#okay bye i’m fucking tired

[ethereallroses]

guys. do NOT go into architecture because of kaveh. CAD programs fucking suck i want to rip all my hair out. it’s not worth it guys..

[bandsanitizer]

the way that it doesn’t just make me sad but angry that idols are expected to apologize not just for disappointing fans and their members but for harming them by so much as even having a dating rumor bc is it that bad they found love? or something that could become that? is it that bad for the people you supposedly love and support to be happy? yes I know the industry basically runs on the parasocial relationships but isn’t it high time to recognize that someone else’s happiness is not an attempt to ruin yours? that even if it is painful or difficult for you, that is not the responsibility of the idol. they should not need to apologize for their own happiness and events within their personal life which half the time come out as leaks (read: invasions of their privacy) rather than on their own time. and to go as far as to say it implies they don’t deserve their job or should leave their group… artists experiencing things in life? the emotions of affection and infatuation and love and endearment and everything else that comes with a romantic relationship? that’s only going to give them the capacity to create greater and more enriched art. i’m not saying they’re in a relationship to do (and I certainly hope not) but if you need any reason at all to refrain from causing these idols harm in the way you claim their happiness has so deeply harmed and disappointed you, then take it as them living. that life needs art and art needs life.

[skhardwarevers1]

MEET OVER DEBRIEF TIME !!!!! so I ran 200 and 4x100 (I was the third leg in the 4x1) and…

NEW RECORD IN THE 200!!!!! AGGAHEHED. I RAN A 36.72!!!!! EEUUEUEGHWHSJS ^_^ My team’s 4x100 time was a 1:06:57, not too bad for our first time #_#

[insomnia-productions]

ice pick lobotomy me please

[heartsbyani]

don't leave me , my love

[ 방찬 ] ✷ ‎. . after a series of terrible arguments, you break up with your boyfriend. life slows down. but then . . ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑖dol𝑏f!chris ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. heavy angst , lots of tears , misunderstandings , hurt , lovers to exes to ??? , second chance love , skz ensemble . 12OOOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. language , injuries , car-accident . ┆ ✉️ ⋮ a req. oneshot .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihihihihii finally another channie fic !!!!! the loml. seungchan stans rise !! i loved loved loved writing this. my angst comeback guys (flashback to my early tumblr era where all i posted was angst....) eh. i love angst. so much. woohoo okay bye <3 oh and ty for the req. anon !!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the room smelled like rain.

not in the fresh, new-beginnings kind of way, but in the way that clung to damp clothes and old wounds.

it seeped through the cracks of the windowpane, curling around the tension like a silent spectator. outside, the city pulsed—headlights cutting through the mist, distant sirens wailing, the soft patter of rain against the glass an unwanted metronome to the argument unfolding within these four walls.

“you don’t fucking get it,” your boyfriend's voice cut sharp through the quiet, raw and exhausted, an edge to it that he never used on you before. not like this.

his fingers gripped the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip like he was trying to physically hold himself together. “you don’t—god, y/n, you don’t understand what it’s like to carry this.”

you stood by the doorway, arms crossed so tightly against yourself it almost felt like a shield. the air was thick with it—frustration, exhaustion, love buried under layers of hurt.

you felt it like a weight pressing against your ribs.

how it had started.

the room was dark save for the faint glow of his laptop screen. the hum of the air conditioner filled the space, masking the silence that had grown between you two over the last few days.

you had sat across from him, knees pulled to your chest on the worn-out couch in the room. the atmosphere was suffocating—a mix of tension and exhaustion—and you weren’t sure when the comfort of this small, cramped room had turned into a battlefield.

he was hunched over his desk, headphones perched around his neck, fingers frozen above his keyboard. you could see the subtle tremble in his hands, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly despite his usual perfect posture.

chris—was tired. that much was clear. but what stung was how he wouldn’t let you in.

“you’ve been sitting there for hours,” you had said softly, your voice hesitant, almost afraid of breaking the fragile calm that hung between you.

“i’m working,” he replied curtly, not bothering to meet your gaze.

it wasn’t the first time you had this conversation, but tonight it felt different. there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. you could feel the ache in your chest building, a familiar burn of frustration mixed with concern.

“you’ve been working for days,” you shot back, louder this time. “you barely eat, you barely sleep, and—”

“i’m fine,” he interrupted, his tone sharp and clipped, his eyes finally meeting yours. there was something in his gaze—tired, distant, and defensive—that made you hesitate for a moment.

“you’re not fine, chan.”

the words hung in the air like a challenge. he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. his laptop screen dimmed, signaling inactivity, and for a second, you thought he might actually listen. but then he turned his chair to face you, and the frustration etched across his face sent a chill down your spine.

“why do you always do this?” he snapped.

your heart sank. “do what?”

“this!” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “this… nagging. you don’t get it, do you? this is my job. this is my life. i can’t just stop because you think i’m overworking myself.”

you blinked, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “i’m not.. nagging, chan. i’m worried about you. there’s a difference.”

“well, it doesn’t feel that way.”

the bitterness in his voice was like a slap to the face. you stared at him, disbelief and hurt warring within you. “do you even hear yourself right now?”

“yeah, i do!” he shot back, his voice rising. “i hear myself every damn day, y/n. and you know what? i’m sick of it. i’m sick of feeling like i have to explain myself to you all the time.”

your hands balled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing. the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words echoed in your mind.

“explain yourself?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “i’m not asking for an explanation, chan. i’m asking for you to let me in. to let me help you.”

“help me with what?” he spoke, standing abruptly. the chair screeched against the floor, and the sudden movement startled you. “you can’t help me, y/n. no one can. this is my responsibility. my burden. not yours! and i don't need you worrying to add on to that weight!”

“don’t do that,” you shot back, voice steadier than you felt.

“don’t act like i don’t understand you, like i haven’t been here every single fucking night waiting for you to come home, waiting for you to remember i exist outside of your damn laptop and deadlines.” your breath hitched, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to stay level. “i do understand, chris. but you don’t let me in.”

chris let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he turned away, running a hand through his curls in frustration. his fingers were trembling.

you knew he hadn’t eaten properly today. you knew, the small, white snackbox you had packed his favorite rice in, was left untouched. you knew he hadn’t slept much either. but that didn’t change the fact that he was hurting you.

“you want me to let you in? fine.” he turned back to you, eyes dark with exhaustion, jaw tight.

“i have no time. none. i have a fucking comeback to prepare, songs that aren’t finished, choreography that isn’t final, members who rely on me, a company breathing down my neck—” he took a step closer, and even though he wasn’t yelling, his voice was thunder. “i don’t get to sit around and wait for my life to fall into place, y/n. i have to make it happen.”

his words hit like a gut punch. you flinched before you could stop yourself.

something in his expression shifted for half a second—guilt flashing behind the anger—but he didn’t stop. couldn’t stop.

“and what, huh? you want me to pause? to step away? to just—what? go on dates, lay in bed all day with you, pretend that none of this exists?” his voice cracked, his hands clenching into fists. “i can’t, y/n. i can’t afford to be selfish like that.”

you felt something splinter inside of you.

"wow," you whispered, blinking rapidly as you looked at him. "is that what you think this is? me asking you to be... selfish?" your voice was quiet, but it held the weight of everything you’d been holding back. "i have never asked you to choose me over your career, chan. never. but i wanted—no, i needed you to meet me halfway. to at least fucking try. but you didn’t. you never do.”

chan scoffed, rubbing his temple, pacing like he was barely keeping himself together. "you don’t get it, y/n. you never will."

and that—that—was what broke you.

your hands shook. you swallowed the lump in your throat, but your voice still wavered. "you don’t get it, chan. you don’t fucking get what it’s like to love someone who makes you feel like an afterthought. to go to bed alone every single night and wonder if you even cross their mind.” you exhaled shakily.

“i never asked you to give up your dreams for me. i just wanted to be a part of them. but i guess i was asking for too much.”

he let out another bitter laugh, his face twisting. "i make you feel like an afterthought? that’s rich, coming from someone who doesn’t have to live under this pressure." his voice rose, sharp and unrelenting.

"you don’t know what it’s like to have the weight of an entire fucking group and a partner on your shoulders. to feel like if you fuck up, you’re dragging everyone down with you." he was breathing heavily, shoulders shaking. “you think i don’t want to be with you? you think i choose this over you? i fucking hate this. i hate feeling like this. but i don’t have a choice.”

there it was. the breaking point.

your lip trembled, and you hated yourself for it. "you do have a choice, chan. you always did." you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. "you just never chose me."

silence.

a ringing, deafening silence that made the rain outside sound like gunfire.

the crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, but it only fueled your own anger. “oh, and weight? is that what you think i’m trying to do? burden you?”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“then what did you mean?” you interrupted, standing as well. your voice was louder now, shaking but firm. the tension between you crackled like a live wire, and neither of you seemed willing to back down.

“i don’t know!” he shouted, his hands flying to his hair in frustration. “i don’t know, okay? i’m fucking tired, y/n. i’m tired of all of this.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest, his words ringing in your ears. he didn’t mean it, you told yourself. he was just frustrated, just exhausted. but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“all of this?” you repeated quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he froze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what he had said. “no, i didn’t mean—”

“save it, chan,” you cut him off, your voice cold and flat. “you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

chan stared at you, eyes widening, as if only now realizing how deep the wound he had inflicted was. his lips parted slightly, and for the first time that night, his anger faltered. his hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, to fix the damage, to take it all back. but he didn’t move.

you exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to look away. "i can’t do this anymore," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. your own words tasted like ash.

chan took a step closer, his voice softer now, desperate. “y/n—”

“i think we should take a break.”

the words left your mouth before you could stop them, and once they were out in the open, there was no taking them back.

chan inhaled sharply, like you had just physically struck him. his face crumpled for the briefest moment before he forced it into something unreadable. he nodded once, barely.

“fine,” he said. but it was not fine. none of this was fine.

you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his for the last time in weeks. and maybe, in some cruel way, you were both waiting—waiting for one of you to stop this, to say something, anything that could undo the damage.

but neither of you did.

and that was how it ended.

or, maybe, how it all began.

you turned away, grabbing your jacket from the couch and heading for the door. your vision blurred with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. not here. not now.

“thank you,” you stopped in the doorway, your back to him. your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of the moment threatening to crush you. “really, for everything. i wish you nothing but happiness, christopher.”

the door closed behind you with a soft click, and the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. the night air was cold against your skin as you stepped outside, but it did little to numb the ache in your chest.

you didn’t know how long you stood there, staring at the empty street, your mind replaying the argument over and over again. his words, your words, the pain and anger that had filled the room—it was all too much.

and yet, despite everything, you couldn’t stop loving him.

present time : the first snow.

the morning stretched itself thin across the sky, a pale, muted kind of light filtering in through the curtains. it was the kind of cold that bit through the windows, creeping into the cracks of the apartment like it had been waiting for permission to enter. the air felt heavier today, as if winter had fully settled into its place, pressing its weight into the walls, into the silence, into the empty spaces beside you.

you sat by the window, knees drawn up against your chest, your breath fogging up the glass. outside, snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, dancing in the quiet before settling onto the pavement below. the city looked softer like this—less like the endless rush of bodies and neon lights and more like something frozen in time. for a moment, just a moment, it almost felt peaceful.

almost.

but then the memories came creeping in. the way the first snow always meant something to the both of you. how he would drag you outside, laughing, even when you whined about the cold.

"come on, it’s tradition, babe, you can’t just sit inside like an old grandma."

how he’d cup his hands together, carefully forming a snowball, only to grin mischievously before pelting it straight at your shoulder. the way you’d chase after him, slipping and stumbling, both of you breathless from laughter, cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

and then—later. after the cold had seeped into your bones, after your fingers were numb from the snow, how you’d both tumble inside, shaking off your coats, limbs tangled together as you curled up by the fireplace.

the heat of the flames casting golden light across his face, the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around you. how he’d press lazy kisses to your temple, whispering in that quiet, tired voice of his,

you’re warm. stay like this forever.

you blinked. the snow outside blurred for a second before settling again into focus.

it had been weeks.

weeks since that night. weeks since you last heard his voice, felt the rough callouses of his fingertips against yours. the apartment had never been this quiet before. not really. not in a way that stretched into your bones like this.

you exhaled sharply, rubbing at your eyes before pushing yourself up from the chair.

no. stop it. get up.

the cold floor met your feet as you padded toward the bathroom. the water ran hot, steam curling against the mirror as you stepped into the shower, letting it scorch against your skin, washing away whatever remnants of sleep and memories still clung to you.

you let yourself stay there longer than usual, hands braced against the tile, watching the water swirl down the drain.

by the time you stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged over, your reflection nothing more than a blur.

you ignored it.

instead, you pulled on a sweater—thick, oversized, soft. paired it with jeans, boots, wrapped a scarf around your neck. routine. just keep moving.

the apartment felt emptier than usual as you moved through it, wiping down counters, straightening pillows, clearing dishes that didn’t even need clearing. you weren’t sure why you were cleaning so meticulously. maybe it was just something to do with your hands, something to keep yourself from thinking too much.

but even then, the silence pressed in. the absence of his voice. the way he used to hum under his breath while scrolling through his phone. the way he’d reach for you absentmindedly, fingers finding yours without even thinking.

you swallowed.

the clock on the wall read 10:42 am.

late. you needed to leave soon.

you grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders, fingers fumbling with the buttons. your scarf was next, wrapped snugly around your neck, followed by your gloves. you caught your reflection in the mirror near the door and paused.

the sweater you had chosen—it was his.

you thought you had returned all of his belongings that stayed in your apartment.

his sweaters, hoodies, tees, sweats.

maybe this was the unlucky— or lucky one.

a quiet, humorless laugh escaped your lips.

of course it was.

you debated changing it. maybe you should. but then again… maybe it didn’t matter.

the streets were covered in a thin layer of snow as you stepped outside, the air crisp against your skin. your breath curled in white clouds, disappearing into the winter sky. people moved past you—some alone, some hand in hand, their laughter rising into the air. you pulled your coat tighter around yourself, shoving your hands into your pockets.

the restaurant— your restaurant, the empty place by the busy crossroads you'd bought a few years ago, was a few blocks away. a small, warm place you had always loved—your own little escape from the rest of the world. the bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, warmth wrapping around you instantly.

you forced a small smile at the familiar faces, nodding in greeting.

routine.

just keep moving.

the warm, familiar scent of fresh bread and spices enveloped you as you stepped behind the counter, shrugging off your coat. the restaurant was alive in the way it always was at this time of the day—soft clatters of cutlery against ceramic plates, the low hum of conversation from occupied tables, the occasional burst of laughter from a corner booth.

it smelled like home, like routine, like something steady when everything else felt uncertain.

“morning, boss.”

you glanced up to see mira, one of the servers, leaning against the counter with a knowing smirk. she had been working here almost as long as you could remember, joined a few months after you started the restaurant chain, and she knew you well enough to read your moods before you even said a word.

“you’re late,” she teased, but there was no bite to her words.

“i’m not late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you tied your apron around your waist. “i just… took my time getting here.”

mira gave you a look—one that was far too perceptive for your liking—but didn’t press. instead, she just handed you a notepad. “table five wants a refill on their coffee, and table two asked about the special of the day.”

you took the notepad with a nod. “got it.”

and just like that, the day began.

the hours passed in a blur of movement and familiarity. you lost yourself in the rhythm of it—taking orders, pouring coffee, clearing tables, exchanging pleasantries with customers who had been coming here for years. the work was muscle memory at this point, your hands moving on autopilot while your mind drifted elsewhere.

somewhere in the middle of the lunch rush, as you wiped down the counter, jaehyun—one of the chefs, poked his head out from the back. “hey, y/n, you eating today or just running on caffeine and regrets?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “i’ll eat later.”

“you always say that.”

“i mean it this time.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you said that last time too.”

“i—okay, fine.” you held up your hands in surrender. “i’ll grab something when the rush dies down.”

he grumbled something under his breath before disappearing back into the kitchen, and mira smirked from where she was refilling a salt shaker.

“he’s got a point,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “when’s the last time you actually sat down and ate a meal?”

you waved her off, busying yourself with stacking plates. “i eat. at home.”

“uh-huh. sure.”

you didn’t have an answer to that, so you didn’t bother giving one.

the day continued. the restaurant buzzed with life—friends catching up over coffee, families sharing warm meals, couples leaning into each other, their conversations dipping into soft murmurs.

you liked this. you liked watching people exist in these little moments, as if nothing else outside of these walls mattered.

an older woman at table seven caught your eye as you passed by. she smiled kindly. “it’s nice seeing you again, dear.”

you blinked. “oh—thank you. it’s nice seeing you too.”

“you’ve looked a bit tired lately,” she observed, stirring her tea slowly. “make sure you’re taking care of yourself, alright?”

there was something about the way she said it—something warm, something familiar—that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

you swallowed. “i will.”

you weren’t sure if that was a lie.

the evening arrived before you realized it, the once-busy restaurant now quiet as the last of the customers trickled out into the cold night. the staff began to clock out one by one, exchanging tired goodbyes as they pulled on their coats.

“you sure you don’t need help closing up?” mira asked, pausing at the door.

you shook your head, forcing a small smile. “i got it.”

she studied you for a moment before sighing. “alright. don’t stay too late.”

“i won’t.”

she gave you one last skeptical look before disappearing into the night, leaving you alone with the faint hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of the wind outside.

you exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

the silence was heavier now.

slowly, methodically, you began the closing routine. you wiped down tables, stacked chairs, swept the floors, turned off the neon ‘open’ sign that flickered against the window. the motions were comforting in a way. predictable.

but when you finally locked the door and turned to face the empty restaurant, something about it felt unbearably lonely.

this place had always been warm, filled with laughter and conversation and life. but right now, standing here alone with nothing but the sound of your own breathing, it felt hollow.

you swallowed, staring at the spot where he used to sit when he came by to wait for you after his own schedule.

the memories came too easily. the way he’d lean back in the chair, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his lips as he watched you work.

you’re cute when you’re focused, he’d say. like, ridiculously cute.

you had always rolled your eyes at that, but—god, what you would give to hear it again.

shaking your head, you grabbed your coat and turned off the last of the lights.

the night was waiting.

and so was the silence.

. . .

the car was absurdly cold when you got in, the leather seats stiff from the winter air. you sighed, rubbing your hands together before gripping the steering wheel, the silence of the empty parking lot pressing against you.

the restaurant behind you was dark now, locked up for the night, its warmth left behind in the echo of distant laughter and clinking glasses.

you stared ahead for a moment, letting the weight of the day settle onto your shoulders. the exhaustion clung to you, heavy and unmoving, but there was something else beneath it—something quieter. something you didn’t want to name.

with a slow inhale, you turned the key in the ignition. the engine rumbled to life, the soft hum filling the car as headlights illuminated the frost-kissed windshield. you sat there for a beat longer, watching your breath fog up the glass.

then, finally, you pulled out onto the road.

the city stretched out before you, streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. the roads weren’t as busy at this hour, but there was still movement—taxis weaving through lanes, pedestrians bundled up in coats, the occasional cyclist braving the cold.

the world kept moving, even when you felt stuck.

your fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel as the radio played low through the speakers. some old song, one you barely recognized. the melody was soft, almost lulling, the kind of tune that made your thoughts wander.

and they did.

“you’re always working.”

his voice was still so clear in your mind. that night, the argument—it played back in fragments, like scenes from a movie you couldn’t turn off.

“and what about you, chan? you act like you’re the only one trying here.”

your grip tightened. the memory of his voice, the sharpness of his words, the way frustration had tangled between you like something inevitable.

“maybe we need a break.”

you blinked hard. the traffic light ahead turned red, and you eased the car to a stop, exhaling as you leaned back against the seat.

the world outside the window blurred slightly, the glow of headlights streaking across the wet pavement. snow had started falling again, light and unhurried, swirling beneath the streetlights.

you used to love this time of year—the first snowfall, the way the city seemed to quiet under its weight.

and him.

you remembered the way he used to pull you into the cold, ignoring your protests as he dragged you into the snow-covered streets, laughter spilling from his lips like warmth against the winter air.

“you’re so dramatic,” you had grumbled, shivering in your coat.

“and you’re no fun,” he had teased, tugging you closer. “come on, just one snowball fight.”

“you say that every year.”

“and every year, darling, you lose.”

the memory made something inside you ache. the way he would wrap you in his arms afterward, pressing his cold nose against your cheek just to make you squirm.

the way you’d sit by the fireplace afterward, tangled together under thick blankets, sharing hot cocoa that he always made too sweet.

it had been easy, then.

before the late nights, before the exhaustion, before the words that had chipped away at what you had built together.

before you started feeling like you were losing him.

the light turned green.

you blinked, shaking your head as if to clear it, and pressed your foot against the gas pedal.

and then—

the world tilted.

a sickening crunch of metal. the sharp, jarring impact of force slamming into you. the violent, uncontrollable spinning.

for a split second, all you saw were headlights—blinding, swallowing everything in white—before everything blurred into chaos.

the sound was deafening. screeching tires, the shriek of twisting steel, car horns blaring, the distant shouts of people. the seatbelt dug into your chest, locking you in place as the car was thrown sideways. your vision swam, dizziness clawing at you, and then—

silence.

everything felt… far away.

the ringing in your ears was the only sound you could process, drowning out the panic outside. your vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening, swallowing up the streetlights, the movement, the shapes of people rushing toward you.

your fingers twitched, barely. your head lolled slightly to the side, and through the cracked windshield, you saw red and blue lights flashing in the distance.

voices.

faint. muffled.

“is she breathing?”

“call an ambulance—”

“stay with me, okay?”

you wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but the words didn’t come.

your eyelids felt heavier now. the weight of exhaustion, of impact, of something you didn’t want to name, pressed down on you, pulling you under.

somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.

then—

darkness.

. . .

the world around you existed in fragments.

there was no time, no clear beginning or end—just moments bleeding into each other, slipping between consciousness and the heavy pull of unconsciousness. you weren’t awake, but you weren’t entirely gone either. you were somewhere, floating in the space between pain and oblivion.

the first thing you registered was the weightlessness, the peculiar sensation of being lifted, carried. the cold, biting wind was gone, replaced with the sterile scent of something clinical—alcohol, antiseptic, the faint metallic tang of blood.

voices. sharp, rushed. urgent.

"bp’s dropping—move!"

"we need to stabilize—"

"get her on the stretcher—"

there were hands on you, pressing against your limbs, holding you still. you wanted to move, to speak, to tell them that you were here, but your body refused to listen. it felt like trying to swim against a current that only dragged you further down.

the pressure of something tightening around your arm. the firm press of fingers against your wrist—checking, counting, assessing. the beeping of machines, rapid and rhythmic, like an anxious heartbeat.

"possible concussion—mild contusions—check for internal bleeding."

the sounds flickered in and out. you slipped again, deeper into the darkness, but not completely.

then—light.

harsh, fluorescent, searing through closed eyelids.

the movement stopped. the sensation of being lifted again, transferred. the scrape of wheels against tile. doors swinging open. more voices.

"pupils reactive—no immediate signs of severe trauma—"

"get an iv started."

the world tilted. the mattress beneath you was firmer than the seat of your car, colder than the pavement. a hand smoothed over your forehead, pushing back strands of hair matted with sweat. the touch was gentle, grounding.

"you're in the hospital," a voice said, distant but soothing. "we’re going to take care of you. just rest."

rest.

the word settled over you like a command, a lullaby. the beeping of the machines steadied. you let yourself be pulled under again.

when you resurfaced, it was slow.

a dull ache pulsed at the edges of your awareness, the type that came in waves—bearable, but constant. your body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and something else.

the first thing you saw was the ceiling. white. sterile. unmoving.

then, your own hands—resting limply against stiff sheets, an iv taped to your wrist, an oxygen clip attached to your finger.

a hospital room.

the realization settled into your bones before you fully processed it. the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the faint hum of ventilation, the low murmur of voices outside the door—it was all unfamiliar.

your throat was dry. you swallowed, wincing at the soreness that stretched across your ribs, the dull sting blooming in your arm. not unbearable. but not comfortable either.

there was movement beside you.

a nurse.

she had kind eyes, the kind that made you feel like you weren’t alone in this too-bright, too-quiet place. she glanced at you, a small, reassuring smile appearing as she noticed you were awake.

"welcome back," she said softly, reaching to adjust something on the iv line.

you tried to speak—tried to ask what had happened, how long you had been here—but the moment your lips parted, she shook her head.

"don't strain yourself," she murmured, voice gentle but firm. "the doctor will come by soon, but for now, just rest. talking will only make it worse."

you frowned, but the protest never made it past your lips. even if it had, you doubted it would’ve been much more than a weak rasp.

she adjusted your pillow, moving carefully, as if she knew exactly where you hurt. the iv line shifted slightly, the cool liquid continuing to drip down into your veins, dulling the sharper edges of pain.

"your car got in an accident," the nurse continued, her tone soft, as though the words themselves were delicate. "you’re lucky—it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. some injuries, but nothing that won’t heal."

lucky.

the word felt foreign, distant. you had stopped at the light. you had waited. and yet—

your fingers twitched slightly against the blanket. you tried to piece together what had happened, the moment the world had gone from mundane to chaos, but the memories were scattered. all you could recall were headlights and the sickening weight of impact.

the nurse must have noticed the way your breathing shifted, because she placed a light hand on your arm, grounding.

"you need to rest," she said again, softer this time. "sleep will help."

you wanted to argue. you wanted to ask why this had happened, how long you had been here, if anyone had come to see you. if he—

but your body was already betraying you, exhaustion dragging at your limbs.

the pain wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough. enough to remind you that you weren’t okay. that you wouldn’t be for a while.

so you let your eyes slip shut.

not because you weren’t afraid of the darkness this time.

but because, for the moment, there was nothing else you could do.

the hospital was quiet in a way that felt unnatural.

not the usual city stillness—the kind that came late at night when the streets were empty and only the hum of distant cars remained—but a silence laced with something heavier. something sterile. something fragile.

outside, the world moved on. people walked down busy sidewalks, cars skidded through melting patches of snow, neon signs flickered against the early evening dimness. life carried on, indifferent.

but here, in this fluorescent-lit corridor, the world had paused.

the nurse glanced at the clipboard in her hands, the patient’s name standing stark against the white paper. her brow furrowed slightly before she exhaled, reaching for the phone on the counter.

"are you sure this is the right contact?" the doctor beside her asked, checking the same file.

"it’s listed as her emergency number."

the nurse hesitated for only a moment before pressing the call button.

one ring.

two.

a click.

the voice that answered was slightly out of breath, like they had been running.

"hello?"

"hello, is this..."

. . .

silence. the kind that didn’t come from confusion, but realization.

the kind that carried weight.

and then the line went dead.

the waiting room door pushed open half an hour later.

the person entered in a rush, but not carelessly—like he had run, but forced himself to slow down the second he stepped inside. the nurses at the desk barely had a chance to greet him before he was already speaking, voice tight with urgency.

"i’m here for y/n l/n. i got a call."

one of the nurses, the same one who had called, recognized him immediately. she straightened.

"she's stable. sleeping. but—"

"what happened?" he didn’t mean to interrupt, but the words were out before he could stop them.

the doctor nearby spoke this time, his voice calm.

"a car accident. her injuries are moderate—some bruised ribs, minor fractures. a concussion, but nothing too severe. she was lucky. she'll need rest, but she'll recover."

the weight of those words landed squarely on his chest. he exhaled shakily.

"can i see her?"

the doctor exchanged a glance with the nurse before nodding.

"she's still unconscious.. had woken up for a bit, after we had gotten her here, but then she dozed out again. you can sit with her. just keep your voice down."

a nod. then, without another word, he followed them down the hall.

room 801 was dimly lit, the blinds drawn halfway.

the beeping of the heart monitor was steady, a quiet reassurance that life still lingered in this room, soft and persistent.

and there you were.

lying against the pristine white sheets, head turned slightly to the side, expression peaceful in a way that didn’t match the reality of what had happened.

your arm was bandaged, an iv drip feeding slow, steady doses of pain relief into your veins. a bruise, darkening at the edges, sat on your temple. your breathing was even, but too still. too quiet.

he took a step forward. then another.

until he was at your bedside, standing so close he could see the faint rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers twitched slightly even in sleep.

he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

and then—finally—he let himself feel it.

the panic. the helplessness. the gut-wrenching thought of what if?

what if the call had been worse? what if it hadn’t come at all? what if this had been it?

his fingers curled into a fist, nails pressing into his palm. he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep it together.

but his eyes were burning.

and before he could stop himself, he was sinking into the chair beside the bed, his hand hovering near yours but not touching. not yet.

"i’m sorry," he whispered, the words breaking in his throat.

you didn’t hear him.

but he said it anyway.

. . .

the room was quiet—too quiet.

a suffocating kind of stillness. the kind that settled in hospitals, lingering in the air like a held breath. it pressed against the walls, snaked into the cracks of the cold linoleum floor, wrapped itself around the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of metal. even the steady beeping of the monitor felt muted, almost like a whisper in the vast emptiness of it all.

and then there was him.

sitting hunched over in the chair, elbows braced against his knees, fingers threaded into his curls as he stared at the floor like it held all the answers he didn’t have.

his breath came shallow, unsteady. his chest felt tight, too tight, like the air wasn’t reaching his lungs no matter how hard he tried. his heartbeat pounded against his ribs, out of sync with the quiet rhythm of the machines.

the sight of you in that hospital bed was something he could barely process.

your face, pale against the stark white pillow. your arm, wrapped in clean bandages. the soft rise and fall of your chest, far too slow for his liking.

it didn’t feel real.

none of this felt real.

he swallowed thickly, but it did nothing to rid the lump in his throat.

he had been fine—or at least, he had convinced himself he was—right up until he saw you lying there, unmoving, their body smaller beneath the weight of the hospital sheets. that was when the panic finally crashed over him, dragging him under like a tide.

the kind of panic that left him hollow. that twisted something deep inside his chest, wringing him dry until all that was left was guilt and fear and—

he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to get a grip.

but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

his shoulders trembled. his fingers dug into his hair. his breath came out in a sharp, shaky exhale. and then—before he could stop it—his first sob broke free.

it tore through him, raw and aching, a sound ripped straight from the deepest part of his soul. his whole body caved under the weight of it, his forehead pressing against the heel of his palm as another sob wracked through his chest.

"shit," he choked out, barely above a whisper.

his hand clenched into a fist, nails pressing into his palm.

he wasn’t supposed to be like this.

he was supposed to be the calm one. the strong one. the one who kept things together even when everything else was falling apart.

but right now?

right now, he felt helpless.

his eyes burned as he lifted his head, gaze falling on you again. he wanted to reach out—wanted to take your hand in his, press his forehead against your knuckles, tell you he was here. that he wasn’t going anywhere. that everything was going to be okay.

but he couldn’t. because.. again,

because what if it wasn’t?

what if this was his fault?

the thought hit him again like a punch to the gut.

what if he had done something differently? what if he had been there? what if you hadn’t been alone?

what if—

"i’m so, so sorry, y/n," he whispered, voice breaking.

it wasn’t enough.

it would never be enough.

but it was all he had.

seconds passed. maybe minutes. he wasn’t sure. time had blurred into nothing but the quiet hum of the machines and the faint, rhythmic sound of his breathing.

he hadn’t moved from his spot.

couldn’t.

his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and emotions he wasn’t ready to name. his hands were trembling, his fingers flexing and curling against his knees as if trying to ground himself. but nothing worked.

the guilt still clung to him like a second skin.

and the worst part?

you didn’t even know he was here.

didn’t know that he had dropped everything the second he got the call. that he had nearly broken the speed limit trying to get here. that he had spent the last hour sitting by your side, trying and failing to pull himself together.

didn’t know how much he missed you.

how much he needed you.

he exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face.

then, hesitantly—almost as if afraid they would disappear if he touched you—he reached out.

his fingers hovered over yours for a second, hesitant, before finally pressing lightly against the back of your hand.

a warmth that was barely there. a quiet reassurance that you were still here. still breathing.

his throat tightened.

"please wake up," he murmured, barely audible.

it wasn’t a demand.

it wasn’t even a request.

it was a plea.

a desperate, aching plea that carried every ounce of guilt and regret and love that he hadn’t been able to say before.

but you didn’t move.

didn’t stir.

didn’t even twitch.

and that—more than anything—was what truly broke him.

the past few weeks : what remains in the silence

the studio lights hummed overhead, casting a dim, sterile glow over the cluttered desk, the scattered sheets of lyrics crumpled in frustration, the empty coffee cups pushed aside and forgotten. the air was thick, weighed down by the scent of exhaustion—of ink and paper, of stale caffeine and sleepless nights.

seated at the console, shoulders hunched, was him, fingers threading through his curls as he stared at the blinking waveform on the screen. the metronome ticked steadily in his ears, a cruel reminder of time passing, of the hours slipping through his fingers like sand.

it was late. too late. but that didn’t matter.

the others had gone home. the studio halls were quiet now, the usual buzz of voices and laughter absent, leaving only the low hum of the equipment and the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the table.

but he couldn’t leave.

not yet.

not when his chest still ached like this.

not when his mind kept playing the same loop of memories, over and over, like a cruel, broken record.

"you don’t get it, do you?"

the words echoed in his head, sharp and raw. your voice—frustrated, hurt—lingered like a ghost, filling every inch of the suffocating silence.

he had said things, too. things he didn’t mean. things he hadn’t even realized were leaving his mouth until it was too late.

and then it had ended.

just like that.

no closure. no finality. just silence.

and god, the silence was worse than anything else.

it was deafening.

it followed him everywhere.

to rehearsals, where his body moved on autopilot, executing every step with precision but feeling none of it. to meetings, where words blurred together and became meaningless noise. to the dorm, where the others cast worried glances his way but didn’t push, because they knew.

they knew he was a storm waiting to happen.

and here, in the studio, where it was just him and the music—his only escape—he found that even that had turned against him.

because every melody he wrote sounded like you.

every lyric that spilled from his pen became a memory. a moment. a fragment of something he had lost.

and he couldn’t do it.

he couldn’t use your voice as his muse.

so he erased them. again and again.

trashed the songs. deleted the files. ripped the pages from his notebook and threw them aside, watching as the words—his words, their words—were reduced to nothing more than discarded, crumpled paper on the floor.

but it didn’t stop.

it didn’t stop the ache.

didn’t stop the way his fingers shook when he reached for another blank sheet, knowing it would end up the same way.

didn’t stop the frustration that built in his chest, hot and suffocating, curling around his ribs like a vice.

"hyung."

the voice was soft, hesitant.

chan barely glanced up, recognizing the figure lingering in the doorway.

minho.

the younger guy leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyes dark with concern.

chan knew that look. knew the way minho studied him, like he was trying to pick apart the pieces of him that had begun to unravel.

"you should go home," minho said after a beat.

chan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. not this again.

"i’m fine."

minho’s eyes narrowed. "no, you’re not."

chan pressed his lips together, turning his gaze back to the screen, hoping minho would take the hint and leave it alone.

but minho never left things alone.

"you look like hell."

"thanks."

"that wasn’t a compliment."

chan sighed, rubbing at his temples. the headache that had been lingering for hours was starting to settle in, a dull, throbbing pulse at the base of his skull.

"i just need to finish this song."

minho’s expression didn’t change. "and then what?"

chan didn’t answer.

because he didn’t know.

didn’t know what came next.

didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made.

didn’t know how to stop feeling like he was drowning in his own emotions.

minho stepped further into the room, his gaze softening. "hyung."

chan swallowed. looked away.

"just let me work." his voice was quieter this time. almost pleading.

minho studied him for a long moment before exhaling through his nose.

"fine. but if you pass out from exhaustion, i’m dragging your ass out of here myself."

with that, minho turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

chan sat there, staring at the empty doorway, his hands clenched into fists.

he should go home.

should rest.

should sleep.

but he wouldn’t.

because the moment he closed his eyes, you would be there.

in his memories. in his mind.

and he didn’t know if he could handle that.

present : five days in winter

the hospital was cold.

not the kind of cold that seeped into bones, but the kind that settled somewhere deeper, heavier. a silence that stretched too long, too empty, filled only with the steady beeping of machines and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the far wall. the scent of antiseptic lingered, clinical and distant, sterilizing not just the air but the very essence of the place.

chan had learned to hate that smell.

it clung to him now, in his black hoodie, in his hair, in the tired lines beneath his eyes.

five days.

it had been five days since he first walked into this room, five days since he first saw you lying there, still and unmoving, lost somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness.

and he hadn’t left.

not really.

sure, he went back to the dorm at night, sometimes. sometimes he sat in the studio, headphones on, staring at unfinished tracks that never seemed to progress beyond the first verse. but his mind was always here. with you.

and when he was here, he stayed for hours.

ignoring texts. ignoring calls. ignoring schedules that piled up like a stack of unopened letters.

he didn’t care.

he couldn’t.

because every time he walked into this room, every time he sat beside the bed and saw your still face, it felt like something inside him cracked just a little bit more.

the doctors had reassured him. told him there was nothing to panic over. that you were breathing fine. that your body was simply taking the rest it needed to heal. that waking up was a matter of time.

but what if time took too long?

chan exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. his fingers threaded through his curls, gripping the strands, frustration curling into his shoulders.

"you’re missing out on so much, you know?" his voice was quiet, barely more than a murmur. "the first real snowfall happened yesterday. the big kind. the kind you like."

he swallowed, glancing at your face. no movement. no response.

"some kids were playing in it. there was this little boy outside the café across the street. his mom was trying to get him to go inside, but he just kept throwing snowballs at his sister. reminded me of you."

a bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you always loved winter, even though you complained about the cold."

silence.

the only response was the quiet beeping of the monitor.

chan sighed, leaning back against the chair, letting his eyes drift up to the ceiling.

it wasn’t fair.

it wasn’t fair how time kept moving forward like nothing had happened, how the world outside still spun, still breathed, still continued—while in here, in this small, sterile room, everything felt suspended.

stuck.

frozen.

a soft knock came at the door. chan barely reacted as it opened, the familiar figures slipping inside.

hyunjin and felix.

both looked exhausted in their own way. felix had a bag of snacks in his hands, a feeble attempt at normalcy, and hyunjin’s face was tense, like he had spent too much time trying to convince himself he wasn’t worried.

"hyung," felix spoke first, his voice cautious. "you should go home for a bit."

chan barely glanced at him. "i’m fine."

"you always say that." hyunjin crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "and it’s never true."

felix sighed, walking over and placing the snack bag on the table.

"have you eaten?"

chan shrugged. he didn’t remember.

felix gave him a look before sighing again, softer this time. "she’s going to be okay, you know."

chan exhaled sharply.

"you don’t know that."

hyunjin scoffed. "don’t do.. that. don’t start with the worst-case scenarios. the doctors literally said she just needs time."

"yeah, and how long is that gonna take?" chan’s voice wavered, and he hated how it did. hated how the helplessness crept into his tone despite how hard he tried to shove it down.

hyunjin frowned, his expression softening just slightly.

"she’ll wake up," he said, quieter this time. "she’s strong."

chan swallowed hard. he knew that. knew it better than anyone.

but it didn’t make this any easier.

didn’t make the waiting any less agonizing.

felix sat down on the other side of the bed, glancing at your unconscious form. "she looks peaceful."

chan didn’t answer. he didn’t know if he could agree.

because to him, peace and stillness weren’t the same.

and this—this unbearable stillness—felt more like limbo.

like something unfinished.

like something waiting to break.

and god, he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

the morning air outside the hospital was crisp, the early sun painting soft streaks of gold across the pale blue sky. inside, the hospital remained the same—a quiet combination of beeping monitors, hushed voices, and the sterile scent of disinfectant that had long since embedded itself into chan’s lungs.

he arrived early. earlier than usual.

not that it mattered—his sense of time had warped over the last six days, stretched thin between restless nights and hours spent sitting beside a bed that felt both too still and too fragile.

he pushed the door open slowly, careful not to let the hinges creak too loud, as if any noise might disturb you. but you hadn’t woken up yesterday. or the day before that. or the day before that.

still, chan had hope.

"morning, sleepyhead." his voice was soft, a little hoarse from exhaustion, but there was warmth in it nonetheless.

he shut the door behind him, moving to his usual chair beside the bed. his body moved on autopilot—placing his bag down, pulling out a bottle of water he wouldn’t drink, adjusting the blanket that didn’t need adjusting.

just something to keep his hands busy.

something to stop the weight in his chest from pressing too deep.

"you missed another sunrise," he murmured, fingers ghosting over the back of your hand. "it was a pretty one, too. all pink and orange—one of those skies you’d probably take a million pictures of and never post."

a weak smile tugged at his lips as he exhaled. "i can already hear you scolding me for not taking one for you."

silence.

the beeping of the machines remained steady. the slow, gentle rise and fall of your chest didn’t falter.

chan swallowed.

he shifted, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed. his fingers absentmindedly traced over your knuckles—slow, barely-there movements, as if they might break under the weight of his touch.

"remember that one time we tried making that french hot chocolate you saw a tiktok of, and ended up burning it?" he huffed a soft chuckle. "you were so mad. said i ruined the perfect winter aesthetic. but then you tasted it anyway, and we both agreed it wasn’t that bad. we even made it again, just to prove we could do it properly."

he exhaled through his nose.

"i think about stuff like that a lot."

he swallowed again, throat thick, voice quieter. "i think about you.. a lot."

his fingers curled around yours, gentle, firm. "you’re not allowed to keep me waiting too long, you know. my patience only goes so far."

the day passed like that.

slowly.

like wading through water.

chan sat beside you, talking sometimes, falling into silence at others. occasionally, he’d lean back and let his eyes slip shut, only to jolt them open again minutes later, unwilling to let himself fully drift.

the others didn’t visit today.

he was grateful for that.

he didn’t want to share this space.

not today.

not when he felt so—raw.

evening settled before he realized it. the room darkened except for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. outside, the city continued—cars honking, streetlights flickering on, the world moving forward as if nothing had changed.

chan hadn’t moved much.

still in the same chair.

still holding your hand.

his thumb rubbed slow circles against your skin.

the exhaustion was catching up to him again.

he fought it.

tried to ignore the heaviness in his limbs.

tried to push past the way his blinks grew slower, the way his head tilted slightly forward.

but eventually, he gave in.

just for a second.

just long enough for his body to sag, for his grip on your hand to loosen slightly, for the warmth of your skin against his to lull him into something shallow, something that wasn’t quite sleep but wasn’t entirely wakefulness either.

minutes passed.

then—

a twitch.

a faint pressure.

the smallest tug against his hand.

his eyes snapped open instantly, breath catching in his throat.

he jolted upright, gaze flickering down to your fingers—his heart hammering against his ribs.

had he imagined it?

had his mind finally started playing tricks on him?

no.

because there it was again.

a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of your fingers against his.

his breath shuddered.

"hey—" he whispered, eyes wide, gripping your hand a little tighter. "hey, love, can you—?"

the door creaked open before he could finish.

the nurse stepped inside, clipboard in hand, but the second she saw the look on his face—saw the way his hands trembled slightly as he held yours—her expression shifted.

"what’s wrong?"

chan exhaled, barely able to find the words. "she—she moved."

the nurse’s eyes widened before she swiftly turned back toward the hall.

"doctor!"

chan barely registered the next few moments.

footsteps.

voices.

the doctor entering, the nurse moving to check the monitors, the air shifting into something more urgent—but not panicked. not alarming. just… observant.

"vitals are stable," one of them murmured.

"it’s a good sign," another reassured.

chan sat there, unmoving, barely breathing as he watched them work—checking, adjusting, monitoring.

. . .

darkness.

it is soft, quiet, weightless. a vast ocean with no shore in sight, where time does not exist, where thought drifts like mist, thin and shapeless. you are floating, untethered, caught in the liminal space between nowhere and somewhere. there is no urgency, no need to wake, no pressing demand. just the silence. just the stillness.

then—something shifts.

a sound.

faint. a murmur against the quiet.

it trickles in like light through the cracks of a door, hesitant yet persistent. a voice. low, gentle, carrying the weight of something you cannot yet name.

you want to reach for it.

but your body is heavy, limbs sinking, lungs thick with something dense and unmovable. the darkness doesn’t want to let you go. it tugs at you, pleading, desperate to keep you here, to keep you safe, to keep you—

another voice.

closer this time.

then—a touch.

warm, real.

a thumb brushing over your knuckles, a soft squeeze, something grounding in the haze.

the weight in your chest shifts. not gone, but different. a tether, a pull toward the surface. the nothingness that held you so gently begins to peel away, unraveling thread by thread, revealing something beyond the void.

your fingers twitch.

there is a sharp inhale—someone else’s, not yours.

the silence ripples.

then— light.

blinding, even through the barrier of your closed eyelids. it seeps in like an intrusion, pushing back against the murk of unconsciousness.

your head throbs. your throat is dry. your skin feels strange, as if it doesn’t belong to you.

then, after what feels like forever—

you open your eyes.

at first, there is nothing but a blur. a smear of color, shifting shapes, movement too fast for your sluggish mind to process. you blink, once, twice, and the world slowly begins to sharpen.

white walls. fluorescent lighting. the steady beeping of machines.

a hospital.

the realization comes sluggishly, like trying to recall the details of a dream upon waking. you start to remember how you got here. you remember why.

but then—

"y/n?"

a voice.

your gaze flickers to the source, slow and unsteady, as if your body is learning how to exist all over again.

chan.

he is beside you, close, his body half-perched on the chair, half-leaning toward you like he doesn’t trust the space between. his hands are on yours—solid, warm, trembling.

his eyes, wide with something that looks like relief and devastation twisted into one, are locked onto your face as if looking away might shatter you back into nothingness.

your throat is raw when you try to speak.

nothing comes out.

chan moves instantly, reaching for the cup on the bedside table. you watch, dazed, as he adjusts the straw, his movements quick but careful, and then he’s guiding it to your lips.

"here. just a sip."

you take it.

the water is cool, soothing against your throat, but your body feels unfamiliar, unsteady, as if you are a guest in your own skin. you pull away after only a small sip, and he sets the cup back down.

his hand returns to yours.

like it never left.

there is a moment of silence.

then, softly—

"you scared me."

his voice cracks. just slightly. barely noticeable, but you hear it. feel it.

the weight of it settles in your chest.

you swallow. try again.

"how long?"

the sound of your own voice surprises you. it is hoarse, fragile, barely more than a whisper.

chan exhales, running a hand through his curls. he looks exhausted, like sleep has been a stranger to him for far too long.

"six days."

you blink.

your mind tries to grasp the number, the weight of it, but everything feels slow, like you are running through molasses.

"i was… asleep?"

"more like unconscious," he corrects, his thumb brushing absently against your knuckles. "the doctors said it wasn’t too dangerous, but—"

he stops. shakes his head.

"it felt dangerous to me."

your chest tightens.

his fingers curl around yours, firmer now, as if testing to make sure you are real.

"you wouldn’t wake up," he murmurs, voice quieter now. "no matter how much i talked to you, no matter how much i—" he exhales, shaking his head. "i thought—"

he stops himself.

his jaw clenches.

you squeeze his hand.

his gaze snaps to yours immediately, like the smallest movement from you is something monumental.

you clear your throat, trying to fight past the dryness, past the exhaustion clinging to your bones. "i’m here."

it’s not much.

but it is enough.

chan swallows hard, his lips pressing together, and for the first time, you see it. the glassiness in his eyes, the way his breath shudders, the way relief sits so heavy on his shoulders it almost looks like it might break him.

"yeah," he exhales. "yeah, you are."

the tension in the room softens. the air shifts.

you watch as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing the lightest kiss against the back of it.

his eyes shut for a moment, like he is trying to ground himself in the sensation.

when he opens them again, there is something softer there.

"don’t scare me like that again, yeah?"

his voice is steady, but you can hear the emotion beneath it.

you give the faintest nod, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"i’ll try."

it’s the best you can offer.

and for now—

it is enough.

the moment chan’s hand was gently pried away from yours, a chill settled over your skin, one that had nothing to do with the temperature of the hospital room. his warmth had been the only thing tethering you to something familiar, something steady. but now—now it was gone.

"mr. bahng, we need you to wait outside while we check on her," one of the nurses had told him. a request, but also not.

you had seen the hesitation in his eyes, the reluctance, the way his fingers had twitched as if they didn't want to let go. but he listened. because it was for you. because it was what was needed.

now, the door clicked shut behind him, and the room felt bigger. louder, with the beeping of the monitors, the shuffle of nurses moving around you, the crinkle of gloves being pulled on.

“alright, sweetheart, we’re just going to do a quick check-up, alright?” the nurse closest to you—an older woman with kind eyes and soft hands—offered you a reassuring smile as she reached for your wrist, checking your pulse. “you’ve been through quite a bit, so let us know if anything feels off.”

you swallowed, throat still dry, but nodded.

the world still felt slow, like you were wading through water. the dull ache in your limbs, the stiffness of your joints—it was a strange thing, waking up in a body that had been still for so long.

someone else adjusted the iv drip beside you, and you felt the cool trickle of medicine entering your veins.

“you were lucky, you know.” the nurse’s voice was light, almost teasing. “your injuries could have been a lot worse.”

your injuries.

the words settled over you like a distant echo. you had almost forgotten.

“what.. what else happened?” your voice was rough, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of something fragile.

the nurses exchanged a glance. then, the older woman—the one who had spoken first—tilted her head slightly. “do you remember anything?”

your brows furrowed, but you managed a light nod.

the memory was there, hazy and fractured, like a dream slipping through your fingers the harder you tried to hold onto it.

the road.

the red light.

the blur of headlights.

the sound—

your stomach twisted.

“i—” you swallowed hard. “a car accident.”

the nurse nodded. “yes. you were brought in unconscious. you woke up for a few minutes, you remember any of that? some injuries—nothing too major, but enough to keep you out for a few days.”

a few days.

that still didn’t feel real.

you exhaled shakily, trying to absorb the information, but your mind felt slow, reluctant to process everything all at once.

the nurse squeezed your hand gently. “you’re going to be okay, sweetheart. you just need some time to heal.”

there was a soft rustling as another nurse adjusted the pillows behind you, shifting your body slightly so you were more upright. the change in position sent a wave of dizziness through you, but you didn’t protest.

a few more checks—light in your eyes, testing reflexes, changing out bandages. you winced when they cleaned one of the scrapes along your arm, but the nurse was quick to murmur a gentle, “i know, sweetheart, almost done.”

then, just as she was finishing up, her voice took on a different note.

“your boyfriend, by the way,” she said casually, as if the words weren’t about to send your heart into a spiral, “has been coming in every day since we called him.”

you froze.

the nurse didn’t seem to notice. she kept adjusting the blankets around you, her tone light. “your emergency contact, right? he looked ready to drop everything the second we rang him.”

your lips parted, but you didn’t know what to say.

boyfriend?

boyfriend.

your thoughts fumbled over the word.

the nurse chuckled softly. “oh, don’t look so surprised, sweetheart. it was obvious. the way he was hovering over you, holding your hand like he was afraid to let go? if that’s not love, i don’t know what is.”

your heart did something strange in your chest. a slow, twisting motion that left warmth blooming in its wake.

“he’s been here every single day,” she continued. “for hours. sometimes the whole day. we had to practically force him to go home and rest.”

your fingers curled slightly against the sheets.

“he talks to you, too,” she added with a small smile. “like you could hear him. maybe you could, who knows?”

you swallowed, trying to ignore the way your throat suddenly felt tight.

“he would just sit here, holding your hand, telling you about his day. about how the weather was. about how your friends were worried about you.”

the warmth in your chest grew.

“he even told you stories,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “little things. things that probably wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but he told you anyway. like you were just asleep and he was waiting for you to wake up and respond.”

something swelled in your throat.

you hadn’t been aware.

you had been floating in that quiet, in that darkness, not knowing that he had been right there.

“i think,” the nurse said after a pause, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips, “he really, really cares about you.”

your breath hitched.

the words settled deep into your bones, warming the spaces you hadn’t realized were cold.

chan had been here. everyday.

talking to you.

waiting for you.

your fingers brushed over the blanket absently, heart thrumming in your chest.

the nurse gave your hand a final squeeze before stepping back, gathering the used bandages and tools into a tray. “alright, sweetheart, we’re done here for now.”

another nurse adjusted your iv, and the beeping of the monitor remained steady, rhythmic, like a quiet reassurance.

“we’ll let your boyfriend back in now,” the older nurse teased lightly. “poor thing’s probably pacing a hole into the floor out there.”

you huffed a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly.

and then, the door opened.

and chan stepped in.

the door clicked shut behind him, but you barely noticed.

he stood just a few steps inside the hospital room, his breath caught somewhere in his chest, eyes searching yours like he needed proof—proof that you were really awake, that you were really, fully, looking at him.

you blinked at him, your throat tight, your fingers curling against the thin hospital blanket.

there was something about him. something different.

the exhaustion was written all over his face—his skin paler than usual, dark shadows pooled beneath his eyes, his shoulders slouched in a way that didn’t belong to him. his curls were disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through them too many times.

but it wasn’t just the fatigue. it was something deeper. a hesitation in the way he stood, a carefulness in his every breath, like he was afraid to move too quickly, afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you.

afraid you’d send him away.

a lump formed in your throat.

“you stayed,” you whispered.

his breath trembled as he exhaled, and then—then he was moving.

not rushing, not lunging, but stepping forward, crossing the space between you with a quiet desperation.

the chair beside your bed scraped slightly against the floor as he sank into it. his hands, shaking just barely, hovered over yours before he swallowed and finally—finally—took your fingers in his.

a choked, breathy laugh left him, something wet and exhausted and disbelieving all at once.

“of course i stayed,” he murmured.

you let out a shaky exhale, glancing down at his hands. he was warm, solid, real.

but then, something flickered over his face. his brows pulled together, his jaw tightening.

“i—” he sucked in a breath, struggling for words, his grip on your fingers tightening just slightly.

you knew that look.

he was overthinking.

regret, guilt, pain—all of it flickered in the depths of his tired brown eyes.

“i—” he tried again, then exhaled sharply. “i’m so, fucking sorry.”

your lips parted.

“for everything,” he continued, voice thick. “for the argument, for—” his voice cracked. “for not talking to you. for letting my frustration—” he broke off again, shaking his head, his fingers tightening around yours. “i should have—should have been better.”

you swallowed.

your vision blurred, the weight of everything pressing into you.

you had both been hurting. both been so lost in your own emotions, in your own pain, that you had pushed each other away.

and now—now he was here. holding your hands like they were something precious, like he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“chris,” you whispered, shaking your head, your own fingers tightening around his.

his gaze snapped up to yours, as if the sound of his name was something he had been waiting to hear.

you swallowed, blinking through the blur of your tears.

“i’m sorry, too,” you murmured.

his lips parted, something raw and vulnerable flashing across his face.

“i—” your breath hitched. “i shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have let my frustration get the best of me either.” you shook your head, swallowing hard. “i should have—should have listened more, should have—” your voice cracked. “i missed you.”

a sharp breath left him.

“you don't need to apologise. it's none of your fault, all mine, love. i missed you too,” he whispered.

and then—then he was leaning forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

you closed your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the faint traces of cologne, the warmth of something undeniably him.

his breath trembled against your skin.

“i thought—” his voice was barely above a whisper. “i thought i lost you.”

your heart clenched.

you shifted slightly, letting go of one of his hands so you could cup his face instead. your thumb brushed over his cheek, over the warmth of his skin.

his breath hitched, and then—then his own hand covered yours, holding it against his face, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

you swallowed, blinking rapidly against the tears in your eyes.

“i love you,” you whispered.

his breath stuttered.

then, before you could even fully process it, his arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into him, holding you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

you buried your face into his shoulder, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his hoodie, the warmth of him settling deep into your bones.

neither of you spoke for a moment.

just breathing. just existing.

just feeling the weight of everything that had been broken and the quiet, fragile way it was coming back together.

then—his voice.

soft. shaky.

“thank you for forgiving me.”

you swallowed.

his fingers curled around the back of your hospital gown, his forehead pressing against the side of your head.

“i’ll make up for it every day,” he murmured.

your breath hitched.

you pulled back just slightly, just enough to see his face, and then—then you cupped his cheeks again, tilting his head down slightly as you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead.

he let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut, hands still clutching at you.

your thumb brushed over his cheek again.

“just stay,” you whispered.

his lips parted.

then, slowly, he nodded.

and as he pulled you back into his arms, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, to the crown of your head—

you knew.

you knew that, no matter how broken things had felt, no matter how lost you had both been—

you had found your way back to each other.

and that—

that was enough.

“i love you so, so, much more, sunshine.”

now playing . . . don't leave me, my love by colde

please don't leave my side, i hate nights without you.your heart cannot be changed. what am I going to do again now?

제발, 내 곁에서 떠나가지 말아요, 그대 없는 밤은 너무 싫어. 돌이킬 수 없는 그대 마음. 이제 와서 다시 어쩌려나?

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Headcanon that when extremely sleep deprived Dick tells Jason wayyy too much traumatizing lore about his life.

Bc he kinda forgets that Jay wasn’t there for it

Since he was hallucinating the bastard (yeah I know in canon it was obviously a hallucination idk)

So Dick will accidentally just lore dump about the most insane shit bc well Jason was there (no he wasn’t)

And when he’s offensively sleep deprived it goes the other direction and he forgets that Jason ever came back.

So he’s just in the corner watching what he believes to be a hallucination of his baby brother except for some reason his mind decided he needed to see what Jay would look like grown up.

Dick on day 7 without sleep watching Jason beat up a gang member: maybe my therapist was right

Jason: the fuck are you-?

Dick: Maybe I DO need to go back on anti-psychotics

————————————————————

Dick alone in his apartment with a bag of shredded cheese and a plain cereal box in one hand ready to have what is probably the Most depressing depression meal: hmmm hmmmm hmmm

Jason who climbed through a window while dick was distracted: Sup

Dick: ah look a wild hallucinajason appears

Jason: what the fuck did you the call me

Dick patting Jason’s cheek: oh they’re somatosensory now too! That’s new! Anyway bye bye baby bird

Jason watching his brother leave the kitchen: ….okay what the fuck?

——————————————

Dick only on 3 days without sleep: this reminds of the time I was about the sign my marriage license!

Jason: two things 1) why does a shootout remind you of being at the courthouse 2) WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU GET MARRIED

Dick: I didn’t get married?

Jason: then what the hell are you talking about

Dick: idk the last time I tried too get married way more guns than necessary were involved and you know when I tired to get married Jay you were there!

Jason “was dead at the time” Todd: what the fuck are you talking about?

Dick: yeah! I mean you really hated her so you told me I’d be a disappointment if I married her and then disappeared. Which like granted I also didn’t wanna marry her but that was harsh

Jason: ….. I? I don’t even know what the appropriate response is? Here

Dick: an apology would be nice?

Jason who is now 50% sure his ghost haunted his brother 25% sure his brother was hallucinating and like 25% sure Bruce used his image as a tool to get dick to do what he wanted: ……. You know what… nah she was a bitch and I’m glad you didn’t marry her

Dick: I mean.. same

—————————————

Dick has a caffeine IV Grayson : this brings me back to the good old days

Jason dodging an alien: ??? When you were Robin ? How?

Dick: no! When Donna died and I didn’t have to worry about saying alive so I could do insane shit like infiltrating an alien spaceship with no protective gear

Jason:??????????????? Dick what the fuck

Dick: OH come on??? You were there! Very quippy 10/10 would be haunted by again

Jason:…. I- yeah you know what I’m not touching this one



[emoreemadden]

hii! it’s been a while <3 anyways here’s a request from a friend.

Outline: Gojo doesn’t want to be your friend anymore and tells you straight to your face. Unfortunately, you take it the wrong way.

Content Warnings: fluff kinda?, angst ish???, miscommunication trope 😭 idk not many tags or warnings for this one. lmk if i missed anything

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: i was supposed to finish this WAYYYYYY sooner 😭 my bad… word count: 1815

────────────────────────

Gojo Satoru. An enigma for sure.

You both have been best friends for longer than you remember. Well, maybe best friends is the wrong term. You said you were best friends, but it didn’t feel that way. At least not to you.

Every time you saw Gojo, your heart would flutter. Perhaps it was normal, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you had some kind of feelings for him.

You just wished he felt the same.

“What’s wrong?” Gojo had noticed you’d been acting different recently. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’re being weird.”

You shrug at him, trying to act normal. Even though you’ve always felt this way about him, you’ve only just now stopped bothering to hide it.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flit to the ground. “Just tired, I guess.”

And Gojo, being the nice guy that he is, pulls you into a hug. It shouldn’t make you feel this way, like there’s butterflies in your stomach. But it does.

You’re conflicted between wanting to cry and wanting to hug him until you two became one.

“You should get some rest.” He suggests, pulling away and flashing you one of his cheery grins.

“I’ll try my best.” You smile back, though it’s not very passionate.

Gojo pats your head. There’s a pitiful look on his face. “Are you still down for lunch tomorrow?” He asks. Always so considerate, yet he’s never realized how you feel about him.

“Yeah, sure.” You try to up the dosage of your weary smile. “You still working on that surprise?” You ask. Gojo’s been planning this for weeks, teasing you about his “lunch date surprise.”

He grins cheekily. “‘Course I am.” His slender fingers fidget with his sleeves. “What kind of friend would I be to go back on my word?”

Friend.

The word taunts you like a bully, but you push the thought away. It’s all you’ll ever be, anyways. Friends.

You chuckle when you snap back to reality. “A pretty shitty one, I’d say.”

“Language, young lady.” He teases. You open your mouth to say something, but his phone rings.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” He gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Be prepared!” He looks giddy.

“Yep.” You reply tightly. “Bye, ‘Toru.” You wave as he walks away.

“Do I buy her flowers or something?” Gojo says to Suguru over the phone.

“You’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Why has it only occured to you now to get her flowers?” Suguru replies, and Gojo can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Well I don’t normally confess to my best friend-” Geto tuts before he can continue.

Gojo sighs. “Okay, girl best friend. Better?” He asks.

“No, but continue anyways.” There’s an awkward pause on Gojo’s part.

“I’m nervous.” Gojo finally admits. “I’m like, really nervous.”

Suguru chuckles. “Gojo Satoru, the strongest Sorcerer there is, is nervous to confess to a girl.” He says, his laugh getting louder. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh shut up, would you?” And Geto only laughs harder, his chuckle turning into full blown howling.

“Fuck off!” And with that, the call clicks off. Gojo sighs, shoving his phone in his pocket and falling back onto his bed.

“I’m screwed.”

You sit at the cafe Gojo had invited you too weeks prior, sighing as you stare at the clock.

“Where is he..?” You mutter to yourself.

Suddenly, as if on cue, he strides in as giddy as ever, looking around for a minute before spotting you and grinning.

“There you are!” He says as he sits down at the table with you. He’s sweating slightly, like he’s anxious.

You smile back at him, and immediately it feels like there’s a thorny rose in your belly, poking you from the inside. “Hey ‘Toru.”

He beams at you. “Did I keep you waiting long?” He asks, giving you an apologetic look for being a few minutes late.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. Now would you please tell me what your little surprise is?”

“Well I can’t give it away so easily!” He pouts playfully. “You haven’t even ordered.” He notes the empty table.

You sigh, before flagging down a waitress. “Can I please get two iced coffees?”

The waiter notes down your order and runs off, leaving you to stare at Satoru expectantly. “Yes I have.”

He tuts, rolling his eyes. “We’ll get to the surprise later. For now, tell me how your day is going.”

So you do. You two talk for a few minutes, and you practically forget about the surprise, until he reminds you.

“Alright, I’ll tell you your surprise now.” He says after the waitress leaves with Gojo’s order of a tiramisu cake and two spoons.

You perk up, curious to find out what he’s been alluding to for so long.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

You can almost hear the sound of your heart crunching as he steps on it with his words.

“What?” You squeak, tears forming in your eyes.

Gojo stares at you, confused. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You swallow thickly, feeling bile rise in your throat. “But… why?” You feel your tears rolling down your cheeks.

Gojo is alarmed, staring at your crying face. “Why are you crying? Do you… not feel the same?”

You shake your head feverishly, about to open your mouth, but the waitress places down your cake before you can speak.

Gojo looks down at the cake and then back up at you, his expression dimming.

“So you want to be friends?” He asks, sounding heartbroken himself.

You nod, confused. “I thought you did too!” Your chest swells with hurt.

Gojo seems completely distraught. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. “…No.” He finally says, looking down at the ground.

You stand up from the table with your purse, placing down a few bills before sniffling, trying to wipe your eyes. “I’m going home.” You mumble, turning to leave.

Gojo just stares at you walk away, feeling his spirit burn. “Oh.” He whispers, looking down at the cake on the table.

You hop in your car, tears streaming down your face rapidly as you grip the steering wheel tightly. Your head collapses against the wheel and your body convulses as you sob, shaking like crazy.

You knew Gojo would never feel the same way about you as you did with him, but you thought you’d at least always be friends.

You whimper as you curl up into a ball in the driver's seat, too upset to drive.

Meanwhile, Gojo is inside the cafe, eating the cake silently while he stares at the second spoon.

He’s so confused. He had a sneaking suspicion that you’d reject his love for you, but he didn’t expect you to do it so heartlessly. You cried, for god’s sake! He hadn’t predicted for you to be so opposed to the idea of being more than friends with him.

He feels his heart clench when he remembers your face after he confessed. He sighs, finishing his desert before leaving the cafe defeatedly, his hands in his pockets as he walks home.

The second he opens his door, he collapses against it, sliding to his knees and curling into a ball. He thinks for a moment, before calling up Suguru.

“Have you done it yet? What did she say?” Is the first thing that comes out of Geto’s mouth when he picks up. The reminder of the whole debacle just makes Gojo even more sorrowful than he already was.

“She rejected me.” Gojo says solemnly. The air falls silent for a few moments.

Geto is the first to break the silence. “What did you say?” He finally asks.

Gojo sighs. “I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore.” He replies.

A beat of silence passes.

“And?” Geto urges.

Gojo, confused, replies. “And what?”

“And then what did you say?” He asks.

Still extremely confused, Gojo pauses. “…Nothing.” He says, a hint of uncertainty in his answer.

Geto, with a loud sigh, rolls his eyes. “Are you dumb?” He asks.

“Huh? What’d I do?!” Gojo frowns.

“You goddamn idiot, she probably thought you meant you didn’t want to be friends at all!” Suguru slaps his forehead, which is heard from Gojo’s end of the line.

“Because I don’t!” Gojo protests, now even more confused.

Suguru heaves with annoyance. “She thought you didn’t like her anymore, dumbass.”

Another beat of silence.

A wave of realization hits Gojo. “Oh, fuck.” Is all he says before hanging up and hopping to his feet, running out the door to go find you.

Luckily, on his run to your house, Satoru sees your car still parked outside of the cafe. Panting like a madman, he walks up to it and knocks on your passenger door window, startling you back into your surroundings.

Your eyes widen when you see Satoru awkwardly waving at you through your window. Your eyes are puffy and red from crying, which he notices.

He taps your window, as if to say ‘open up!”

You sniffle as you roll it down, rubbing your eyes.

“Hey, I think you misinterpreted what I said back there.” He gestures to the cafe, his sentence broken up by loud, heavy breaths.

“Why are you so tired?” You ask in return.

“I ran here.” He replies, giving you a lazy grin before he continues with his explanation.

“When I said I didn’t want to be friends anymore, I meant because I want to be more than friends.” He begins, poking his head through your open window to get a little closer to you.

“I really, really like you.” He confesses, a light blush tinting his cheeks. “And I don’t want to be friends. I want to be your boyfriend.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, before letting out a breathy laugh. “Of course you screwed up like that.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you smile.

He ignored your little jab. “So? What do you say?” He asks. “Please don’t reject me, I ran all the way here.” He begs.

You laugh again, rubbing your red eyes and unlocking your car door. “I don’t want to be friends either, Satoru.”

His eyes light up at your statement and he immediately throws the door open, fitting himself into the passenger seat before he turns to face you.

“Really, you mean it?” He asks excitedly, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You don’t?”

You smile. “Not at all.”

And with your confirmation, he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss, gently wiping your past tears as he does so.

He pulls back for a second to grin at you. “Thank god, because I was not ready to run all the way back home.” He jokes before going back to kissing you.

[midnightwriter21]

jjk hcs: the jjk boys as boyfriends

characters: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu

warnings: none (i think?)

AN: if there’s anymore boyfriend hcs that you’d like to see lmk!! read gojo & nanami as boyfriends HERE

YUJI ITADORI

oh girl i am JEALOUS

he can be a little air headed at times but he’s the sweetest bf ever

i say he’s air headed but he’s actually very attentive

you get half an inch trimmed off your hair?

he notices immediately

“babe your hair looks great!”

notices everything about you actually

from your favorite color

to the brand of PENS you prefer to use

who tf notices the brand of pens people use?!?

yuji does

yk the tiktoks of boys picking entire BUSHES of flowers for their girlfriends

that’s him.

he straight up rips a whole bush out of the ground from the front of jujutsu high to give to you

principal yaga was not amused

gojo was tho

HE PRINTS OUT YOUR INSTAGRAM PICTURES TO REPLACE THE POSTERS OF MODELS ON HIS WALL

he’s so proud that your his girl fr

oh and he’s gotta hella pet names for you too

they’re all super basic

babe, sweetheart, cutie, etc.

he flirts w u like y’all aren’t together

awful pickup lines and everything

“do you have a mirror in ur pants? cause i can see myself in them.”

if u don’t think he’s the cutest then u can go argue with the wall bye

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

he has me in a chokehold

anyways

at the beginning of y’all’s relationship he’s awkward as fuck

but he eases up pretty quickly

veryyyyyy private with y’all’s relationship

if you somehow get him to hold your hand in public let alone give you a kiss?!?

girl count ur blessings fr

and it’s not bc he’s embarrassed of your relationship or anything no ma’am

it’s bc he would NEVER hear the end of it from gojo, nobara, and yuji

valid excuse

but when you two are alone?

oh girl it’s like he’s glued to you

when i say clingy? i mean it

also

king of nap time!!

he’s kidnapping u, bring you to his dorm room, dropping u on the bed, and laying completely on top of you

swear it’s his solution to everything

ur tired? it’s nap time

sad abt something? it’s nap time

a curse beat ur ass? it’s nap time

gojo is being annoying? it’s nap time

nap time cures everything ong

he’s not too crazy w the pet names

in private he’ll call you babe

in public you’re lucky if he adds a -chan to ur name lol

he’s so pretty boy

also can we appreciate his gorgeous luscious eyelashes?

no? okay

YUTA OKKOTSU

i would give my first born to make him feel happy, safe, and loved

KING OF MY HEART

he’s so baby

he’s the type of bf that no matter how long y’all have been dating he still gets flustered over you

y’all been together for an hour? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek

y’all been together for a week? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek

y’all been together for a year? he’s BLUSHING WHEN YOU GIVE HIM A KISS ON THE CHEEK

HE. IS. BLUSHING.

which is so incredibly endearing and innocent

but don’t get me wrong

mess with this man too much?

oh he’ll snap

he has the patience of a saint. but when it runs out?

oh ur in for it miss gurl

period.

teasing him a lil too much tryna make him flustered

when he finally snaps he is switching that dynamic up real quick

now he’s the one smirking and feeling all smug while you’re the one with the bright red face

ahem…

anyways

yuta’s love for you is very intense

now don’t start thinking HE is intense cause no

i mean yuta loves you so much that he might just crawl up inside ur body and live there

that type of intense

you occupy his mind 99.9% of the time

he’s on a mission and has time to stroll through the mall

“oh y/n would like that” aND HE’S BUYING IT

he’s chit chatting with inumaki and panda

best believe he finds a way to bring you up in conversation

“oh! that reminds me y/n said something the other day about…”

he is the softest ever when it comes to pet names

sweetheart, my love, princess, etc.

i’m so soft for him he deserve the world

[emmyrosee]

GIRL I GOT ANOTHER IDEA SO EXCUSE ME😝

SO u come back from work super tired from a really hard day and have no energy to take ur makeup off so sukuna offers to do it for u and LET ME TELL YOU this man does not know how to do anything without being aggressive 🙄(typical) so hes drowning the cotton pad in makeup remover and starts aggressively rubbing on ur face purposely just to make u laugh and ur giggling and laughing and slapping his chest telling him to stop cause he’s getting the remover in ur eye and he has no idea what he’s doing THEN ITS ENDS UP BEING ALL KISSY AND STUFF ANYWAY BYE❤️❤️❤️🩷

-Anon🥢

IM GOING TO- *combusts*

———

The way you haphazardly toss your keys on the table, only for them to slip and fall off is exactly the last thing you need.

After today, where one step forward was three back, where nothing went right and nothing was easy, the sight of your keys on the floor has your body tensing in annoyance and shrills of angst down your spine.

You let out a shaky sigh, “I’m home!”

No reply. Your hands ball into fists, “I SAID IM HOME!”

“DAMN I heard you, gimme three seconds!” A gruff voice calls back. You can’t fight the smirk that wants to spread on your tired features, and your hands come up to rub your exhausted eyes. Loud footsteps come down the hall and you drop your hands to blink at him. He snorts, “raccoon looking ass.”

“Oh. Right. I was wearing mascara.”

“It’s fine, not like you’ve got to impress me anyways,” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “how was your day?”

“Terrible,” you whine. You angle your head to look up at him, “can’t I just be your pretty girlfriend and you provide for me?”

He snickers, “I offered, you told me that if you didn’t have independence you’d smother me with a pillow. So no. You can’t.” You groan and bury your face in his chest, and he clicks his tongue, “I can take care of you now, though. If you beg prettily enough.”

“You’re going to make your overworked, burnt out, exhausted future wife beg for your attention?”

“No. I’m going to make her beg to be babied.”

You paw at his chest, fingers fisting the collar of his shirt, “please, sukuna, take care of me for a bit. I’m so tired, and you know how much I already hate asking for your help, but I need you. Please, I just want to be loved for a bit.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, “that’s more like it. C’mon-“ he bends down to hook his massive hands under your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle and instinctively tighten your arms around his shoulders, “let’s get your clown makeup off.”

“‘S not clown makeup,” you pout, playing with the hair of his buzz cut. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

“Dawg.”

“Please?” You mewl, pulling back to look down at him, and he rolls his eyes and nudges the bathroom door open with his knee.

“Fuck, you’re really in a headspace huh?” He says, plopping you on the counter. He braces himself on either side of your legs, and he looks you up and down. “Of course you’re beautiful, baby. Taking a lot of control to not smother you right now. Especially with you all pliant, fuck you’re so pretty. Let me take care of you, yeah? Let me make ya feel better.”

“Okay,” you hum. He leans up to press a kiss to your lips before opening the drawer for a cotton square he knows he’s seen you use before. Then, he reaches just behind you to the small shelf, and grabs your makeup remover. “You know what you’re doing?” You ask.

“Babe, I’ve seen you do this more times than I care to count,” he scoffs. “Trust me. I know far too much about what I’m doing.” He pops off the cap and absolutely drenches the poor cotton in an overwhelming amount of makeup remover. He starts to bring it to your eyes, and you laugh and duck away.

“Baby, that’s too much!”

“More makeup remover, more makeup removed,” he says, and while his logic is wrong, you do giggle at the idea he’s trying to help, and while it’s amusing, you don’t want to lose this domesticity with him either.

So, you close your eyes and laugh more as he applies the wet cotton round to your eyes, pressing hard enough the juices spill over your cheeks. “Sukuna!” You titter.

“You want this done or not?” He asks, smearing the cotton around your eye and cheek to try and swipe off any makeup clinging to you. He’s rough with his wiping, pulling your eyes and making your cheeks hot from friction, and you swat at his hands to try and make some relief. “Okay, now you’re hindering.”

“It burns,” you confess, but you’re still laughing.

You practically feel the air go from goofy to panic, “what burns, what do you mean it burns, why does it burn, it doesn’t burn when you do it right?”

“Chill, you big baby,” you snort. “It’s in my eye because you used all 200% of your strength on my damn socket. Just get me a wet cloth, it’ll be fine.”

You watch him fling open the closet door and grab a small washcloth, dampening it with water before passing it to you. He clicks his tongue, “for reference, this is why I never offer to help you.”

“Because you use your brute strength and power to battle the very-easily-removable-mascara from my eyes?”

“Exactly.”

You smile up at him while he tosses the cotton round in the trash, only to then scowl down at you when he meets your gaze. “The fuck’re you looking at?”

“My boyfriend, who loves me,” you coo, and he rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocate.

“He smeared makeup all over your face,” he snickers. “You look rough.”

“That’s okay,” you shrug. “He tried his best.”

“Ew.”

[bkgml]

9:06pm

kats 💕: you’re not even ready for the movies i have planned

9:15pm

kats 💕: why are you so late

kats 💕: did you put your socks on backwards or smthn

9:43pm

kats 💕: yn what the hell?

10:01pm

kats 💕: baby what’s wrong?

kats 💕: you’re fucking stressing me out.

10:08pm

kats 💕: yn please

katsuki sits on the edge of his bed, leg bouncing.

where are you?

feeling fed up with this waiting game, he stands abruptly and throws open his door.

stomping to your dorm he yanks it open to find it empty… that’s weird.

he figures you could be training and lost track of time so he heads to the training rooms.

no sign of you, but he does spot kirishima.

“have you seen yn?” he asks impatiently.

kirishima turns to him confused.

“um no? maybe ask mina i saw her in the common room before coming out here.” he replies before returning to his punching bag.

katsuki huffs heading towards the exit with a frown on his face.

he checks the first floor common room and doesn’t see mina.

sighing he thinks he should check her floor… if only he remembered what floor she was on.

so he sighs and goes up floor by floor looking for her.

finally, he sees her pink curls shake while she laughs on the common room couch with sero, kaminari and momo laughing along with her.

“hey.” he says, walking towards them with a scowl on his face.

“hey bakugou!” sero calls from his spot on the couch.

“you seen yn?” he asks the group, ignoring sero.

“why don’t you come over here and find out?” mina asks and his head tilts in confusion.

“just come here!” she groans and he huffs but come closer to the couch anyway.

groaning when he sees you, cuddled up in a ball asleep with soft breaths spilling from your lips.

“fucking hell yn.” he mutters to himself.

“she’s been asleep for hours.” mina says, laughing.

“you fucks couldn’t have put a damn blanket on her? she looks freezing.” he says sighing in annoyance.

walking around the couch he sighs before gently picking you up and ensuring you’re comfortable before making his way back to the elevators.

“bye yn!!” mina calls.

you stir in katsuki’s hold, eyes peeking open and seeing your boyfriend.

“hey kats.” you mumble, stretching.

“what time is it?”

“like 10:30.” he says, trying not to sound annoyed.

“what? did i miss our movie date?” you ask sounding sad.

all his anger fades away at your words.

“yeah, you did baby. it’s okay.” he soothes.

“it’s not okay kats!” you whine, eyes fighting to stay open.

“we can still watch what you planned out. we have to!” you say frowning, nuzzling your face in his chest.

“it’s late sweets. a sleeping date is just as good.”

the two of you argue back and fourth during the elevator ride and the walk back to his dorm.

“i want to watch the movie kats.” you frown, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“shh, i know.” he says, laying you down in his bed and kissing your forehead.

he goes to brush his teeth and when he comes back to the room he sees you sitting up in his beds, covers tossed aside and a determined look taking over your sleepy features.

you pat the spot next to you and he sits.

you press the power button on the remote and see the movie he was gonna put on for you.

you feel his arms snake around your stomach and try to pull you to his chest. you wriggle out of his arms because you know you’ll be out like a light if you’re in his arms.

he laughs, knowing your tactic.

“thought you weren’t tired.” he teases.

you whip your head to look at him.

“i’m not.” you defend. he laughs, shaking his head.

“let me hold you then. you shouldn’t fall asleep… unless you’re tired.” he says, arms grabbing at you again.

“fine.” you huff, cuddling into him.

his hands brush the hair that falls over your forehead back, kissing your exposed head, then allowing your hair to fall back into place. he continues repeating this pattern and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“you overdid it during training today, hm?” he murmurs with his lips against your head.

you shake your head.

“i’m not tired.” you repeat.

he laughs, brushing your hair back again.

“yeah yeah. i know. doesn’t mean you didn’t go too hard today.” he whispers.

the repetitive movement of his hand moving through your hair made your eyes droop and you inched closer to his chest so he wouldn’t notice.

obviously, he noticed.

“hey.” he whispers, placing a few pecks along the side of your face.

“hm?” you mumble sleepily.

he smiles down at you.

“you might not be tired, but i fuckin am.” he lies.

“how about we turn the movie off and get some sleep, okay?”

you look up at him and he shoves his face in your neck, practically tackling you and wrapping his arms around you.

you giggle softly.

“turn off the damn tv.” he grumbles, now feeling seriously tired.

you reach around him, grabbing the remote and switching the tv off.

you press a soft kiss to his face before laying your head on the pillow and yawning.

“hey katsuki?” you whisper.

“mmmmwhat.”

you smile at his sleepiness, pressing open mouth kisses down the side of his face.

“i might’ve lied when i said i wasn’t tired.” you say as quietly as you possibly can.

he peeks one eye open at you.

“you don’t say.”

[mattybsgirl]

SLEEPY GIRL

a/n: hii so this is like my 3rd every fic so no judgement 😾

summary: Chris is on stream with his brothers playing fortnite but you’re relationship isn’t quite out yet..

warnings: FLUFF , cursing , use of y/n 

Your eyes are droopy while watching some show in the living room. You were thinking about how relieving it is to lay in your boyfriend’s bed after a long day.

You sit up slowly due to your exhaustion and walk over to the fridge to grab a dr. pepper you’ve bought earlier that day.

Cracking open the can you hear screaming from Chris’ room 

‘fucking fortnite’ you mumble taking a sip of your freezing drink.

As you’re heading downstairs to relax and hopefully convince your boyfriend to get off his game, you open the door 

‘baby will you get off pleaseee i’m exhausted.’ you beg 

chris is quick to mute himself, you watch as his hands move from the controller to his mouse in fear.

‘um i’m streaming.” he explained.

fuck.

‘well do you think they heard? i’m mean your mic is pretty far away from the door’ you mumbled in embarrassed.

‘i think baby but i know your exhausted. get changed, get comfortable ill say im tired and get off okay?’ he protested with a smile.

‘okay i will.’ i sighed my anxiety lingering while taking off my shirt to put on one of chris’ . 

‘guys im tired im going to bed. BYE CHATTTT” he yelped.

as i climb into bed the silky sheets making me even more sleepy i watch as chris turns off his pc and hops into bed.

‘don’t worry about ma it’s gonna be okay, we were gonna announce our relationship soon anyway’ he smiled placing his hand on my cheek pulling me in for a kiss.

he protested i put my head on his chest to cuddle, i do. i hear his heartbeat as i fall asleep.

‘i love you y/n”

[hanniesbrat]

so beautiful | christian yu

exhibitionism (on the tour bus) and creampie w dpr ian

pairing: christian yu x reader

genre: est. relationship, smut, always have that little bit of fluff at the end you already know

wc: ~1.9k (haven’t proofread a single kinktober what’s good)

synopsis: ian had had enough of your teasing on tour, and he needs to do something about it. (these summary’s are so half assed but like bro these are all straight smut like what more do you want from me sigh LOL)

!other kinktober fics!

a/n: hey luvlies so again, out super late but STILL THE RIGHT DATE :3 i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless. i hate it. ill def write a better christian fic in the future bc this is my man fr. also, mc may or may not call ian daddy once in a taunting way… that’s it tho. only once .-. okay mwah! bye <3

you rolled over to face the window and admire the way the sun rose right into christian’s side of the tour bus this morning. “beautiful isn’t it?” he mumbled, now also rolling over to hold you. “very,” you hummed, wiggling your ass against him trying to get closer to him which… wasn’t possible. he pressed his body against yours and you felt his cock against your ass, growing in response. “don’t start,” he warned, nuzzling his face into your neck. “start what?,” you played dumb and pushed against him again. “baby..” he groaned into your neck. “you’ve done this every morning since tour started and i’m getting fed up.”

expecting him to huff out a defeated breath and walk off to the bathroom like normal, you kept wiggling against him. instead of his sulky, too-tired-to-be-horny behavior however, he bit into your neck lightly making you whimper. “i told you i’m fed up. now, knock it off before i fuck the brat out of you for anyone on, or around this damn bus to hear,” he growled at a hushed volume. you whined at his words, so shocked, you were unable to respond coherently. christian acting in such a way wasn’t out of the ordinary by any means. you’re a brat with him through and through and he always took care of you however he saw fit. but… on the bus? with all of his friends and team mere feet away (so you both thought) from you guys, nothing but a curtain separating your bed from theirs’? you never thought he’d have the gaul to do anything about your bratty behavior here.

“oh yeah?” you taunted breathily, risking one last push against him with your ass.

he reached up, his tattooed hand grabbing your throat. “alright you fucking deviant, you wanna play so bad, get down there,” he demanded.

“b-but ian what about-“

“everyone else? well you obviously don’t care. do you?” he squeezed at your throat. “hm?”

“i- fuck,” you choked out, struggling to speak.

“you started this shit, darling. and now you’re gonna finish it.”

he let go of your neck and you knew you had to make your way down to his cock or else things wouldn’t end well for you. getting on top of him then inching your way down his body, you never broke eye contact. “fuck y/n, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed cupping your face. you just smiled and began to shimmy his sweats down along w his boxers. he let out a muffled groan when you took him into your cold hand, pumping him slowly. “be a doll and put it in your fucking mouth, would you?” you both were lucky that the sound of the bus’s a/c was loud enough to drown his voice and your noises out for anyone who may be there to hear.

you took all of him in your mouth in one go, christian subconsciously groaning out at the sudden sensation. while slowly bobbing your head up and down, you hummed around his cock making him twitch in your mouth. “god you’re so good for me, love. fuck- need to fuck you.” he mumbled, grabbing a fist full of your hair and lightly pulling you off of him with a pop. lips swollen and pink with drool covering your chin, you smirked up at him, knowing how crazy things were about to get.

again, you never would’ve thought that christian would be brave enough to do anything about your bratty behavior on the bus with everyone around. however, now that he’d started something, you knew he wouldn’t stop until you both were satisfied. it didnt matter if anyone would be able to hear, or see.

“come here gorgeous,” he growled as you started climbing up his body to straddle him. he reached an arm up to your neck to bring you down closer to him. “it’s already a tight fit in here, so stay close, yeah?” he panted. he sounded almost… needy, and you were loving it. “yeah?” you started grinding your clothed cunt against his exposed cock. “is that what you want, daddy?” you taunted, knowing damn well he wasn’t the one in charge in this moment. his breath hitched as his eyes pierced into yours. “no space between us hm?” you dipped your head down into the rook of his neck leaving open mouthed kisses all over. “fuck baby, yes. yes please,” the nickname you’d just given him really got to him, especially with the situation making it so ironic. you had a grip on him right now, and he knew it.

“ian?” yongwoo’s voice came from above. “uh- y-yeah?” christian stuttered out. you began to grind down on him harder, making it nearly impossible to keep his composure. “watcha doing down there buddy?” he asked, peaking down and slightly opening the curtain. both yours and christian’s heads whipped to where yongwoo was already gawking. you smiled at him and christian could barely manage to even make eye contact with him. “hi woo,” you said innocently. he chuckled as if this were a regular occurrence, “hey y/n.” you felt christian’s cock twitch against you. was he actually enjoying this? he then cleared his throat, “dude, do you mind?” you now knew he was faking his annoyance. “mo just texted. he’s out grabbing breakfast with everyone. you guys want anything?” yongwoo asked looking away. “hmmm…” you pondered for a moment, christian actually growing a bit irritated because all he wanted in this moment was to fuck you. “i’ll have some pancakes and hashbrowns please and thank you,” you smiled. “same here,” christian said bluntly. “alright i’ll leave you two… to it.” yongwoo laughed then closed the curtain again, hopping off his bunk to head out. “so are we the only ones in here?!” christian yelled after him. you slowly started grinding down on him again. “go crazy!” yongwoo yelled back, closing the door behind him.

“alright, you brat,” christian spat, “get off.” now that you two were alone… you were a bit scared. (in an exhilarating way of course) you got off, laying down next to him without even being told to. he sat up as much as he could in the crammed bunk space, “roll over,” he demanded. you did so, rolling onto your tummy beneath him. with his free hand (his other arm holding himself up) christian pulled down your underwear past your ass, then wrapped his arm around your hips, pulling them up so your ass was slightly elevated and pressed against his pelvis. he winced, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock sliding between your thighs, and grazing your wet cunt. “ian, please fuck me,” you whined with your cheek pressed against his pillow. “patience dear,” he whispered in your ear. he reached down to line himself up with your cunt, slipping himself into you with ease. “fuck!” you whimpered and he groaned in unison when he bottomed out. he started fucking you without hesitation. the sound of his skin clapping against yours. within seconds, the window next to you two started fogging up from your collective body heat. “o-open the curtain up,” you choked out between whimpers. “oh i see,” christian pushed it open upon your request. “want the window to clear up so everyone can see me ruin your sopping cunt,” he grunted not slowing down his pace. you honestly were just getting too hot, but you didn’t have the energy to argue back right now. and… christian bringing up that point lit a fire inside your tummy. you hadn’t even took into consideration the fact that with the way the sun was hitting the window, if anyone at the stop was walking close enough, they could look in and faintly see you getting railed by your boyfriend.

“fucking hell it’s too crammed in here,” christian breathed before pulling out of you and stepping out of the bunk. he grabbed your hips and turned you so your lower half came off the bed and your knees rested on the floor. he then got on his knees too and started pounding into you again, this time with more intent. suddenly, your phone started buzzing. “momo” lit up your screen. “pick it up,” christian said in a low tone, slowing down his movements, but not stopping. you cleared your throat then accepted the call.

“h-hello?” you choked out.

“oh shit i’m sorry, y/n. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“n-no you didn’t it’s okay.”

“okay… well we’re all gonna eat here at the restaurant. it’s right around the corner from the rest stop. you guys want to meet us there?”

“ian?” you tried to ask innocently, so hyungmo wouldn’t suspect anything. “do you want to e-eat there with them?” christian slightly sped up his movements, “we’ll be there in 10!” he answered directly to him. you were biting your lip so hard you thought it might bleed trying to keep yourself quiet.

“okay, sick! see you guys soon.”

*beep beep beep*

you threw your phone down and flopped your cheek back down on the bed while christian started fucking you back into the bunk in a feral manner. “we better hurry up then, huh?” he said smugly. you began to cry out and moan as a knot started to suddenly form in your tummy. you looked up and out the window in a haze. you slowly started to make out yongwoo walking back toward the tour bus, still quite a bit of distance away. struggling to speak, you simply whimpered “y-yongwoo,” trying with all your strength to lift an arm to point out the window. “i say you have a minute to cum,” he said pointedly, reaching an arm around to start rubbing circles on your clit. “fuck!” you screamed out, throwing your face into the bed. the knot in your tummy tightened and tightened. your body suddenly started shaking your orgasm quickly ripped through your body. “good fucking girl,” christian groaned fucking you through your orgasm as he reached his mere seconds after.

yongwoo was now almost to the bus and you started to panic, coming down from your high. christian slowly pulled himself out of you, then quickly covered your cream filled cunt back up with your underwear. “keep it in during breakfast,” he whispered gently from behind you, kissing you on your cheek like nothing happened. as if you’re not still bent over his bed, fucked out. he grabbed you from under your arms like a child and hoisted you up. you turned around to face him, his arms hovering around you in case you stumbled. “i love you,” you cooed through half lidded eyes. he kissed your forehead, “i love you more.” you leaned in, capturing him in a soft, but deep kiss. when you pulled away you beamed, “love you most!” before quickly walking over to wear your clothes were stored, grabbing sweats.

as you were stepping into your second pant leg, yongwoo walked in. “oh thank god,” he sighed, seeing you both almost fully dressed. “ian, put a shirt on,” he joked before grabbing his sweatshirt off the couch at the front of the bus. “it’s also a little cold so, sweatshirts too,” he suggested before walking off the bus again.

you both looked at each other, shrugging knowing you’d both go out in t-shirts to cool down.

tag list: @skzooluvr @jenoslutie @map0fthes0ul7 @unlikelysublimekryptonite @goblynnrockz @actuallynarii @glttrlix @yoonia

[acotarxreader]

Swept Away

Cassian x Reader, Rhysand's sister

Synopsis: Cassian is growing desperate to make his feelings about you known but Rhysand is ever protective of his little sister.

Warnings: Silly, Angst, pining, blood, a creep in a bar, poor Azriel wing-manning like nobody's business, protective Cassian, overprotective Rhysand

A/N: A Cassian fic because it has been some time since he's been featured on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this silly lil guy. Please forgive any mistakes in this, I wrote it while not feeling the best.

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

Cassian stood at the edge of one of the Windhaven training rings, his two brothers sparring across the mud. To the untrained eye, they looked as though they were gonna kill one another but Cassian knew this was all just goofing around. He felt his heart vibrate off his ribcage, waiting for Rhysand to tire himself out enough that he wouldn’t chase and mangle him for the question he was going to ask. He counted through his breaths, forcing himself to focus on releasing the stress from his chest. They finally stopped their clashing, neither conceding but both ready for dinner, calling a truce as they bellowed out brotherly laughter. 

“Hey Cass, ready for the mixer tonight?” Rhysand wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, gratefully taking the cup of water offered by Azriel. 

“Oh yeah yeah, very excited, have a good session?” he spoke quickly, eager to get the words out of him before he lost his nerve.

“Definitely, I feel on cloud 9 now”

“Good, good, soooo just letting you know-I’m-going-to-ask-YN-out-tonight-after-the-mixer-okay-bye!” Cassian vibrated out before spinning on his heel and moving to bolt away. 

“Oh fuck” Azriel whispered as Rhysand caught hold of Cassian's shoulder, turning him back to face him. In hindsight, maybe saying this to Rhysand when he was pumped full of testosterone wasn’t the correct call Cassain thought. 

“Sorry Cass, I think I hallucinated, what did you say?” “I’m going to ask YN out”

“No, you’re not” A laugh left Rhysand as he released his shoulder and loosened the belt of blades slung around him. 

“Why not?” Azriel inhaled a breath that sounded like “here we go” at Cassian's question. 

“She’s my sister, so she’s like your sister, it's like illegal or something” Cassian scoffed a laugh at Rhysand’s half-answer.

“Except the four of us aren’t actually siblings and the sentiment is nice and all but I’m not her brother, I want to ask her out, nothing creepy about it” Rhysand’s turn to laugh at Cassian, shoving him back lightly at the words and leaning down to loosen his training boots.

“Nah Cass, forget it, move on, I forbid it”

“You what?” he bit out in return, Azriel’s eyes darting between the two, this was going to turn into another savage argument, he could see it. 

“Right, let's leave it there-” Azriel tried but was almost immediately cut off by Rhysand.

“-Yeah, I forbid it. I don’t want things to get messy”

“They won’t, I think we would be- “-Forget it Cass, enough drama was caused with Mor-” Azriel took a sharp inhale at Rhysand’s low blow, the two males began to square up to one another just as you called from the sidelines. 

“Hey! Come on, start getting ready, have a bath before the smell poisons the flowers” you beamed, raising an eyebrow at Azriel at the weird energy. He just shook his head at you not to get involved. Your gaze separated the two males, both storming away to their quarters. 

“Fuckers always leave me to tidy up” Azriel signed, picking up the kit the three had used in training. 

—---------------------------------------------

The howling Winter wind ripped through the hills of the Illyrian mountains, coursing through Windhaven. You looked out through the living room window of the place you called home in this unforgiving climate.

“YN? Are you okay?” Your brother whispered from the front door as he shook off the biting snow. 

“I’m fine Rhys, how was the mixer?” 

“Unsurprisingly violent-” He laughed, a small smile growing on your face at the sound “-Are you sure you’re okay? You look as though you are going to run away” Rhysand laughed again to cover his rising worry.

“Nothing to concern yourself with Rhys, I’m going to just go read in my room” You tried your best to beam back in your usual way to him, rising from the window seat and wandering to your room down the hall. Rhysand questioned whether or not he should follow you, deciding to return to bed and inquire further in the morning.

You stared up at the ceiling, the clock yearning to strike midnight as you sighed. You quietly strapped on your shoes and sheathed yourself in your thickest jacket. You ever so gently lifted the sash window of your ground-level room and slipped out into the night, knowing your brother and mother would go feral with the knowledge of you going into the Illyrian camp unattended at night, despite your own strength. 

You moved through the shadows of the grey mountain stone buildings, dipping out of the sight of passing party-worn Illyrians until you found yourself wandering down the disused service lane heading in the direction of the closest village. The chill sent shapes of cold down your spine as you fought the feeling of watching wild eyes from the deep thick woods the lane cut through. Your wings clung tight to your back trying to draw any ounce of warmth possible. You stopped and stretched before launching into your routine jogging trailing along the outskirts of the busy village, a relaxed breath releasing the stress.

Swirled in your own deep thoughts, the sudden weight thrown into your side caught you entirely off guard as you instinctively screamed. A hand wrapped tightly around your jaw preventing further alarm from being raised in your desperate shouts.

The wooded path grew thicker and thicker the further you were hauled into the woods, worst-case scenarios dancing across your mind. The movement suddenly stopped as you felt the solid thud of the body of a tree meeting your back, you forced your eyes open to meet your perpetrator. 

“Boo”

“GODS! YOU FUCKING JERK CASSIAN!” You pushed Cassian backwards and almost off his feet while lashing him with your hands into his shoulder blades while he hunched over howling laughing. 

“Your face!” he managed between laughs, half choking.

“Don’t do that to me! I thought it was one of the trainee warriors trying to earn his stripes!”

“Don't even joke about that YN, I’d kill them where they stood” his suddenly serious tone cut through you before you smiled at him. Cassian seemingly remembered the fright he gave you, returning to his laughter as you both strolled back towards the path. 

“I’ll walk you back YN, protect you from-”

“-From psychopaths who might sweep me away into the woods?!” you cut across him, now both laughing into the freezing night. 

“Why are you out so late anyway? Your mother and Rhys would be very unhappy with you”

“I could say the same to you” You raised an eyebrow to the warrior.

“I had business, I care not to go further into it with a Lady” he faux bowed towards you, gaining an eye-roll from you.

“Seriously YNN, what’s with the twilight running?”

“Nothing really”

“Tell me or I’ll start singing” You gave a sceptical look towards your dear friend before he took a deep inhale and belted half a note of pure torture, your hand covering his mouth at the release of the crow song. 

“Okay okay!” You laughed, pulling back your hand “-I was actually… I was actually thinking of going home to Velaris” You admitted, ending the momentary comfortable silence that bounced off the ancient trees. Cassian pursed his lips in thought, trying his best to not show all his cards, a futile attempt. 

“This is why we can’t be together YNN, so hung up on the glitz and glamour of city life, can't appreciate the wild” 

“I’m pretty sure the reason we can't be together is that I don’t like you” Cassain put his hand to his chest feigning hurt, you scoffed at your long-time friend before continuing along the path.

“No more nightly running alone YN, seriously dangerous especially for precious cargo like a High Lord's daughter, someone might take you as their chance to prove themselves and then I’ll have to commit murder and I don’t like my leathers to get messy” he ran a hand through his hair as you fought the urge to shove him again. 

“Aw you think I’m precious” you sarcastically shot back

“The most precious thing we have in this dump” his sincere tone ringing through you.

“We'll leave here someday Cass, get on with our real lives”

“We?”

“Well yeah I'm going to need someone to carry my bags” you smirk and he nudges you across the snowy path.

“Can't leave my partner in crime behind me now can I?” His genuine smile of gratitude made you feel warm. He always did. No one could quite understand him like you. The subtle glow of the training camp in the far distance came into view and you sighed at the sight. 

“Come on Cass, come get a drink in the village, I don’t want to head back just yet” he nodded to your great idea as you looped your arm through his for warmth and sauntered back towards the village. 

—----------------------

The village bar was heaving with Fae, all deeply relying on the crutch of alcohol to soothe their woes. You attempted to play snooker with Cassian, well beyond the scope of your ability. After playing and losing a few rounds with him, you sat at the bar away from his ridicule, allowing him to play more challenging opponents.

You sat cross-legged on the bar stool absent-mindedly tracing circles along the rim of your glass of caramel colour liquor. A rough hand found its way to your thigh, snapping your attention to the wall-like Fae it belonged to. 

“He-y it's the Night’s se-xy daughteeer, hey baaaby” The slur of words matched the smothering stench of centuries of whiskey leaving his wrinkled mouth. 

“Um Hi” You pushed his hand down roughly before it returned just as quickly and much higher, now squeezing your thigh making you tense. The much older Fae came closer to your face, leaning and whispering drunken inappropriate schemes in your ear. You scoffed in utter disgust, shoving him completely back from you. 

“Hey Prin-cess, you don’t fucking do that! Come here!” He almost spat at you, roughly catching you by the waist and pulling you off the stool. His fingers buried into your skin and you found it difficult to slip out of his vice-grip-like hands.

A hand laid flat on his shoulder from behind as he grunted to being interrupted. He turned to meet Cassian fist straight into his glass jaw sending him cold to the floor. You found yourself gasping, no one else reacting in the busy bar used to Illyrian antics. 

“Cassian!”

“Come on, we’re going” he caught your wrist and pulled you from the bar, stepping over the creep's body as you were pulled along. You hurriedly slipped on your jacket, the freezing breeze of the night burning your skin as you were pulled into the baltic night.

“Cass, slow down, you're going to take my arm out of the socket” you groaned at the slight pain he was causing you as you found it difficult to keep up with his rapid pace back down the service lane. 

“Such a fucking asshole”

“I was handling it Cass!”

“Oh yeah YN, really looked like that” you huffed at his sarcasm, anger growing in both of you the further you got from the bar. 

“Get off my case fucking hell”

“He could have run off with you”

“So?! What does it even matter to you?! Seriously Cass, slow down, you're not racing a Naga!”

“It does matter to me! I don’t want some ancient creep all over you” Cassian continued his marching in front of you, your wrist firmly caught. 

“You're the same when any male talks to me! You’re worse than Rhys!” You were sick of it, sick of being treated like some wounded bird they needed to protect, the thought caused the anger to grow in Cassian.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANY MALE TALKING TO YOU LIKE THAT!”

“WHY!? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU!” Cassian suddenly dug his heels into the snow causing you to crash into the back of him giving you a bit of a fright. Cassian span around, releasing your wrist in exchange for your hips, your hands instinctively draping across his shoulders as he pulls you forward in the falling snow to meet your lips hungrily. The cold was leached from your bodies as you basked in the glow of one another. 

“Cass you just kissed me”

“I just kissed you” You both had shock painting your faces before locking eyes and reconnecting hungrily again. 

“If anyone touches you like that again I’ll kill them” You nodded quickly to his protective stern words, kissing him deeply again. 

“Ahem” Azriel’s voice separated you both as he stood with hands on his hips glaring at the two of you, clearly having just been out for his own run along the service lane. 

“Az-” He only raised a gloved hand to you. 

“I don’t want to know any of the goings on between you two, ever, it will make me an accessory to a murder when Rhysand finds out” You both nodded slowly in reply before Azriel dragged a hand down his face. 

“Now, the three of us are going to walk home and the three of us will never speak about this again” Azriel continued, gesturing with his arm for you to walk ahead. You looked from Cassian to the Shadowsinger who only raised an eyebrow, you sighed before following his direction and walking ahead of the two. 

“You’re a dead man Cass” Azriel whispered once you were out of earshot.

“I know” “What is with you and their family, next thing you’ll be sleeping with Rhysand’s mother” “How do you know that didn’t already happen” Cassian was fighting for his life to bring back an air of silliness to the night and Azriel happily obliged, shoving his smirking brother across the path. 

“This is different Az” he rejoined his side quickly. 

“I know, it’s always been different between you two, doesn’t mean your funeral will be any less of a sure thing” The Shadowsinger smirked.

—-----------------------

The next couple of weeks became like a full-time job for Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly when he had interviewed for the job. He spent a large amount of his free time running interference for you and Cassian, distracting Rhysand to allow you both to steal away moments together. It was beginning to exhaust him not to mention sicken him that he spent so much time focusing on Cassian’s love life that he forgot his own. 

The four of you sat around the corner table of the very tavern that three months previously you had been pursued. Azriel sat next to Rhysand as if by chance but very much planned so that you and Cassian may sit next to each other. 

“So anyways we’ve been sleeping together for some time now but I think it’s time to cut her loose-” Rhysand beamed at the telling of his conquests while you fought the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's hypocrisy “-What about you Cass? Any lovely ladies on the go?” Rhysand innocently questioned before taking a deep drink.

“Ehh yeah I suppose you could say that” Your chin sank to your chest, attempting to bury the wide grin on your face. 

“Well go on, tell us about her” Rhysand pried, Azriel’s eyes trying to find anywhere else to look at other than the red on Cassian’s cheeks” “I don’t think-” “-Oh come on Cass, since when have you been coy about your conquests?”

“Cauldron boil me” Azriel whispered under his breath, your foot sharply meeting his shin.

“I just think I should keep that private” Cassian spoke over Azriels audible pain. “From me? I heard you tell Azriel that you never wanted to leave the bed with this mystery female, so how come I’m not privy to the information?” You took a deep swig at your brother's playful prying, wishing the ground to swallow you up.

“I just don’t think you’d want to hear about-” “-I clearly do, tell me, tell me about this so-called best sex you’ve ever had, how you make her c-” “-For all that is good and Gods given Rhysand please do not finish that sentence!” Azriel cut across quickly as you inhaled your drink, choking slightly. Cassian rapidly tapped your back as Azriel and Rhysand began to bicker. 

“Are you okay?” Cassian whispered to you, searching your greying face for colour as it flushed back to your cheeks. He took your hand softly under the table, his thumb sending soothing circles across your skin. You looked up to Cassian with your glassy eyes, a small smile growing on your face at the look of adoration you received. The two of you looked quickly then to the silence that leaked from the other side of the table. Rhysand looked between the two of you, his own face now looking like he had been the one starved of air. Azriel covered his eyes with a hand, trying to think of any way to come back from this and what was about to happen. The table fell to an almost unnerving silence as Rhysand processed in real time before an equally unnerving laugh left him. 

“Oh no no no no” he shook his head while laughing, you glancing worriedly to Cassian at your brother's seemingly newfound deliria. 

“Rhysand…” You tried but your brother just kept shaking his head while laughing. 

“Oh no no no no” His laugh only got louder, Azriel daring to look at the Son of Night from behind his hand. 

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start” Azriel whispered across the table to Cassian who looked bewildered at the reaction. Rhysand rolled up his sleeves, his laughing continuing as he took a deep drink from his tall glass. 

“Maybe 10 seconds” Azriel added, Cassian needing no further invitation to bolt away. He made it as far as the edge of the village before Rhysand came in hot from behind him, you and Azriel trailing desperately. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Rhysand bellowed, tackling Cassian to the ground as they rolled in the slush of the last snow of Winter. 

“Rhys stop!” You went to separate them, Azriel pulling you back to his side. 

“Just, just leave them go YNN” he sighed, knowing this was years in the making. The two warriors rolled, Rhysand attempting to deliver blows that Cassian blocked. 

“Rhys-I’m-sorry!” Cassian managed through dodges. 

“My sister!” 

“Yes! Your sister! But my love! I love her!” Cassian rasped out, Rhysand’s hand finding his brother's throat as he gained the upper hand from above him. Rhysand released an ounce of pressure he had on the Illyrian before shooting a glance at you, a clear look of horror on your face. Rhysand allowed all the air from his lungs go before standing again, Cassian attempted to stand, only to meet the floor again with a shove from the future High Lord. He stayed down, thinking that was the best port of call.

“YN, really?” “Really” You found your own confidence, striding over the Cassian to meet his side on your knees. 

“How long?” 

“Three…almost four months” You admitted to your brother, pulling bits of moss from Cassian’s hair. 

“Four months?! And no one had any idea?” Azriel averted his eyes at Rhysand’s questioning. 

“We just wanted to see if it was serious before stressing you out Rhys” Cassain ran a sleeve over his bloodied lip. 

“And this is-this is serious? You’re not just fucking around Cassian because I swear to the Gods I will-” “-This isn’t fucking around Rhys, I love her” Cassian interrupted Rhysand’s worry. He wandered in a small circle, arms behind his back as he tilted his chin to the stars once again, taking a deep breath of the changing seasonal air. 

“Okay” Rhysand finally rocked his head back down to look at the two of you. 

“Just to say Rhys, I don’t care if you are okay or not with this, I love Cassian too and I don’t care if you are okay with it-” “-YN” Cassian dragged out your name like a whining child who was trying to stop the class pet from reminding the teacher about a test. 

“But, thank you” You kissed the top of Cassian’s head, his lip stitching together from the blowout.

“Oh Gods don’t do that in front of me!” Rhysand looked to the sky, the two of you laughing up at him. 

“Oh please Rhys, that’s nothing, these two would make you sick” Azriel laughed before the smile completely fell from his face. 

“You knew?” Rhysand glared towards the Shadowsinger.

“I ehh-” “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start my friend” Cassian laughed up from the slush-turned mud. Azriel gave a panicked laugh before meeting Rhysand’s serious eyes. 

“He’s the one doing your sister!” “Az! Traitor” You chuckled, Rhysand still not removing his eyes from Azriel until he shot off into the woods, Rhysand hot on his heels. You helped Cassian to stand again before walking hand in hand in the direction of home, happy to have that weight off your chests and happier to hold one another's weight in your arms. 

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

[graysnetwork]

guess which bitch is always talking abt wanting more schlatt fluff but not writing it cuz she forgets she has her own free will…

kk im writing👩🏻‍🦯

Schlatt was streaming as he played on his Minecraft server, his headphones were in as he listened to the donations coming in from his viewers. All meanwhile you were putting your daughter to sleep, reading her a bedtime story to get her to relax and make her sleep happily for the night. Your husband could be heard from the room across the hallways as he argued with his chat about rent being due.

An hour had passed since Schlatt had began his stream. The viewers were still spewing back jokes and funny insults to him through donations. Abruptly, he stared at the camera with some sort of anxious look, slightly widened eyes as he paused. He muted quickly, taking off his headphones and leaving the room. Jambo followed behind him quickly like he usually did.

The cat and the man both reached the little girl standing by the door happily. “Hi, daddy” your daughter said, putting her arms out for schlatt to pick her up, and he did so, swiftly and fast. “Hey, sweets, what’re you doin’ up?” Schlatt asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Mommy fell asweep, she didn’t tuck me in,” your daughter explained as she rested her head on her fathers shoulder. A sigh left Schlatts mouth as he walked back to his little girls room. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go tuck you in,” Schlatt opened the door and stared at you. You were snoring a little with a kids book in your lap, your neck cricked to the side—a clear sign of your exhaustion and abrupt sleep because you would’ve never chosen to sleep like that. A blanket was splayed over your feet up to your knees.

“I twied to keep mommy warm,” your daughter explained, making Schlatt melt at the thought of the little girl that was a replica of you try to get her own blanket on you because of how tired you were. “That’s, nice of you, sweets, but you need your blanket to sleep more, I’ll get mommy her own blanket” Schlatt whispered. He kissed your daughters forehead and laid her down in her small bed. “Get some sleep, sweets, tell me about your dreams tomorrow,” Schlatt whispered, grabbing the small blanket from over your body and laying it over your daughters body to tuck her in.

After everything he picked you up, carrying you bridle style, trying not to disturb your sleep. He turned off the lights of the room and carried you out to your shared bedroom. But with the movement of opening the door and turning on the light with you in his arms you woke up. “J..” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you slowly woke up. “Shh, go back to sleep, toots..” Schlatt said quietly, doing his best to coax you back to sleep.

“Did you end your stream? y’comin to sleep?” You asked. He shook his head in response. “No, I’m about to.. go back to sleep, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Schlatt kissed your forehead, tucking you in under the blankets. He knew he shouldn’t lie to you but he wasn’t going to deny himself of going to sleep with you. He was meant to end the stream later but that had been out of his head when he saw your tired eyes.

He left quietly, returning to the room where all his computers were set up. He sat back down not even taking the time to put on his headphones. He unmuted as he closed Minecraft. “I’m ending the stream early.. Jambo’s throwing up, I gotta see what’s goin on,” Schlatt lied as he went to twitch his cursor hovering over the end stream button“I’ll be back.. i don’t fucking know when, bye.”

And with that he ended the stream but his viewers were already on twitter(or x💩) talking about how Jambo had looked fine when they’d seen him walk out of the room behind Schlatt. Was their favorite streamer hiding something? Maybe his other cat broke something outside. Or maybe he was hiding the fact that he’s married and has a little girl. Both of which he loves more than anything in the world.

[legallyfem]

Se-mi NSFW alphabet

♪ ⁺ ➺ new upload! ⌢ 　　⠀ 𝜗𝜚ㅤ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ﹏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀°(ˊ ᵔ ˋ )°　　⠀𝄒!　　⠀

∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: N/A⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ 🍯

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: smut (obviously), hair pulling, spit, cigarette burning on skin, humiliation, recording, idk if i’m forgetting anything, female reader intended, fingering, overstimulating, se-mi and reader are switches, no game au　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: sorry for not posting tbh im just a lazy bums and i’ve been playing adopt me and cookie run kingdom… plz dont pull up to my house with pitchforks. enjoy this basic upload every other creator has done while i figure out how the ruck im gonna write this se-mi fic without getting second hand embarrassment. i wanna die. i might just scrap it and actually do the nam-gyu hate sex ok sorry for yapping ok bye done ok it’s about to start OKAY BYE IM SORRY აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Aftercare

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they like after sex

in my opinion, after fucking your brains out she would take the best care of you. bringing you practically any snacks, drinks, or take a shower with you (maybe have continuing shower sex) ♡⸜(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ )⸝

if she subbed that night, she would usually be knocked out immediately and not ask for not, but may cuddle you in her sleep.

Body part

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — their favorite body part about themselves and about you.

her favorite body part about her is definitely her tongue and fingers. she loves to specially please you with her tongue, licking and biting the sensitive spots on your neck and giving u a new rack of hickeys all over your perky, sensitive chest. she loves to watch you suck on her fingers and overstimulate you.

her favorite body part about you is definitely your tits or thighs. she loves sitting between them, or marking them as her own territory. she loves looking at your tits and can look at them for hours straight. she loves grabbing them while your on top and watching you bounce around on her strap, or looking at them in a tube top or a tank top u decided to wear, which showed off some of the healed hickeys she gave you. (you miserably failed at hiding them with your hair)

Cum

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — anything about cum

she loves watching you coat her fingers white with your sweet juices while she’s fingering you, overstimulating you too the brim. if you’re not frying and yearning for her touch by the end of your session, she didn’t do her job correctly.

she likes to see you make a mess all over her strap, she has countless videos of your cumming all over her in her camera roll.

Dirty secret

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — a dirty secret of theirs

she wants to have high sex with you, but she knows it’ll never happen.

has a photo album in her hidden photos of just your nudes

Experience

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how my much experience do they have?

she’s not as experienced, but she knows how to please you and only you.

Favorite Position

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — (it’s not favourite you dorks)

she definitely prefers reverse cowgirl and doggystyle. but while your topping her, she finds it more comfortable to ride you. while your in doggystyle position, she loves to grab onto your lose tits as you take her strap relentlessly.

Goofy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — are they more serious during intimacy?

ok so i don’t she’s as serious as you guys think she is, sure she is like LOCKED IN but she might crack a corny joke at the wrong time while you’re having sex, that’s just who she is.

Intimacy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how intimate are they during sex?

she’s not the biggest on intimacy, but she doesn’t completely neglect it. sometimes if you’re both tired but still horny she’ll take things more slow and talk you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while her strap is pounding into you slowly but deeply.

Jack off

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how frequent do they masturbate/jack off?

she doesn’t masturbate much, but if she does it’s because you’re away from her.

she never watches porn. why would she when she has videos and photos of you in her phone?

Kink

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — one or more of their kinks

i don’t know if there’s a specific kink name for this, but she would enjoy smoking while your having sex, and lighting them out all over your body, leave cigarette marks all over your thighs and back, likes she’s painting a canvas.

would love the idea of breeding you but (you know) (should i made g!p next?)

loves to overstimulate you during sex. her favorite way to clear you is swirling her tongue around your sensitive clit as she had 3 to 4 fingers in your hole, pounding into you relentlessly.

Location

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — where they like or dislike to have sex

she would pretty much do it anywhere with your approval.

but she feels more comfortable in your house.

she prefers to bend you over onto the counter and fuck you in your kitchen, or catch you off guard while your in the living room.

Motivation

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what turns them on

she definitely gets turned on by your body, and just you in general.

she likes it when you tease her, but she also finds it slightly annoying while the both of you are in a public area.

she loves seeing you vulnerable with her, and she is grateful to have your trust.

No

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they would not do at all, no negotiations

sorry, but definitely role play. she wouldn’t take it serious and she thinks it’s just stupid and a time waster.

even though she likes to see your pretty tears fall while she’s fucking you, she would never inflict pain onto you, even if you asked, she just isn’t that type of person.

Oral

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — preferences in giving, receiving, and skill

she is definitely more on the giving side, but she wouldn’t mind receiving.

she loves when you sit on her face. she gets to play with your ass while she eats you out (win win situation for her)

she has some of the best skills, like… i don’t think she is bad at it at all. but when you guys first had intercourse, it wasn’t as good as it was now.

Pace

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — fast? rough? slow? sensual?

she can be any of these at any time.

she she’s subbing, she prefers you to be more sensual that she is with you. she loves when you whisper in her ear and feel on her body as you fuck her, it really gets her going.

she prefers to go rough, but slow/sensual with you. like DEEP ass thrust. (with her strap… heh.)

Quickie

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what they think of quickies

she loves a good quickie once in while, especially if it’s you and her in a slightly cramped bathroom as she’s fingering your itch all her might, her other hand gripping your clothed toy as you put a hand over your mouth. she loves to feel your body pulsate over her fingers.

but, she does prefer to do the whole thing when you get home, she feels more comfortable and she feels like her best performances are there.

Risk

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — do they take risk during sex? do they like to explore?

she doesn’t usually explore unless you bring anything up.

she has a hate love relationship with risk. ever since the two of you got caught that one time fucking in nam-guys bathroom, she’s always been down but a bit more cautious.

Stamina

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how many rounds can they go?

she can go about 5 rounds max before she is out cold.

surprisingly, she has a lot more stamina than you thought she would.

her thrust and licks may get a bit lazier and weaker on the 5th round, but she is more sensual and more attractive during her tired, vulnerable moment.

Toys

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — do they own toys? do they use them? etc.

strap, dildo, vibrator

(sometimes she uses the dildo on herself—) WHO SAID THAT

she definitely likes to overstimulate with toys as well, not just her tongue.

she also enjoys to watch you fuck yourself with a dildo sometimes when she’s out of it but still horny.

Unfair

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how much they tease during sex

she is a TOTAL tease.

she also constantly edges you or makes you beg for your release.

she also gets extremely cocky during sex, just thought i should add that

Volume

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how loud are they during sex?

while she’s domming, she’s not really the loudest when she isn’t scissoring you. she may let out a few grunts once in awhile

when the two of you are scissoring, she moans a lot louder and more than you expected her too, she gets REALLY in the moment.

Wild card

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — a random headcannon of the character

let’s you squirt into her mouth without any compliants

X-ray

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — what’s going on under them panties?

idfk how to answer this.. she has a black 7inch strap.

Yearning

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how high is their sex drive

her sex drive isn’t the highest, but it’s not the lowest, she’s somewhere in the middle, but she’s never turned down an opportunity to have sex with you.

Zzz

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — how quickly they fall asleep after sex

she usually isn’t fast asleep, she may turn on the tv for white noise for the both of you to fall asleep too or grab you some water, than falls sleep next to you.

but if she’s REALLY tired, she is almost out immediately.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part six | r.c

summary:

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

OR; Your parents are gone for the weekend and you have the house to yourself. Mostly.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: none, I think

word count: 3k

author's note: wait.... this is kinda crazy, but don't hate me for this please. Also i'm genuinely so tired rn, falling asleep as i type this... happy reading!!! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. six: "you'll be flushed when you return"

You were sitting at the bottom of the stairs at your house, watching your parents pack the last of their things into their bags. They were headed to Charleston over the weekend, running the last errands before the Spring Fling the following week.

“Do you have your wallet and phone?” your mother asked your father as she closed the flap of her purse, checking her reflection in the mirror.

“Yes dear.”

Your father tossed his laptop into his bag, zipping it up before straightening his back, glancing over to you.

“Are you sure you don’t want Kelly to come over the weekend? It’s still not too late to call her in.”

“I’m good, dad,” you assured him. “Kelly should take the weekend off, it’s such a waste to have her for the whole weekend just incase I want a home cooked meal. I’ll probably just go out to eat.”

“Okay then,” your father said with a nod. “We’ll probably be back Sunday night, behave yourself.”

“Bye honey!” your mother called over her shoulder, exiting the house. Your father was hot on her heels, but just before he closed the door, he paused, turning back to you.

“And don’t you dare throw a party while we’re gone,” your father said, wagging a finger for good measure because apparently you were a child in the 80s being scolded by your parents. You resisted an eye roll, because they still had enough time to make you to come along on the trip, so you only nodded, like a good daughter.

“I won’t dad, don’t worry,” you sighed, leaning your chin on your hand. “I’m just going to hang out with my friends.”

Your father gave a curt nod, bidding you goodbye before he left, shutting the front door behind him. Shortly after you could hear the engine from their car start, before the sound of the engine slowly quietened down as it left the estate.

“Finally,” you sighed to yourself, padding back upstairs feeling like your stress had just left with your parents. It was a sunny day out and you wanted to use that time to get some tanning done. As you fished a bikini out of your drawer, you had half a mind to text your friends to come over, hang out by the pool. But that meant facing Rafe.

Ever since the nightly swim during the boneyard party, the ache in your chest that you felt whenever Rafe was around had started to feel more present, as opposed to dull. But you had promised yourself (and Rafe) that this wouldn’t get between your friendship. Tugging the bikini top over your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, unhappy with yourself.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself. Grabbing your sunglasses, some sunblock and your phone, you headed back downstairs, sending a text into your groupchat.

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: i’m out by the pool if anyone’s down to join

precious [04/05/24: 2:37 pm]: bring food tho

Sliding the door closed behind you as you stepped out to the patio, you headed for your designated sun chair, dropping your stuff on the small side table. You planted your ass on the chair, slathered the sun block on your body, because you very much did not want to look like the hamburgers Topper tried to grill and as you spread the sun block on your arms, your phone buzzed.

top [04/05/24: 2:40 pm]: stuck at the court house with my mom rn, i’ll text when i’m otw

kelce [04/05/24: 2:41 pm]: i’ll be over later

No reply from Rafe, though.

With an eyeroll, you turned your phone, screen side down and made yourself comfortable on the chair, feeling your skin warm up from the sunrays. You heard your phone buzz again, but you were too lazy to reach for it, shutting your eyes, a comfortable silence settling over your patio. Before you knew it, you dozed off, limbs growing tired in the sun.

“Hey precious…. You really invite people over to hang out just to be asleep when I get here?”

….

“Precious.”

You let out a small noise, squeezing your eye shut, a frown on your forehead. The voice quietened, and you nearly slipped back into your slumber, when you felt fingertips dancing on your exposed stomach. The touch was featherlight, but it broke through your unconsciousness, your eyes fluttering open.

Rafe was perched on the edge of the sun chair, his palm resting on your hip. His mouth was curled in a smirk and you were already annoyed with him.

“I was having such a good nap,” you huffed, rolling your shoulders a little, before you arched your back, waking yourself up a little.

“You’re not being a very good host,” Rafe replied, all the while his eyes not leaving your chest, which admittedly, was your goal.

“You haven’t been a guest at my house since you were 14.”

Leaning on your elbows, you sat up to look at him, unimpressed.

“Where are the others?”

“Told them not to come,” Rafe said, his thumb tracing circles into your skin, but you only narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

The tone in Rafe’s voice made you pause and you felt your stomach drop. This was it. Rafe found out about your feelings for him and he was about to tell you how he didn’t feel the same.

“Rafe-”

“Can you let me say what I want to say first?”

You exhaled deeply, sighing, and buried yourself deeper in the sun chair. Rafe watched you intently for a second, removing his hand off your waist to run it through his hair.

“When I suggested we do this casual sex thing, I was mostly doing it out of comfort. I hated hooking up with those random girls who were always so insanely clingy after, and you were right there: my best friend, who’s also kinda crazy hot and understands me without having to say a single word.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned away to hide the flush on your cheeks, but Rafe stopped you, turning your chin to face him again.

“Will you look at me while I’m talking to you?”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, and nearly died at his undivided attention on you. After making sure, that you weren’t going to turn away again, Rafe dropped his hand, carefully reaching for yours.

“The past few days I have been struggling, feeling restless, and I couldn’t tell why, until I realized….” Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you, precious.”

Your eyes widened at the confession, your mouth agape. “I…. What?”

“I know this sounds insane and I really really hope you feel the same way, because otherwise this is gonna get real awkward,” Rafe chuckled dryly, and you shook your head quickly.

“Rafe,” you started. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

“You are?”

“Yes!”

Rafe beamed at you, pulling you in closely, and the weight on your shoulders disappeared when your lips touched his. Even though you have kissed so many times, this kiss felt… Different. He pulled away, hand gently caressing your cheek and you sighed softly, thinking of how to break this to Kelce and Topper.

“What are you thinking about?” Rafe asked, raising a brow at you. “Precious?”

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden increase of volume,, his voice his voice seeming so much louder than before. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“Precious, hello?”

With a gasp, you startled awake, your heart racing when you saw Rafe standing over your sun chair, his brows furrowed over his sun glasses.

“What?” you breathed out, swallowing thickly, trying to calm yourself down.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Rafe pushed his sun glasses up, his forehead creased in concern and you nodded, taking a deep breath.

It was just a dream.

“Yeah, sorry, you just startled me,” you assured him, grasping at your chest. You could barely look at Rafe, the dream was still replaying in your head, it seemed so real. Rubbing your face with your hand, you swung your legs off the sun chair, peering up at Rafe, hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun.

“When did you get here?”

“Not that long ago,” Rafe replied, eyeing you suspiciously. “You sure you alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving his bicep. “Yes, dad.”

Rafe smirked, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“I think you meant-”

“I know what I meant, you perv.”

Your hand reached out to whack him, but his reflexes were faster, his fingers slipping around your wrist to stop you. With a quick tug, he pulled you towards him, sending you crashing against his chest. You glared up at him, but your cheeks were flushed. If he asked, you’d blame it on the sun.

“Why aren’t we hanging out at your pool more often?”

Rafe played with the small strings of your bikini bottoms on your waist, a smirk ever present on his lips.

“Because you always get bored hanging around doing nothing,” you reminded him. He clicked his tongue, his eyes zeroing in on the valley between your breasts.

“I wouldn’t be bored if you wore this bikini every time, fuck.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “God, have you always been this horny or is it just since we started fucking?”

Before Rafe could answer, a crash sounded from inside the house followed by some cursing. Your head turned towards the sound before you looked back to him.

“Top and Kelce are here already?”

“Yeah, we came together,” Rafe said, as if it was obvious, but you only let out a sigh, pushing away from him to head into the house. As you got into the kitchen, you saw Topper and Kelce tinkering around in the kitchen.

“Hey boys.”

“Precious, hey,” Kelce greeted you, shoving a bag of ice on the counter to give you a half hug.

“What are we making?”

“I was thinking frozen daiquiris,” Topper said, heaving the mixer on the counter with a grin, before smacking a kiss on your cheek. “Hey. We were starting to think Rafe got lost out there.”

“Oh no. He was too distracted by my boobs.”

Topper paused to glance over to you, his eyes quickly flying over your chest, before giving a brief nod.

“Understandable.”

“Yeah, I don’t even like boobs and yours look good in that bikini,” Kelce chimed in. Rafe only gave you a look that said I told you so as he rounded the kitchen island.

“And you’re calling me a perv,” Rafe miffed, emptying the bag of mangoes. Together, the four of you managed to make a big batch of frozen mango daiquiris, tossed together the salad the boys got from Whole Foods and prepped the steak for grilling in-between bickering.

Sipping on your drink, you carried out the salads out to the patio, while Topper got the grill going, with Rafe breathing down his neck, because he paid good money for the steaks and he wasn’t about to let Topper grill it to death. Kelce was setting the table when you put the salad bowl down, a beer bottle in his hand as he laid out the cutlery. You eyed him carefully, thinking back to his text.

“Hey, what were you doing before you came over?”

Kelce’s hand stilled over the fork, and he decidedly didn’t lift his head, staring at the napkins. “I was at the golf course.”

He was being cagey, and his answer didn’t really satisfy you, especially because you knew how he Kelce hated golf. Whenever Top and Rafe went golfing, you and Kelce either went for ice cream or to the beach or hung out in a golf caddy, making fun of Top and Rafe. Kelce would never willingly go on on the green.

“…. What were you doing at the golf course?”

Kelce hesitated before he answered, taking a deliberately took another long sip of his beer, and you narrowed your eyes at him before he finally gave in.

“Malcolm asked me if I wanted to play a few rounds of golf with him.”

Your mouth dropped open, half in shock, half in excitement. “Wait, really?”

Kelce nodded, his mouth curling up in a small grin.

“Yeah, Just the two of us.”

“Kels, that’s great,” you told him, pausing as you thought his words over. “Wait. Was this just you hanging out, or was it a date?”

“… He didn’t say date.”

You sighed and Kelce shook his head, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know this shit isn’t easy, for neither of us.”

“I know Kels,” you said, voice soft. “But I just don’t want you to get hurt again if Malcolm is scared of things getting real and throws himself at another girl.”

Kelce shrugged with his shoulders, like he didn’t really care, but you rounded the table to lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and you were content to just stand there with him, watching as Rafe and Topper fought over the grill.

“What about you?” Kelce suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard anything about boys from you recently.”

Your eyes lingered on Rafe as he snatched the tongs out of Topper’s hand, and you bit back a smile. “Oh. No one’s caught my eye recently,” you lied and Kelce, sighed.

“You’re lucky, crushing on someone is so stressful. It is not what it used to be.”

If only he knew.

“Alright, steaks will be done in a few minutes!” Rafe called over from the grill and you nudged Kelce.

“Come on, let’s get the rest of the table settled.”

The four of you spent a rather chill day out at your pool. After a great steak dinner, with the steaks grilled to perfection (”I told you that it was the perfect time to take them off the grill Top, sometimes you just gotta listen to your gut.”) you got buzzed off of the frozen daiquiris and even went into the pool a few times. Before you knew it, the night broke in and it got too chilly, so you started clearing everything away, carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

“Man, staying out in the sun all day really knocked me the fuck out,” Kelce said, yawning into his shoulder as he put the rest of the salad into the fridge.

“Yeah, we’re getting old,” Rafe agreed with him, and Topper side eyed him,

“Who’s we? You’re two years older than us.”

Rafe smacked Topper’s head upside down and you snickered to yourself as you dried off the mixer. Rafe moved to open the dishwasher, but you waved him off.

“Leave it, I can do it in the morning.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you. “You sure, precious?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“A’ight.”

Rafe yawned into his fist and the boys started to collect their things. You were taken aback, having expected Rafe to find an excuse to stay back, maybe even stay the night. You did have the whole house to yourself, and it seemed like he didn’t even care.

Tossing the dish towel on the counter, you walked the boys to the door, leaning against the door frame as you hugged them good bye.

“Alright, guys. See you tomorrow. Thanks for dinner.”

The boys waved, one by one getting into the car, and you crossed your arms as you stared at Rafe through the tinted window of Topper’s car as you stood on your front porch. As Topper’s car pulled off your grounds, you headed back inside with a sigh, shutting the door behind you.

You were tempted to go to sleep right away, but the amount of dishes in the kitchen was taunting you. In all honesty, you’d have appreciated a little help from the boys, you only turned down their offers because you thought that was what Rafe wanted you to say. On one hand, you really didn’t feel like cleaning up, on the other hand, you didn’t want Kelly to feel obligated to clean your shit up when she came back on Monday. So cleaning up it was. You put the dried off mixer away, and started rinsing the plates and cutlery. You cleared the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, yawning into your elbow. Kelce was right, the sun shining down on you really had made you super tired. You yearned for your bed and for some rest, and sleep was near as you put in the last plate into the dishwasher. Just as you were about to shut the dishwasher and start the program, the hairs on the nape of your neck rose when you heard the sliding door to the patio open in the otherwise quiet house.

Fuck.

Didn’t you lock the door?

Your heart was in your throat, and you grabbed the nearest weapon you could find - a rolling pin - as you snuck into the hallway. There was no way that someone broke into your house, right? It was just your imagination?

You half expected to see nothing as you rounded the corner, the noise just being a figment of your tired self, but you froze when you heard steps come towards you so when you stepped out from behind the wall, you swung the rolling pin as quick as possible, hoping to knock the intruder out before he could do any harm.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: wait omg my first actual cliffhanger in this series