#only when he sleeps and it isn’t even all the time

[starryjake]

thinking about toxic situationship!heeseung :(

you’re by far his favorite out of all the girls he fucks but he’s too cocky to let you know that. in the back of your mind, though, you know. you can’t imagine that he takes his other girls out for late night ramen or lets them sit on his lap and watch him play video games.

you can’t imagine he’s as gentle and sweet during aftercare with anyone else. in fact, you really hope he isn’t. you hope he kicks out all the other girls he sleeps with as soon as he’s done with them. you hope that he doesn’t let them spend the night like he does with you, even going as far as to make you breakfast or take you out the next day.

every time he’s with another girl, he can’t stop thinking about fucking annoying they are and can’t help himself from comparing them to you. he knows you would be so much better: better at sucking his dick, better at riding him, just your pussy in general was better.

he’d text you when he was hanging out with other girls, not even waiting for them to leave the room but doing it right next to them. he didn’t care if they could see, even when he was texting you about how bad they were and how he wished he were with you instead.

heeseung: this blows

y/n: whys that?

heeseung: bc she isn’t you baby

y/n: you could always leave and come over :)

heeseung: aww my girl wants me to ditch this chick and come fuck her instead? is that what you want, little princess?

y/n: fuck hee…please :(

he could not say no to you. 10 minutes later and he’s ditched the random girl he was with and was instead pounding you into your mattress, grunting loudly as you clenched around him.

“fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned, hips drilling into you. “you’re such a good girl. so much fucking better than anyone else.”

and you took it so well, eating up every last word.

he also loved that you didn’t talk to any other guys. you just wanted him and only him so, so badly, and maybe if he did relationships, he would choose you to be his girlfriend. but, he didn’t date and he made sure you were aware of that from the start your situationship. but the point was, he loved that you were still loyal to him, not even wanting to talk to another guy because they just weren’t heeseung. no one did it like him.

no one ate you out until you were squirting everywhere and shaking like he did. no one fucked you until your eyes were rolling into the back of your head and drooling onto his sheets like he did. no one made you feel like passing out from intense pleasure like heeseung.

you liked him. you were probably in love with him. you hated knowing he saw other girls and he loved knowing it made you upset. he loved knowing that you liked him enough to get so jealous of other girls.

again, he would never tell you that he couldn’t give less of a shit about the other girls. in fact, he would purposely use them just to make you jealous, fucking them for the sole reason of knowing you would hate it. your jealousy was what got him off because it showed that you cared about him, that you wanted him all to yourself.

he thought about you every time he thrusted his cock inside another girl’s pussy. he thought about how much tighter you were than them. how much warmer, wetter, and more delicious you were.

heeseung liked you a lot too. he was also probably in love with you and he realized that when he was finishing on the tits of someone else and moaned out your name instead of theirs.

-

like sorry i just needed to get this off my chest bc heeseung is FUCKING WITH ME TODAY!!

anyway how are y’all? :3

[revelboo]

I want to shake your hand because, you have successfully turned me into a Starescream simp. I’m in love with him now 🙇😫

All according to the plan..

Everything Is Alright Pt 64

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Wings lifting aggressively, his servos are gentle as he moves your hair away from your face. Even now, he can feel that connection with you twisting through him. You’d passed out almost immediately and he’d been nearly unable to force himself to close the plating over his spark and sever that bond. It’s still there, but not as intense as it has been. It’ll always be there now and it’s a comfort. “Go away,” he growls, aware of Soundwave hovering nearby, worried. Judging what he’d done even though he hasn’t said a word of condemnation after.

• Venting in exasperation, Soundwave sets an energon cube near the Seeker. He’d mass shifted back after, mostly because Starscream had curled himself around you, denta bared and optics half mad. Spark bonded to you. At least partially. He’s not even sure if a full bond is possible with an organic, but the fact that there was something there for a spark to even bond to? It’s a hopeful feeling that spreads through him. “My quarters,” he growls back, pointedly nudging the cube closer. Because the sooner the Seeker can mass shift, the better. And you need to wake up soon, because Starscream’s mental stability hinges on you. He’d seen enough of the SIC’s thoughts to realize just how broken he is. How dangerous. But not only for the Seeker, your stillness tangles through him even though he knows you’re only sleeping. Your mind is quiet now and he misses the bright chaos of you, needs that noise in his processor.

• Watching the communications officer pointedly drink, he can’t deny his own hunger. The exhaustion though is gone for the moment. An effect of the bond? He’s not sure. It’s not like he’d ever expected to spark bond, he’d been bound by duty before the war and there’d been no one he trusted that much after. Guilt twists through him as he curls an arm more tightly around you, feeling the warmth of your breath against him. Can you feel the tether between you both? He’d bound himself more tightly to you without even asking, without giving you a choice or say. But he can’t regret doing it. “Who’d have imagined humans have a spark,” he murmurs, even though spark isn’t the right word. What he’s felt has been similar, but not the same. He still remembers the warmth and light of you seeping into him, wanting to wrap himself around it and protect it.

• Cheek resting on Starscream, you can feel the familiar hum of his spark against you and it soothes your sleepy confusion as you wake up. That sound is home and safety as you press your face against his throat and his palm slides down your back. Everything is a warm haze, as you remember what you did with Soundwave and Starscream both. It seems wrong that you’re allowed both of them, an oversight on behalf of the universe, because your greedy heart hadn’t been able to choose. Starscream’s servos cup your chin to tip your face up and his worried optics search your eyes. You’re aware of Soundwave back to his normal size watching over you both. “How do you feel?” Starscream asks, raspy voice barely more than a whisper as if he doesn’t want Soundwave to be a part of this conversation.

• When you open your eyes and your mind whispers through him, tension he hasn’t even realized he was carrying eases. Because he had been worried the Seeker had broken you trying to steal something you hadn’t been willing to give or understood you could give. Feeling the wrongness of not offering you a choice to bond, not explaining anything, just taking. He understands the impulse, but it’s still wrong. Selfish. Even if it guarantees your safety from Starscream.

• “Sleepy,” you reply, but under that, you feel good. More relaxed and happy than you’ve been in a long time. There’s a feeling of something missing nagging at you, but you can’t pin it down. Just that you want to be here in his arms, want to be close to the hum of his spark, because it’s where you belong. His servos release your chin and you lay your head back down against him, lifting a hand to press against his chassis. That hum pulls at you, coaxing and familiar. Home.

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[likeawildthing]

And ode to our family couch on her last day of service.

Thank you, couch, for being my first big post-divorce purchase. I was SO proud when I could finally afford you for my little family. I couldn’t afford the delivery fee so my dad put you in the back of his truck and you rode, ass out, all the way home.

Thank you for serving us faithfully for the last twelve years, through countless movie nights, pillow fights, pillow forts, and dance parties. Also: crying sessions, depression, illnesses, and inadvertent sleepovers when I’d fall asleep to pride and prejudice for the fiftieth time.

You were vomited on at least four times, but your lingering smell is Diet Coke because approximately fifty-seven cans have been knocked over while balancing on your arm. Did I ever learn? No.

You survived two boys, from toddlerhood to young adulthood, definitely worse for the wear but still in tact. You were both the best springboard and floor mat for questionable gymnastics moves.

(I’m sorry for the atrocities committed, both on and around you, in the name of teenage hormones—I really, really try not to think about it but I know you Saw things. And felt them. Ew.)

You supported me through school, all of those late nights, year after year, while I was trying to better our family’s prospects. You were my safe space in the depths of chronic illness, serving as bed and desk and table when I couldn’t climb the stairs. We were best friends when I started working from home.

The scorch mark from the radiator isn’t visible, but the indents are both from our cat. Top left — his second favorite nap spot. Middle right, from my butt because he insists on sleeping between me and your arm, so I get the crack. Crack on crack crime.

I’ve tried to take care of you over the years, performing deep cleanings, surgeries, and multiple restuffings. I sacrificed a foam mattress last year to give you new cushions, and new legs the year before that.

But, and I’m sorry about this, too, you were my faithful craft desk. Shout out to your many hot glue gun burns, paint stains, and exacto holes.

I did, absolutely, cut a few strategically placed holes in you today to see what treasures you have stolen from us over the years. I did vacuum out every month the attachment only went so deep. So, in no particular order, your secrets:

-approximately two handfuls of dirt

-an obscene number of bottle caps (my side) and cosmic brownie wrappers (where my youngest sits)

-twelve buttons

-a roku remote

-three needles (we thought there would be at least forty)

-$1.25 in assorted change

-my Apple Watch which has been missing for four weeks

-three earrings, none matching, but thankfully i always keep my lost halves

-assorted paper scraps

-mini tweezers, one nail file, and three exacto blades

-a marker, four pencils, one pen, and two marker caps

-a lego ninjago sword that my kids fought about for two years, each insisting the other stole it (I have wrapped it in a tiny box as a Christmas gift from you to them. I’ll let them fight over who gets to keep it.)

-two nerf darts

-our missing cat laser toy

-an entire purse chain from my grandma’s vintage coach bag. I didn’t even know it existed.

So, aren’t you a sneaky bitch. But also, thank you for returning my watch.

It’s been real, babe. You were mostly great, very comfortable, and perfectly serviceable. I’m writing this, ironically, on your replacement. She is comfortable, spacious, and heaps more stylish.

But, damn.

Does she have big cushions to fill.

[maysileeewrites]

midnight answer

Robb Stark x fem! Reader || 18+; MDNI!

Synopsis: Moments like these, when he’s so tender and gentle are the hardest to remind yourself that this doesn’t mean anything. You and Robb are just friends - friends, helping each other out, as he put it - nothing more, nothing less. And Robb’s heart certainly doesn’t beat for you, like yours does for him. 

c.w.: angsty smut!! (I feel that this is the best way to describe this lol), lots and lots of angst and emotional hurt with an eventual happy ending, yearning & notions of unrequited love, Robb being an emotionally-stinted idiot (I fear that’s becoming a canon event in my Robb fics lol)

word count: 3.2k || masterlist

i’m your midnight answer,  queen of the night 

The nights are the worst. 

And yet, somehow, they’re simultaneously also the best. 

They’re the only part of the day during which you can really pretend that Robb is yours. And not even that’s entirely true, and maybe that’s what’s so disheartening about it. 

Because how can you really pretend that he’s yours when he always leaves your side, sometimes just moments after finishing inside you? 

How can you pretend that his heart is yours, when sometimes, he’s deliberately not looking at you, just thrusting himself into you, his head lowered to the crook of your neck? 

Robb’s heart was claimed a long time ago, when he first met Talisa - Talisa, who has been dead for almost a year now, not that that changes a single thing -, you’d known that when you first started sleeping with Robb. 

Just as you’d known that love was never supposed to be part of the arrangement - definitely not for Robb, at least. 

He’d made that abundantly clear after the first time you’d slept together. 

„Look, I really like you, but this - this isn’t - this doesn’t mean anything“, he’d said, his back turned to you, already walking back over towards his table with the maps of Westeros spread out on it, while putting his robe back on. 

„This is just - two friends helping each other out.“ 

„Sure“, you’d said, trying to swallow down the bitter pang of heartbreaking disappointment you’d felt. „Just two friends - two friends helping each other …“ 

Robb wasn’t even paying attention to you anymore, his eyes already glued to a letter from one of his allies. You’re not quite sure, but you think that he didn’t even notice walking you out of his tent a few moments later after you couldn’t bear the heavy, uncomfortable silence anymore. 

Robb was right - this really didn’t mean anything, you tried to tell yourself as you walked through camp back towards your tent, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying to fight off the chill of the cool night air. 

This didn’t mean anything, you were just two friends, helping each other out. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

But, of course, your stupid little heart just had to go and fall in love with him anyways. 

Maybe it serves you right, if you really think about it. Maybe this is what you get for agreeing to this arrangement in the first place. 

Maybe you should have seen the signs, instead of trying to ignore them. Maybe you should’ve acknowledged that in all your years of knowing Robb, you’d always felt drawn to him, like there was something tying the two of you together. 

Maybe, you’d always held love for Robb in your heart and just didn’t realize it sooner. 

Not that any of that matters, now. 

Certainly not right in this very moment, when you’re in Robb’s arms, your hands tangled in his auburn curls, your legs around his waist, with him moving inside you, his hands on your waist keeping you in place, as he continues to thrust up into you. 

Just then, his ice blue eyes find yours, and for a moment, every sad, disheartening thought you’ve had about Robb and the hopelessness of your situation fades away. 

These bittersweet, dangerously hopeful moments are the worst. 

These moments when he looks at you like this could really be something more. Like there’s something there, something more, some feeling he’s having that goes beyond the purely phyiscal arrangement you’d initially agreed on. 

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and just when you think that he couldn’t possibly confuse you anymore, he cups your face with one hand and leans in to kiss you. 

Your stupid, traitorous little heart starts to beat faster as you tug on Robb’s curls harder, reciprocating the kiss. 

You and Robb rarely kiss. 

Sure, you’ve gotten each other off with your mouths countless of times, and Robb usually loves to explore the rest of your body with his lips, but you don’t really kiss. 

The few times you’ve kissed, it always was a spur of the moment thing. Like that one time Robb seemed so overwhelmed by his orgasm that he’d cupped your face, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Or that other time you’d been in this exact position, Robb looking up at you and you’d felt that the tension between you so intense to the point that it was almost unbearable and so, you’d leaned forward and kissed Robb, trying to somehow dissolve the tension. 

But other than that, you barely kiss. And when you do, it’s usually hungry and bruising, your mouths clashing together. 

Not so tender, and - loving. 

And no, you can’t go there, thinking thoughts like that. 

You simply can’t. 

And so, you do the only thing you can think of trying to distract yourself - you use Robb’s distracted state and start moving your hips, meeting his powerful thrusts with your own movements. 

Robb groans loudly, the sound alone enough to have you clenching around him. 

„Gods“, he groans, his blue eyes finding yours again, „keep doing that and I won’t last much longer.“

You smirk, doing exactly what he tells you. 

Robb closes his eyes, groaning again. You love seeing him like this, coming undone, pure, unfiltered pleasure overtaking his features. 

It doesn’t take much longer for both of you to reach your peak, your hands tugging harshly on Robb’s curls, trying to steady yourself against the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. Robb pulls out of you just in time, though you can’t help but think that this time, it feels more like an afterthought instead of the usual necessary precaution. 

After, when he’s cleaned you both up and tenderly tucked your robe over your shoulders, Robb presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head - another thing he rarely does, if ever. If you think about it, this might be the first time he’s ever done that. 

You bite down hard on your lip, avoiding Robb’s gaze for a moment. Moments like this, when he’s so tender and gentle are the hardest to remind yourself that this doesn’t mean anything. 

This doesn’t mean anything - you and Robb are just friends. 

Just friends. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

And Robb’s heart certainly doesn’t beat for you, like yours does for him. 

And so, you get up, trying not to look at Robb, tying your robe tighter around yourself. 

But just when you turn to move away from Robb, his hand suddenly grasps yours. 

He softly utters your name, and you can’t help it, you look up to meet his bright blue eyes. 

„I - you - you don’t have to go … I-“

Your heart starts beating faster. 

„What - what are you saying, Robb?“ 

„I’m saying that I want you to stay“, he says, running a hand through his curls, which only serves to make them look even more disarranged. 

„Oh“, you say, suddenly feeling quite breathless. „Oh, I-“

Just say yes, your heart seems to tell you, pounding fast in your chest. 

Don’t agree, is what your mind tells you. Don’t agree - you’ll only fall harder for him, which will make it all the more unbearable when he’ll break your heart in the end. 

But what if he won’t break your heart? 

What if maybe - just maybe - he’s starting to feel the same way you do? 

„You alright there, love?“ Robb’s concerned voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

And of course, now he has to go and call you love as well - something he also never did before. 

You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying to force a smile onto your face. „Just - a litte lost in thought“, you say, trying to shrug it off. 

You’ve never before asked me to stay the night - what is it that’s changed for you now? 

„But sure, I, uh - I can stay the night …“ 

Robb smiles. In this moment, he looks so happy, his smile lighting up his whole face; so serenely beautiful, it physically pains you to look at him. 

„That sounds wonderful, love“, he says, coming to stand in front of you and cradling your face in his hands. 

Your heart aches as you smile up at him. 

„It really does.“ 

🐺⚔️ 

When you wake up, Robb is still fast asleep behind you, one hand spread rather possessively across your stomach, his other arm slung over your waist, keeping you pressed to his chest, just like every other morning. 

Two months have passed since Robb first asked you to stay the night. 

Two months in which you stayed nearly every night. (Two months for you to fall even more in love with Robb, and for the moments in which you think that there might be more to his feelings than he’s letting on to only become even more painfully bittersweet.) 

A few times he even came to your tent - something that also never happened. 

He’s never stayed the night though, at least not until now. 

Another first. You seem to be experiencing a lot of firsts with Robb, lately. Like last night, when he’d kissed you good night, before scooping you up in his arms. He’s never really done that before. Sometimes, he’d kiss you on the cheek or on the crown of your head, before walking back to his own tent. He’s never before given you a proper good night kiss, though. 

What does it mean - if it even means anything, because sometimes, when you get really frustrated with your whole situation with Robb, you feel as if with Robb, you can never really be sure of anything. 

These moments during which you feel as if there’s more to his feelings for you than what he’s letting on - do they even mean anything in the grand scheme of things? Because if he’d truly developed feeling for you, wouldn’t he have said something, anything by now? You’ve been sleeping with each other for over a year now - surely if he’d really feel more than just friendship for you, you’d have noticed it somehow. 

Which, in the end it just means that you’re a fool - a fool not to have better protected your emotions, especially when you’d always known how this would end. With your heart broken into a thousand pieces, and Robb’s heart still dead and unbeating, never beating for you. And how could that ever be, when he loved Talisa as much as he did? When you’re nothing more than a friend, and what you’ve been doing for over a year is nothing more than just two friends helping each other out. 

„Mornin’, love.“ 

Robb’s soft voice, still heavy with sleep, draws you out of your thoughts, as do his lips, tenderly exploring the soft skin of your neck. You’ve been so deeply withdrawn into your own thoughts that you haven’t even noticed Robb wake up. 

„Sleep well?“, Robb murmurs, before softly kissing a spot on your neck that’s already tender and sensitive to touch from all the attention he gave it during the night. 

You try to force yourself to say something, anything, but the words won’t come out. You feel your heart starting to beat faster, your throat starting to constrict. 

Robb, of course, notices your silence - and also the way your whole body stiffens, when he sits up behind you, resting his head on the crook of your neck. 

„Something the matter?“, he asks you, his voice now laced with concern. 

Still, you cannot bring yourself to answer him. 

His concern - it means nothing, you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re just friends - just friends. Oh, how you hate that word. Because how can it ever be enough for you to just be Robb’s friend, when you love him so much that sometimes it physically pains you to even be in the same room as him? 

Robb says your name, his tone pleading. When you still don’t answer him, he carefully lets you out of his grasp, before shuffling around on the bed, until he’s sitting right in front of you. 

„Love, please talk to me.“ 

And something about the urgency in his voice and the intense emotion in his bright blue eyes finally breaks you down. 

„What - what is this, Robb?“

Your voice is shaky and uneven, sounding as though you’re on the verge of breaking down in tears. 

„What-“, Robb starts to say, but you immediately cut him off. 

„No, really, Robb, what is this? What - what are we even doing? What - why are you still doing this to- why are we still doing this?“ 

„I don’t-“

„Look, I know - I know what we’ve agreed on, in the beginning. I know that - that this … we’re just friends, right? Just friends - friends“, your tone turns bitter and you laugh darkly. „Friends, helping each other out … well we’ve helped each other out a lot, haven’t we?“ 

You laugh again, shaking your head. The words continue to come, though - it feels like once you’ve started talking, started finally voicing your thoughts and pouring your heart out, there’s no stopping it. 

„Look, Robb, I get it - I do, I really, really do. This - it’s just - it … it doesn’t even mean anything, right? Not to you, anyways … I get it - and I wish I didn’t, but I do … you, you just - you needed someone - someone to be there for you, after Talisa-“

„Stop“, Robb suddenly interrupts you, the word so strong and forceful that you wince. 

Your heart aches and you blink furiously, because even though you've already faced away from Robb, you don’t want to cry, not in front of him. Not yet. In just a few moments, once he’s finally broken your heart once and for all, you can break down and cry. 

Because - of course. 

Of course, just the mere mention of Talisa is enough to scare him off for good. You shake your head, angry at yourself. How could you have been such a fool, not seeing that this was always how this was going to end - with your heart in pieces, because you’d been naive enough to believe that Robb might feel the same way you do. 

„Gods, I’m such an idiot“, you whisper, your voice breaking on the last word. 

„You’re right“, Robb suddenly says, his voice sounding just as broken as yours. You don’t care though, not in this moment, with your heart already aching. 

„You’re right - I did need someone after - after Talisa died. I did need someone - I needed you. Gods, how could I have been so blind and stupid?“ He laughs bitterly, and even though you’re still facing away from him, you can tell just by the tone of his voice alone and his frustrated sigh that he’s running a hand through his curls in desperation. 

„I needed you - I needed - gods, after she died, I felt as if nothing would ever make sense anymore, as if I’d never be happy again.“ 

You bite down hard on your lip, already regretting how you’ve just opened up to Robb. Your heart’s already bleeding, you really don’t want to hear about how much he still loves Talisa. 

„And I needed - I needed to drown my grief, to numb the pain, somehow. And you - by the seven, I was so stupid … I needed you, craved your presence so much that by the time I realized how much I wanted you, how much I loved you, I’d already messed everything up by starting this whole situation in the first place … but gods help me, I don’t regret it. I know I should - gods, I really, really should, when I’ve already hurt you so much, but - gods, after Talisa died, everything was so dark and heavy and I didn’t think that I’d ever truly feel alive again … but then you - you showed me so much light - and gods I wish that I’d realized sooner what I have with you …“ 

„Robb“, you interrupt him, voice shaky, heart pounding in your chest, „what - what are you saying?“ 

Robb doesn’t answer your question immediately, in fact, the only thing you hear is the rustling of the thick fur covers you always sleep under. Then, suddenly, Robb is right in front of you, kneeling down on the floor before you, carefully reaching for your hands and lacing your fingers together. 

His eyes find yours. 

For a moment, it feels as if the whole word has stopped moving. 

For a moment, there’s nothing else, just you and Robb, looking at each other, both of you breathing heavily, regret burdening you down. 

„I’m saying that I love you - gods, I love you so much and I’m an idiot for not realizing it sooner.“ 

You let out a choked little noise at his words, causing Robb to smile softly. 

„I’m saying that I love you and that if you’ll have me - if you can forgive me -  I’ll love you. I love you, and I just - I just want to be with you … if you’ll still have me, that is …“, his voice trails off, yet his gaze doesn’t leave yours. 

His eyes look watery and he’s blinking back tears furiously, but that’s not the thing you’re focused on. No, what you’re focused on is the intense emotion in his eyes - all his love and yearning for you, the emotions perfectly mirroring your own. 

„Robb, I-“, you start to say, but he cuts you off almost immediately. 

„I’m sorry for not realizing things sooner, I’m sorry, I - I’ve probably been quite the jerk, especially in the beginning, but I-“

„I get it“, you interrupt him, squeezing his hand. 

He looks like he’s on the verge of interrupting you again, and so, you do the only thing you can think of in that moment to shut him up - you lean forward and kiss him. 

Later, you’ll have time to reflect on your emotions and on what you mean to each other, together. Later, there will be time to properly talk things through. 

But right now, you just want to be in this moment with Robb. Because while you know that there’s a lot you both need to talk about, a lot that you need to process, you’re sure that there’s one thing you won’t need time to properly work through: Robb loves you. 

Because no mater how unattainable, how unbelievable that notion seemed only a few weeks ago, you just know that it’s true. 

Maybe it’s the way Robb said it, with so much sincerity, his voice so full of emotion. 

Maybe it’s in the way he kisses you, desperate and urgent, as if to make up for time lost. 

Maybe it’s in the way his hands have found their way to your waist, holding on tightly to you, as if he never intends to let go of you. 

Or maybe it’s in the way your heart flutters when Robb starts to bunch up the fabric of your nightdress around your waist with one hand, using his other hand to gently spread your legs apart, before he kneels back down on the floor again. 

But maybe it doesn’t matter how you know - maybe the only thing that matters is that you do know. 

Robb loves you. 

And so, you close your eyes, tangling your hands in Robb’s auburn curls, getting lost in the moment completely as Robb starts kissing his way up the inside of your thigh.

tagging: @rheanyraaaa @inkandarsenic @amethystinie @strrvnge @samieree @justmymindandstuff @prettydeeryess @whppxdit4chi

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i’d like to request a loki x fem!reader

can you base it on “we can’t be friends” by ariana grande. something related to the music video in the sense that reader tries to erase her memory in order to “heal” after Loki turns into the god of stories and she is practically alone now. sorry its not angsty i can’t help myself 😩

hope this is okay! thanks queen

MEMORIES

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, like a lot of angst

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You thought Loki was your forever, the man with who you'd spend the resto of your life with, but he becomes the God of Stories you are left with nothing but memories of him, maybe you should get rid of those too.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ TW(s): hinted depression, sleeping a lot to stay in the dreams and not eating because of this so weight loss

ᯓ★ Okay so, I need to tell you all the truth...I haven't watched Loki...But!! I've started it and I'm currently on episode 2, truth is me and tv series don't really go hand in hand so I don't know if I'll actually finish it. But to write this fanfic I tried to get as much information as I could and I hope you like it!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is cool, tinged with the earthy scent of rain that had fallen just hours before, leaving the world fresh, like a new beginning. You sit on the balcony of your apartment, your legs tucked under you as you sip your coffee. The city below hums with the soft buzz of life, but up here, it's quiet. Just you and him.

Loki’s presence is a constant now. At first, it was a dangerous thrill — the God of Mischief, the trickster, the god of lies and chaos. But over time, you had come to know the man behind the myths, the one who spent far too many sleepless nights overthinking, doubting, and regretting. The one who, despite his flaws and his ever-conflicted nature, had let you in.

You can feel his gaze on you, even before you turn to face him. He's perched at the edge of the balcony, the golden light from the setting sun casting soft shadows on his face. His dark hair is tousled from the wind, and he’s watching you with that look — the one that makes you feel as though you’re the only thing in the universe that matters.

You smile, the warmth in your chest a stark contrast to the cool evening breeze. “What?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, Loki steps closer, the air shifting around him in subtle, magical currents. He always has this way of bending the world to his whims. But right now, he’s just… himself. Not a god. Not a villain. Just Loki.

“Nothing,” he says, voice low, almost like a secret. “You just look… peaceful.”

You blink, surprised. Peaceful isn’t a word you’d ever associate with yourself, but you can’t help the way it feels with him beside you. It’s like the world is calm — for once, there’s no grand scheme or looming threat. Just him. And you.

“You’re the one who always looks so intense,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Like you’re plotting world domination.”

Loki’s eyes flicker with mischief, but there’s something softer in the way he regards you, something tender. “I don’t plot world domination. Not all the time.” He shrugs, as if the matter is trivial.

You laugh, but there’s a quiet moment between you, an unspoken understanding. You know what he means. Loki has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The responsibility of his past, the expectations of his future. And yet, when it’s just the two of you, he lets it slip away.

You let your coffee rest on the railing and, without a word, turn to face him fully. Loki’s smile, small but genuine, tugs at something in your chest. You take a step closer to him, the distance between you shrinking as you reach out, your hand brushing against his.

It’s always like this, these quiet moments — when words are no longer necessary. His hand envelops yours effortlessly, and it’s like the universe settles into place. This is the calm you didn’t know you needed, the simple comfort of being in each other’s space.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you ask, your voice hesitant, unsure if you’re ready for the answer.

He watches you carefully, as if weighing your words. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, a crack in the façade of the god you’re so used to. He tilts his head, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand.

“Of course, I think about it,” he admits softly. “But I’ve spent so many lifetimes running from it, from the choices that will define me. The future… It’s complicated.”

You can hear the hesitation in his voice, the way he never fully commits to what’s ahead. Loki is a god of chaos, after all. He’s never been good with stability, with the idea of permanence. His eyes search yours, as though trying to read your mind.

“And you?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You swallow, a lump forming in your throat. “I think about it too, but… I don’t know. The future feels like a blurry mess sometimes.”

He steps closer, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a soothing motion. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that takes you by surprise. Loki, the god who’d always kept everyone at arm’s length, including his own family, is now standing before you, offering his loyalty in a way that feels… real. No tricks, no games, just the promise of something honest.

“Together,” you repeat softly, the word tasting different on your lips when it comes from him.

His eyes flicker to the horizon, as though he’s considering something, before he looks back at you with a soft chuckle. “And if the future is full of chaos, we’ll make it our own chaos.”

You laugh, but there’s something in your chest that tightens at the thought of a future with Loki — with all that he represents, with all the uncertainty and danger that follow him like a dark cloud. But in this moment, you push it aside. There’s no room for fear when he’s beside you.

Loki takes your hand and leads you toward the edge of the balcony, his fingers never leaving yours. “Come,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “Let’s watch the sunset. Together.”

As you sit side by side, the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in warm shades of pink and gold. The world around you may be shifting, always changing, but here, in this moment, everything feels still. The weight of time feels distant. The future feels like a far-off dream that you can’t quite touch.

You rest your head against his shoulder, the soft sound of his breath steadying your own. Loki shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on your back in an almost protective gesture. The quiet between you stretches, neither of you needing to speak.

For a moment, everything is perfect. The world, the chaos, the future — it all fades into the background, and all that remains is the calm. The love.

But deep down, you can’t ignore the feeling that this peace is fragile. Like glass, it’s delicate, and even though you’re holding onto it, you wonder how long it can last.

That peace doesn’t last forever.

The memory of that moment — the quiet between you, the warmth of his hand in yours — is the last thing you want to hold on to.

After everything has crumbled, after everything has changed, you find yourself sitting in a quiet, empty room, staring at the walls. The apartment feels hollow now, the silence too loud. The city outside moves on, unaware of the storm raging inside you.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But Loki had become the God of Stories, and with that title came unimaginable power. The ability to rewrite fate itself, to shape reality, to weave his own narrative — and in the process, he’d lost himself. Or maybe it was you who had lost him. Maybe you were the one who didn’t fit into his new story.

You can still hear his voice in your mind, soft and warm, whispering that you would face the future together. But how could you face the future with him now? How could you stand by his side when he was no longer the Loki you knew?

It’s a bitter thought. One that claws at your chest. And the worst part is — you still love him. Even after everything. Even after the gods, after the chaos, after the mistakes, you still want him.

But it’s too much. The memories are too vivid, too painful. You can’t bear to remember him — not when every time you close your eyes, you see his face, and it’s like a stab to your heart.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’ll erase it all. Every memory of him.

The love. The pain. The warmth.

You’re not sure how, but you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, you’ll never move on. You’ll never be free.

The box feels heavier than it should as you lower it to the floor, your knees protesting the motion. A single lamp casts its warm glow across your apartment, but the light feels muted, swallowed by the shadows pressing in from every corner. It’s late, and the city outside seems quieter than usual, as if the world knows the significance of what you’re about to do.

Loki’s things are scattered around you in a mess of memories. A black scarf you once teased him about for being far too dramatic, a small leather-bound notebook filled with strange symbols and half-formed ideas, a gold trinket he’d magicked into existence one lazy afternoon to make you laugh. Each item holds a piece of him, of you, of you and him.

Your breath catches as you sit back on your heels, staring at the pile with a sinking feeling in your chest. It’s almost funny. You thought gathering his belongings would make it easier, like pulling off a bandage quickly to avoid the sting. But it’s worse. So much worse.

Your fingers tremble as they brush over the scarf. You remember the first time he wore it — the way it swept dramatically over his shoulder as he smirked at your teasing.

“Trying to impress me, Mischief?” you’d asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

Loki had leaned closer, that familiar spark of mischief lighting his green eyes. “Is it working?”

You’d laughed, shoving him lightly, but your heart had skipped a beat all the same. He had a way of doing that — making the smallest, most mundane moments feel like they belonged in an epic tale.

You shake your head, pulling yourself back to the present. The memory is too vivid, too sharp, and it slices through you like glass. That was before everything changed. Before he became something… unreachable.

Your fingers curl around the scarf, tightening as the memory threatens to drag you under. For a moment, you consider keeping it. Just this one thing. But no. You can’t. If you start keeping pieces of him, you’ll never let go.

You toss the scarf into the box, the action more forceful than you intended. It lands atop the notebook, the trinket, and the small collection of Loki’s things that have woven themselves into your life.

The notebook catches your eye again, and before you can stop yourself, you’re flipping it open. The pages are filled with Loki’s handwriting — sharp and elegant, like the man himself. Most of it is incomprehensible to you, written in Asgardian runes or some ancient language you don’t recognize. But on one page, near the middle, you find something familiar.

It’s your name.

Your breath hitches as you stare at the word, the letters carved into the page with a deliberate hand. Beneath it, a single line in English:

"You are my home."

The tears come then, hot and relentless, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You clutch the notebook to your chest, your body shaking as the weight of it all crashes over you. He said those words to you once, late at night, when the world had felt quiet and safe.

You remember lying in bed together, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. “You are my home,” he’d said, the words carrying a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “In all the realms, in all the chaos, I find my peace in you.”

And you had believed him. God, you’d believed him.

The notebook slips from your hands as you bury your face in your palms, sobs wracking your body. You’d thought you were strong enough to do this, to let him go, but the memories won’t stop. They cling to you like shadows, refusing to release their grip.

It’s not fair. He had no right to carve himself into your soul like this, to leave behind pieces of himself in every corner of your life. How are you supposed to erase someone who’s become a part of you?

You sit there for what feels like hours, the box of Loki’s things staring back at you like a silent witness to your unraveling. Eventually, the tears subside, leaving you hollow and exhausted. Your eyes sting, and your throat feels raw, but you force yourself to move.

Gathering the box, you rise to your feet, your legs unsteady. The plan is simple: take it to the small clearing behind the building, set it ablaze, and watch the memories burn. Maybe then the pain will ease. Maybe then you’ll finally be free.

You step outside, the cool night air biting against your skin. The clearing is quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. You place the box in the center, your fingers brushing over the edges one last time.

You light the match.

The flame flickers to life, small and fragile in your hand. You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is it. This is the final goodbye.

But as you stare at the flame, something inside you cracks. You think of the sunsets you watched together, the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the soft, unguarded moments that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Can you really do this?

Your hand shakes as you lower the match, the flame dancing dangerously close to the edge of the box. The scent of sulfur fills the air, and for a moment, you think you’ll go through with it. You’ll let it all burn.

But then, the match falls from your fingers, the flame snuffing out as it hits the damp grass.

You drop to your knees, the box still untouched, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. You can’t do it. You can’t erase him, no matter how much it hurts to remember. Because the memories aren’t just painful. They’re beautiful, too.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

The bar is crowded, the kind of loud and bustling place you would never have chosen for yourself, but your friends insisted. “You need to get out,” they had said. “Meet people. Forget about him.”

Forget about him.

As if it were that simple.

You sit at a small, high table near the back, a drink cradled in your hand. The music pulses through the air, the bass thrumming in your chest, but it does nothing to drown out the thoughts that swirl endlessly in your mind. Around you, your friends laugh and chatter, their voices a blur of encouragement and reassurances.

It’s been months since Loki left — or, more accurately, since he became something else, someone you could no longer reach. Months since you tried to burn his things and failed, the box now tucked away in the corner of your closet like a secret you can’t bear to part with.

And yet, even with all the time and distance, the memories still haunt you. He’s still there, in the quiet moments, in the back of your mind, a shadow you can’t escape.

A new drink appears in front of you, courtesy of one of your friends. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” she whispers, nudging you with her elbow. You glance toward the bar, where a man stands with a confident smile and sharp cheekbones. He’s attractive, you suppose. Objectively. But as your gaze lingers, the comparisons begin, unbidden and unstoppable.

His hair isn’t as dark as Loki’s. His eyes aren’t as piercing. And when he smiles, it doesn’t make your chest tighten the way Loki’s did when he let his walls down and gave you that rare, genuine look that was only for you.

“Go talk to him,” your friend urges, her tone light and encouraging. You hesitate, but the expectant looks from the rest of your group leave you feeling cornered. With a reluctant sigh, you slide off your stool and make your way toward the bar.

The man notices you immediately, his smile widening as you approach. He introduces himself — James, or Jake, or something that doesn’t stick in your memory. You force a polite smile, nodding as he talks about his job, his hobbies, his plans for the weekend.

But you’re not really listening.

Instead, you’re thinking about how different he is. Loki’s voice had a way of wrapping around you, rich and velvety, with an edge that hinted at mischief or danger. His words weren’t just conversations; they were an invitation to step into his world, to see the universe through his eyes.

This man — James, Jake, whoever — is ordinary. Normal. And maybe that’s what you’re supposed to want now, but it feels hollow.

He says something that makes you chuckle politely, and for a moment, you catch yourself wondering what Loki would think if he saw you now. Would he be amused, watching you try to piece yourself back together with someone so utterly unremarkable? Or would he feel that flicker of jealousy, the possessiveness he always tried to hide but never fully could?

The thought twists something in your chest, and you excuse yourself quickly, claiming you need to get back to your friends.

“Not your type?” one of them teases when you return, her grin playful.

“No,” you say simply, sipping your drink. But the truth is more complicated than that. It’s not that he wasn’t your type. It’s that he wasn’t Loki.

The pattern repeats itself over the following weeks.

Your friends take you to new places, introduce you to new people, all with the hope that one of them will spark something in you. And each time, it ends the same way.

You meet someone kind, someone charming, someone your friends swear would be perfect for you. And each time, you find yourself comparing them to him.

No one holds a candle to Loki.

No one has that sharp wit, that clever tongue that made even the most mundane conversations feel electric. No one carries themselves with that effortless grace, the confidence of a god who knows he’s meant for greatness but still chooses to share himself with you. No one looks at you the way Loki did, like you were a puzzle he was desperate to solve, a mystery he could never quite unravel.

And the worst part is, you know it’s unfair. You know these men deserve more than your half-hearted attempts at connection. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop measuring them against him.

One evening, your closest friend pulls you aside after another failed attempt at setting you up. “You’re not giving them a chance,” she says gently, her concern evident.

“I am,” you argue, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re not entirely true.

She sighs, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I know it’s hard. I know you miss him. But you deserve to be happy, too. He’s not coming back, and holding onto him like this… it’s only hurting you.”

Her words cut deeper than you expect, and you find yourself blinking back tears. She’s right, of course. Loki isn’t coming back. The man you loved is gone, and the person he’s become is far beyond your reach.

But how do you let go of someone who’s etched into your soul? How do you move on when every part of you still aches for him?

“I’ll try,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s a promise you can keep.

Your friend nods, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

But as the night goes on, as the world moves around you, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts, into the memories of a man who can never truly be replaced.

And in the quiet corners of your heart, you know the truth: no one will ever compare.

The apartment feels colder than it should, the kind of chill that creeps into your bones and refuses to let go. You sit curled up on the couch, staring at the flickering glow of the television, though you’re not really watching it. The sound is just there to fill the silence, to keep the walls from closing in.

But it doesn’t work. Not really.

Because even in the noise, you can hear his voice.

It starts small, the whispers of his tone weaving into the spaces between your thoughts. At first, you think it’s your imagination. Of course it is. Loki isn’t here. He’s not coming back. You’ve told yourself this a thousand times, clinging to the words like a mantra.

And yet…

The scent of leather and the faint trace of cedar linger in the air. The couch dips slightly beside you, a barely-there weight, but enough to make you glance to your right.

He’s there. Sitting casually with one arm draped over the back of the couch, his long legs crossed, and that infuriatingly familiar smirk playing at his lips.

“Miss me, darling?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, as if he hasn’t been gone for months. As if you hadn’t been tearing yourself apart trying to forget him.

Your heart lurches, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it’s real. You can’t help it. The sight of him is so vivid, so perfect. The sharp angle of his jaw, the glint of mischief in his green eyes — it’s exactly how you remember.

“Loki…” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, a mixture of disbelief and yearning.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Yes, my love?”

The words hit you like a wave, the tenderness in his tone unraveling you completely. Your vision blurs with tears, and you reach out, your hand trembling as it moves toward him. But the moment your fingers brush the air where his hand should be, the illusion shatters.

He’s gone.

The couch is empty. The room is still. The silence is deafening.

You pull your hand back slowly, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. “No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No, no, no.”

Your voice breaks, the sound foreign to your ears. You clutch at the blanket draped over your lap, holding it tightly as if it could anchor you to reality. But it doesn’t. Nothing does.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you murmur into the empty room, your voice raw with anger and grief. “Why can’t I let you go?”

There’s no answer, of course. Just the echo of your own voice bouncing off the walls. But that doesn’t stop you from talking. It’s becoming a habit now, these conversations with no one.

Some nights, you sit at the dining table, setting out two glasses of wine even though you know the second will remain untouched. You’ll tell stories about your day, laughing softly at jokes that only you can hear. You’ll look toward the chair opposite you, expecting to see him lounging there, his sharp wit ready to match yours.

And some nights, like tonight, you’ll sit on the couch and swear you can feel him beside you.

“Loki,” you whisper again, the name tasting like salt on your tongue. “Why did you leave me?”

The apartment remains silent, but in your mind, you can hear his response. You can hear him apologizing, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, that becoming the God of Stories meant giving up everything he loved.

But it’s a lie. A lie you tell yourself to make the ache in your chest bearable. Because deep down, you know the truth: he could have stayed. He could have chosen you.

And yet, he didn’t.

The illusions get worse as the weeks pass.

At first, they’re fleeting — a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, a phantom touch brushing against your shoulder. But soon, they’re more vivid. More real.

You’ll hear his voice calling your name, soft and intimate, like he’s standing right behind you. You’ll turn around, your heart leaping with hope, only to find nothing but empty air.

And then there are the nights when you swear you feel his arms around you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep. Those nights are the worst, because when you wake up, the loneliness is suffocating.

Your friends notice the change in you, though you try to hide it. They don’t understand. How could they? They never knew him the way you did. They never loved him the way you do.

“You’re spiraling,” one of them says gently, her voice laced with concern. “You need help, Y/N. This… this isn’t normal.”

You nod, pretending to agree, but you don’t believe her. How could you need help when the only thing keeping you sane is the thought of him? When the illusions are the only moments you feel whole again?

One evening, you sit on the floor of your living room, surrounded by the box of Loki’s things you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. You pull out the scarf, holding it close to your chest as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this without you,” you whisper into the fabric, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how.”

The room feels colder than ever, but as you close your eyes, you imagine his warmth enveloping you. You imagine him kneeling beside you, his hand brushing your hair back as he murmurs reassurances in that velvety voice.

But when you open your eyes, you’re still alone. And the scarf in your hands feels unbearably heavy.

You clutch it tighter, rocking slightly as the weight of your grief crashes over you. The world outside continues on, indifferent to your pain, but in this moment, all you can feel is the absence of him.

It’s a pain that no one else can understand, a loss that no one else can ease. And as the illusions pull you deeper into their grasp, you can’t help but wonder if letting go of him is even possible — or if you’re destined to carry this ache forever.

The dream begins the same way every time.

You’re standing in a golden field, the tall grass swaying gently in a breeze that carries the faintest scent of lavender. The sky above is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, a perpetual sunset that feels both warm and surreal. And there he is, waiting for you.

Loki.

He’s standing a few paces away, his silhouette sharp against the dreamy backdrop. His dark hair is tousled just so, and when he sees you, that familiar, crooked smile lights up his face. He opens his arms, and you run to him, your heart soaring in a way it hasn’t in what feels like forever.

In your dreams, there are no goodbyes, no insurmountable barriers. Here, you are just two people who love each other, untouched by the weight of reality.

“Missed me, darling?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm as he pulls you into his arms.

“Always,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest. His scent surrounds you — leather and cedar, with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s intoxicating, grounding, and you never want to let go.

The dreams are your sanctuary, the only place where the ache in your chest quiets, where you feel whole again. You wake up every morning wishing you could stay there forever. And slowly, without realizing it, you begin to chase that feeling.

At first, it’s subtle. You let yourself sleep a little longer each morning, lingering in bed even as the sunlight streams through your window. Then you start skipping plans with your friends, feigning exhaustion or sickness so you can curl back under the covers.

The more time you spend in your dreams, the less you care about the waking world. Food becomes an afterthought, meals skipped in favor of lying in bed, hoping to drift off again. Even your appearance begins to change — your cheeks hollowing, your skin growing pale. But you hardly notice. All that matters is Loki.

Your friends notice the change in you long before you do.

“You’ve barely eaten,” one of them points out during a rare outing, her eyes scanning your face with obvious concern. “You’re so thin, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically, forcing a smile. But your voice lacks conviction, and you can tell she doesn’t believe you.

“You don’t look fine.” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness beneath it. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been isolating yourself, skipping meals, avoiding everyone…”

“I’m just tired,” you say, cutting her off. “That’s all.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. You can see the worry etched into her features, but you’re too far gone to care. You’re tired of the concern, the pity, the endless attempts to pull you out of the darkness when all you want is to stay there, wrapped in the illusion of Loki’s presence.

One night, your friend shows up at your apartment unannounced. The moment she steps inside, she freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the state of the place.

It’s a mess. Dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail scattered across the counter, curtains drawn tightly to keep out the daylight. And there you are, curled up on the couch in a hoodie that hangs off your frame, your eyes hollow and distant.

“Y/N,” she breathes, her voice breaking.

You barely look at her, your gaze fixed on the floor.

She sits down beside you, reaching for your hand. “You’re not okay,” she says, her voice trembling. “Please, let us help you.”

“I don’t need help,” you whisper, but even as you say it, tears spill down your cheeks.

“Yes, you do,” she insists, squeezing your hand. “You’ve been shutting us out, and it’s killing you. You’re wasting away, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

Her words pierce through the fog in your mind, and for a moment, you consider telling her the truth. Telling her about the dreams, about Loki, about the impossible grief that has consumed you. But the thought of saying it out loud feels like admitting he’s truly gone.

“I just need to sleep,” you say instead, pulling your hand away.

Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t press you further. She stands, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t force you to let us in,” she says softly. “But I’m not giving up on you.”

After she leaves, you crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over your head. The dreams are waiting for you, and that’s all that matters.

But even the dreams begin to shift.

The golden fields grow dimmer, the sunsets less vibrant. Loki’s voice, once so warm and reassuring, takes on a melancholy edge. He holds you close, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asks one night, his voice soft but filled with anguish.

“What do you mean?” you reply, confused.

“You’re losing yourself,” he says, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I don’t care,” you whisper. “I just want to be with you.”

Loki’s expression breaks, his own tears shimmering in his eyes. “But at what cost, my love? You’re fading away.”

The dream dissolves into darkness, leaving you gasping as you wake up. For the first time, the comfort of sleep feels like a betrayal, a reminder of how deeply you’ve sunk into the illusion.

And yet, the waking world offers no solace. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

Because no matter where you are — asleep or awake — the pain remains. And you don’t know how to escape it.

It’s late afternoon when your friend arrives at your apartment, a determined look on her face as she steps inside. She doesn’t bother to hide her shock at the state of you. You’re sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the television. Your hoodie hangs loosely on your frail frame, and your skin is pale, almost translucent under the dim lighting.

“Y/N,” she begins, closing the door behind her and walking toward you. There’s no judgment in her tone, only a desperate kind of concern. “I’ve been doing some research… and I think I found something that could help.”

You glance at her, your expression unreadable. “Help?”

“Yes.” She sits down beside you, her movements careful, as though she’s afraid you might shatter. “It’s… unconventional, but it’s worth considering.”

From her bag, she pulls out a pamphlet and places it on the coffee table. The bold lettering on the front reads: The Haven Institute: A New Beginning.

You eye it warily, your stomach twisting with unease. “What is this?”

She hesitates, then takes a deep breath. “It’s a clinic. They specialize in memory modification. They… they can help you forget him.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Forget him? The idea is so foreign, so unimaginable, that it feels like an affront to everything you’ve been holding onto.

“No,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, please just listen—”

“No!” You push yourself up from the couch, pacing the room with frantic energy. “I can’t. I won’t. He’s all I have left. If I forget him, then what? What’s left of me?”

Tears fill your friend’s eyes, but she doesn’t back down. “What’s left of you now?” she asks softly, her voice breaking. “Look at yourself, Y/N. You’re not living. You’re barely surviving. This… this isn’t what he would want for you.”

Her words strike a chord, but you shake your head, unwilling to let them sink in.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I can’t lose him again.”

That night, you dream of Loki again. But this time, the dream isn’t a golden field or a serene sunset. It’s your apartment, dimly lit and suffocatingly quiet.

He’s sitting across from you, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. There’s a weight to his gaze, a sadness that mirrors your own.

“You know she’s right,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.”

Loki leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “Do you think this is what I want for you? To see you like this, wasting away, consumed by grief?”

“I’m not wasting away,” you argue, but your voice lacks conviction.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Aren’t you? Look at yourself, darling. You’re a shadow of the person I fell in love with. And it’s my fault. I see that now.”

“No,” you choke out, clutching at the fabric of your hoodie. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who can’t let go.”

“And that’s why you need to let me go,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not because you don’t love me, but because you do. Because holding onto me is killing you.”

You collapse onto the floor, sobbing into your hands as the weight of his words crashes over you. “I don’t know how,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

Loki kneels beside you, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “You can,” he says firmly. “You’re stronger than you think. And if erasing me is the only way to save you… then so be it.”

The dream begins to fade, his voice lingering in your mind even as the golden light dissolves into darkness.

You wake up gasping, tears soaking your pillow. The words from your dream replay over and over in your head, like a mantra you can’t escape: You need to let me go.

For the first time, you take a long, hard look at yourself. You walk to the bathroom and flick on the light, wincing at the reflection staring back at you. Your cheeks are hollow, your eyes dull, your once-vibrant presence reduced to a frail shadow.

Your hand trembles as you press it against the mirror, your breath fogging the glass. This isn’t you. This isn’t the person you used to be.

And Loki — whether he’s a dream, an illusion, or a memory too stubborn to fade — is right. You’ve let your grief consume you, and if you don’t do something soon, there won’t be anything left to save.

The next morning, you call your friend.

“I’ll do it,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go to the clinic.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I can’t keep living like this.”

Your friend comes over that afternoon, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let her hold you as you cry. It’s a small step, but it’s a step nonetheless.

The pamphlet sits on the coffee table, a reminder of what’s to come. And as you stare at it, a part of you wonders if this is the right choice — if erasing Loki from your mind will truly set you free, or if it will only leave another kind of emptiness in its place.

But for now, you cling to the hope that it might bring you peace. That maybe you can find a way to start over.

The clinic is sterile, unnervingly clean, and entirely too quiet. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead sets your teeth on edge as you sit in the waiting area, clutching the scarf in your lap like a lifeline. It still smells faintly of him, though the scent is fading. You know it’s your imagination more than anything else, but you don’t care. It’s all you have left.

The receptionist calls your name, and you stand, legs trembling as you follow her down a long corridor. Your friend is waiting outside in the car, insisting she couldn’t bear to come in. You told her you’d be fine, but now, as the door to the consultation room closes behind you, you’re not so sure.

The doctor is kind, their voice calm and reassuring as they explain the procedure once again. You listen, nodding at the appropriate times, but your mind is elsewhere — lost in the memories you’re about to give up.

“Do you have the belongings?” the doctor asks gently, gesturing to the small box you’ve brought with you.

You nod, setting it on the table with shaking hands. Inside are the remnants of your life with Loki: a book he loved to read aloud from, a pair of cufflinks he’d left on your dresser, and the scarf you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

The doctor notices your grip on the scarf and tilts their head. “You don’t have to let go of everything,” they say, their tone encouraging. “We can modify the memory tied to an object if you’d prefer to keep it.”

You glance down at the soft fabric, your fingers tracing the intricate weave. The thought of losing this piece of him entirely feels unbearable, but the idea of it being tied to him — tied to your grief — is equally suffocating.

“Can you… can you change the memory?” you ask hesitantly. “Make it something else?”

The doctor nods. “Of course. What would you like it to mean?”

You think for a moment, your mind swirling with possibilities. Finally, you settle on something simple, something that feels safe. “A lucky charm,” you say quietly. “It’s a scarf I’ve had for years, and I keep it for good luck.”

The doctor smiles gently. “We can do that.”

Before the procedure, they give you a moment alone to say goodbye — not to the belongings, but to the memories themselves.

You sit on the chair in the dimly lit room, the scarf draped across your lap. The illusion of Loki appears before you, as vivid as ever, his expression unreadable.

“So, this is it,” he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

You nod, tears welling in your eyes. “I guess it is.”

Loki steps closer, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure this is what you want, my love?”

“I don’t want it,” you admit, your voice trembling. “But I need it. I need to move on. And I can’t… not like this.”

He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, though you can’t feel his touch. “You’ve always been stronger than you know,” he murmurs. “Stronger than me, even.”

You let out a shaky laugh, fresh tears spilling over. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists, his eyes glinting with that familiar intensity. “And now, you’ll prove it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You simply look at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every nuance of his expression.

“Goodbye, Loki,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

His smile is soft, bittersweet. “Goodbye, my love.”

He fades slowly, the edges of his figure dissolving into the air until there’s nothing left but an empty room.

The doctor guides you into the operating chair, the soft hum of machinery filling the space. They place a device over your temples, adjusting the settings as they explain what to expect. You barely hear them, your mind still caught in the aftershocks of saying goodbye.

“This will be painless,” the doctor says gently. “You may experience flashes of the memories as they’re removed, but it will be quick.”

You nod, gripping the scarf tightly.

The machine begins to whir, and the first memory surfaces.

It’s the night you met him, his sharp wit and charming smile disarming you instantly. You remember the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room.

The memory dissolves, and another takes its place.

Loki teaching you magic, his laughter filling the room when you accidentally summon a puff of smoke instead of a flame. “We’ll make a sorceress of you yet,” he had said, pride gleaming in his eyes.

That memory fades, too, replaced by the time he held you under a canopy of stars, his voice a soft murmur as he told you stories of Asgard.

One by one, the memories play out, each one tugging at your heart until it feels like it might break entirely. But you let them go, because you have to.

The last memory is the hardest. It’s the day he left, his hand brushing against yours for the final time. You see the pain in his eyes, the love he couldn’t put into words, and it nearly undoes you.

“Be happy,” he had whispered, his voice cracking. “For both of us.”

As the memory fades, you feel a strange sense of peace. The pain is still there, but it’s muted now, distant.

When the procedure is over, the doctor removes the device and places the scarf in your hands. “It’s done,” they say gently.

You hold the scarf close, feeling its softness against your skin. It’s just a scarf now — a lucky charm, nothing more.

And as you leave the clinic, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter, the world a little brighter.

It’s not a perfect ending, but it’s a new beginning. And for now, that’s enough.

Life after the clinic is quieter, simpler.

You wake up each morning to sunlight streaming through your window, the warmth of it brushing your face. Your days are filled with routines now — a job you’ve rediscovered a passion for, weekend brunches with friends who are no longer burdened with worry over you, and quiet evenings spent reading or listening to music.

On the surface, everything seems fine. You smile more, laugh more. Your friends notice the change and comment on how much better you look. “It’s so good to have you back,” one of them says during a coffee date, her eyes brimming with relief.

You nod, sipping your latte, and try to believe her.

But there’s an ache in your chest that you can’t quite place. A dull, persistent tug that makes itself known when the world grows quiet — when you’re walking home alone in the evening or lying in bed just before sleep takes you. It’s not sharp or overwhelming, just… there. A void you can’t fill, no matter how hard you try.

Your apartment is different now. Cleaner, brighter. The curtains are drawn back to let in the sunlight, and the once-cluttered surfaces are neatly organized. You’ve even picked up a few plants, their green leaves adding life to the space.

And yet, sometimes, when you walk into the living room, you pause, your eyes lingering on the empty chair by the window. For a moment, you feel like something — or someone — should be there. But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes, leaving you puzzled but not overly concerned.

The scarf has become a part of your everyday life. You wear it on days when you need a little extra confidence, its soft fabric a comforting weight around your neck. It’s your lucky charm, though you can’t quite remember where you got it or why it feels so important.

One afternoon, as you’re folding laundry, you find yourself holding the scarf a little longer than necessary. A strange, bittersweet feeling washes over you, like you’re on the verge of remembering something — or someone — just out of reach.

You shake it off, folding the scarf neatly and tucking it away in your drawer.

Dreams come to you occasionally, hazy and fragmented. They’re filled with flashes of green and gold, the sound of laughter you can’t place, and the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you.

You wake from these dreams with a strange mixture of comfort and longing, your heart aching for something — or someone — you can’t name. But the feeling fades as the day goes on, replaced by the mundanity of everyday life.

One evening, as you’re walking home from work, a sudden gust of wind whips through the street, tugging at your scarf. You clutch it tightly, a shiver running down your spine despite the warmth of your coat.

For a brief moment, you feel as though you’re being watched, as though someone is standing just behind you, their presence familiar and reassuring. You turn quickly, your eyes scanning the empty street, but there’s no one there.

You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you continue walking. But the feeling lingers, a warmth in your chest that stays with you for the rest of the night.

Time passes, and the ache in your heart becomes easier to ignore. You focus on the present, on the life you’ve rebuilt. You’re content, if not entirely happy.

But every now and then, when the world grows quiet, you find yourself staring into the distance, your fingers brushing absentmindedly over the scarf around your neck.

You don’t know what it is you’re searching for.

And maybe you never will.

ah yes, the angst! I love it, I've been crying for the last 2k words lol

[lailols]

Kai's Pretty Girlfriend [2]: Step Two

Hueningkai x Reader, eventual OT5 x Reader [3k ish words]

Warnings: thigh riding, kinda mean dom kai, sub reader, unprotected sex, dub con (Kai does things under the assumption that since the guys like the reader, they won't mind and while he's right, he still doesn't ask for consent), exhibitionism, voyeurism

Movie nights are a bit of a sacred tradition between the six of you. The only reason they work so well with your busy schedules is because you all make an effort to spend time together. It might seem silly, but you all push through fatigue and a promise of a good night sleep if it means you’ll spend even just two hours with each other. So maybe Kai should feel a little more remorseful for tainting them.

It’s for the greater good! He thinks to himself as he lets his hands travel down the front of your body under the blanket covering the two of you. Making sure to stop at your covered tits to give them some love. Pinching and pulling them through your shirt just a bit before traveling lower. You’re ever so pliant for him. He tells himself it’s because you’re such a good girl but he knows it’s probably because of the four guys sitting right next to you.

Well, right next to you is a bit of an exaggeration. You and Kai take the loveseat as the resident love birds while the guys pile onto the couch. They could very well see what’s going on if not for the action movie playing on the TV. Kai should probably know what it is, but he didn’t even bother to pay attention when they explained the two-part series because he knew he’d have more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, you.

He decides he should have some decorum, at least at the start. It’ll be no fun if you’re found out so soon after all. He just lets his hand wander under the blanket and your skirt to check what he already knows. Of course, you’re wet for him. Knowing you, you’ve been wet since you got to the dorm for the movie night. Kai was not secretive about the things he wanted to do to you, making sure to strip you of your panties and work you open for him as soon as he got his hands on you.

But that just makes this all the more fun. He keeps you still on his lap through the first movie but doesn’t let you rest. Instead, he trails his hands up and down your waist, sometimes letting them go up to fondle your tits some more and sometimes letting them go lower fluttering around but never where you need him most.

About halfway through the second movie, he turns you around on his lap, making sure to keep the blanket in place. You go willingly, letting him manhandle you into a different position and just tuck your head onto his shoulder with your face turned out to the TV. No doubt, it's a very uncomfortable position, but you don’t whine or complain. But Kai knows you well enough to know that your silence will go away very soon.

He takes a glance at the guys to see what they’re up to and finds them all glued to the screen. It seems like a fight scene is on and they’re all adamantly watching it. Yeonjun is leaning a bit out of his seat on the couch to see better while Soobin is resting his head on the back of the couch probably fighting sleep. Taehyun and Beomgyu are squished in between the two also fixed on the tv. Kai takes that as being in the clear to continue.

He starts off slow and simply grabs your hips to adjust your position from on his lap to hovering over his thigh. Setting you down and leaning to your ear to whisper, “Go ahead, sweetie. Don’t you wanna get off?”

Your hands twitch where they’re rested between the two of you before moving to his shoulders, squeezing. “But the guys…”

“I don’t think I mentioned them, did I?” He uses his grip to push you down onto his thigh, flexing the muscle. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You were so wet when I checked earlier. I’m not gonna help you out, so get started before I change my mind.”

You mutter something he can’t hear before rolling your hips against him. Shifting your head into his neck to hide your gasp. The rough fabric against your bare cunt doesn’t feel as good as you were hoping but you’re not gonna complain. You start off with a slow movement, too aware of the other people in the room with you.

Your hands flex on Kai's shoulders as you move yourself over his thigh. You quickly soak Kai’s pants which makes you run hot, but it does aid the slide. His flexing every so often also helps, but besides that, he leaves his hands at your hips and doesn't talk to you. It makes you feel so needy and desperate as if he didn't get you like this.

You crave his hands on you. Want his hands to wander down to the crease where your ass meets your thighs and grip. Want him to guide your movements above him like he usually does. Want him to trace your thighs and pinch at your skin while laughing at the tears his touch brings. But since he isn't, it's up to you to bring yourself pleasure, grinding against his thigh while you muffle your sounds against his skin.

You eventually build up a good rhythm that isn’t too noticeable while still working yourself to the edge. But that’s the problem. You’re only on the edge. It feels like you’ve been doing this for so long. Short pants leave your mouth from the effort and you angle your hips just right to rub your clit against his thigh.

But even that doesn’t help much. It feels so good and you know you’ve gotten off with less before, so why is it so hard? You just wanted to come, is that so much to ask? Kai has had you wound up since you walked into the dorm and this could be the sweet relief you needed but of course, it’s not that easy. A grunt of displeasure leaves your lips.

You never liked doing the work, content to let Kai move you as he wishes. Hell, you don’t even like riding him all that much. It doesn’t take much longer before you’re whimpering into his neck and clutching his shoulders, on the verge of tears because your thighs hurt and you’re no closer to coming than you were before all this.

“Kai.” You whisper into his skin. “I can’t. Help me?”

“Of course, you can’t. Dumb thing always needs me to help her out, hm?” Kai makes sure to let out a sigh before moving his hand from your hip to your cunt. He uses two fingers to open your folds and circle your entrance before continuing. “You just can’t help it though, can you? Always need me to make you feel good, right?”

“Need you. Need you.” You agree as you push your hips closer to his hand, urging him to get inside you. “Please. Please? I’ll be good, promise.”

He takes that as the okay to push two fingers into you. You gasp at the intrusion and clench around them. “I can’t help if you do let me in, pretty. I prepped you earlier, loosen up.”

You take a deep breath before relaxing into his hold once again. He mutters a ‘good’ to you before spreading his fingers inside you and thrusting them in and out. You try to keep your sounds down, you really do, but Kai knows how to make you feel good. He knows which parts to prod and press at to have you seeing stars and he doesn’t even try to help you out.

Not even bothering to be nice, instead playing with you in a way that he knows makes you loud. He doesn't bat an eye at how you bite your lip and squeeze his shoulders because he knows you'll be good. Knows you’ll take whatever he gives you and you will, but it’s hard. How can he expect you to be quiet when he’s doing this to you?

“Kai.” You moan out when he pushes his fingers to that spot that makes you feel so so good and grip his shoulders tighter. “I can- you can’t do that.”

“And why not?” He asks as he teases a third finger at your entrance. “I thought you wanted my help, baby. Am I not helping?”

“No, no, you are. Bu-“ You’re cut off by another moan escaping from his movements. “I can’t be quiet like this.”

“You can, baby." He pulls his fingers out to readjust before thrusting three into you with his thumb making a home on your clit. "I know you can be good for me.”

“I can’t.” He presses a kiss to your head, telling you to continue. "Not like this."

“Well, then you’ll just be loud.” His movements get more rough, each time he thrusts his fingers in he spreads them out mapping your core but making sure at least one of them is hitting that spongey spot inside you. “I know that’s what you wanted anyways, hm? Baby needs attention all the time. I’m not enough for you?”

“No!" You jolt at your volume before resting your head further into Kai's neck to continue. "No. Kai- Hyuka that’s not it, please.”

"Well, what do you want, hm?" His free hand travels to your waist and pinches hard making the tears that pooled in your eyes earlier spill over and whimpers leave your mouth. "I'm trying to help you out and all you're doing is complaining."

"Sor- 'm sorry." You cry out. "Just feel so good, you make me feel so good, I can't be quiet."

"My sweet girl." He purrs, bringing his hand from your clit to cradle your face, making sure to smear your wetness on your face. "My poor sweet girl. How could I forget? How dare I forget how dumb you get when I get my hands on you? That's okay, I'll make you listen."

He slides two fingers into your mouth and continues his ministrations below. And this feels good. Oh, it feels amazing, but then you realize that you don’t want to come like this. You tap his shoulder a few times and he slides his fingers out.

“I need you.” You trail your hands down to pull at the hem of his pants. “Please, please?”

“For how worried you were before, it seems like you want them to know how much of a slut you are.” He chances a glance at the guys to find them still watching the movie. Now, whether that’s out of respect or genuine interest is not determined. “Should I just take the blanket off of you? Let them see for real?”

You shake your head but continue pulling on his hemline. "No, 'm just need you. Need you. Please?" And for as hard as Kai can be on you, he really likes to give you what you want. He likes making you feel good. Likes turning you whiney and making you cry and beg for what you want just so he can give you it and so much more. Maybe that’s why you continue to ask for more, knowing whatever you take he returns tenfold.

“Lift up a bit.” You raise onto your knees to give him room to slide his dick out. “Bite my shoulder, sweet thing. So you’re not too loud.”

You were about to retort but when he guides you onto him, you quickly bite down to keep in your sounds. Kai's not helping any with the way he travels his hands up from your hips and to your stomach to press on the bulge he's leaving in your tummy making you choke down a moan.

“This is what you needed, hm?” He says as he picks you up a bit to fix his footing. “Always need me to do all the work, right baby? Pretty thing can’t get off by herself, but that’s okay, I’ll help you out.”

He takes to moving you up and down his cock but never letting you go all the way down so there’s no sound of skin hitting skin. Not that the lack of sound would matter much because you’re not quiet whatsoever. You poor thing, gripping his shoulders so tightly and digging your teeth in so hard but even that isn’t stopping your sounds.

You probably don’t even realize, too caught up in the feeling of wanting a release so desperately that you can’t think of anything else. Kai likes it when you get like this. So lost in the way he makes you feel. It makes him want to devour you but more than that, makes him want to show you off. Show the world how good you are, how sweet you sound.

He looks up to check if the guys are still watching the TV and they are but it’s clear their minds are elsewhere. All of their ears are tinted red and they’re all sitting ramrod straight, adjusting every now and then.

Kai wants to say something, but he didn’t talk to you about how far he could push and, honestly, you’d agree to anything he’d ask of you right now but would it be genuine? Or would you just be agreeing so you could come? He doesn’t have much time to assess before your keening and pulling off his shoulder to beg.

“Kai! ‘m gonna- gonna come.” You choke out as your hands go from his shoulders to his neck, tilting your head up towards him. “Kiss? Please?"

“You never have to ask, love.” He bends down to meet your lips, sliding his tongue into your waiting mouth. “Go ahead and come for me, baby.” He whispers into your lips. “You’ve been so good, you deserve it.” He slams you down onto his lap and moves his hand to your clit, passing over it once, twice, until you’re coming around him.

When you’re finished riding out your high, he pulls himself out of you and hushes your whines with a sweet kiss before he picks you up to pull up his pants and carries you out of the living room. Leaving his friends and group mates to sit in silence (besides the movie credits rolling) with awkward boners and flushes on their faces. When he lays you down on the bed, he kisses you again as he strips you of your clothes.

“Did I do good? Hyuka?” You ask even though he already said it, craving his words.

“So good, baby.” He pulls down his pants and enters you again. “Always so good for me. My perfect little slut, yeah?”

His words may grow more brazen but his thrusts are slow and deep. His hands are sweet as they guide your legs over his shoulders. You love Kai in all of his moods but this one might be your favorite. The way his hands trace your body as if your glass but his mouth runs a mile a minute. Telling you how you were so good and so quiet that he almost thought he wasn’t making you feel good. Saying how he’ll just have to make you scream now to make sure he can still satisfy you.

He continues to ramble as he travels his hands to interlock with yours and bring them above your head. Rocking into you and reaching so far you swear you feel him in your throat, as impossible as that is. It feels so good, he feels so good, you can’t help the little ahs that leave your mouth.

He makes you both reach the edge like that, rambling off about anything and everything before sliding himself out of you and grabbing something to clean you off. Then pulling you into his arms and whispering sweet nothings to you until you fall asleep interlocked together.

<3

Kai expected a talk after you were less than subtle during movie night, but it doesn't make it any less embarrassing to be scolded by his friends.

Taehyun, Soobin, Yeonjun, and Beomgyu are currently standing in front of the couch where you and Kai are cuddling. Taehyun is standing with his hands in his pockets looking bored, Soobin is fiddling with his hands and looks as if he'd rather be anywhere else, Yeonjun has his arms crossed and is tapping his foot, and Beomgyu looks excited that he isn't currently being scolded.

"Is there anything you guys need?" Kai asks casually as he adjusts your position to sitting up.

"You guys can't sit together for movie nights anymore," Yeonjun says with shockingly little remorse considering the fact that he just ripped Kai's heart out and stomped on it in less than ten words.

"What?"

"Why not?" You and Kai share a look of shock and devastation before turning back to them.

"Well, putting aside the fact that you don't even pretend to pay attention to the movie, you also are very distracting to those of us who do want to watch the movie," Taehyun responds.

"How are we distracting?" Kai asks.

"Y/n doesn't even attempt to be quiet an-" Beomgyu is cut off by your gasp as you turn to Kai.

"You told me I was quiet!" You shoot him a look of pure betrayal that Kai has to look away from in shame.

"Well, maybeee you weren't as quiet as I was telling you," Kai proceeds to defend himself (read: lie through his fucking teeth), "You always try so hard to be good for me, I couldn't handle breaking the truth to you."

You don't spare him another glance before looking at the guys in remorse, "I'm so sorry that someone is a lying asshole, I didn't mean to stop you guys from enjoying movie nights."

"No, y/n, it's not your fault," Soobin stops before you can overthink. "We completely blame Kai. It wasn't even that big of a problem, we really wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t during movie night!”

“You wouldn’t have minded?” You ask surprised. Soobin promptly flushes.

“I- I mean, if you’re comfortable- but like- we don’t mind- I mean I can’t speak for them but-“

“What Soobin is so eloquently saying is that you’re hot y/n,” Beomgyu chimes in, not even flinching at the scorching glare Soobin sends his way. “We’d be crazy to not want to see you fall apart so prettily.”

“Oh.” You’re rendered speechless while Kai struggles to keep his smile at bay. This means Step Two is a success as well! He’s two for two. Damn. He should’ve placed a bet with someone. Or maybe not because when he thinks about it, Step Three needs a bit of revision...

Step Two is done!! Yippie! This took so long because chapter three had me in a chokehold (and I was sick). Love ya! Let me know what you think!

What is Kai's revision to step three? The guys have watched so long, do you think they'll break and start doing something?

[lucygraysmockingjays]

​shoutout to that TikTok commenter who commented ON MY SNOWBAIRD EDIT that insinuated I didn’t know what I was talking about when I said my interpretation was that they were in love… “I get why you think that if you only seen the movie” and then proceeded to call our beloved queen Lucy Gray “lucy”

Listen it’s a fine line. Obviously Snow is terrible and unforgivable but Coryo wasn’t and we can hate him and what he did but… even at the end of Ballad… he isn’t Snow yet. In Ballad, he’s still a traumatized war child who has been severely propagandized. His thoughts are fucked up yes but that’s not him, it’s the adults around him who have trained his brain to think that way.

Yes, he makes the horrible choice to lean into it when he knows better (fuck you Coriolanus Snow) but that doesn’t take away his love for Lucy Gray or make it any less real.

After Ballad, and I think the movie it’s easier to see because you’re outside his unreliable POV where he’s trying so hard to convince himself, its clear that he’s going to spend the rest of his life loving her and being afraid of her and trying not to be.

By the time Katniss comes around, he is fully evil and fully Snow and he’s convinced himself he did the right thing in the woods because he had no other option because he had his family and his legacy and he’s being the ruler that everyone hates but everyone needs because humanity is doomed and the world is an arena and he’s being this cruel to avoid war that would destroy them all.

And then Katniss shows up singing the song his one love used to sing her baby cousin to sleep with and proves him completely wrong by refusing to kill Peeta in the end. It’s why he despises her, and why the cycle continues.

That’s the point of the ballad of songbird and snakes.

Since some of y’all still get it wrong, perhaps you need to hear it from the queen herself:

Like, if you’re still making tbosas content these days, how have you not learned her name MONTHS after the movie release 😭😭

[inkpot909]

Walking around looking like a million bucks, Giorno loves wearing makeup. His bread and butter being natural looks with hints of flare. Depending on the occasion he might decide to go all out. When he was little he used to raid his mother’s stash of makeup and waste time away by practicing. It wasn’t until later in life, becoming more secure in himself, that he starts wearing it out. At least, that’s the story he’ll tell if asked. Call it what he wants, but it’s largely a factor of his Brando genes finally kicking in.

Bruno gets the appeal of makeup, at the very least. The time it takes… the artistry…. he would never hold it against someone for putting on any amount or style of makeup. Does he wear makeup himself? If asked, he would shrug and say skincare takes up enough of his routine. To his credit his skincare is quite extensive, but that’s as close to ‘makeup’ as he ever gets. He’s very casual about it, but in truth he’s conscious over his unsteady hands. He just doesn’t trust himself with it at all.

A true goth diva, Abbacchio isn’t ever seen without completing his usual look everyday. Black or cool shades of lipstick, with mascara and eyeliner. It’s a simple routine, but it’s second nature to him at this point. Sleeps in makeup all the time. His eyelashes stick together and the black flakes lightly coat his dark circles. Weirdly enough… he kind of likes it. He won’t even wash his face in the morning before slapping more makeup over it. Even weirder is that he pulls it off. That, or he’s so naturally intimidating that no one dares point it out. Maybe that’s been the real goal all along.

It’s in the kindest, most understanding way, to say that Mista has never tried makeup and never will. He likes it and will be very supportive if a potential partner would take the time to do themselves up, but Mista himself…? His personal hygiene has areas of improvement that are definitely higher up on the priority list. Like… using deodorant? Yeah, that would be a big help, wouldn’t it?

Makeup? It’s a hard pass for Fugo. He doesn’t spend much time in front of the mirror and would prefer to keep it that way. His viewpoint is “Why would I put makeup on? I look fine.” A tad bit too defensive, but that’s the answer he sticks to nonetheless. In actuality… it’s one of the few things his mind cannot wrap itself around. He watches Giorno do up his face with exaggerated bewilderment. How in the world people can cake themselves so effortlessly is beyond him, and he’s only a little jealous. Besides, his practicality keeps him from indulging anyways. Maybe in another lifetime.

The idea of so much as trying makeup never once crossed Narancia’s mind. It wasn’t ever on his radar. Regardless of Giorno and Abbacchio’s habits, the possibility was never considered. He honestly thought for a while that it’s just what Giorno naturally looks like. That was, until he met Trish. It’s in her nature to want to practice beauty and play with makeup, so he considered her wanting to include him meant they’re becoming genuine friends. He was correct, and he also discovered for himself… makeup is not for him. He likes wearing makeup, but putting it on is a whole other story. As terrible at it as he is, he’s especially fond of eyeliner. He rarely puts it on, though, since he’d prefer if someone else does it for him.

[bwoahtastic]

When Nico Wolff starts dating Jenson the family is moved okay! He had only have little boyfriends and girlfriends come and go but with Jenson hes a nervous wreck!

Lewis is so amused seeing his little brother being so nervous but hes nervous himself! Jenson is a good guy, Lewis and him are at the same sports team, but thats his baby brother! If Jenson does one thing out of line Lewis will kill him. As simple as that.

Seb would be super exited but also worried!! He has had his fare share of highschool boyfriends gone wrong experience and doesn’t want it to happen to Nico too! Maybe he sits Nico down and asks if Jenson is treating him right and isn’t presuring Nico about anything! Nico asks Seb to take him shopping for a nice little dress for the meet the parent dinner!

Toto is the calmest one sksks He trust Nico to make his own decisions but wont hesitate to kick Jenson out if he oversteps any of Nico’s boundaries.

So the dinner arrives and Jenson is QUIET! He’s so nervous himself he doesn’t even take off his jacket when he arrives. Seeing him so out of it Toto and Seb really melt for him, asking questions slowly and Toto cracking little dad jokes that make Nico red and Jenson crack up. Even Lewis is more relaxed!

When Jenson is going to leave, Toto allows him to stay!! He can’t sleep in Nicos room tho sksks so he gets a mattress on Lewis’s floor sksksksk It okay, Nico sneaks in the middle of the night and the three of them stay up watching movies and chatting all night!

Oh pls! Nico having dated a few boy and girlfriends but have rarely taken any of them home and everyone can see Jenson is so important to him! Lewis being so amused because he knows Nico is really in love and he thinks it's a little funny he is so nervous about bringing jenson home. Lewis knows jenson relatively well and he knows he's a nice guy but still! That's his baby brother they are talking about! He definitely makes it clear he won't hesitate to hurt jenson lol. But also, he does mention his big Alpha dad a lot of times lmao!

Seb ofc decides he needs to be at the dinner too, lol, and Toto didn't ask but set the table for 5 because he assumed Seb would be there anyways sksk. Seb taking Nico aside to make aure Jenson is nice and not pushing him for anything and pls nico asking Seb to come shopping with him🥺🥺

Pls Jenson normally being so chill and outgoing but he is so very clearly nervous as fuck when he comes over for dinner. Forgets ro take his coat off at first and doesn't really know what to say and is a little shy when Nico comes to greet him and kisses him. Toto and Lewis instsntly forget about their planned intimidation tactics and try to make him comfortable instead, joking a little and being welcoming and kind and Nico is so relieved they are accepting jense!

Jenson going to leave but he missed his last bus and when he says its fine, he will walk, Toto offers him the option to stay or he will drive jenson home and jenson shyly asks to stay, getting a mattress in Lewis's room but Toto pretends not to notice when Nico sneaks in there too and the 3 of then watch movies and giggle most of the night lol!

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Bedtime snacks!

Okay… I had some time and Amanda seemed upset when I did my homework before watching the next tape but… wow. That… that was hard. I don’t remember Riley saying the puzzles were this hard. Okay… maybe I felt they were exaggerating because I know they hate puzzles… but I love puzzles! So like… it shouldn’t be this hard right? Sophie thinks. But now she finally has it. The next tape, titled Bedtime Snacks! 

I’m going to need a bedtime snack after this… Sophie thinks to herself. Looking at the time. She puts the next tape into the VCR and it starts to play. The tape begins with Wooly laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He eventually notices Sophie. 

“Oh, hi there friend! Are there ever times where you feel like you just can’t sleep?” he asks. Sophie types in yes. “Yeah… heh heh… it happens all the time. It’s like your thoughts are just whirling around in your head and they just won’t stop! Well… sometimes it’s not even that. Sometimes I just… wait and wait and wait… and I just don’t fall asleep. It’s kind of annoying honestly.” 

Honestly I just stay up really late on my phone or doing assignments and suddenly it’s morning. We’re not the same. Sophie thinks. 

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” he asks, but no text box appears so Sophie stays quiet. Wooly stands there awkwardly. “Um… good for you? I think? Um anyway, I think a nice bedtime snack can sometimes be good. Like some milk and cookies! But don’t tell Amanda okay? If she finds out we had cookies without her she’ll be really upset.” 

“Maybe you could invite her?” Sophie suggests. Wait, I'm not supposed to talk!

“Well she’s sleeping, and I think she’d be more upset if I woke her up so… hmm… let’s just keep this between us okay?” Sophie types in yes. Wooly smiles. “Don’t go telling Amanda behind my back, okay?” Okay Sophie types. “Ooookay then. Let’s go to the kitchen!” the tape glitches to the kitchen. Wooly is quiet for a bit, as if contemplating something. 

“Milk is so much better at night when it’s warm…” he whispers. “But we don’t have a microwave… so I guess it’ll have to be cold.” Wooly pouts. Sophie clicks on the stove. “I… I’m confused, what do you want me to do?” she clicks it again. “You can talk, you know, I won’t get mad.” 

“You can heat up the milk in a saucepan on the stovetop.” she explains. Wooly’s eyes light up with excitement. Then he stops. 

“But… we really shouldn’t be using the stove without an adult…” he mumbles. His face contorts a bit in frustration, “but it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to make myself a warm cup of milk…” 

He sounds like he’s arguing with himself Sophie thinks. 

“Mmm… weeeeelll. You’re an adult right? So it should be fine! Just… don’t tell Amanda okay?” 

This really isn’t going to help Amanda trust me… but okay… Sophie thinks. “Do you need any help?” 

“Yeah… maybe… I’ve only ever done this in a microwave…” Wooly answers. 

“You’ve done this before?” 

“Yeah I used to have warm milk with my little sister every night… then I’d read her a story… We had this whole routine. She couldn’t fall asleep without it… honestly neither could I… mmmm….” he pauses, “being able to remember her again after so long is weird… but I think I’m starting to see why Amanda wanted to remember her dad and Kate so much…” he stays quiet for a moment, as if reminiscing. Sophie gives him a moment. “So… what do we do?” he asks. 

“Well, like I said, you heat up the milk in a saucepan over the stovetop on low heat…” 

“Great! Can you help me find the saucepan? Is it under the sink, in the fridge, or in the stove?” Sophie clicks under the sink. “That’s… right.” Wooly says, a little surprised by this. He goes under the sink and gets the saucepan. “Now… Could you tell me where the milk is?” Sophie clicks on the fridge. Wooly smiles. “Hehe, great job. Now could you tell me where the measuring cup is?” Sophie clicks on the cupboard. “Wow, right again! You’re a master at this!” 

Honestly I have no idea where any of your stuff is. I'm just picking what I think is the most logical answer. Sophie thinks to herself. 

“Can I tell you a secret? Honestly climbing and grabbing stuff from high places always makes me super nervous… could you grab it for me?” he asks. Sophie clicks and drags the measuring cup down onto the counter. “Awww thanks! You’re so nice! Alright. We need one cup of milk. Can you help me pour it?” Wooly starts pouring the milk in and Sophie clicks on it once it reaches one cup. “Perfect!” Then Wooly pours the milk into the saucepan. “You know what? I like you way better than Riley. Usually Riley always teases us and keeps picking the wrong answers on purpose! But you’re actually helpful!” 

Riley… Sophie thinks to herself. “Yeah Riley tends to tease people they care about. It’s kind of their way of showing love.” Sophie laughs. 

“Well I find it really annoying!” Wooly pouts, “Ah! But don’t tell them that, okay? Um… what do I do next?” 

“You have to simmer it on low heat until it reaches the desired temperature.” Sophie answers. Wooly pauses for a moment, as if considering something. 

“Hey, why don’t you make some warm milk with me?” he suggests. Sophie looks confused. “Turn around,” he whispers. She turns around and realizes there’s a toy mini stove and plastic saucepan behind her. Toys from when she was growing up. 

That’s right… After mom died, dad started using the shelter like it was an attic or something… next to it is a plastic saucepan. She puts the mini-stove dial on low heat and puts the saucepan on it. “Should I… get some milk?” 

“NO! Heh heh… just make believe, okay? Trust me…” Wooly whispers nervously. Sophie comes back to the tv and sits down. “While I watch the milk, can you get the cookies from the cupboard for me?” Sophie clicks and drags the cookies down on the counter. Wooly glances over his shoulder and sees them. “Ah! The milk is done! Which color cup should I use?” Sophie picks blue. “Ah… blue is…” the tape glitches, “nice…” 

Did I make a mistake? Sophie wonders. Wooly pours the milk into the blue cup. He dips the cookie into the milk and takes a bite. Then he takes a big sip of milk. 

“Aaaaaaaaah… this is the LIFE! Honestly… sometimes I can’t get why Amanda wants to leave SO badly! Just give me warm milk and some bubble baths and I might never want to leave.” he sighs. 

“Well you can get plenty of those in the real world too.” Sophie laughs. 

“That’s true… hmm…” Wooly says thoughtfully, as if daydreaming about all the other things he could do, “Thanks for spending time with me Sophie… I don’t like being alone at night.” 

“No problem Wooly.” she replies. 

“Really? It’s not a burden?”

“Not at all.” she smiles. He seems really happy to hear this. 

“This is nice. I haven’t gotten to do this since… well… since before my sister… well… Riley probably already told you…” 

“Yeah…” 

“I know this is going to sound really weird… but it feels nice to have someone to talk to. I mean there’s Amanda… but up until recently we weren’t even friends anymore… and even now it still feels… awkward. And Riley… eeeeeeeeh… I don’t hate them but… I don’t know… you’re different. I feel comfortable around you… you feel safe…” 

“Aww Wooly I’m flattered.” “Hey um… Sophie… Can I talk to you about something? Can I… vent a bit?”

“Sure Wooly.” Oh?

“This is going to sound awful but… this place… was the first place I ever felt safe.” Wooly confesses. “I mean, it was because I didn’t have my memories but still… It was a safe place. And Amanda… was the first person I ever felt like I could lean on. She was safe too. I mean… before that all I had was my little sister and… she needed me to be strong so…I was always either taking care of someone else or on my own. And for once… I felt like I had a friend. Someone I could lean on… even just a little…” 

“I see…” Sophie responds. 

“And then… she ruined it… they all ruined it. Making us remember that this world wasn’t real and we were. And sometimes… I really hate them for it. They were trying to do what was best for us but… they didn’t think any of it through… why screw everything up if you can’t fix it?” Wooly grumbles, then he stops, “Oh, I’m sorry. I know they were just trying to help… and I know you mom died trying to help us… wow that was really horrible of me right? You must hate me now.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Sophie says, “To tell you the truth I… also resent my mom a bit.” 

“Huh?” 

“She was willing to do anything to save you guys… even if it killed her… she didn’t mind dying for this but… what the people she left behind. Her family. Me. Honestly I resented Hameln and… you guys too a little for the longest time. Why do some random kids in a TV show matter more?” 

“I get it… I am mad at my mom too… I mean…  she abandoned us… she was never there… she always just left when things hurt too much… but we needed her… if she had only just been around… maybe she wouldn’t have kil-… maybe things would be different.” Wooly sighs. “Sophie?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“What do you do when you feel… too many feelings? Too strongly? All at once?” Wooly asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… I feel happy. Amanda and I are friends again. We might actually be able to escape… things might get better but… I also feel… sad… about my memories… and betrayed by what Amanda and Riley did… and… and…” Wooly stops, “Ever since I started really getting my memories back… I don’t know what it is… but sometimes- all the time? I just feel this… something bubbling up inside…  like… I don’t want to blame anybody but…” Wooly glares at his cup of milk. “Then there’s Hameln… and all the things they did and Am-” he stops, the look on his face suggests that he felt like he was just about to say something horrible. “Amanda.” he says it very slowly and carefully, like it’s some cursed word that should never ever be spoken. “I can’t believe I put those two in the same sentence…” he mutters. Wooly grips his cup tightly, watching little ripples form in the milk. “I thought once I made amends with her… my safe space would come back but… after all the things she did… it’s like… I can’t trust her anymore. I don’t want to be mad at my best friend… but… UGH! I hate it! I hate it so much! I shouldn’t be thinking like this!” 

“It’s totally normal to be upset when someone does something bad to you… sometimes it takes time to forgive them… and that’s okay…”

“But… being angry about it won’t fix anything.”

“It’s still okay to be mad…  I mean… it’s not healthy to hold onto that anger-”

“I’m trying to let it go… really…” 

“But it’s not healthy to hold it all in.” Sophie says, Wooly looks conflicted. “Hey… you okay?” 

“Honestly? Honestly? No.” Wooly chuckles sadly, burying his face into his hands, his voice cracking a bit. “I hate this… I hate it here… I hate everything. I’m scared to leave and yet… I don’t want to stay…”

“That is… complicated.” These kids need a therapist… Sophie thinks. 

“I… feel like she brings out the worst in me… like I want to just explode… and she makes me wanna do it. Even if just for a minute… to just scream at the world till my lungs burst… She asks me if I’m mad… I am mad… I’m mad at… everything. At Amanda, at Hameln, at my parents, at all the stupid adults who never listened and never cared, at all the adults who said they were going to help but only made things worse, at Riley, at… at… but I can’t… I can’t do it… I just can’t live like that…” Wooly stops, “I’m jealous… Amanda can just let it all out… I don’t know how she does that… She’s just as trapped as me… and yet she always seems so free…” 

“Maybe you should talk to her about this?” Sophie suggests. 

“No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just needed to vent a bit. That’s it. That’s all, really.” 

“Are you sure?” Sophie asks, Wooly pauses. 

“Sophie? Do you really think we can get out of here?”

“Um…” 

“Sometimes I don’t even know if I want to… I just… hate uncertainty so much.” 

“Me too…” 

“Sometimes… I wish… that when Amanda killed me… I had just stayed gone…” Wooly mumbles, “At least that way… I wouldn’t have to feel anything again. That way I wouldn’t have to remember… all of this… why did she make me remember? Why did I have to? I just… I…”

“Wooly…” “I’m sorry. That got really dark, huh? Guess I’m no good at this kids show stuff after all… heh heh… but um… thanks for listening, really. It means a lot.” Wooly smiles, “I think… I can… yawn go to… sleep now… could you… tuck me in?” 

“Sure.” Sophie says softly. They glitch to Wooly’s room and she clicks on the blankets. Wooly lets out one last big yawn and says… “Goodnight.” Sophie expects the tape to end but the tape glitches to Amanda in the kitchen. 

“You had milk and cookies without me?” Amanda mumbles, sounding hurt. 

“I’m sorry, it was Wooly’s idea.” 

“I know…” 

“Oh.” 

“I knew it… he is mad…” Amanda sighs. 

“I…” 

“He doesn’t talk to me about anything anymore…” Amanda cries. 

“I’m sorry…?” Sophie wasn’t sure what to say. 

“No… thanks for listening to him… I guess you aren’t so bad…” Amanda says. “I just… I…” 

“You should talk. Both of you…” 

“Mmm…” Amanda looks away. 

“I mean it.” 

“I’ve tried but…” 

“Try again. Keep trying. Don’t give up.” Sophie says encouragingly. Amanda smiles. 

“Thanks Sophie.” the tape ends and falls out of the VCR. She looks behind her at the toy mini-stove, now in the saucepan is a new tape titled: Lunchtime. 

Ah… so that’s why he said no milk. 

Author's note: Alright. That's the last fic for a while. Hope you enjoyed a little fluff there. As I wrote this fic, I found myself slowly creating this interesting dynamic. Amanda really only fully trusts Riley, and Wooly only fully trusts Sophie. Maybe they can use that to their advantage? But wow... Wooly's feeling... A LOT lately... 

Also, trying out some new formatting with the thoughts. Do you like it or should I go back to the old method?

Also... yeah I deleted this post and rewrote the Wooly vents scene. Heh heh...

[spookyysinsanity]

dating castiel headcanons (fem!reader)

cw: sexual innuendos(not too bad) and tooth rotting FLUFF

after the first time he touches you(don’t be freaky with this) he never wants to stop. he never realized how touchstarved he was and he always just wants to hold you. whether is your hand in public, or holding you as you sleep, he just likes to be close to you.

remembers EVERY anniversary. he learned from dean that anniversaries are incredibly important and to never forget anything (dean is if u look at it canonically the type to def be bitchslapped for not remembering your 3 month anniversary) and so after a month of being with him, he just bombards you with gifts and food and flowers, and you sit down and explain that while it’s very sweet, he is more important to you than any tangible objects.(he’d still do it anyways)

he doesn’t like to say your dating, he doesn’t think it’s a serious enough term for what you are. he always says you’re his, but not in a bdsm way,.. more of a ‘souls intertwined and bound for all of eternity way’..

forehead kisses always

he likes to dress you…like putting on your shoes, buttoning your shirt, clasping your bra…

he likes to take you with him all around the world since all he has to do is snap, and you’re on a beach at sunset 🤷‍♀️

he always has a wing tucked around you even if you can’t see it. he would never let anyone hurt you

always calls you by your name, but isn’t one for pet names. he prefers to hear himself say your name very clearly, and vice versa. but, he won’t complain if in a softer situation, you called him “baby” or “angel”…cough cough wink wink

will sing or hum you to sleep, or tell you stories about creation

loves when you talk about and explain human behaviors. you’re the only person who is always patient with him and doesn’t feel embarrassed to ask you any and all questions

loves to wash and/or braid your hair for you oand loves watching you get ready

he literally won’t let you do anything he wants everything to be so simple and so easy for his beautiful human girl. will abuse his angelic abilities for you

will heal you before you even know you’re hurt

he loves to lay on your tummy or have you curled up in his lap. again he just wants to be close to you

_______________________________________________

a/n: thank you sm for reading!!! likes comments and reblogs are appreciated! if you like this pls lmk and i’ll write more!:) i’ve been drafting some nsfw headcanons… 😜

[taesanboki]

What are we..? - K. LH

pairing: toxic!leehan x fem!reader

༄ summary: after an amount of time full of flirtatious acts and joyful dates spent with leehan, you were blinded by love and thought you found the one even imagining yourself as a mother. But maybe leehan wasn’t who you thought he was..

༄ contains: angst, swearing (literally one word), love bombing, leehan is a dick!, use of y/n, use of leehan’s real name (donghyun), idk if i missed anything but enjoy 👏😊!

★ a/n: so uhm funny story..after i posted my intro i also got chewed up by a tiger and died! (the tiger being my sister..) so i have come back from the dead to start posting 😊 (the tiger has been threatening me to post so here i am 😊!)

more under the cut!

The clock read 8pm as you stood cold and upset outside of a fancy restaurant that donghyun had told you he’d meet you at but clearly never showed up.

He was supposed to be here by 7pm but after many missed calls and avoided texts you decided to wait figuring he was just busy getting ready. But 10 minutes turned into 20 minutes, 20 turning into 30, and 30 turning into an hour.

You scoffed looking at your phone screen to see no new notifications which is no shocker since this isn’t the first time he’s stood you up.

“What a dick” you mutter to yourself as you storm away to the direction of your car. This dinner was supposed to be a “make up” dinner since he’d been busy with other things and hadn’t been making plans with you. You had gotten ready with such an excited manner putting on the dress he loved and the perfume he bought you for your birthday.

You and donghyun hadn’t made it official yet only going on a few dates for the past few months but in such little time you couldn’t help but start falling for him, fast.

He seemed like a nice guy, handsome, caring, sweet, gentle, and everything you could ever ask for in a man. You felt lucky being with a guy like him, you felt the need to do anything to please him, anything to make him feel the same way you did. But soon your efforts seemed to be going to waste as time went on, he felt to be drifting away very slowly.

You slammed your car door shut with a defeated feeling bubbling in your stomach. You felt tears forming on your waterline but this wasn’t something tear worthy so you tried your best to suck it up and drive back home.

The faint music playing in the background made the feeling settle down a bit since your favorite soft artist was playing, clairo.

Eventually you made it back home and got changed out of your clothes, took a shower, and made your way to bed.

While lying in bed, you couldn’t help but think about what went wrong throughout your small relationship with donghyun. You had thought maybe this could bloom into something more, maybe even having him meet your parents and start a family one day.

You couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest, tears begging to be released.

You couldn’t contain it any longer and let it flow, over, and over again. Your sobs grew louder as you gripped the pillow under you, you never thought a guy could make you feel this way. Both happy and excited for his next move mixed with disappointment and frustration.

You didn’t know what to expect every time he promised to make it up to you. You always thought he would change and start to be better but it always ended up being the same results.

Once you calmed down a bit, you drifted to sleep with racing thoughts and pressure built up in your chest. Let’s hope tomorrow will be a better day..

The cruel ringing of your alarm tore you out of your slumber while you were having the best dream. Where Donghyun wasn’t a complete dick and actually took interest in you.

It saddened you that you could only dream about him being that way rather than experiencing it in real life.

You pushed all thoughts aside and focused on getting ready for work.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your keys and headed out of your apartment to your car when a text popped on your screen from the one and only, donghyun.

The worst part about being in this situationship with donghyun was you couldn’t say no, no matter how hard you tried he always had a way of convincing you.

You let out a disappointed sigh, you knew that you couldn’t get too excited anymore since most of the time when he asked to go out he stood you up with no excuse and you always forgave him. But a little part of you still had hope that he’d come through this time.

You made it to work, starbucks, clocked in and started working.

Work was going peaceful until a customer walked in. Male, a little taller than you, in his mid 30’s.

You watched him as he walked up to the counter to where you stood, his walk had this pettiness in it that you couldn’t help but choke down a small giggle.

“Hi! Welcome to starbucks, what’s the name for the order?” You greeted the man enthusiastically. “rob and uh can I get a tall iced pumpkin latte and a pumpkin cream cheese muffin, make it quick I don’t have all day.” The man replied while pulling out his phone.

You scoffed at the man’s behavior, now known as rob. No thank you? No please? You tried to keep your cool as you told the man the price of his order and turned to start making it.

After about 10 minutes you finished his order and went back to the front to call his name.

“I got a tall iced pumpkin latte and a pumpkin cream cheese muffin for rob!” Shortly after calling out the order, the man stomped over to the counter, snatched his order without taking his gaze off his phone, and walked out.

Not even 5 minutes go by before the bell on the door rings and the same man walks in angrily, his drink in one hand and his phone in the other.

“This is wrong.” “Uhm no sir that’s an iced pumpkin latte just like you ordered..” You shot back.

“This has foam. I didn’t ask for foam.” The man barked. You took a deep breath in, “Well sir make sure to clarify that when you order so we can get it right next time” You smiled sarcastically.

“Give me a refund now or I want to speak to your manager.”

You paused and bit your lip to keep yourself from spilling out obscenities for the sake of your job. “Unfortunately, we can’t refund you for a drink you already took a sip out of, i’m sorry i got your order wrong, have a nice day!”

“Young lady do you know who i am? I could get you fired from here with one complaint.” The man spat at you.

Oh my god someone kill me you thought. “Sir, just like I told you there’s nothing i can do, the least i can do is apologize.”

The man rambled on and on leaving you to stand there with your hands behind your back and taking deep breaths. The anger boiling inside of you was begging to be let out.

Just as you were about to snap, your manager stepped out to ask what all the noise was about and ordered you to take a break.

You stormed to the back and tore off your apron, sitting down on a chair trying to calm yourself down.

As frustrated as you were, you couldn’t let this ruin your mood, but it seemed like the universe wanted you to always have bad days.

Soon your shift ended, it was 7pm and you were exhausted and still a little frustrated while you rushed home to take a shower and finally relax.

You had completely forgotten about donghyun wanting to come over until you opened your apartment door.

You were greeted with your favorite candies and a bowl of popcorn while donghyun made himself at home with his feet on your table. That ticked you a little.

As soon as he saw you walk through the door he stood up and walked over to you and pulled you into a small hug. “Geez I didn’t know you were working for so long, i’ve been waiting here for a while!” He chuckled as he led you to the couch. 

You reluctantly sat down, “How did you get in my house?!” He laughed before responding, “Did you forget you hid a key under your doormat?”

“Fuck i need to take that out” You whispered to yourself.

“Let’s watch a movie come on!” Donghyun quickly put his feet back on the table and grabbed the whole bowl of popcorn.

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to keep your anger tamed. “Donghyun, i never said you can come to my house unannounced.”

He looked at you, “We’re watching a movie together right?” You cleared your throat, “I never said yes but i appreciate the effort you put into this but i need you to leave.”

“What? Are you mad at me?” He tries to pull you into a hug to keep your mind off of your frustration.

You didn’t reciprocate the hug, just sitting there letting him lean on you. “Donghyun.” “y/n let’s watch a movie come on that’s why i’m here!” “Donghyun-“ “y/n stop talking we’re watching a movie”

You closed your eyes, you were fed up with him not acknowledging the problems and mental problems he’s caused, only making little effort to tell you he’s sorry without using actual words.

You snapped, “Donghyun im done, im so fucking done with you not caring about my feelings and making me wait for you every night whether it’s out in the cold or even a text back! The thing i hate most about this- whatever we are is how you don’t even make an effort to make me feel better, how you don’t even know how much pain and exhaustion you’ve caused me, how you don’t realize how much i’m willing to do for you!” Tears now streaming down your face all the emotion and frustration built up spilling out.

Donghyun stared at you confused for a moment as if he didn’t know what you were saying. “Y/n..what are you talking about..?” a nervous chuckle coming out of him.

“The fact that you’re not taking me serious right now says everything I need to know-“ you sniffled, “donghyun, can you tell me one thing? What are we..?”

It got quiet, donghyun not knowing what to say. The silence was eating you alive, only your heavy breaths being heard.

The silence lasted for several minutes before donghyun finally spoke, “.. We’re friends y/n..”

That felt like a stab in the heart, did all of this mean nothing to him? Was all of this just for fun?

The pain in your chest was unbearable, now it was your turn to stay quiet.

The both of you stared at each other for what felt like hours, donghyun’s eyes were glossed over while your face was coated with tears.

You took a deep breath in and looked away, “Donghyun please leave..” You whispered with a shaky voice. “Y/n-“ “leave.”

Without another word, donghyun got up, dusted off his clothes, and walked out taking a small glance before slamming the door.

As soon as you heard the door shut, you let out ugly sobs. Your heart ached, it felt like it shattered into microscopic pieces.

You sat there with your face in your hands, shaking rapidly basically drowning in your tears for hours upon hours.

It hurt. it hurt so bad and you couldn’t do anything about it. All you could do was cry.

All of your effort, all of the affection you’ve given him, everything you’ve sacrificed just to keep him happy over your own happiness had all gone to waste.

The rest of the night all you did was cry, replaying all the interactions you’ve had, thinking of the good times, yearning for something that could never be.

끝!! im sorry for not posting for a month after my intro as i said that tiger ATTACKED me but im here now so tell me your thoughts!

[bullet-prooflove]

Three things for Douglas Hamilton:

Flowers, a book, and a letter

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @star017 @themaineoddity @mimi-8793

Companion piece to:

Photo Finish - You confront Douglas when some personal pictures are used by the press.

Services Rendered - Douglas decides there's going to be a reckoning.

Cursed - Douglas realises he's cursed.

Death Becomes Him - Douglas finds a reason to fight.

Here - Douglas wakes up to find you at his bedside.

Douglas spends the next few days in and out of consciousness.

Apparently that’s what blood loss does to you. He finds it hard to grasp things, to hold onto them. The only constant during this time is the security men in black suits that linger outside his door and you, always you.

There’s a million things he wants to say to you during his waking moments but they’re always interrupted by a nurse taking his vitals, a police offer with more questions, before he knows it, he’s slipping away again back into that haze of exhaustion and fatigue.

It’s past midnight when he wakes up again. The overhead lamp above his bed is turned on, the dull light casting a warm glow across the sunflowers you’ve placed beside his bed because he finds the lilies everyone else has sent too morse. The light is something you’ve started doing over the past couple of nights because you’d realised that waking up in the dark makes him anxious. It’s a symptom left over from the attack, one he thinks will stick with him for the rest of his life.

He tilts his head towards the chair you usually reside in and finds you tucked up asleep, using your jacket for a pillow. The book you were reading rests on his bed, a used thriller from the charity bookshop downstairs. It’s the book mark that catches his eye, the neatly folded letter written on his stationary. It’s the first of many love notes that he gave to you throughout the course of your relationship.

I think about you all the time  the first line reads.

He knows what the rest says, those private intimate words that were for your eyes only. The fact you still carry it after all this time, that you’re even here at his bedside speaks volumes about your feelings for him.

He thinks about your words back on the Mississippi Meanders that night, when you’d found out those pictures had been used, when you’d broken things off with him.

I can’t live like this.

And he knows that this right here, your presence in his life is just temporary whether you know it or not. When he heals, when he returns to his position you’ll be in the exact position you were all those months ago, your relationship exposed for the entire world to see. His new publicist, the one that hasn’t tried to kill him yet is already setting up a press appearance, he’s planned for you to be there by his side when he delivers his speech declaring his victory over death.

Nothing is really ours is it? You’d asked him as you stood upon the bridge looking out across the river and the truth is, it really isn’t, not while he’s the mayor. It’s as he looks at you sleeping in that chair that Douglas realises he has to make a choice.

You or his mayorship.

It shouldn’t a hard one, but somehow it is.

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[moldybits]

“grumpy boy” as the tech called him got the diagnosis from the vet of “weird but not a crime”. they all loved him and said he is very handsome

we were told though he is an absolutely perfect health 🧡

[shewhoeatssand]

they are similar

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens: