" He asked.

"The next time I fill in a google form and magically win a fan call," you chuckled. "And only you know when that'll be."

"T-that's- that's so far," he whined, knowing the company wasn't going to do this again for a while. 

"Until then," you shrugged. "I've really got to go. I'm so happy I got to talk to you."

"Aw, it's okay. Let me not keep you any longer," Taehyung smiled, waving. "It was nice meeting you, y/n. We'll talk again soon!"

Before you could say anything else, he ended the call. 

"I'm going to save their details on my personal phone and just message them myself," he whispered, taking out his phone.  

He enjoyed talking to you so much that he just had to save your details. He couldn't wait for you to enter whatever competition or event the company planned. 

As soon as he ended the call, you couldn't help but squeal. You talked to the Kim Taehyung, and it went way better than you thought it would. 

While you were finally allowing yourself to fangirl, a notification came in, and it was from an unknown contact. 

"Who?" you frowned, taking your phone to look at the message. 

Instead of waiting for a google form, you could've asked me to save your details! That way we don't have to wait that long to be able to talk to each other again - Taehyung ^^

[lucajayms]

fuckin' liar vol 2

-

gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

-

masterlist

-

warnings: descriptive drug use, angst, needles, guns

-

The party was a mess, and I knew it the moment we walked in. Gerard, always the actor, smiled brightly, fingers laced with mine like everything was fine. But it wasn’t. Not for me. It never is.

Typical.

With a frustrated sigh, I yanked my hand away and slipped into the crowd. I needed space, some air—anyone who could look at me like I wasn’t a ticking time bomb. But deep down, I wondered, Do they know? Could they see it in my eyes, the lie I’d been living? Or would they ever know? One day, maybe, when all this unravels, it'll make for a hell of a documentary.

I stumbled upon Pete and Mikey, mid-conversation about bass and drums, as usual. They shot me the occasional glance, half-heartedly including me, but mostly talking to each other. Their words blurred together, meaningless. The itch was starting to creep in again, the kind that begged to be scratched.

"I’ll be right back," I mumbled, slipping away toward the exit, already dialing the number I knew by heart. My fingers shook as I pressed the phone to my ear, spitting out a stream of lies. "Gerard found my stash. Flushed it. We didn’t even take my car. I need more. Please."

She promised she’d be at the club in ten minutes. So I waited. And waited.

And the itch grew louder.

You’re going to die.

Meet Stacy halfway down the road.

You need it.

Die. Die. DIE.

“No!” The scream tore from my throat as I collapsed to my knees on the sidewalk, clutching my head. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but it couldn’t drown out the voices. My nails dug into my skin, desperate to block out the noise, the chaos in my mind.

Then, headlights cut through the darkness, blinding me. My dealer’s BMW pulled up, and I stumbled to my feet, racing toward the car.

“The usual, please,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady, calm. She smiled, casual, as if I hadn’t just been breaking down in the street. The cheap crossbody containing my salvation appeared, and I handed her the money. Paid. Tipped. And disappeared back into the party.

I was halfway to the bathroom when Jamia grabbed my wrist, her touch gentle but firm. “(Y/N), hey!” she smiled, clueless to the storm raging inside me. I plastered on a smile of my own, something fragile, something fake.

“Jamia! Hi, babe!” I chirped, trying to keep my feet from itching to move. I nodded, smiled, responded—though I had no idea what we were talking about. It felt like an eternity, like every second was dragging me deeper into a pit I couldn’t climb out of. The moment she paused, I slipped away.

In the bathroom stall, the door locked, I fell to my knees. My hands fumbled with the bag, pulling out the spoon, the baggie of powder, the needle. My lighter—Gerard’s lighter, technically—came next, sparking to life. As I heated the spoon, a tear slid down my cheek. My breath hitched.

Why am I doing this?

I stopped, syringe in hand, staring at my leg where the needle would soon sink into flesh. I could see Gerard's face so clearly—how he looked at me when he found me before. Like he didn’t even know who I was anymore. His voice, so broken when he said my name, still echoed in my head. I hated the way it made me feel. Hated him for caring, for loving me. Hated myself for letting him down. For becoming this.

“Fuck,” I whispered, barely audible as the rage bubbled up inside me. Without thinking, I shoved the needle in, the high rushing through me, numbing everything. I tossed my things back into the crossbody. Ready now. Ready for the party.

I stepped out and caught my reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was barely recognizable. Hollow eyes, sunken cheeks. My foundation couldn’t even mask the exhaustion etched into my skin. I splashed cold water on my face, like it could wash away the mess I’d made of myself.

As I reentered the room, voices drifted through the air—Gerard's voice.

“I don’t know what to do, man. She lied to me,” Gerard said to Brian, our manager. His voice was low, pained. “I love her so much, but she’s killing herself.”

It felt like a bullet to the heart. I froze, barely able to breathe as Brian replied, “That’s how addicts work. They lie, they say things they don’t mean. You were there, you know.”

Gerard’s response was laced with frustration, desperation. “Yeah, but I asked for help when I needed it. She needs help and she’s not getting it.”

Fuck you, Gerard, I thought bitterly. You don’t know what’s good for me.

I couldn’t listen anymore. I shoved my way through the crowd and sprinted out of the building, the tears already spilling over. I ran and ran, Gerard’s words chasing me, haunting me. How could he say that? How could he tell Brian about my shit?

Unbelievable.

By the time I reached Stacy’s apartment, my breath was coming in ragged gasps. I banged on the door, barely able to stand. She opened it quickly, a gun in hand.

“Whoa!” I raised my hands, startled.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” she muttered, tossing the gun aside. “I thought you were my boss.”

I nodded weakly, too tired to respond. “I need more. A week’s supply.”

“In and out, baby. You don’t wanna be here when my boss shows up,” she warned, rummaging through a suitcase. “How many times a day?”

“Six,” I whispered, ashamed.

“That’s $410,” she said, barely batting an eye as she handed over the goods. I fumbled with my wallet, handing her the money. She shoved it in her pocket, smiled, and waved me off. “Get out before he shows.”

I didn’t have to be told twice. As I left, the voices returned, louder now, crueler.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Gerard. The way he looked at me. The way he talked about me. He hated me, didn’t he? You’re right, the voice whispered again. He hates you. Ray, Mikey... even Frank. They all know now. They all think you’re worthless. They’ll never love you again.

“Stop,” I muttered, clutching my head.

You ruined everything. You’re a joke. A fraud.

“No...”

The fans will find out, too. They’ll hate you. You destroyed the band you started to save lives. How ironic.

“Enough!”

But the voice didn’t stop. It kept tearing into me as I ran. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking through my clothes as I fell onto the wet pavement. I was a wreck, sobbing in the middle of the street. I did need help. I needed saving, but who would save me?

I looked up through the blur of rain and tears. The Motel 6 sign flickered in the distance.

Time to disappear.

[hwanghyunjinmakesmeuwu]

Unspoken Verses (IMAGINE)

---------------------------------------------------

Group: Stray Kids

Idol: Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Angst

Words: 2.7K

POV: First person

MC: GN! Reader

Song Listen to: I wish you cheated by Alexander Stewart

I'm really rusty with writing and shit so I hope this is alright lmao. But anyways, enjoy my first imagine in years. And yes I did the cringy song lyrics in the imagine trope. Fight me 🤣

---------------------------------------------------

The backstage area buzzed with nervous energy, a mix of hurried footsteps, whispered conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter as performers prepared for their turn in the spotlight. Yet, amidst all the chaos, I stood alone, trembling slightly as I clutched the microphone in my hand. The familiar weight of it should have been comforting, a reminder of all the times I had commanded the stage. But tonight was different.

Tonight, everything felt different.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. My heart pounded relentlessly in my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the usual pre-show jitters or the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. The breakup was still so fresh, the wound still raw, and I questioned whether I was truly ready to perform, especially so soon after the end of something I had once believed would last forever.

But I knew I had to do this. I had to get my feelings out somehow. If I didn’t, they would only continue to fester and build inside me until they exploded at the most inopportune moment. This stage, this performance, was my only outlet—the only place where I could release everything I’d been holding in.

The stage manager’s voice broke through my thoughts, calling my name. It was time.

With one final breath, I forced a small, soft smile and stepped out onto the stage. The roar of the crowd hit me like a wave, their cheers washing over me as I made my way to the center, the spotlight following my every move. I scanned the sea of faces, some of them familiar, others unknown, but all of them here for me. My fans. My supporters. The people who had been with me through every high and low of my career.

And, as expected, there were idols in the crowd too—other performers, peers who understood the pressure of standing on this stage, especially at an Mnet performance. Among them, I spotted the members of Stray Kids, all of them watching with anticipation. They were excited to see me perform, their eyes filled with a mix of support and curiosity. But one gaze in particular caught mine, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world faded away.

Hyunjin.

He was there, sitting with his group, his expression unreadable. The sight of him made my heart ache, the pain of our breakup resurfacing with a vengeance. I quickly looked away, not trusting myself to hold his gaze for too long. I needed to focus on the performance. I needed to keep it together.

The music director nodded at me, signaling that everything was ready. I stepped forward, bringing the microphone to my lips. The noise of the crowd quieted down, and I could feel their anticipation building. They were expecting something amazing, something powerful.

But tonight, they were going to get something different.

“There’s been a slight change to my performance tonight,” I announced, my voice surprisingly steady. I paused, letting my words sink in. “I’m going to cover a song instead.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the audience, but I didn’t wait for their reaction to settle. I closed my eyes and gave the signal for the music to start.

The first notes filled the auditorium, soft and melancholic, perfectly mirroring the emotions swirling inside me. And then, I began to sing.

"I'm anxious, kinda sad.

Hard to be your best when you lost the best you had.

Spending days just on my phone.

Wondering where it all went wrong.

I'm nervous, pretty wired.

I said your name too much, now my lungs got tired.

Thinking maybe I'm to blame.

I just need someone to hate."

As the lyrics flowed from me, I let my eyes drift back to Hyunjin. His face was a mixture of concern and sadness, emotions that mirrored my own. The connection we once shared, so strong and undeniable, was still there, but it was different now—fragile, like a thread that could snap at any moment.

I forced myself to look away, focusing on the song instead.

"Oh oh oh

You made this so damn hard for me.

You and your goddamn honesty

It got me thinking..."

The words cut deep, each one hitting a nerve that I had tried so hard to numb. But it was impossible to ignore the truth. It had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to come to light.

And tonight was that moment.

"I wish you would've cheated.

And smashed my heart to pieces.

I wish I had a reason I could hate your guts for leaving.

I wish you were the villain, a psycho with no feelings.

So how do I move on

When you did nothing wrong..."

I closed my eyes again, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. The pain in my chest was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. But I couldn’t stop now. I had to keep going. I had to see this through.

"Ah ah ah

Wish you did something wrong..

Ah ah ah

But you did nothing wrong..."

As I transitioned into the second verse, I opened my eyes and focused on the fans in the audience. They were all watching me with rapt attention, their expressions a mix of empathy and admiration. They could feel the raw emotion in my voice, the vulnerability I was exposing on stage. And they understood. They always understood.

"Know it's messed up, kinda bad.

But I wish we didn't talk

And you just left like that...

I'd be angry instead of numb.

Dammit who have I become?"

The chorus hit harder the second time around, the reality of my situation sinking in even deeper. I was holding back tears, my voice trembling slightly as I continued to sing. But I refused to break down. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

"Oh oh oh

You made this so damn hard for me.

You and your goddamn honesty

It got me thinking...

I wish you would've cheated.

And smashed my heart to pieces.

I wish I had a reason I could hate your guts for leaving.

I wish you were the villain, a psycho with no feelings.

So how do I move on

When you did nothing wrong...

Ah ah ah

Wish you did something wrong...

Ah ah ah

But you did nothing wrong..."

I glanced back at Hyunjin, tears welling in my eyes as I sang the bridge. This time, I couldn’t look away. I needed him to understand how much this was hurting me, how much I wished things were different.

"In the middle of the night

I start to fantasize that you would ruin my whole life.

Oh woahh

Cause you're the best I had.

And I keep running back like a goddamn fool trying to change your mind."

The tears finally spilled over, rolling down my cheeks as I held his gaze. For the last time, I sang the final chorus, my voice breaking slightly under the weight of my emotions.

"You were all mine...

Can't believe I...

Wish you would've cheated

And smashed my heart to pieces.

I wish I had a reason I could hate your guts for leaving.

I wish you were the villain, a psycho with no feelings.

So how do I move on

When you did nothing wrong..."

As the last note faded into silence, I quickly whispered my thanks to the audience before rushing off the stage. The applause was deafening, but I barely heard it as I fled, desperate to escape before I completely broke down in front of everyone.

Once backstage, I felt the tears pour down my face uncontrollably. My vision blurred as I tried to navigate my way out of the venue, my breaths coming in ragged sobs that I could no longer suppress. I needed to get away. I needed to be alone.

But just as I was about to reach the exit, a hand grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned around to see Hyunjin standing there, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. My heart ached at the sight. “Did… did you sing that because of me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to find my voice. My throat felt tight, the words trapped inside, but I managed to choke out, “Yes…”

Hyunjin looked down, his expression pained. “Do you really feel like that? You would’ve rather been angry at me than ending it on good terms?”

“Yes,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I know we talked about how we weren’t working and that it would be best if we broke up, but it wasn’t mutual. I didn’t want to break up… I love you, Hyunjin, and I’m sorry if you felt like I didn’t, but I did. I know shit got in the way, but what’s a relationship without struggles and obstacles? It would’ve been boring if we were the perfect couple.”

Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked down at the floor. “I thought we both wanted to break up. We barely had any time for each other. With me touring with Stray Kids and now being an ambassador for Versace, it’s kind of hard to clear a time slot in my schedule for a relationship…”

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. The weight of our breakup was crushing, and every word felt like a heavy burden. “Yes,” I whispered. “I know we both agreed it was for the best, but it wasn’t mutual for me. I didn’t want to break up, Hyunjin. I loved you, and I still do. I know our schedules made it difficult, but relationships aren’t supposed to be perfect. We would’ve made it through the struggles if we had tried.”

Hyunjin looked down, his face etched with pain. “I thought we both wanted this… With me being so busy, it just seemed impossible to make it work.”

“I know,” I said, my voice trembling. “But knowing we made a logical decision doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t even be mad, and that’s what hurts the most. I wish you had given me a reason to hate you. It would be easier than feeling this… nothingness.”

He sighed deeply, his own tears now visible. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us.”

My resolve crumbled. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “I have to go,” I murmured, pulling away from him. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

I walked quickly, my steps echoing in the empty hallway. The weight of our conversation hung heavy on my shoulders, and I needed space to process everything. Each step felt like a reminder of the finality of it all, and I fought to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me.

I headed out of the venue, the cool night air hitting my face as I made my way to the car. Once inside, I let the tears flow freely, my body shaking with the intensity of my emotions. I cried silently, the sting of Hyunjin’s departure a relentless ache in my heart.

The car ride to my apartment was a blur of tears and sniffles. By the time I arrived home, I felt completely drained. I stumbled inside, my emotions too raw to process. I needed to do something, anything, to get through this.

I went straight to my bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. My phone buzzed with notifications—messages from friends, fans, and news outlets—all buzzing about the breakup. It was overwhelming, but I knew I needed to address it. Ignoring it wasn’t an option. The public needed to hear from me directly.

With a deep breath, I retrieved my camera and set it up on the tripod. The familiar setup gave me a small sense of control. I hit record, sitting in front of the camera with a mixture of determination and despair.

“Hey, everyone,” I began, trying to steady my voice. “I’m making this video because I need to clear the air about the rumors you’ve been hearing.”

I paused, my heart pounding as I gathered my thoughts. “Hyunjin and I have broken up. We decided to end our relationship, and while it was a mutual decision, it wasn’t one that came easily for me. I’m still processing everything, and it’s been really hard.”

My voice wavered, and I took a moment to collect myself. “The truth is, I didn’t want things to end. I loved Hyunjin deeply, and it’s painful to know that he’s moved on. We both had busy schedules, and it felt like we were constantly fighting to find time for each other. But relationships are supposed to face challenges, and I thought we could work through them.”

I glanced down, blinking back tears. “It’s not that I’m blaming him. I understand his reasons, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I wish I could be angry. I wish I had a reason to hate him for leaving, but the reality is that he did nothing wrong. He was trying to do what was best for both of us, and that’s what makes this so hard.”

The tears started to fall, and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. “I know this will be hard for many of you to hear. We’ve been public figures for a long time, and I appreciate all the love and support you’ve given us. But now, I need to focus on healing and moving forward. I hope you understand.”

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look directly into the camera. “Thank you for your support and understanding. It means more than you know. I’m going to be okay, eventually. It’s just going to take time. Please take care of yourselves too, and know that it’s okay to feel sad. We’re all in this together.”

I reached out and stopped the recording, the finality of the video sinking in. It was a moment of closure, but also a stark reminder of the pain that lay ahead.

After uploading the video, I sat quietly, letting the silence of my apartment envelop me. My phone buzzed with a flurry of notifications, but I didn’t have the strength to check them just yet. I was emotionally exhausted, and I needed to find some semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos.

I walked over to the window, gazing out at the city below. The world kept turning, even as my own life felt like it had come to a halt. Somewhere out there, Hyunjin was probably dealing with his own feelings and trying to move on. It was a strange comfort to know that we were both navigating this difficult journey, even if apart.

My phone buzzed again, and I saw a message from Han.

“Just wanted to check in on you. Remember, you’re stronger than you know.”

I managed a small smile, touched by his kindness. I typed back a quick reply: “Thanks, Hanley. I’ll be okay.”

The message was a small beacon of warmth in a sea of sorrow. I took another deep breath, trying to steady myself as I prepared for the long road of healing ahead.

I knew it would be a journey filled with ups and downs, but I was determined to face it head-on. I would find my way back to myself, and I would come out stronger on the other side.

As I sipped my coffee, feeling the warmth seep into my hands, I whispered to myself, “You’ve got this.”

And for the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but I believed I could handle whatever came next.

With the camera set aside and the video uploaded, I took one more look around my apartment. This was the beginning of a new chapter, and while the end of the relationship had left a painful void, I was ready to start filling it with new experiences and growth. It was time to move forward, to embrace the future, and to find strength in the journey ahead.

[stateswscarlet]

I just want to share my story because those people are doing dumb shit to "get their SP".

HOW I GOT MY SP IN 1 DAY (and 5 years)

Long story short, in 2018 I had a breakup that led me to find about the Law blahblahblah same story as most people, who find out about the Law because of a SP.

I did all the possible things during the years "magic", subliminals, water methods, whisper methods, you name it, I have done it.

It all started with the law of attraction, the secret etc you know the drill. Then I found out about Neville and it started clicking more but I was still doing dumb shit like trying to stalk (lol) or text my SP (we didnt really speak so it is kinda 5y of no contact) . I had success in other areas but obviously I was desperate about this guy, putting him on some damn pedestal like he so special lol.

I dated other people meantime and was bending them to my will more or less which greatly improved my self concept. Y'all can say whatever you want but SC is the most important and you have to face it sooner or later. Although I was thinking somewhat highly of myself, I could still find myself occasionally checking that SPs social medias and somehow I still believed he is so special and unique and on some pedestal above me lol

Fast forward to the end of 2022 when I checked his IG for the last time and I caught myself thinking that lowkey he got uglier than before lol and I didn't even know why I even liked him in the first place lol You can see how my state has switched.

Anyways April 2023 came, I have manifested many great things but I could feel myself doubt some things still. So I went into this meditative state and asked myself what do I need to get in my 3D in order to really remove this doubt, what was the most ridiculous seemingly "impossible" thing I can ask for and then the thought came- to get a text from this SP, honestly that just made me laugh a little bit, remembering I have tried for years with all these absurd methods you can find online lol please note that we didn't even live in the same country at that time , so I just laughed a bit and let it go

8hours later he texted me, less than 24h later we met, the rest is history

It turned out that at least 5 times during that 5 years we were at the same city at the same time in different countries around the world, so I was very close to manifesting him during that time but my SC and putting him on the pedestal got in the way

Also in 2019, I said to myself if I couldn't get him I want somebody just like him and guess what a week later I meet a guy who's basically his twin, they looked the same like down to the height and the cologne they were using (they were from different countries so they were not related lol) we dated for a short while but my SC of desperation got in the way yet again

So what is there to learn from my story, first and foremost don't try to mess with the 3D like never ever, don't even think about sending a text or stalking or worse (looking at you wedding venue lady lol)

Work on your self concept, let your desperation go please it doesn't help you in any shape or form

Take that person off the damn pedestal, he ain't that special sis trust me , there are a million guys like him

Your manifestation is closer than you could ever imagine, there are many things that happen behind the scenes so just let it go and enjoy the ride

Don't stop living because of some guy plz lol

Look back and see what you can learn from your experience, everything you see around you is just a mirror of your inner world

Your whole world can change within a day or less <3

ty for sharing!! so proud of youuu <33

[talesfromtheasterism]

The Starweaver

To the Recipient, Whose Name Will Be Safely Withheld,

I have decided to answer this lofty question of yours. For I do pity your described imposition, stepping from such grand adventures to the suffocating quiet of the Commune. It would be unwise for you to seek this knowledge from your current residence, and through my efforts of trade, despite my reservations on the topic, I must be one of the most well-equipped people alive to inform.

Know this firstly: transit between the realms of the Asterism is a poorly understood process, even to those as well-travelled as myself. They share no tangible borders, separated instead by the fathomless unworld, untouched by the New Tapestry. Yet each realm contains a region where the fabric is frayed - a wide, invisible rift that casts those who enter across the gulf to whatever destination they feel a strong enough requirement to visit. Traders and smugglers such as myself require clarity of purpose to will themselves through time after time, or we simply end up where we started with a moderate headache.

I have made every effort to remain conscious of my surroundings during these aetherial river crossings. Neither the warm alchemies of the Floodlands nor the chilling medicines of Bloodstar could maintain my waking. All I manage is to more keenly feel my lucidity fade as the dream state takes me, and as the faint visions of the unworld dance within the blinding shine of the blue haze. No matter where I enter or exit, or with what narcotics in my veins, she is there every single time.

Only in echoes and shimmers is the Starweaver detected - sometimes only felt, through sixth and seventh senses beyond human reckoning - but her presence is clear and absolute. I hear chrysolite eyes burn through the sapphire. Her radiant painted hat and impossible crystalline robes reach my eyes, with their paradox patterns and non-euclidean folds of gold night and azure sun. What is her pale skin, now? Flesh, still, or the light-bending porcelain of fallen deities? Grooves and spikes, subtle, hidden in her form - have the nephilim changed her, or did she take their traits willingly, as respect? I know she was not born so. I remember times I have never seen or known, as though I knew her as an old friend before godhood. She was younger, lighter, before her blooming of the Weave tempered the spirit. I can almost taste the secrets of where, the land she walked before she fell, before striking their bondage and shattering this prison for gods.

No matter how close I come to further revelations, I suffer the same fate as other pilgrims. I wake from the reverie in my realm of termination, equipped with whatever mercy required to see me safely to mortal civilisation. Should I journey for Port Poiseuille, I stir with sore arms, having rowed a gondola of smooth, iridescent gemstone across the Sea of Solace for an unguessable time. My returns to the Mirror Capital see my eyes open slowly, slumped against the window in a seat of a shuttletrain, coasting upon the star-seas of the Lucid Weave. I've an inkling that the Starweaver herself bridges the realms to allow Asteri to cross, summoning these accommodations to ensure we arrive in good health.

There is no doubt in my mind: she wishes her presence known within the dream, for one of such power could just as easily shield herself from mortal senses. Perhaps this is how she reminds us of her vigil from within the Skyloom - or, more fantasically, perhaps her image steals our attention from horrors of the unworld we are not ready to know. I hear her whispers, sometimes. Her strifeless voice reverberates with many heights and depths, like strings, chords. The words themselves are always obscured, as though of a foreign language - not Ancestral, which I can interpret with some competency. A tongue of gods.

But I can make out one word, occasionally. A name. The one we are chastised as children for uttering in vain, and oft never speak again. Some say, when they think our gods cannot hear, that it is a name stolen from a star in an old world. I wish she could wear it more proudly again. To take identity in theft from the heavens, to rail against ultimate power - that is the mark of defiance the leader of the Asteri should bear.

Her name was Vega. And her dream is our awakening.

Please, make especially certain that this letter is destroyed along with the others. While it is my privilege to convey such exalted topics, the repercussions if we were discovered would be far worse. The Commune does not tolerate attempts to understand those above us, for reasons you are well aware.

We will meet in person again soon. I trust we will have much to organise.

Your Friend in Commerce

Editor's note: this letter was written to one of the Friend in Commerce's anonymous business partners in the Commune of Whispers several years ago. It was originally meant to be burned to hide their dealings, but the recipient handed it back to the Friend when they next met, insisting it be preserved as a testament to the Starweaver. I am again tagging this as OC as is convention, so hopefully describing patron gods as my property doesn't have negative consequences.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Canvas, Adhesive, Finger painting :)

One day, us Tumblrites gotta take a stand against "weird question names that require you to consult the question list 1000 times when answering because ???"

Anyway.

Canvas: Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

Yeah, no. Very occasionally, I will make a notepad document I call "squishy red crap" (because it is the viscera and organs and lifeblood of a story all kind of blended up into mush) before writing a thing.

They, uh, look like this. After I clean it up.

I prefer to write the way I prefer to read, which is that I slowly put things together by what details I have, and editing is when I clean this up into a sharp, pointed blade to actually accomplish something.

Adhesive: When you write, do you usually "stick" to one character or story for a while, or bounce around various characters and ideas?

I do now, because I have less time for things, but I used to have at least two or three things running at a time so I could take breaks when my brain wanted to focus on a different type of project for a while. But now it's harder to make time for all of that at once, and I'd like to finish things, so I focus more.

Finger Painting: Share a small snippet from your earliest work (or the earliest that you can get back to). How would you rewrite it today? Either share the rewrite itself or just describe how you'd do it.

HRM. Okay, I'm going to do this in two parts: The oldest thing I can find on my computer, and the oldest thing I have hanging around on paper. But I'm not retyping the paper, so you'll have to see a pic for that.

This is the oldest thing I currently have handwritten. I was 12 when I wrote this, so have some mercy. I actually tried to throw this out at one point, but my former best friend saved it and got it back from her in college, at which point it was more funny to keep than anything.

The first most major changes I would make are start this with Misha in the bathroom mirror sort of explaining what all led her to get there.

Actually, no, the first would be getting rid of these names, which are far from the worst at the time, but ah, I had a "faux Japanese name" thing for a long time.

Mostly, this just has to be cleaned up. There's a very stilted, childish voice I can hear inexpertly telling this story.

Although props to little me for shoving "futile" in there properly at age 12. Just hanging out there, lmao.

This is the oldest thing I can copy-paste from my computer. I was 14 or 15 at the time, and only have this because I'd been emailing a friend updates as I wrote them. The 16.5k words I have weren't all that was written, but it's what I have salvaged.

“Hey, cutie. What are you doing around here?” Seitou whispered suggestively to me. “Oh, screw you, Seitou,” I shot back. “You know I’m taken.” “Aw, but sweetie, you’re just too cute. That girl doesn’t deserve you,” he answered, sweet as honey, but I could taste the venom under it. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested in other males. So find someone else to prey on,” I snapped. Seitou has had a fixation on me for as long as I can remember. Even though I’ve told him I am not interested in guys from the second he started hitting on me, he seems to be too thick headed to get it. I am completely straight, and I have a long-term girlfriend to prove it. Reisha is the most unbelievably beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, supermodels included.  From her long black hair to her perfectly almond-shaped blue eyes. I’m not the only guy infatuated with her. Seitou is a completely different story. Besides being apparently gay, he has never had a known relationship, even with another guy. I have to admit; even though I’m straight, - which means don’t take this the wrong way- he is pretty decent looking. He has shaggy brown hair that is just a little long. And his piercing green eyes unnerve me just a bit. Myself, well, I consider myself average looking. The name’s Hakiro. I can’t figure how I nailed both a hot male and female. My own black hair never behaves the way it should, my brown eyes are a pretty bland color. Sure, I’m definitely my own person, never really fitting in anywhere, but will someone explain how that’s attractive? But even though I don’t fit in much, I have plenty of friends. As I was mulling over these thoughts, I noticed Reisha walking up to me. “I have something to tell you.” She said, sounding slightly grim. Even though I was completely secure in our relationship, her tone concerned me. My instincts proved to be functioning correctly. “I think we should end this.” She announced.

Okay, aside the fact that good lord is there some grammar fuckery going on here, and the names, good lord the names, there's some interesting growth you can note over the two-three years between these. Obviously I, ahhhhhh, had read some BL by then. Because wow is this BL tropey from the time.

But it also just starts straight in the action this time. It's much more active, despite the fact that Hakiro still spends a bunch of time navel gazing. Hakiro is pretty voicey--it's not the best voice, but you can start to see my real knack for dialogue and mimicking speech patterns starting to pop already. The, ah, dialogue tags are not as good. But there's some good things happening on this front that will continue to develop as I continue to write.

I think I would (after changing all the names), importantly change this story to make Hakiro a clearly bisexual kid who doesn't know that yet instead of this gay-for-you thing, because Jesus Christ is he bisexual.

I would also...not start the story here? I don't think this is where the story of Seitou and Hakiro's romance even starts anyway. And almost nothing about this scene makes sense.

Also, the way this is written just has so much unnecessary exposition and description that could be handled much more expertly.

[gaunt-and-hungry]

The Fluidity of the Dress

Part 1: Fitting

Summary: Getting a dress fitted for a wedding day CW: None. Notes: First Person POV - 936 words - very short

It did not fit the way that it should. I wore it and it was comfortable on my body but it did not fit the way it should. My father and I had gone to London to get it fitted. I had sat petrified at the implications of what the seamstress would say, seeing me and my father walk into the shoppe. No questions had been asked. I had stood there as she pinned the dress. Hemmed it. Trimmed. Kept it as perfect and beautiful as it was. I kept reminding myself that this had been his grandmother’s wedding dress and then his mother’s wedding dress. The weight of the fabric only seemed to grow the longer I stood there. Curwen watched mindfully, speaking occasionally to the seamstress who worked diligently. She asked me several times who the lucky man was and if I was excited. She asked as if there was nothing amiss and we were just another young lady getting an heirloom fitted for her wedding day despite how little I properly filled the dress out. My hips, far too narrow. My shoulders helped provide the dress proper structure itself. There would be no issue with padding for certain. This would, indeed, work out quite splendidly. 

“Oh you look stunning,” her name was Rita. She was a brunette with the most magnificent braids I had ever seen on a woman of her status. She looked noble in and of herself and I smiled fondly at her in the mirror, a flush creeping up my cheeks from my throat.

“Thank you,” I whispered. It had been so quiet as she worked and made small talk with me. I could not shake the weight of what was happening from my shoulders that filled the dress’ fabric out a little. 

“For a garment so old, it’s well taken care of. I can tell this has been in a couple of generations. Goodness. It’s in such wonderful shape and you fit it quite nicely! Navy, is that right?” She asked softly. “You’re marrying a Navy Man?” 

I was startled for a moment. “How… Oh,” I laughed, nervous, “You must know through the roster.”

“It’s of no consequence!” She assured, “Just curious is all. Your gown is fitting, I think. The colours will match his uniform. This blue is perfect contrast for the Navy Blue,” she seemed to be thinking out loud and paused, looking at me through the mirror as she fluffed out the bottom of the gown. The style was certainly less broad than the newer garments that women wore. “The pale of this tone will match quite lovely, I think. Just thinking aloud, dear. Trying to envision if I ought to take care of this more,” she came around and plucked at the collar of it, examining it, “Perhaps…” she continued, her voice dipping low, “I think you would look actually quite stunning if you wore yourself a high collar that was the same navy blue beneath this. Something that provides… modesty to your neckline,” her lips were in a sympathetic smile hoping that she was not trespassing much. “It may help it blend well with the garment themes.”

My guardian returned to my side, his tall and imposing figure weighing the options as we stood there. “Mmm… Would you happen to have any fabric of the shade you are thinking of?” He inquired, seeming pleased with the description. I turned a little in the mirror as she finished the last of her stitchings and stood back to admire her handiwork. 

“I do!” She was cheery and warm in everything she did, leaving me feeling a lot less nervous about the whole ordeal. There seemed to be no questions in her mind as to what she needed to do, only dedication to her craft. She dipped into the room over and brought out a beautiful sample of a rather velvety high collared dress shirt. “This will be too small for your figure and curves,” she iterated but held the sleeve up to where my collarbones were to compare it. “This would work quite well, I believe,” she offered, “if you were to take my advice. I presume your fiancée will be in Royal Navy. This would provide a lovely contrast and compliment to his own dress.”

Curwen looked to me and I smiled. Truly, I smiled, pleased with this idea greatly. “And,” she went on, “To boot, it will provide you with much needed depth in your profile. You have an excellent figure. This dress is beautiful and fluid with your form,” she grasped my hips, shifting me a little in front of the mirror, measuring with her eyes, “And I do think that your complexion would benefit greatly from a dark tone to accent your eyes.” Her confidence in tone lifted any questions away from my heart.

I nodded in agreement, half glancing to Curwen for approval. “I would like that very much. Do you think you could tailor something as such for me? With a high collar and in that shade?” I had never seen Curwen smile so proudly before. And yet he was pleased in a way I was relieved to see. He had been eager to move forwards with the preparations despite the fluttering nervousness in my belly and resistance upon my own end.

“Oh! I absolutely would be delighted to,” she assured, “Let me get your other measurements. Let us get you out of this and we shall proceed with what we need, yes?” She began unlacing my back with deft fingers and I felt a weight fall from my worried mind and back.

[thursdaygarbageday]

### A Love Across TimeIn the heart of Seattle, where the skyline kissed the clouds and the smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air, I had spent years navigating life alongside my best friend, Alex. From awkward childhood moments to fierce teenage rebellions, we shared countless memories, each thread woven tighter into the fabric of our friendship. We’d confided our dreams, fears, and the occasional cringe-worthy dating story, all while knowing that we had something special—a spark that had flickered between us for as long as I could remember.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, leaves swirling like confetti, that fate decided to intervene. We were sitting at our favorite coffee shop, *Café Amour*, a quaint spot adorned with mismatched furniture and local art. The barista, a quirky woman named Mia, was busy brewing a pumpkin spice latte when Alex leaned back in his chair, staring out the window with a contemplative look.

“You know,” he began, his voice casual yet laced with something deeper, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” I joked, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking is dangerous for you.”

“Hey! I can think!” he shot back dramatically. “Sometimes I even think about us!”

My heart skipped. “Us? What about us?” My curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer.

He took a deep breath, clearly working up to something monumental. “What if we stopped dancing around this... whatever it is between us? I mean, maybe we should see what happens if we really tried?”

The gravity of his words hung in the air, punctuated by the sound of a cup clanking on the counter. “Like, ‘let’s go on a date’ trying, or are we talking about some Shakespearean tragedy level of commitment here?” I teased, trying to lighten the moment while my heart raced.

“Let’s start with dinner,” he replied, a grin creeping onto his face. “And we can save the tragedy for later. You know how much I love a good dramatic monologue.”

I laughed, my nerves easing. “Alright, Mr. Shakespeare, if we end up in a tragic mess, I’m definitely blaming you.”

We settled on a date for the following weekend, a plan neither of us dared to overthink. As the week passed, our conversations grew layered with excitement and a hint of nervous energy. I could hardly focus on work, my mind preoccupied with envisioning how our first official date would unfold—would it be magical or awkward?

Finally, Saturday arrived. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my outfit and wondering if I should take a page from our ongoing inside joke about wardrobe malfunctions. “Remember,” I whispered to myself, channeling my inner Michael Christian. “No one ever looked good tripping over their own feet.”

We decided to meet at the iconic *Space Needle*, a symbol of Seattle’s vibrant spirit. I arrived early, watching the sunset bleed orange and pink across the sky, thinking of how beautiful this moment felt. When I saw him striding toward me, hands in his pockets, I couldn’t shake the thrill coursing through my veins.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” I teased playfully. “No coffee stains today?”

“Only the finest espresso for our first date,” he replied, striking a mock pose. “If this goes well, I’ll invest in a bib.”

“Very classy,” I smirked, and before I knew it, I was stepping closer to him, heart pounding.

As we ascended the Space Needle, the city unfolded beneath us like a tapestry. The lights twinkled in the distance, and I felt a warm glow enveloping us. “You know,” Alex began, gazing out at the horizon, “they say love is like the view from up here—sometimes it’s breathtaking, and other times, you just need to squint to see it clearly.”

I chuckled. “Your metaphors are getting better. Is this how you woo girls?”

He turned to me, a serious expression etched across his face. “No, really,” he said softly, “I’ve admired you for so long. I don’t want to just be friends anymore. I want to be someone who cherishes you the way you deserve.”

My breath hitched in my throat. “So, you want to be my partner in crime?”

“Absolutely. But we might have to stop breaking windows during our adventures.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us dissipating as joy took its place. “Alright, then. Let’s promise to always have each other’s backs when we’re out there conquering the world—or at least attempting to not trip over our own feet.”

With the shimmering Seattle skyline as our backdrop, we shared our first kiss—a sweet mix of anticipation and laughter. As we pulled away, I couldn’t help

[felduhuutruong]

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. To the silenced and the sung. To the hidden and the proud. To those journeying towards truth, and those seeking understanding. This is your story, too. Step in, brave reader. Together, let's dare to change the world, one page at a time. <3 CONTENTS 1. Quiet Corners 2. Unmasking Shadows 3. The Hospital Haven 4. Window Talks 5. The Long Walk Home 6. A New Mirror 7. Building Bridges 8. Stargazing 9. The Mask Falls 10. Seismic Shocks 11. Stepping into Light 12. Truth Unveiled 13. Echoes of Change 14. Rise Above Acknowledgments About the Author 1 QUIET CORNERS I'm Ethan, a seventeen-year-old living in my own pocket of silence within the deafening orchestra of life. My room, cast in the warm glow from the lamp on my desk, is my sanctuary. It's the one place where serenity washes over me, where I am unequivocally myself. Here, there are no judgments, no expectations, only me, and my faithful companions: my books. The walls of my room serve as a chronicle of my journey. Adorned with posters of esteemed authors and cherished books, punctuated with poignant literary quotes, they provide an insight into the world of a boy who finds solace in fictional realms. A boy who often prefers the companionship of characters over real people. This room, with its soothing familiarity and reassuring security, is a tranquil haven. My room is compact but inviting. Shelves, sagging slightly under the weight of books from every genre, are a testament to my love for literature. Each book offers an escape, a portal into a myriad of different worlds and lives. They've been my faithful confidants during countless sleepless nights, their narratives acting as lullabies, their characters providing companionship amidst my solitude. Tonight, ensconced in my favourite reading nook by the window, the soft blanket providing warmth against the chill of the night, I'm lost in a world of fantasy. I relish the idea of shrugging off reality and diving headfirst into realms where I can be a knight, a magician, a hero who battles dragons and rescues entire kingdoms. Tonight, however, I'm not a hero. I'm just a young boy seeking solace in stories. The hushed hum of the night outside punctuates my reading, providing a soothing soundtrack. As I delve deeper into the book, the characters seem to materialise in the quiet of my room, their voices whispering their tales in the silence. This immersion allows me to experience the adventure, the romance, and the heartbreaks of these characters, to vicariously feel their joy, their despair, their victories. It's a temporary reprieve, a much-needed liberation from my problems, worries, and insecurities. Within the universe of books, there's no need for pretence or a facade. There's no need to fit into a predefined mould or concern myself with societal judgments. Here, in this quiet sanctuary, I can just be Ethan. People often tell me I need to "get out more," to "make more friends." They fail to understand that this world of words and silence is my reality. I've found friendship within the characters that populate my books, discovered wisdom nestled within the lines, and found a comforting silence that speaks volumes. I won't deny the occasional pangs of loneliness that sometimes accompany my solitude, or the yearning for a connection that extends beyond the confines of the

[hwonsstuff]

(17:10)

Pairing: Husband!BangChan x Wife!FReader

Genre: Smut

Warnings/notes: unprotected sex (safety first, wrap it), dirty talk, horny couples (and you, reader), creampie, a bit of cursing, daddy kinks, roleplay, f reader sending nudes, fingering, blowjobs.

⚠️ MINORS DNI! 18+ ⚠️

Gif as illustration only

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

You know your husband been so busy lately, you only meet him at night because he went go work really early due to his schedule.

You realised these days, he is so needy every night. That everynight after his bath, he would go bed hugging you from behind and rut his member at you, begging you to do something with it. He needs you.

But everytime he did that, you stop him. Turn your around and mumble against his chest that he need to get some rest. He can't deny the fact that he do need rest but he's lowkey getting needy and needier for you touch. So he decide to just wait. He knows you're going to do something about it.

Little did he didn't know, you were teasing him. You know you can give yourself to him right away but no, you want to tease him.

Chan's phone vibrates while he was driving to home.

"Chris~" *2 photos*

"fuck.." Chan cursed under his breath after he view the photos you sent to him.

You're wearing his favourite white lingerie, posing on the bed with your ass up and your back lowered down. Sitting down infront of the mirror with your legs spreading apart, showing your hole.

Chan get hard at the sight of you infront of the mirror like that, thinking of how he would fuck you relentlessly infront of the mirror, hearing you moaning his name, how well you take him with your warm walls around him. He sweats a bit, feeling his pants getting tighter as he thinks of you. He really crave for you.

He start typing back, carefully while driving.

"Don't make me touch myself while driving, baby,"

"What's my naughty angel up to, tonight?"

He replied.

Vibrates once again after he put the phone down on the passenger seat.

He pick it up and accidentally moan lowly reading your replies.

"Why don't you come home fast, daddy?"

"Looking foward to our meeting tonight, daddy. I'll wait patiently. 😏"

As soon as he read your replies, he start to speed up.

"Baby! Angel baby!" Chan close the door, walk directly to your shared room.

He stops at the room, looking at you sitting down gracefully on the bed.

You saw his mouth agape, scanning your body up and down. His white long sleeve shirt folded up a bit messy, his blazer on his arm and his bag hugging his right shoulder.

Chan smirk, putting all his things down and walk up to you .

You stand up and Chan hugging your waist. He start kissing your neck wetly and moan quietly between the kisses on your neck.

"You like it?" You whisper at his ear as he kisses your neck.

"So fucking much, my angel"

You push him down to the bed, his hands on the bed supporting his body. You kiss his forehead then his lips. You begin to undo his buttons, kissing his toned chest as you stand between his legs. You caress his waist, his chest and it made him whimper against your touch. you start sitting on his lap, your legs beside his thighs, kissing his lips passionately.

His hands on your waist, gripping your ass occasionally as you both make out. He hug your waist tightly as the make out heated. He starts whimpering against your mouth, you pull away and coos at him teasingly.

"what's wrong daddy?"

He mumbled against your chest, "my angel, please.. don't you think i've been good..." Kissing you collarbone, your chestt.. "a good boy for you? Please? Daddy wants you," he pause and kisses clothed nipple, start to massage your another tit, "daddy've been good right? Don't i deserve my angel?" He whimpers softly.

You moan at his lips against your body, tugging his hair a bit and unintentionally grind on his hard one. "Of course you've been good, daddy. Good job, now let me reward daddy?" You said with an innocent face. He smiles softly and smirks a bit at your behaviour.

You sit down between his leg, unzip his pants and take out his hard one out. You gasps at the size of it and how red is the tip. He looks at you smirking but his ears are a bit red. He knows you never get enough over his member, you're the only reason he can be this hard.

You start pumping his hard member up and dow, tight and slow. His head thrown back, moans softly at the feeling of your hand wrap around his member.

You start to lick the tip as his pre cum drool over his shaft and you hand. You swirl your tongue around his tip, making him bucks a bit at the feeling. You keep teasing his tips while you pump his shaft.

"baby, please... Quit the tease please" he moan between his words. His hand stroke your hair as he moans and enjoy the sight of you sucking the tip of his member.

You start to suck his member up and down, making him moan a bit more louder. "Oh fuck.. just like that, angel. So good, mmh" he moan out as he hold your head with his hand. You start to suck him up and down more faster as you felt his member twitch on your tongue, his hand on your head keeps pressing you down as you suck him up and down fast. He moans loudly, so close to the edge. Until he is almost there, you stop and pull away. Both of you pants heavily.

"Baby.." he whimper, almost crying. He literally needs to cum but you stop him. He whimpers against your belly as he hugs your waist when you stand up. You stroke his hair, gently and lovingly.

"I don't want to finish this early, daddy. We have a lot of things to do, " you coo at him teasingly.

You take off his shirt and he hurrily take off his pants too, leaving himself naked at the side of the bed. You were giggling as you saw how fast he took off his clothes. He pouted and frowns a bit at your giggle, "It's not my fault that i keep being needy, you keep rejecting me every night,"

You cup his cheeks and kisses his pouty lips "I'm sorry then if that's my fault, sit against the headboard and you'll be fine," you wink at him.

He slaps your ass as you teased him like that, gaining a yelp from you. He smirks and proceed to do what you asked, of course he is excited for it. You didn't waste your time stripping infront of him. He just can't get over your body, it made him feel more needy in this state of him.

You sit on his laps again, grinding your wet folds slowly against his shaft. You both moan at the friction. His hands settles on your hip while you hug his shoulder. You keep teasing his member as you grind on him "please, please .. i really need you, angel," he said.

You can't deny his request because you're needy as he is, so you lines his member against your enterance, teasing the tip a bit. You push yourself down his member fully. He moans loud against your neck as you bit his shoulder and muffled moans.

You start riding him foward and backward motion, slowly. You take your time to feel him in you, his hands guiding your hip. You both moan as if you both been longing to this intimacy. You didn't regret for making Chan waiting. As you feel like you're almost cumming, you start to speed up the pace and mumbles against his neck that you're about to cum.

"yes yes, yes.. cum for me, angel. Oh my, shit... I'm cummi-" his moan choked as he cums into you and you came around him too. He seems to cum a lot that when you look up at him, he look like he is all fucked out.

After calming down, he pull out and lay you down. As he hovers you he start inserting his two finger into you, pumping it in and out slowly, making you moan under him. He lean down and whisper at your eat "we're not finished right? You're getting your punished for rejecting me night before," he growled a bit. You whimper and bit you lip as you almost cum for the second time.

The night is long..

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A/N: Hi! Another smut.. yeah... Well, i found inspiration through tiktok so why don't i make a scene about it. Enjoy, my horny STAYs 🦋😏😘🤺

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