#please guys he’s literally so fine for no reason he DOES NOT have the right

[rougepancake]

I need a big boy

Gyomei Himejima x Afab!DemonSlayer!Reader

If you don’t recognize the title, here you go

A/N: Uhh there will be some language used, a little zesty maybe - who knows 👀. Honestly proud of this little idea my brain cell cooked up lol. Also mentions of suicide (please don’t come for me) because it takes place in the suicide forest

Not proofread (😀) I’M SORRY

Summary: Shortly after you join the Demon Slayer Corps you’re sent out on a mission with THE Gyomei Himejima to investigate the melodramatic wonder known as Aoikigahara, but then things start heading south, fast.

“Y/N L/N! HERE ARE YOUR ORDERS!” Your kasugai crow shouted at you, circling far above your head. The sudden noise made you jump with surprise, but you figured that if you wanted to continue slaying demons, then you were to just get used to it. “HEAD TOWARDS AOKIGAHARA IMMEDIATELY!” You stopped dead in your tracks.

Aokigahara?

Just the name alone was enough to make you shudder. It was rumored to be a horrible place, one where many people were lured to their deaths, most likely by demons. They say that its quiet enough to drive a person mad, and that is what drags people deeper into the demon’s terrain. But it was simply too beautiful to go unnoticed, which is why people were just known to go missing there. It’s often said that if you are there just for the scenery, the forest will persuade you to stay. Forever.

But they were just rumors, so there was little to no truth to them… right?

You sighed and looked back up at the clouds overhead. You were only a rookie, so why did they send you to somewhere as dangerous as Aokigahara? Hopefully it wasn’t just a suicide mission.

There you stood, staring blankly at the miles of open greenery ahead of you. You stood no chance against what was in there, you were simply going to die and there was nothing you could do to prevent it.

With your hand firmly on the tsuka of your sword, you took your first steps into the mystical realm that was known as Aoikigahara. It was then that a terrible dread came over you.

You were being watched.

Nervously, you looked around, trying to see if the being was nearby. Yet there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. You freaked out and ran back outside of the thick wooding, only to run face first into what you thought was a tree. (It wasn’t.)

You had been knocked down because of how hard you ran into it, causing you to groan in pain. To your surprise, the tree helped you up. Which was really weird since trees couldn’t move outside of being blown around by the wind.

You rubbed your head nervously and mumbled a ‘thanks’ before raising your head to look up at said tree. When your eyes met his, you freaked out even more.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE A HASHIRA!” You whisper shouted, afraid that the forest might hear you. You stared at him in awe, ‘He’s so tall..’ you thought to yourself, quickly apologizing and stepping away so he could have his personal space back.

You looked back up at him, noticing his blindness immediately. ‘Why in the hell would they send me out with a blind guy?!’ Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you walked back over to the talk stranger.

“I’ve been looking for you,” his surprisingly deep voice rang out. He looked down at you, stone faced. “I am Gyomei Himejima, the stone hashira. I was told that you practice wind breathing. Is this true?” He had his hands together as he spoke, almost as if he were in a state of prayer.

It made you anxious to think about how you’d been sent out here with a blind and religious nut, but you couldn’t say much, he was much stronger than you after all.

Swallowing thickly, you gave a quiet, “yes, sir” and kept your head down. You didn’t know why you had gotten so timid all of a sudden, like what had gotten into you?!

“Right, off we go then.” He said before disappearing into the terrifying forest that was Aoikigahara.

“Holy shit!- Hey! Wait! Isn’t there going to be any backup?! I didn’t even introduce myself! Come back!!!” You shouted at the trees, knowing that he was long gone now. “Well shit.” You grumbled, taking off towards the trees.

Hopefully you’d be able to catch up to him, or even better, maybe he’d slow down so you could catch up. Either way, you didn’t want to be alone, so you were going to find him as soon as you could.

“What took you so long?” Gyomei’s voice rang out again, causing you to yelp in surprise. “I was starting to think a demon had gotten to you.” You heard his voice, yet you couldn’t see him.

“G-Gyomei?” You spun around and braced yourself, placing your hand on your katana. “Where are you?” With a deep breath, you checked around you once again- maybe you were missing him?

“I’m just a little further out. I think you should see this.” You heard a shift in his voice that made you suspicious of him.

“I can’t. I’ve been wounded.” The demon slayer corps had many code words and terms that were used in case of emergencies, it was often that demons tried to impersonate fellow slayers, so if they didn’t return the code, then they were to die.

“Just remember your concentration breathing and come here.” You let out a sigh of relief and began to head to where he was.

“Alright! I’m on my way o-“ Before you knew it, you were on the ground, pinned beneath an incredibly large being. You coughed at the sudden lack of air, your eyesight slowly fading to black. Quickly, you moved your arm to your sword and unsheathed it. “Wind breathing, third form!” You said weakly, doing your best to stay conscious. “Clean Storm Wind Tree!” And just like that, the creature that had landed on you was twenty feet away from you, unconscious.

You used your katana as a crutch for yourself as you slowly got to your feet. The world was spinning as you glanced back to where you had sent your attacker. Your eyes widened as you noticed the color of his skin. It was unusually pale and covered in strange markings, and his hair was not a natural color by any means.

You were facing a demon.

But demons couldn’t be knocked unconscious.

You rushed forward with the little strength you had left, prepared to cut off his head, but right when you lifted the blade above your head, he caught it.

“You’re a sucker,” the demon chuckled, punching you in the stomach and throwing your katana to the side. “I can’t believe you fell for that, honestly.” He planted his foot on your chest harshly, once again taking the air from your lungs. He giggled as you struggled to catch your breath, your hands slowly coming up to his foot, trying weakly to move it. “You’re adorable though, I may just let you live if you do what I ask~”

Fear spread throughout your body instantly. “G-Go to hell you monster,” you spat, but your threat only caused him to giggle again.

“I love it when you little slayers get all worked up like this.” He leaned in close to your face, his smile growing. “You must not be very strong if you’re not putting up a fight.” There was something about the way he has said those words, it was true, and your reaction showed him it was.

“Now~” he licked his lips. “Do you give up, cutie~?”

You returned his smile, and in one swift movement on your part, the demon was on the ground once again. His eyes watched you curiously as you bolted towards your weapon, how you moved, your well thought out attacks, you were a work of art. He was honored to finally have someone who would be worth the effort of fighting.

Though, he was lost in thought for too long, because you had managed to get ahold of your sword in and cut off his head all within the blink of an eye.

“H-how” the demon mumbled to himself.

You reached down and picked up his head, forcing him to face his murderer. “I may not be as strong as my fellow slayers, but I sure as hell ain’t weak.” You whispered, an evil grin spreading onto your lips, just as he did mere moments earlier. “I hope you won’t underestimate anyone like me in the afterlife,” as you spoke, you dropped his head onto the ground and watched him fade away from existence.

Once you had cleaned yourself up a little, making yourself look decent and picking the grass off of your clothing and out of your hair, you continued to search for Gyomei. Thankfully, he wasn’t too far away. You had found him sitting on a tree stump, hands together and head down in prayer.

“Odd,” you whispered to yourself, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to signal that you had found him before joining him in prayer.

You didn’t know what he was praying over, so you decided to pray for your safety during the mission. You prayed for Gyomei’s overall well-being and for him to make if out of this mission. He was a hashira, so him making it out alive was much more important than you, as depressing as it was.

When you opened your eyes, he was looking at you, his expression blank like before. You both sat there in silence, staring at one another. “Your name is Y/N, correct?” He asked simply.

“Yes, but I never told you, so how did you know?”

He looked up at the sky mysteriously, a tear sliding down his face as he did so. “I have my ways, that’s all.” All you could do was nod at the strange reply and sit there, it was a calming silence, but there was still something eerie about it.

“Have you found any demons yet?” He looked back at you, tears still flowing down his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I didn’t mean to interrupt the silence.”

“Yes, I did.” And he left it at that.

“Did you find what we were sent out here for?” Again, he just stared at you in silence. It was as if he was processing the question in his mind, like he didn’t understand it before.

“No, I didn’t.” He let out a short sigh before rising to his feet. “We were sent out here to investigate, but I don’t know what we’re investigating.” He looked over his shoulder, quickly assuming his fighting stance. “Be ready, we’re being watched.”

You stared at him in awe, but it didn’t last long, because you were soon ambushed. Four grotesquely large demons had you both locked in combat. You had managed to slay one of them completely right off the bat, but the second one you faced was much more powerful than the first. It was a challenge to get it done, and you thought you had, until you turned around to face Gyomei and fell to the ground, unconscious.

You awoke in a room that you didn’t recognize, which was altogether pretty terrifying, but the fact that you couldn’t move was even worse. The pain was excruciating, and your legs were numb. You noticed that someone had bandaged you up, but you still had no idea because there were no hints as to who’s house this was.

“Hello?” You called out weakly, hoping that someone would hear you, but with the size of the room you were in, you figured it was at least a mansion. There was no chance, you were stuck.

“You called?” A familiar voice responded, his footsteps sounding out in the hallway. Gyomei opened the door and carefully peered in.

“OhmygodI’msohappytoseeyou” you let out a huge sigh of relief, smiling when Gyomei walked into the room and sat down on the chair beside your bed.

“I was worried back there,” he stated, his hands back together in a form of prayer. “I with the amount of blood you had lost, I’m surprised I didn’t have to call Shinobu-san.”

“How…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling so you could think about your next words. “How long am I going to be here?”

“I’m not sure.” Gyomei’s answer was honest, but there was something about his tone that made you feel you’d be here indefinitely. “From what I was able to bandage, your wounds were deep. You may not even be able to walk for a few days. I would like you to take it easy, because your wounds can, and will, tear open.”

“Yes sir.” You heard him make an odd noise at the name, and shortly after, he excused himself because there were things around the house he needed to do.

Right when he left was when it it you. He was blind. And as far as you knew, you two were the only two in the house right now. So how was he able to bandage you? Did he just feel you up until he found your wounds?? You looked down at your stomach, and upon seeing the bandages, you blushed heavily. Had he really bandaged you himself??

Maybe that’s why he was being so weird when he left. Maybe he was married and didn’t want you to think he’s trying to get up your skirt. Or, or, or- maybe he’s embarrassed about what he had to do and because of that, being in your presence makes him nervous..?

“Yeah that’s totally it.” You whispered to yourself.

Just then, someone came though the door. Immediately you turned to see who it was, and to your surprise, you didn’t recognize her.

She was much shorter than Gyomei and had her purple and black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her haori looked like the wings of a butterfly with its markings, in fact, she looked like a butterfly. She moved with grace in each step and took her time coming over to where you were resting.

“Hi hi Y/N-chan!” She greeted enthusiastically. “I’m Shinobu-san and my friend Gyomei told me that you were looking pretty rough!” She stood beside your bed and examined the bandages around your stomach.

“Well he wasn’t wrong,” you tried to laugh it off, but the pain caused you to wince. “I don’t even remember what happened.” You admitted to her, looking away out of embarrassment.

“Now now, did you bandage yourself?” She asked, slowly lifting up your shirt to get a good view of how far your wounds went. You shook your head and Shinobu gigged to herself. Once she had finished examining you, she stood up and brushed off her hands with a kind smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. With what I felt, you’ll be on your feet tomorrow at least, just remember to be careful and to take it easy!”

And with those words, Shinobu had left.

You wished you had asked her if she could send Gyomei back into the room, you were incredibly bored and it would be great if you could just talk to him to pass the time.

Sighing, you looked out the window and noticed that the sun was beginning to set. “Good night house,” you mumbled to yourself as you got comfortable.

That night you had dreamt you were healed, and in a much better condition than you were now. You dreamt that you were much more powerful, and beautiful too. But the best part of that dream was what happens behind closed doors with a person who lives alone.

“G-Gyomei~” You were a mess but you couldn’t quite explain why. He was crawling on top of you slowly, practically towering over you with how tall he was. Gyomei placed his hands next to your head and leaned down in close to your ear.

“You called?” He whispered seductively. A gentle smirk graced his lips as he began to kiss you softly along your jawline. You shivered, looking away out of embarrassment. Though, that move only made your neck more vulnerable. “What do you need, Y/N?” The question gave you goosebumps, which you tried your best to ignore, but the sudden heatwave that flushed to your face made it hard to do so.

“Y-you,” you mumbled shyly. “I need y-you, Gyomei.” He smiled at your words and slowly raised his body from yours. He carefully sat up and pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands resting on your waist.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck as his hands moved up to unbutton your shirt in the most teasingly slow way possible. “Just let me take care of you darling.” His breath was hot against your bare skin, which only made you shiver in anticipation.

“Y-yes sir.”

You woke up to find yourself saying his name. You were flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat from the wonderful dream that you had been torn from. Slowly pulling the covers over yourself, you looked around the room, hoping that no one had heard your little… incident.

But your heart stopped completely when you saw Gyomei’s figure in the hallway. He looked mesmerized just as you looked terrified. You hurriedly hurried yourself underneath the blanket and mumbled an apology since you assumed you had woken him up.

You wanted to be able to die of embarrassment so badly, but sadly you were forced to face the consequences of your stupid little dream.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears, making your heart rate skyrocket. They stopped before your bed and you could sense his stare, burning through the covers.

He squatted down to your level and slowly pulled the blanket off of your head to reveal your more than red face. Gyomei leaned over to your face and let out a short sigh. “You called?”

[hees-mine]

First time - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung & fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, blowjob, handjob, ear licking, cum eating, multiple orgasms, cursing, dirty talk.

Synopsis: wherein your mutual friend decides to approach you in the halls on a random school day, begging you to take his virginity because his friends wouldn’t stop making fun of him for being a virgin at 22. Well, after you’re done with him, he’s going to be the furthest thing from a virgin.

WC: 4,437k

-

“Y/n, please? I thought we were friends. Don’t friends help each other out?” Walking down the school hall, heeseung follows you along like a puppy would, his master hounding you with the same old question he’s been asking you for at least a month.

You scoff and cut your eyes at him.

The audacity of him to try and make it seem like you were friends to what he wanted was laughable to you. You guys were not friends. You knew him through mutual friend groups and occasionally talked with him, but friends was definitely a reach. “Friends?”

“Yes!” He answers so quickly, and it’s shameless how desperate he sounds to you right now.

“Hmm okay for the sake of argument let’s say we are friends how many friends do you know that do what you’re asking me to do?” You humor him pushing open the exit door to your school with him still hot on your tail.

“All of them!” He lied immediately, saying anything at this point just to get you to say yes.

“So not only are you shameless, you’re also a liar,” you tsked. “And here I was actually thinking about doing it,” you say with a tone of disapproval.

“What? Wait, y/n, no, I’m sorry, I lied. It’s just I’m desperate and saying anything to convince you” he takes long strides to keep up with your fast pace. “None of my friends do that but I’m just sick of being the laughing stock of the group” lowering his head he clutches the straps on his backpack and kicks a pebble on the ground sighing loudly.

“Hmm, so let me get this straight: you want me, barely even an acquaintance, let alone a friend, to take your virginity?” You ask just to make sure you’re getting this right.

He nodded his head, and if the silent confirmation wasn’t enough, he gave you a verbal one, too. “Y-you’re the only girl I know, and I trust you,” he mumbles, embarrassed to even admit out loud that he absolutely has no contact with women other than you.

He really has no reason to trust you, but he just does.

Now that you heard him out a little, you kinda felt bad for him, but it was still so out of left field for him to be asking you this. Although you weren’t exactly opposed to having sex with him, you still didn’t want him to regret anything. “So you want me to be your first? Are you sure? Don’t you want it to be special?”

“I’m sure as long as you’re patient with me it will be special” he turns to you you’re already looking at him with a small smile and he gets embarrassed quickly looking away and clearing his throat awkwardly as he pushes up the middle of his eyeglasses.

All you had to do was be patient with him. That in itself could be really challenging for you because, despite his shy demeanor, he was literally the hottest man you’ve ever seen. That coupled with the fact that it had been a while since you had sex, and just the idea of doing it with him was turning you on right now.

The silence drew on while you were in your own head contemplating this, and at this point, he could only surmise your answer would be a no, so he took a preemptive strike and rejected himself. “It's fine if you don’t want to do it. As you can see, no one else wants to, so I’m not surprised you don’t either. I’ll just get out of your hai-“

“Take me to your place,” you said, looking straight ahead as the both of you walked side by side.

“W-what?” He stutters, nearly losing his balance.

Stopping in your tracks, he stops with you, and you turn to him, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in as he nervously eyes your face up close. “Take. Me. To. Your. Place.”

He gulps nodding his head frantically. “It’s that way” he points in the direction and you loosen the grip on his shirt you gesture him to lead the way and every step he takes from then on is one step closer to him losing his innocence.

He’s never been this nervous before.

-

When you both arrive to his house the parking lot is empty meaning his parents are luckily still at work and he eagerly lets you inside leading you upstairs to his bedroom straight away.

“Minimal, I like it,” you note. Once you enter his room, it is very spacious but simple and cozy at the same time.

“Thank you,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty hands on his slacks as he shuts the door and locks it.

You took a seat on the corner of his bed, your eyes scanning the room while you waited for him to join you.

But he doesn’t. He’s stood still by his door. He hadn’t moved a step since you entered his room.

“You wanna fuck standing up?” You tease him for just standing there.

Your voice snaps him out of his nervous thoughts. “W-what I- no unless you want to but I-i don’t really know how” his face is a mixture of confusion and worry as he stands by his door feeling a bit unsure about all this or maybe he was just anxious it’s hard for him to tell right now cause he’s too focused on trying to stop himself from shaking like a leaf.

“I’m joking,” you giggle, and you pat the bed next to where you’re sitting so he can join you. “Come sit.”

“Okay,” he says with a small nod and sits next to you.

No wonder he asked you to be patient with him at this rate it’d be half hour before you even got him to take his shirt off but you didn’t mind easing him into it. “Baby loosen up” if anything his posture got stiffer and he wasn’t even attempting to make eye contact with you anymore. “Would you feel more comfortable if I took my clothes off?” You offer.

Finally, he looks at you, eyes wide and pleading. “Please?”

Read full story on my patreon link

[juniperdugong]

Relationship quirks Maknae Line ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Seungkwan Brings home food

IT DOES NOT MATTER if you have or have not eaten, are starving, or have a full belly! Boo Seungkwan is GOING. To. Bring. Home. Food. For. You. Won't take no for an answer! And not only did he keep snacks on himself before you guys started dating but even more so now. He is such a sweetheart who will never allow you to go hungry.

Honestly, he's hypocritical in that he'll start going on a diet but the minute that you say that you need to go on a diet - the gates of hell break loose in your home. Completely outraged that you won't eat at least a bite of what he's offering you. Pouts and acts like you just told him that you want to break up or something worse. The type to say, "FINE THEN I'LL EAT IT MYSELF", then proceeds to give you the nastiest stare-down of your life as he takes a bite. (If you don't concede to his little charade quick enough this WILL become a silent treatment game)

Vernon Sends pictures of himself

Lowkey, you become a photo storage for this man. Sends a photo to you every single time he thinks of you, which is a lot more often than one might think. Is constantly sending you pics of random things he's found and can't send to anyone else. The one constant is his damn face that never changes in any of the pics despite the angle changes. It's gotten to the point where you've had to ask how he does it but he just shrugs.

Every question you ask is answered in either a meme or a photo of him looking like his regular deadpan self, no words either and if you ask for clarification he just sends another photo of him looking confused as hell.

This really is his own special brand of clinginess. You'll hear a message notification from him, open it, and it's his face at the most unflattering angle... He's literally lying on your stomach right at this moment. No explanation, even if you ask he doesn't give one.

Dino Assumes you're following him everywhere

The opposite of Wonwoo's habit lol. Dino sees absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be by his side at all times. You're his number one comfort, so why wouldn't you be with him 24/7? Weird that you would even think he'd let you leave. He has a spider sense for when you're moving too far away from him and he will immediately grab and bring you towards him.

More than the physical though, this dude will not allow you to be by yourself. If he's going on tour, congrats! You are also going on tour! There's a company trip? Great! You're a part of the company now. It may even get to the point of him downright refusing to go places if he knows there won't be space for you.

"I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Okay, babe." "I said...I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Alright, hun, I'll be right here." *Genuinely tweaking out at this point, gets up, and grabs your hand. Dragging you with him.* "You could've just asked me to follow you." *Leaning his head on your shoulder, still slightly upset* "You're supposed to know! I need you near me whenever possible."

A/N: Super sorry that this one came a day late, lovelies! But it's here now and I absolutely adore these boys. I think my favorite of all the habits is probably Woozi's (I'm quite literally biased) but the one that I'm most like is Vernon. Wbu??? Please reblog and comment! Let me know ur thoughts in my asks. Oh! And my requests are opennnnn! Have a great one, babes!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[lorelune]

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k  || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop. 

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof. 

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder.  March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.) 

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab. 

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe. 

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh. 

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck. 

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass. 

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good. 

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally. 

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months. 

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon 

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one. 

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on. 

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are. 

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile. 

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later. 

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground. 

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall. 

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng. 

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place. 

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

... 

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you, 

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care. 

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable. 

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully. 

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer. 

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie). 

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick. 

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening. 

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound. 

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers. 

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine. 

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit. 

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch. 

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks. 

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired.  Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes. 

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs. 

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher. 

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft. 

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful. 

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily. 

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings. 

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince. 

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you. 

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal. 

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you. 

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth. 

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more. 

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life. 

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows. 

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this. 

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow. 

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want. 

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites. 

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm. 

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs. 

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot. 

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts. 

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage. 

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you. 

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains. 

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there. 

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient. 

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning. 

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet. 

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod. 

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs. 

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates. 

[one new message]

blade: did you get home 

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die. 

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me. 

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow. 

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Petname Headcanons Part 2

OH HEY. Its the heavily requested post that yall probably gave up on (because its been literal months)! Right before my holiday hiatus! OOF. Anyway, lineup is Adam, Angel Dust, and Husk. I hope yall like it, and happy holidays ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

First part can be found >>HERE<< Valentino DLC also available >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; talks about what yall like to be called during sex; daddy kinks; casual reminder that Angel may be canon gay, but trans and non-binary people exist so please don't be stupid in comments. :))) (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄��┈┈┈

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Adam ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

Bitch

No, but seriously. Being with Adam is one of those weird relationships where you both are like 'whats up, bitch?' to eachother and its fine?? Your ""terms of endearment"" are less endearing and more casually insulting.

Honestly, its probably one of the main reasons Adam fell for you. Your headstrong and don't take shit from anyone. Including him. Hence why he tends to call you feisty , wild thing, or spice girl (yes, for those gentlemen out there; Adam will also call you spice girl).

Like everything Adam does though, these names can be very double edged. He will use them when he is praising you or cheering you on; such as when your getting in another angel's face, "YEAH, thats my spice girl! You tell them!" But he will also use the names sarcastically when your getting in his face and telling him off, "Woah, woah, calm down feisty."

Everything is said in jest however. Adam won't call you anything that legitimately hurts your feelings or hits on a sore spot. He just likes to tease and his toxic masculinity won't let him be too sweet on ya. On that topic...

You better hope Adam doesn't find out about any particular insecurities you have. Because he will hone in on them and make it a point to constantly be talking about how much he loves whatever it is. Adam is like a weird combination of football coach and personal hype guy.

Your self conscious about your chest? Adam is now walking around calling you sugar tits. Don't like your ass? Adam now makes a point to smack it in public and starts calling you peachy. Think your voice sounds terrible? He now calls you his little birdy and talks about how much he loves to make you ""sing"" for him. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Don't challenge Adam when it comes to naming things. He was the one tasked with naming everything in Eden so he is really good at it. No matter what your insecurity is, he has a petname to beat it.

What You Call Him

Adam appreciates a partner who can dish it as well as take it. So he is gonna like sarcastic nicknames for himself as well. Just keep them playful and not actually mean. Adam is surprisingly sensitive under the macho exterior he projects.

So you have to be careful about crossing a line and actually hurting his feelings. If this happens, Adam will have a hard time admitting that it hurt him, instead opting to fake laugh and go uncharacteristically quiet.

Play into his ego by calling him things like rockstar, soldier, guitar hero, or legend. Use these with sass for that extra kick. Be the one goading him into doing things for a change by saying, "I thought you were a legend?" Then praise him afterwards with a, "now that's my rockstar!"

Calling him my angel will absolutely send Adam for a loop. When you first say it, Adam just goes completely silent as his expression roulettes between the different stages of grief and complete confusion.

Adam doesn't really buy into the whole heaven and angels are inherently flawless/good thing. So when you call him "your angel" he has no idea how to respond. His brain is like, yeah that's technically true. That's a literal fact. He is an angel.

But Adam's brain is also vacillating between taking it as an insult or a compliment. Are you calling him fake? Are you saying he is perfect? Are you just trying to be cute? He has no idea.

Adam decides not to overthink it and settles on the petname just being a big ol' question mark to him. So whenever you call him it, he just playfully scoffs and rolls his eyes. He is actually okay with being clueless.

NSFW Section

Biggest daddy kink known to man. Justifiably so. He is the first dad after all. The original daddy. The very first time you two have sex, Adam is expecting you to call him daddy and referring to himself as it.

Likewise, Adam defaults immediately to calling you babe and baby in the bedroom. He will also growl out things like 'thats my girl' or 'thats my boy' when you do something he particularly likes; really emphasizing the whole daddy thing. Don't think about it too much.

If your not into the whole daddy thing, Adam just likes authoritative names in general. So you can call him names like captain or sir to rile him up as well.

Adam also secretly has a softspot for being called gentle things like sweetie, love, or just sweetheart. He will probably never be able to actually verbalize how it affects him. But you can tell by how the mood shifts during sex when you use one of them. How his eyes glaze over and his blush deepens before he pulls your bodies flush together. Adam leaves room for nothing else in between you two as he hugs you impossibly close.

Adam praises alot in the bedroom but not in a... conventional way. Yeah, he does call you things like beautiful or gorgeous; but Adam much more frequently calls you things like vixen, temptress, or seductress. Things that still call you hella sexy, but have a hint of misogyny to them. Things that imply he couldn't resist or say no to you even if he tried.

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Angel Dust ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

Angel is a oddball. He doesn't really know what to do when he actually catches feelings for someone. Angel's default mode is flirt mode. So... what else is there?

Because of this, Angel Dust is kind of a dumbass at first. Yeah, he gives petnames to everyone. Except you. Angel will use every name under the sun for everyone else. But when it comes to you, your just your name. Sometimes your straight up full name. Its stiff. Its awkward. And it makes everybody uncomfortable.

Angel just wants to make sure you know your different. That he wants more then just sex. He wants you. Angel doesn't want to be seen as just the ""sex freak"" by you.

You'll probably have to suggest a petname for Angel to use. He will go along with most names as long as they aren't overtly sexual. Like I said before, he is being careful to establish this as a more then sex thing.

However, whatever name you suggest will come out of Angel's mouth just as stiffly and awkwardly as your actual name does. Angel very much sounds like one of Voxtech's robots when he uses it.

Its best if you give Angel some time to loosen up so he can come up with a petname organically. It'll take a few months of dating at least before Angel stops being so stiff and calms down.

Once he settles in, Angel only uses soft names for you. He will probably start with doll since its the most familiar to him. Then he will start sprinkling in a honey or hun...

Quickly Angel settles in and has a healthy repertoire of names for you. Your mainly hun, sugar, or darlin'. Honey has now become the name Angel uses for you when he needs something or is nervous (you know exactly the tone I'm talking about). The name doll has also now moved to only being used when Angel is in a more playful mood or the two of you are joking around.

What You Call Him

Angel is used to being called every single raunchy name in the book. So honestly? You could go that direction if you really wanted to and it wouldn't phase him.

However. What really makes Angel's knees buckle and gives him butterflies is if you use cute, soft names on him. Now that he isn't used to. Things like sweetie or precious completely throw Angel Dust for a loop. He doesn't know how to react so he just ends up giggling like an idiot.

Instead of calling him sexy or sweet legs or whatever. Call him cutie. Angel has to start laughing to hide his blush when you first use it. Then he snidely tells you 'cute' isnt a word usually associated with him. Everytime you call him it though, Angel gets the dumbest smile on his face.

More creative names like pinkie or Pinkie Pie (because he is pink and loves to PAR-TAY); sprinkles (for the spots on his face); fuzzy, fluffy, or fuzzles (because he is so soft and fluffy ! !); anything along those lines are deeply appreciated by the spider. Angel will wear these names with pride and will even use them when referring to himself.

While the creative names are Angel's favorite to brandish, they don't send him reeling like the soft ones do. So pick your poison on that one.

Angel's favorite name by far though, is when you call him lovebug. That one, is like, a perfect mix of the two categories. He always gets such a huge smile when you say it and its his favorite to use for himself. Angel will come home and be like, "Your lovebug is baaackk~"

NSFW Section

Angel tends to be fun, relaxed, and making lots of jokes during sex. I mean, come on. The spider literally has sex as his job, the last thing he wants to do is be serious when he does it for actual fun.

So you two have lots of sarcastic and corny names for eachother. You still call Angel your lovebug in the bedroom, but you also joke about how much of a superstar he is. How your superstar has to show off and one-up you in the bedroom constantly.

Also, if we are being completely honest here, Angel Dust just likes it when you call him Angel. He is so used to hearing his name growled, moaned, or pleaded during shoots by people he barely even knows that its lost its meaning at this point. He has grown completely desensitized to his own name.

But hearing his name come from your mouth, drip in ecstasy from the lips of someone he actually cares about? It makes Angel care about his name again. Angel wants to hear you shout and scream his name. Something he hasn't actually wanted in god knows how long.

Angel tends to lean more towards calling you darlin' and sugar when you two are in the heat of things. Especially the latter. Mostly because he likes to joke about how sweet you are and taste, so much so that you must be made of sugar.

When the tease dial get turned up really high, Angel starts calling you pookie or schnookums. He especially like to call you this in a baby voice while he is edging you, has you tied up, or has your arms pinned with two of his while his other two hands squish at your face lovingly. Its just Angel's way of saying your in for a wild ride~

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Husk ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

What He Calls You

The old man defaults to what he knows: Doll. Its classic, sweet, not too raunchy, and gender neutral! Perfect, jack of all trades petname. So your his doll. Full stop. If he is feeling particularly bold, he might change it to dollface. Oooooo, how adventurous!

But seriously. Its nearly always one of those two names. At least, when he is sober. You can actually tell how drunk Husk is by what names he uses for you. Sometimes the name he uses gives his mood away too.

If Husk is buzzed and in a good mood or feeling playful, your suddenly his darlin'. Emphasis on the lack of a 'G' there. This one sounds particularly good when he is drinking because he slurs it. The end of it just hangs and drags. The more playful he is, the more emphasis he will put on it too.

Husk goes back to his good ol' safename of doll if he isn't feeling too good or things are tense. However, if he actually gets upset, frazzled, or is trying to get your attention, a dolly may slip out. This is always like a weird reset button because when it slips, Husk gets so embarrassed that he just used that name for you and lowkey wants to die ohmygod.

See, the key here is Husk is still sober enough to still have shame. He is still self-aware and capable of embarrassment. However....

You have no idea where this comes from. It almost made you choke the first time you heard it. But when Husk is wasted he calls you his sugarpie. He says it with the sweetest, most chipper voice too; its absolutely surreal.

Its extra hilarious, because if you ask him to 'be serious' when he is wasted or he otherwise gets upset, Husk changes to the much more serious name of... sweetpea. Yeah. Because sweetpea has a much more serious tone. ◔_◔

Of course, when Husk uses these names, he is so far into the bottle that his shame has been completely drowned. He finds your flustered reactions absolutely adorable and his tail flicks back and forth playfully while he teases you. Or Husk is calling you sweetpea with his fur spiked and ears flattened back. Either way its hilarious.

What You Call Him

Husk is surprisingly hard to please when it comes to petnames. You either get no reaction or a negative one. Being a barkeep, Husk is probably just desensitized to being called everything because he is used to dealing with drunk people 24/7.

Hard no's are anything super sexual or things making fun of his demon appearance. So no names like wings, lovebird, or joker. He has grown to especially hate names that have anything to do with cats because of people like Alastor and Mimzy who like to use those kind of names as a way to demean him. So nothing like tom cat, kitty, or kitten either. None of that nonsense.

Other then that, Husk is pretty free game on what you call him. There are a couple notable exceptions though...

The first time you call Husk your babe or baby he is shocked and almost chokes on his drink. He has been called that before but... he didn't expect to actually like it coming from you.

After that, Husk always gets a genuine smile on his face and chuckles when you use the name. He never thought he would be someone's baby and enjoying it. But hey, life is weird sometimes.

Husk will roll his eyes and laugh if you call him daddy. He gives you one of those 'really? Your doing this?' looks, but he doesn't actually object to it. In fact, if you continue to call Husk your daddy, he will start playing along with it too.

You honestly don't know if he actually likes it and is into it; or if Husk finds the weirded out reactions people give you two utterly hilarious and just plays along for that.

NSFW Section

Husk is also pretty laissez-faire when it comes to the bedroom. He doesn't really care too much what you call him. As long as there are no cat based names.

Even if your whole daddy game escalates to the bedroom, Husk doesn't care. Again, he will give a disbelieving laugh before he starts playing along. After all, if it gets his baby off, who is he to complain?

Husk tends to take his time and be gentle in the bedroom. He has learned from experience how fast things can change, so he wants to savor you. To enjoy everything you have to offer and memorize every inch of your body in case he never gets to see it again.

But on the off chance you two are pent up or your going at it particularly hard that night, a well timed sir can decimate this man. Husk will go absolutely feral and fuck you into the wall.

You do have to be careful with this though. Because the name carries alot of baggage from Husk's overlord days. Using the name is a big gamble. If you mistime it or use it when the mood isn't right, you can send Husk spiraling into a depressed state instead.

Husk himself tends to use more saccharine names when you two have sex. He likes to use sugar, sweetie, or the infamous sweetpea. Like I said before, Husk wants to enjoy you to the fullest, and that includes expressing how much he cares about you when it counts.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿��•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Since I'm going on hiatus, Im just gonna suggest some great Hazbin writers to yall! You should read everything by them in the gap~

@writteninlunarlight-years, her masterlist can be found >>HERE<<

@greenandsorrow, their masterlist can be found >>HERE<<

@nayomi247, her masterlist can be found >>HERE<<

@qu1cks1lversb1tch, her masterlist can be found >>HERE<<

Also just a big shoutout to @shae-mermaid and @kittycatkandies for being absolute sweeties and encouraging me on my blog ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡ love you all

Taglist: @millie-the-goth @idk-dude46 @tayraedoll @the-screams-of-the-damned

[dandyslibrary]

🐍🐙🏹

Jamil, Azul, Rook x Reader — Yandere — Angst — TWST

You guys ; NOOOO SAGE,, ANGST AGAIN!?!?

Me ; you eat whats on your plate >:(( Hope this will feed you guys for the time being while I’m making the other fics, this is just a silly gift for @plumipal !! hope you enjoy plumi.

FOR THOSE WHO ARE CONFUSED ON WHATS THE PROMPT!! Check out Plumipals' yan twst tattoo au. Then this could probably more sense!

Also probably OOC??

TW;; Aww angst :((, pfft no I’m not biased w jamil, DEESSPPERATE BOYS, Jamil crying, Sad Azul, Emotionless(?) Rook, all of them hating on the tattoo, Bad grammar?, Rook watching you sleep, Rook's part is a bit short maybe.

JAMIL VIPER 🐍

That damn tattoo.. that stupid tattoo. He hates it so much, he hates it so so bad. Why? Why did you have to put that stupid thing on you?

And what’s even worse is that it’s because of HIS overblot. It’s because of him that you got that horrible mark on your wrist.

It’s all he can think about, all he can think about is that tattoo. He feels like he’s going crazy, like he’s about to overblot.

again.

He just can’t take it, he can’t! It’s always on his mind. You looked so happy, smiling, when you confirmed that you had that tattoo. You even showed it to him as if it was the greatest decision you made..

He just wishes that oh so beautiful smile was engraved in his brain. And not that horrible tattoo.

Poor Jamil, he can’t sleep at all. His eye bags are so visible under his eyes. He couldn't eat properly either, he couldn't bring himself to stand up and get fresh air. Whats even more annoying is that Kalim has been questioning if he's fine

Jamil just simply scoffed and told him he was fine. But really he wasn’t, you probably hate him don’t you? You probably despise him to the point where you don’t wanna see him.

Well actually, you don’t, he just can’t bear to see you. Whenever he does all he can focus on is the tattoo on your wrist. It pains him so bad for being the reason of it.

Seeing you would just make him cry right on the spot, he feels so worthless and horrible.

He couldn’t take it anymore, so he started to avoid you. Like that was a good idea..

It just only made things worse than they were before, Jamil also came to a realization that he can’t live another day without seeing you.

Yes, he does hate the fact that he’s the reason you got the tattoo. But he also hates the fact of not being able to be with you. He wants to spend every second of his life with you.

Literally like a week later you were met face to face with a Jamil who looked so close to crying. He looked like a wreck, unlike the usual stoic and independent Jamil you’re used to seeing.

"Y/n.." he called out to you his eyes stuck on the ground.

"Jamil.." You answered him. How did it get this bad? You put your hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong? I haven't seen you all week.. and now you suddenly appear in front of me looking like a mess.. no offense.”

Jamil balled up his fists, the hand that you put on his shoulder was the same hand where the tattoo was in. He hated it. He shut his eyes tightly wanting the image of that tattoo out of his brain.

"Jamil?" you called out for him once more.

Opening his eyes, now staring at you directly into your eyes. You could see the tears threatening to fall.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry Y/n." he stammered "Please don't hate me."

"Jamil- why would I-"

"That tattoo.. it was because of me, its my fault isn't it? You despise me don't you." sniffling he grabs your other hand gently pushing the other one off of his shoulder.

He pulls your hand up to his face, your palm cupping his cheek. "I need you Y/n, I need you to love me as much as I do. I'm not second to those two right?" he continued tears slowly falling down his cheeks a smile creeping up his face.

It wasn’t because of happiness though.

"I'll be better, I promise, I'll make sure I change- anything you want from me, its yours. Just please.. please choose me."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO 🐙

When he first heard about the tattoo he couldn't believe it. He refused to believe it! You surely haven't marked yourself with those' idiots symbols, right?

You wouldn't.. yeah! Those rumours are just rumours. Theres a big chance they aren't true anyway. He would only believe them if he see's it for himself!

So for the first few days he was fine.. still overthinking. But he's just being paranoid! It's just a thing that.. will simply pass.

That was until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to silence those thoughts, they were so noisy. He invites you into Mostro Lounge's VIP room.

He asks about the tattoo and you confirm the rumours were true. You even had the audacity to roll up your sleeve and show it off proudly.

Fucking ouch, he felt his heart shatter at that point. He wishes that he just let those voices in his head be.

"I- I see, good to know you have.. such amazing friends." he spoke bitterly with a smile. shit- he stuttered.. hope you didn't notice it..

He clears his throat, are tears forming in his eyes? He has to hold it in.. He can't look like a loser. Not in front of you..

He asks you to leave.. which he rarely does. His excuse being that he has a lot of work to do. But actually, he just wants to lock himself up and never go out again.

When you leave the tears start flowing. His elbow on his desk, while his fingers massage his temple. The papers on his desk were getting soggy, but he doesn’t care.

He could recover those papers but it would probably take so much for you to remove those stupid tattoos. Do you hate him? He thought that you and him already made up from his overblot..

He's been stuck in his office for such a long time. He's put Jade in charge for now. He needs time for himself…

The longer hes stuck in there the more he thinks about that horrid tattoo. It's stuck in his mind, and it’s torturing him. He can't let anyone else see this. He can't allow anyone to see him as a stupid little crybaby.

He just wants to sink back into his octopot..

But then an idea pops in his head.. he should think of ways to maybe, earn your favor and get his own tattoo too. Thats the perfect idea!

He tries to make up a contract but all of his ideas go to the trash. They're all so horrible! No way you'd sign these..

They're just not perfect enough for you! Most of them seem childish.. and probably stupid. If he gave one of these to you then you'd probably see him as an idiot!

"No.. no.. no..! None of these contracts are good enough!" he crumpled up the contract he was holding it and threw it into the pile across the room.

How isn't he enough for you!? Why did you have to choose those two! He's- He's your friend too right? He'll do anything for you!

So why.. why did you just have to get a tattoo of them?

He starts crying again, how many times has he cried? He's not sure. He continues to sob covering his face with his eyes.

"Prefect would never love a stupid octopus like me.."

ROOK HUNT 🏹

He stares down at your sleeping figure, your tattooed wrist exposed right in front of him. What is that, mon amour? A tattoo?

Oh! how beautiful, why hasn't he heard you talking about it though?

Oh well, at least hes the first one to see it. He bends down smiling inspecting the tattoo closer.

It reminds him of something.. no actually, someone- hold on, Deuce and Ace?

..Did you seriously get a tattoo of them? W-well, its beautiful! The beauty of friendship is truly amazing. Your bond between Ace and Deuce is truly something!

But why did you have to mark your skin with those symbols though? Couldn't it be something better? Like his name, or maybe something that reminds you of him..

He's your friend too isn't he? So why didnt you get a tattoo for him too?.. He's done so much to make you happy!

He's always tried to keep you safe too.. And to always give you gifts and appreciate for the things you have done when nobody did.

So why didn't you get a tattoo of him too?

Yes he knows! Ace and Deuce have been there longer than him.. But he could treat you better than they ever could..

...

he isn't sure how to feel about this.

So for that night he leaves early going back to pomefiore.

For the next few weeks you notice that Rook has been really silent. You dont feel like anyone's watching you either.

You haven't heard Rook's praises about love in a while either.. so something must be wrong with him. You invite him to Ramshackle so you could help him cheer up.

Rook is oh so grateful, he would be singing praises about your generosity if he wasn't so down at the moment. Rook needs you. Rook wants you to like him to the point you'd get him a tattoo of him also.

Rook finds himself laying his head on your lap his arms wrapped around your waist while kneeling on the ground. You gently run your fingers through his soft silky blonde hair.

Rook sniffled and looked up at you, and you could see a single tear form in his eye.

"My heart yearns for your favor, mon amour. I wish to be as loved as much as you love Monsieur Heart and Monsieur Spade. But It seems that you haven't noticed that yet." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You tilted your head to the side slightly. You didn’t hear him clearly and ask him to repeat what he said.

He would’ve, but he just doesn’t feel like answering so he looked away from your eyes. You understood and went back to patting him gently.

He takes a deep breath in burry his head back into your stomach. "You’re so cruel, yet I still love you. The things I do for love." The things he does for you. He would do anything for you.

"I've never let anyone see me in this vulnerable state.” You’re so cruel, but he will still love you. No matter what, he will wait for you to love him back.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

BAM DONE. I had a little fun writing this honestly, silly little break. Thanks for reading up to this point. Sorry for the grammatical errors..

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 011 ! my girl!

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

previous <> masterlist <> next

and just as planned, you were knocking on the door, at exactly 6:05pm.

when it opened, you were met with the smiling faces of jungwon, sunoo, and jake.

“hi y/n!” sunoo waved, before bringing you inside by your arm.

“hi guys. is riki done?” you asked, looking around the dorm. but he wasn’t there.

“almost. you can go upstairs if you want. first door to the right.” jungwon informed as he pointed you towards the direction of his shared room.

you nodded in acknowledgment before making your way upstairs. the door was slightly cracked, so you pushed it open with a loud noise to let riki know you were here. “shit! oh, hey y/n. but, look at this!” he exclaimed, running up to you to place his phone in your hands.

displayed on the screen, showed that the movie theater was closed due to renovation. “it’s okay, we can go somewhere else?” you suggested gently.

riki frowned, before swiping to open his messages app.

it was texts with their manager, which read, “no you can’t take the car. not just because you’re in the midst of a scandal, but also because the streets are flooded. just stay inside.”

“what?” you scoffed in shock. “it wasn’t even raining, there was no rain how could there have been a flood.”

but riki shut you down once more, gently pulling you by your waist to take you to his window. he pulled back the curtains which showed that it was in fact, storming. and that the streets were in fact flooded.

“what are we gonna do..” you groaned, falling back onto riki’s bed.

immediately, sunoo and jake came rushing inside. “you can watch the movie here!” jake said as he held the remote and a bag of popcorn, while sunoo carried bags of candy and a blanket.

but their enthusiasm was cut off, as riki got up from beside you to slam the door shut.

“this is a terrible idea.” he whisper shouted, knowing they were still waiting outside.

“why? it’s pretty cute. i wouldn’t mind an at-home date.” you smiled, taking his hands into your own.

“they’re all like, voluntary third wheels! they’re gonna be watching us the whole time. and they always eavesdrop. like right now.” riki emphasized the ‘right now’ by kicking the door, to which sunoo winced from the other side.

“please riki? it wouldn’t be so bad. we can make the most of this spoiled day. they’re just trying to help.” you encouraged.

“no.” “please? for meeeee? for your favorite girl?” you begged.

now riki really had no other choice, and for three reasons. one, he’s weak for you, especially when you beg. two, he hates when you use his words against him. three, there was literally no other choice because you knew he wouldn’t send you home.

“fine.” he sighed, giving in to you. riki pulled open his door, watching as jake and sunoo fell onto the floor,

and so, after washing off your makeup and changing into more comfortable clothes (riki’s oversized sweater and baggy sweats), you laid cuddled up together on his bed as deadpool 2 played in the background.

and of course, riki just had to keep his hand glued to your waist, as your head rested on his chest.

his bandmates were more chalant than they thought, coming in to ‘check on you two’ once every fifteen minutes.

jay even came in earlier, offering to buy the latest deadpool and wolverine movie because it’s what you originally were meant to watch at the theater. but, riki insisted it was fine.

“you know, i was gonna ask you out at the theater. that’s why i was so upset we couldn’t go. i wanted it to be special when i officially called you mine.” he whispered.

“is this not special?” you joked. “it is. just, not how i imagined it.”

“then, why don’t you ask me now?” you tilted your head up to look at him.

“okay then. yoon y/n, can i be your boyfriend. and make you my girlfriend?” he smiled.

“yes, nishimura riki. you can be my boyfriend. and i’ll be your girlfriend.” you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on his lips before going back to your original position. you felt his grip tighten around you in a sense of security

it remained silent for a few moments, as you continued watching the movie.

“hm,” riki chuckled dryly, “i haven’t watched this movie before, but i like this part. it’s pretty funny.” he laughed, turning to face you after you’ve been silent for so long. but then he realized, you weren’t just silent, you had fallen asleep.

riki sighed at your resting face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “there’s no way you fell asleep right after i asked you out..”

he leaned down to peck your forehead. “goodnight y/n.” riki mumbled.

“goodnight riki.” you murmured drowsily.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[rileyslibrary]

Chest candy for Ghost and the 141! After many successful missions (and being the baddest bitches in general) the team is going to receive some medals. Ghost tries everything in his power to not have to attend the ceremony. Having to wear that stupid ceremonial uniform, all the attention and the fuzz around them - that sounds like hell to him. He's just doing his goddamn job after all.

A/N: I was very disappointed when I learned what a chest candy is, ngl. A literal version (like a crate filled with gummies and stuff) would be so much better. Anyway, on with the story.

———————————————————————

“You walk like you’re chafed down there, mate.”

Ghost stops and shoots a threatening look at Soap. And reasonably so—your poor lieutenant was trying his best. Price negotiated with him, and they reached an agreement for today’s dress code—he would put on the fancy uniform but keep the balaclava on.

The captain decided this was a fair exchange—persuading Ghost to wear anything other than camo deserved a chest candy of its own. Not only that, but many people will attend today’s ceremony; even worse, the press will also be there. There was no way he would get rid of his “comfort blanket.”

But, even a day without his camo, standing in front of strangers and being photographed, is a century for the lieutenant.

You, Soap and Ghost are preparing for the event in the town hall’s bathroom. Ghost struggles to walk in his new shoes, so you figured some practice might help. You made him walk across the bathroom stalls, which was an unfortunate location since Soap was already in one of the toilets and popped out, offering a “helping” hand.

But it’s not just the shoes that hinder his ability to act normal. He seems to struggle with something deeper within himself. He constantly fidgets, readjusts his blazer, pulls at his collar, and avoids direct eye contact. His gaze constantly darts between you, the sink, the floor, and back to you again.

Except for now.

He’s staring at Soap like a feral animal, ready to leap on its prey. And you get it. You do. Given what he’s used to, this situation should be tough and quite uncomfortable.

He slowly shifts away from Soap and towards you.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Tell him,” Soap taunts you with his arms crossed, “tell him how he looks.”

“Why are you still in here?” You snap at him.

“I’m sorry!” Soap shouts and throws his hand up, “Have you guys booked the toilets for a private viewing?”

You close your eyes and rub your forehead. This better not escalate.

“Can you please leave us alone for a mom—”

“How about forever?” Ghost snaps.

“Fine”, Soap says and heads for the exit. “Just don’t let him pull another runaway bride on us again, okay?”

You wave for him to exit the bathroom. Soap does as he’s told, and you lean against one of the stalls. You examine the lieutenant from head to toe, but he’s too busy patting and pulling at the blazer to notice you. He grabs his tie and tugs at it.

“Don’t loosen the tie.” You command, “It’s supposed to be snug.”

“Who the fuck decided that wearing a noose around your neck is a good idea?” He says and starts tugging at his collar.

“And stop doing that to your collar—you’ll rip a button off.”

“It’s too tight.”

You approach him, place your index finger inside his collar, and trace the circumference.

“Ghost, it’s not that tight.”

“It sure feels like it.” He replies.

You sigh and slap your arms against your thighs. How will you make him understand what he’s feeling right now? He has to turn his attention inwards and observe his body. Acknowledge it. That’s the only way he’d be able to befriend his current state.

“Is the collar and tie the issue here, or is it your throat?” You ask.

He clasps his neck and looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Your throat,” you explain, “does it feel tight? Is there a lump when you swallow?”

He throws his head back and closes his eyes. He’s trying to become acquainted with his senses. He takes a deep breath and swallows hard.

“Affirmative,” he states, “a lump is indeed present.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He opens his eyes wide and nods slowly. “Sure does,” he murmurs.

“It feels like when we’re at the beginning of a mission, right?”

“Just like it.” He nods, “especially when we’re unsure of what we might come across.”

“How about,” you say as you straighten his tie, “We approach this event in the exact same way?”

“How?”

“What are the objectives here?” You ask.

“Get that fucking chest candy, and get the fuck out of here.”

“And what should we do to accomplish that?”

“Get up on the stage, shake some dickhead’s hand, and walk away.” He replies.

“How long would you recon that’ll take?”

He tilts his head. “About three minutes max.”

“That’s not too bad!” You shout and pat his chest, “Plus, I doubt the people awarding us want to be here either.”

He huffs. “You think so?”

“Of course! It’s just as inconvenient for them as it is for us.”

“Then why are we all doing this?” he wonders and throws his hands up, “Why pretend?”

“Because,” you reply, “sometimes in life, you must pretend; pretend to be strong, courageous, pretend to know what you’re doing even though you have no clue….”

“Fake it till you make it?” He asks.

You smile. “Yeah, Lt., fake it till you make it.”

He shakes his hands and kicks his feet. He straightens his suit and posture, then looks at the bathroom window.

“This won’t fit me this time, so we might as well get done with it as soon as possible,” he says and turns to you, “on me, soldier.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You salute him.

You walk towards the entrance where the ceremony is taking place. Many people are in the room, but you always stay within his proximity to make him feel safe. Sometimes you direct him on what to do—shake this person’s hand, relax the shoulders, pose, stand over here.

He leans towards you while waving at another soldier.

“Do I walk like I’m sore?” He murmurs.

You smile at a photographer and lean towards Ghost.

“No,” you whisper, “why?”

“Soap said so.”

Fucking Soap. He was right; these shoes make him walk like a duck, but you can’t admit it, especially now. He’ll flee.

“Yeah, well,” you reply, “Soap also walks around with a mohawk on his head.”

“Ridiculous,” he says and laughs, “and here I am, wearing a full suit, right?”

You raise your head and look at his black-painted eyes and skull balaclava. He can’t be that delusional regarding what’s ridiculous and what isn’t. But if it helps him right now, so be it.

“Damn right, Lt.,” you say as you nudge his side, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

———————————————————————

[ant0nsfirstluv]

Riize Romantic Headcanons (2)

A/N: part twooo of my last posts + expanding on certain headcanons ♾️

Warnings: None

More under the cut

Shotaro:

lovesss to hype you, if you ever posted on insta he’d comment so much, repost it on his personal story, text you about how pretty you looked

he’d shamelessly compliment you so often, literally he’d see you for the first time in the day and would just shower you in so much praise and affection

always. taking. photos of you just for him to look at while he’s away or just because you look so goodt

Sends you video clips of him dancing and gets all smiley when you compliment him even though he knowsss he did good

holds you on his back especially if you two have been walking for a while and want to take a break

aggressively supportive !!! literally cheers you on no matter what interest or hobby you decide to take on

Thanks you allll the time and gives you a small kiss each time he does, you could literally just hand him a tissue and he’d be “thank youu 😙”

The least conflicts could ever happen with him tbsh, even if there was a disagreement between you two he’s level headed enough to where you two will somehow someway find a solution

Eunseok:

doesn’t have a specific nickname for you because he’ll just call you his “little [insert random thing]” or “my [insert random thing]

I like to think he’d call you his flower but that’s just me 🌚 leave it up to your imagination

messes with your hair often, sometimes he’ll literally just wordlessly play with it until you snap him back into reality

verrry sudden compliments, out of nowhere he’ll drop the most sweet blush inducing compliment ever and then go back to being stone or messing with you 😭

randomly appears at your house without saying anything, you’d literally be walking around your home and he would just walk in like “hey 🙋”

you two will be in the same place and he’ll still text/facetime you instead of just walking to where you are to tell/show you what he needs to say

he loves staying in with you even if you two do practically nothing he’d be fine with you on his lap while watching tv and snacking

protective but in a very calm sense. helps you avoid things he knows you’re particularly uncomfy with or just borderline keeps you out of harms way by being right by you

Sungchan:

has soft launched you two like 5 million times everybody knows you two are together atp he is NOT slick bro 😭

as I said in the last post he loves kissing your face and I feel like he’d wake you up by giving you some kisses on your cheek while whispering your name

eating together is a must he will literally just text and ask to eat together at your fave restaurant just because and let’s you order wtv you want

has his hands on you in someee type of way literally he finds a way or reason to touch you no matter what he just can’t keep his hands to himself ☹️

would buy matching or similar gym wear for you two if you ever do or want to come to the gym with him, ugh the matching sets would be SO CUTE

will literally have you sit on his back while he does push-ups or see how many times he can squat while holding you

alwaysss reminiscing about moments between you two throughout the relationship the amount of cute convos that happened because of him starting with “babe do you remember when…”

loves being praised by you like your compliments literally make his whole entire day PLEASE DO ! send him sweet motivational goodmorning texts

Wonbin:

let’s keep it real for a moment…he would most definitely call you his pretty girl

has his moments of just staring/adoring you, whether you two are on opposite sides of the room or if he’s right by you while you’re doing something

if you guys don’t know, wonbin has mentioned that he has a habit of doing things 7 times in a row, so ofc in my mind,, he probably kisses you 7 times before you leave his place :( or before you gts

there’s been so many times where he’d be hanging out with the members and will just DISAPPEAR as soon as you ask to hang out, the members will ask where he went and he’s already at your house 😭

if someone made you even slightly visibly uncomfortable or upset he would glare at them until they went/looked away

if a girl tried getting his number or something he’d probably blankly look at them for a good…3 seconds and then just “no 🫤”

no matter where you’re laying down he’ll curl up right next to you or on top of you and he lovesss taking a nap with you

absolutely geeks when you two accidentally match or wear similar outfits he will find out what you’re gonna wear just so he can secretly wear the same thing 🌚

would paint a nail with your initial 🌚 but would get sooo shy when anybody outside of the members asked what the letter meant LOL

Seunghan:

you could be wearing… a plastic bag…and he’ll still be like “you’re so beautiful” like man hello

touching your face is a habit of his, he’ll literally be smiling down at you while stroking your cheek and jawline with his thumb and pointer

whenever you sit on his lap while he’s gaming whenever he has a free hand he’ll take advantage of it to stroke your back or squish your face for a kiss

loves to hear your voice..will call you literally just to hear it you don’t even have to be directly talking to him as long as he can hear you

you’ll be sitting down with the members and he’ll get a tiny bit jealous once you laugh at eunseoks joke a little too hard and he’ll run by, pick you up and run off with you

helps you with your hair whenever you’re struggling with it, as long as you guide him and give him instructions he’ll try his best !!!

I’m sorry but if you ever were irritated or grumpy and accidentally let it slip while with him he’d grab your face and kiss you to shush you 😭

he eats up whenever you’re shy he relishes in it so much he can’t help but want to watch you look away because you can’t keep eye contact

wouldn’t let you be insecure in the slightest you could literally have just woken up lips dry face puffy and he’ll still make you feel so pretty

Sohee:

likes to cuddle with him laying back and you on top of him resting your head in the crook of his neck while he draws patters into your back :(

whenever he tells you goodmorning he always gives you a hug with a good squeeeeze and a quick kiss on your nose or cheek

trust he likes to be babied and spoiled but sometimes he wants to be the gentleman for you too like let him take care of you and nurture you okayyy 💔

sohee’s cute demeanor can make him seem like he’d be shy which could be the case but I can see him being bold or more straightforward when it comes to his affections towards you

like he’ll ask YOU out, he’ll ask if he could kiss you for the first time, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and ask you on a date first

gloats about you to everyone, the members included, as soon as you post yourself on your story he’s quick to say “ugh my gf is so pretty guys look look look” while mushing his phone in their faces

he is soooo sweet and truly so lovely..but sometimes…you will be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse while you’re with him I’m sorry LMFAOO

like if you forgot to text him before you got back home or if you fell asleep forgetting to call him before you did he’d be so quick to text you “I see how it is 🙄”

or he’d avoid kissing you but as soon as you give up trying to kiss him he’d be SO quick to switch up wanting a kiss IMMEDIATELY begging you for one

Anton:

he would most definitely see cute pics of two animals like some ducks or rabbits snuggling together and will text it to you and be like “us”

hugs from behinddd allll the timeeee even if you two are just standing there he’ll hold onto you from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

pretends to bite you, especially on your shoulder but if he ever did accidentally actually bite you he’d make it up by putting a small peck wherever he did it

kisses your hand and down your forearm because he just likes to tbsh

has you do the most foolish tiktoks with him and yes you guys will have like 300 drafts and yes he makes you two do like 12 takes 😭😭

particular compliments, will call you gorgeous overall but has moments where he tells you a certain color makes you look radiant or when your hair looks extra good

spoils you to oblivion, you have a wishlist frm your fave clothing brand you say 🤔 BOUGHT, he sees some cute matching couple necklaces..SOLD ! you lost your favorite makeup brushes ? HERES SOME NEW ONES !

whenever he flirts and starts getting bold he’ll fold so quick like he’ll build up his courage to be super straight forward but will literally crumble and be a tad bit embarrassed later especially if you repeat what he said LMFAOO

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Mango Bat; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um,” he says, fumbling slightly for the right thing to say. Not that he really knows what he said wrong to begin with, which definitely doesn’t help. “But like, I’m sure it’s fine if you just eat what you wanna eat for now! Superman would’ve definitely told me if there was stuff Kryptonians couldn’t have or anything like that and your stomach’s pretty invulnerable, so I don’t think you’re gonna get a stomachache if you accidentally eat too much, y’know?” 

“. . . he would’ve?” Lynn asks. 

“Well, yeah,” Billy says, puzzled by the question. “He asked me to take care of you, and he’s Superman. He’d definitely tell me if there was anything that was bad for you to worry about. You know, like, aside from the stuff I already know about.” 

“Because he’s Superman,” Lynn says very, very quietly. 

. . . Billy has definitely said something wrong. Billy has said a lot of things wrong, apparently. He just doesn’t know what they were or how to fix them, like, yesterday. 

Are there any time-related gods whose names start with an “A”, maybe? So he could just rewind a few minutes and get a do-over there? Please? 

“Kind of,” Billy settles on after a moment, still not sure if he’s saying the right thing. “I mean . . . Superman would be Superman even if he wasn’t, um–Superman. Uh. I mean–he’s, you know–he’d still be a good guy even if he weren’t a literal good guy. You know?” 

“. . . no,” Lynn says. Billy winces at himself, because he is definitely not doing a good job with this, and figures he’ll just . . . take the plates from him and start portioning everything out, maybe. It’ll give him something to do with his hands besides fidget and give Lynn something to watch besides the plates, he figures. Especially if the other doesn’t wanna make eye contact or anything right now. Or, um . . . ever, maybe. 

“Well, like . . . everybody who’s in the community is in it for a reason,” Billy tries to clarify as he takes the plates, which Lynn lets him do a little stiffly, but does, like–let him do, at least. Then he has to go find serving spoons and whatever so he can actually put the food on said plates, but–well, he can talk while he does that, he figures? Like, why not? As long as Lynn doesn’t feel ignored, that’s all that matters. “Like–their own reason, I mean. Like, you know, I do it because–well, actually that’s kinda a long story, I’ll get into that later. But Superman does it because he thinks everybody’s important, and matters, and like–he can do anything he wants to, really. But he just wants to help people. Help them be better, and keep them safe and help them get to better.” 

“Superman wants to help . . . people,” Lynn says, his voice maybe the slowest it’s been so far and expression totally blank again. “And help them be–better."

[sofs16]

our love in photos

part 1: paddock day , part 2: our leclerc win — next

charles_leclerc

liked by 4,282,393 others

charles_leclerc P1 babyyyyyy! Week here in Barcelona shows we should keep pushing, even on the last lap🏎️

view all 832,272 comments

ynchaaa IS THAT YN SHE DIDNT WEAR A POLO WHAT

⤷ yncharles.16 WHAT. PARENTS?

⤷ charlottecharles1 thank god they broke up

⤷ charleeeeee but they just had their one year anniv? ⤷ gossipxxwag yall she was literally at the garage. what are u on😭

june 23, 2024

yn

liked by 3,272,484 others

yn barcelonaaaa gp! my favorite one for reasons the whole world knows;) baby got p1 and then i heard a broke up? huh. he’s stuck with me and chained to my bed so he can’t leave. if he’s with someone else that’s me in a wig 😘 stay jealous haters xx

view all 372,585 comments

landonorris the bed part wasn’t necessary

⤷ yn i didnt mean it like that DIRTY MJND DUMBASSSSSS

⤷landonorris Oh. Nevermind

charles_leclerc I’d be crazy to not end up with you. ❤️

⤷ yn biting my lip and kicking my feet 😊

yourbsf CRAZY IN LOOVEEEEE

carlossainz55 The last photo is very questionable

june 23, 2024

charles_leclerc

liked by 5,383,594 others

tagged yn

charles_leclerc a summer well spent ☀️

view all 722,744 comments

charchar1 did you win pingpong 🤭

⤷ charles_leclerc Of course! ⤷ yn i almost believed you babe

⤷ carlossainz55 expound please

june 27, 2024

yn

monte carlo, monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, and 3,383,484 others yn late summaaaa diaries 🫀🩰🎧📜

ps. why do u guys think sharl didnt post a pic of himself playing LOLLLL

view all 238,292 comments

ynsmodel WHAT DOES SHE NOT DO. charleslando mother feeding us the content we deserve 😌

charles_leclerc No one had to know, baby…

⤷ yn im competitive, i cant lose to my boyfriend in PINGPONG

⤷ charles_leclerc Well the photo was not needed!

⤷ yn youre cute

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh, well thank you. ❤️

⤷landonorris LOL HE FOLDED SO QUICKLY IM LAUGHIGN

⤷ yn shut up norris, only i can bully him

june 28, 2024

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 7,383,494 others

yn DNF today but still the proudest of charles 💌 i simply do not understand why the car suddenly lost engine right before the race but fine, god works in mysterious ways. next week we will come back stronger. we will, and should, always support charles, as well as carlos. forza ferrari ❤️ [COMMENTS HAVE BEEN DISABLED]

charles_leclerc instagram story:

“luckiest to have her😘”

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, and 5,595,695 others yn hiiii lovelies! @yn.jpg up and runnin! enjoy ❤️‍🩹

view all 722,474 comments

charlessgirl so glad we made the right girl famous (thanks charles)

⤷ yn 🥹😭

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, and 272,494 others

yn.jpg who else did u think id post first? (d1🫀)

view all 53,393 comments

lando.jpg Um. Me? ⤷ yn.jpg next time babes

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

yn.jpg

liked by lando.jpg, and 217,282 others

yn.jpg day 2! landitooooo my photographer bff alongside danny ❤️

view all 23,483 comments

yn.jpg

liked by 322,474 others

yn.jpg day 3: my 2nd fav driver 🏎️

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fernandoalo.oficial una fotógrafa muy buena y linda 💪tú y charles sois unos afortunados a very good and beautiful photographer 💪you and charles are a lucky

⤷ yn TE QUIEROOOO FONSO!! buena suerte hoy i love you fonso!! good luck today

[fernandoalo.oficial and charles_leclerc liked]

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, and 4,484,494 others

yn.jpg i lov my boyfirend it hurts so much he’s so perfeet and kind and everuthing ive ever wanted im so grateufl i msis him osuch

view all 264,585 comments

charles_leclerc I love you amour but.. are you okay?

⤷ yourbsf yn got drunk on my watch sorry

charles_leclerc baby please answer the phone

⤷ yn.jpg fiflvoroyu

[felixsramen]

Yours Truly

This is part 34 to my skz poly fic.

Warnings: Slightly sexual, slight angst

Previous<<<< Next>>>>

"You guys ate already. Name one good reason why I should order enough pizza for you three." Minho glares at the three of you.

"Because you love us?" Changbin says with a half smile. Minhos hands are crossed as he leans against the sink. "You're using Changbins card?" Seungmin tells Minho. Minho rolls his eyes in response.

Before you know it, Jisung has gotten in front of Minho. "Aww, come on and give in already. Look how cute they are!" Jisung looks around at the three of you. Minhos eye's scan over you all. "I already have five other mouths to feed. Not to mention, one of you three eats like you don't get fed." Minho looks at Changbin, who looks away as if the cabinet is more interesting.

"Again, you act as if you don't use Changbins card anyways." Seungmin tells Minho with a raised eyebrow. "Please, Min?" You ask sweetly. You watch as Minhos eyes soften at your words. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Fine. I'll order enough for yn too." You give Minho a smile. "Okay, now that that's figured out, come on in the living room! Felix is playing the game, and I want you to watch me beat him!" Jisung doesn't give you much of a choice as he already starts dragging you away into the living room.

In the living room, your eyes fall on Chan, who is sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone while Felix and I.N. play Mario Kart on the ground. Laying in his lap is Hyunjin, who is watching the screen.

You watch as the screen flashes with first place, and Felix cheers. "Two times in a row!" I.N. only rolls his eyes with a huff. "You cheated the first time." I.N. tells the long blonde haired boy.

Felix gasps in mock offense. "I did not!" I.N. crosses his arms. "You literally had Jisung climb into my lap and kiss me." Felix shakes his head. "Whatever Jisung does or doesn't do is not my fault. It's not like I bribed him or something." Felix crosses his own arms with a pout.

"Jisungs literal words were, and I quote 'for homemade cheesecake, and then he kissed me." I.N. watches as Felix shrugs. "All is fair in love and food, Innie." Felix simply tells him.

I.N. sighs as he stands up with a pout. "Whatever." I.N. hands the controller to Jisung. I.N. looks at you, and you watch him, almost reach out for your hand, then let it fall back down to his side.

"Innie." You tell him softly. "I don't want to upset you or the boys again." I.N. gently tells you. The words make you frown.

"You holding my hand won't upset anyone." You grab I.N.s hand before dragging him to the other couch. "Cuddle me?" You ask him quietly. He looks at you. It's only a few seconds before he nods. I.N.s hands wrap around you, holding you close. "I'm sorry." I.N. whispers to you.

"Don't apologize again. You didn't do anything wrong." You tell him sternly. I.N. doesn't apologize again, and you're grateful for that.

"You're watching me right! I'm in first!" Jisung yells out, making you adjust so you can watch Jisung. "Here." I.N. moves you so you're sitting in his lap with your back to his chest. His arms are wrapped around you, and his head leans on your shoulder.

"Gross!" You look over to the other couch, and Hyunjin is staring at the both of you. Chan doesn't have his phone in his hand anymore, and he looks down at Hyunjin.

"You're literally laying in my lap right now. I don't think you're in a position to judge someone else right now." Hyunjin looks up at Chan. He immediately sits up and sits next to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin looks back at I.N. and you finally. "You're both so lovey dovey again." Hyunjin frowns, and you unwrap I.N.s hands from around your waist.

You stand up, walking over to Hyunjin. You climb into his lap. "Quit being jealous, Jinnie. I like you too. I can be all lovey dovey with you too if that's what you want. Just ask me." You tell Hyunjin who starts turning red as you get close to his face.

"Why would I be jealous?" Hyunjin mumbles out, and you start to giggle.

"I don't know, but this is the second time you've said something when I'm beside Innie. Are you worried we'll kiss again? You shouldn't be. Not when you already got to kiss me first." Hyunjin turns even redder at that.

Hyunjin looks away, slightly panicking. He looks around at his other boyfriends. Felix and Jisung are now staring at both of you. Changbin, Minho, and Seungmin are now standing in the living room watching. Meanwhile, Chan and I.N. are still watching.

"That- That was different." Hyunjin tells you looking back at you. "I didn't know who you were. You were only a one night stand at the point." You can't help but frown at his words. You know he's right, but it still hurts nonetheless. You move your face from right in front of his.

Hyunjin notices your frown and how you move away at his words. The panic in his eyes immediately disappears and is instead replaced with guilt.

"Fuck. You know I didn't mean it like that. I promise you I don't just kiss every one nightstand." Hyunjin tells you. That's when his eyes fall on his boyfriends.

Theres frowns on some of their faces. Some are angry. "You guys know I didn't mean it like that either." Hyunjin looks at Chan for help. After all, Chan was the one who told you and Hyunjin to kiss. Chan isn't sure what to say, though.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh, realizing he'll have to explain this himself. "Okay, since Chan is no help, I'll try to explain." Hyunjin runs a hand through his freshly black dyed hair.

"You were the first person we took home. Out of any of us." Hyunjin looks at his boyfriends who seem to calm at that. "I wasn't expecting anyone to run into her again. It was the heat of the moment when I kissed her. There were no feelings behind it except lust." Hyunjin is still looking at his boyfriends.

Hyunjin looks at you finally. He grabs your hands. "Now we have feelings for you, so it's different. Like when I.N. kissed you he liked you. He has feelings for you. So it's different, and Hyunjin kissing you doesn't really count as your first." Chan finishes for Hyunjin. Hyunjin looks at Chan, happy his boyfriend doesn't leave him to get eaten by the wolves. "Only because I now have feelings for you, and I don't want you to think of that as your first kiss."

You look at Hyunjin and give him a smile. "I was just teasing." You tell Hyunjin. He sighs, smiling back at her. Hyunjin looks around the room finally, and luckily, no one looks too upset after the explanation.

"Kiss her?" Hyunjin looks up at Felix. "What?" Hyunjin mutters out slightly confused.

"Kiss her. If you want to kiss her go ahead. If she wants it you can be the first one to kiss her with our permission." Seungmin tells Hyunjin.

Hyunjin frowns at them. "Are you guys sure?" Hyunjin tells them, but Minho crosses his arms.

Hyunjin looks at you and you can only smile. "Kiss me Jinnie." You tell him. You watch as Hyunjin contemplates actually doing it.

"If you don't kiss her already I'm going to let Jisung kiss her first." Hyunjin looks at Minho before looking at Jisung who is smiling brightly. "Come on Hwang. This is your one chance to say you beat me at something." Jisung looks giddy.

Hyunjins eyes finally fall back on you. "I know what you said but you're sure?" Hyunjin asks and you nod with a smile.

Hyunjin finally leans in. You can tell he's hesitant waiting for you to show any signs of not wanting to but you only give him a smile. That's enough for him to give in and press a kiss to your lips. It's soft and sweet. Compared to the first one this is way better. Hyunjin is so full of love that it shows in this kiss.

As Hyunjin pulls away he gives you a sweet smile. "So this means we all get a chance to kiss her now right? No more permission?" Jisungs words are immediate and you can't help but laugh into Hyunjin.

"No more Ji." Minho softly tells him. "Great so that means I get to kiss her next! Everyone else now has to wait for me!" You look at Jisung who is smiling at you and you nod.

"Whenever you want Ji." You tell him. Jisung looks like he's ready to get up and come kiss you now but he's interrupted by the door.

"Pizza is here. Guess you'll have to wait." Hyunjin tells Jisung who pouts. "Whatever I didn't want to kiss her after you anyways. I'll do it when it's just us!" Jisung sticks his tongue out at Hyunjin who only laughs.

"As if you didn't do more than just kiss me a few hours ago." Hyunjin tells Jisung. Jisung only mumbles out 'asshole' under his breath before getting up to go to the kitchen.

Taglist: @mbioooo0000 @theydy-madamonsieur @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld14-blog @stephy-nicole13 @freyaniobe @chansbabygirlsstuff @jkookiejiminlvr @hyuneyeon @sirenthalia @nagadiluc @tenshimara @leeknowleeknow @boi-bi-ahaha @shltsnglggles @tinystarsthing @armystay89 @baby-fairy-yas @haileybugulug @freckleboilix @im-sinking-in-mud @thatoneperson1911 @lmaouwu @greysweaters-blog @katrodriguez99 @3rachasninja @amararosesblog @1alesakura @m4gg13-g @vampcharxter @noellllslut @berryberrytan @junebug032 @vrslvts1 @jeongchaos @emyferra08 @stvrfir3 @feybin @mauvemelon @worcesheshestershiresauce @realrintaro @katsukis1wife @foliea @krishastumblernow @pretty-blkgirl @mrsseochangbin @nobody3210 @bookworm731

[screeching-bunny]

Helloooo my fave yandere!character writer! I hope your having a wonderful day! Can i request yandere!jock with male!reader and he finds the reader crying bc someone was bullying them or said smth mean or smth like that? Ik he would be pissed but i was thinking something along the lines of this:

*Reader explains what happens*

*Yandere!Jock absolutely pissed and turns to go beat the shit out of them*

Then the reader would grab is arm to stop him and say smthing like: “wait!…please…..please just….stay with me….please?” Like EEEEEEE I LOVE YANDERE!JOCK SMMMM AND IMA PASS OUT IF YOU DO THIS! OKAY THANKS BYE

(Also plz ignore if your requests are closed rn)

Yandere! Jock x Male Reader

Asks 2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Reader is specifically going to be Male in this post!!!

Asks 1

Yandere! Jock liked looking at you whether it be intention or not his eyes were almost always on you. He loved looking at every expression you made throughout your day to day life and practically memorized every fine detail on your face. So it was no surprise that he was instantly alerted when he saw a hint of sadness appear on your face when you came in for your afternoon class. Like a little leach he started attaching himself towards you with a concerned look on his face to find out what had happened to his little darling but alas his attempts reamied futile as you refused to give him an answer that he accepted.

“I’m just tired and just didn’t get that much sleep last night.”

Tired his ass. Yandere! Jock knew for a fact that you fell asleep early last night while watching an animal documentary. How does he know this? Well, he was stalking I mean watching over you last night. Anyways the sentence “The giant horse cock weighs over eight pounds” was still fresh in his mind but that's not the point! The point is something or someone made you upset! This is honestly so absolutely unacceptable!! When class finishes he ends up cornering you to try and figure out what has happened to you. Soon you start to give in and tell him the exact reason as to why with tears bawling out of your eyes.

When he finds out the reason he is beyond pissed. A bunch of npc bullies had the audacity to go and bully you! There is nothing he wants to do then skin those losers alive for making you cry like this. How fucking dare they. Yandere! Jock immediately decides that at that moment, he would go on a manhunt. He genuinely believes that it’d be a good riddance, no way in hell is someone going to miss them. As he tries to get up, he is immediately stopped by you as you grab ahold of his arm.

“Please stay, I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Holy shit! That sentence damn near put him in a coma. He just can’t believe how adorable you are. With that, he decides right away to bring you to his home in order to comfort you. The rest of the day is spent with just the two of you guys together while watching Netflix and ordering out to eat. All of his plans that he had before were canceled in favor of being by your side. He does his best to make you happy and laugh as much as possible. That smiling face of yours suits you better than a teary eyed expression. Although he can’t do it now, he vows to absolutely destroy the lives of your bullies. The mental and physical wellbeing of yourself matter more than anything in the world to him. Anything that causes harm to you he quickly deals with even if it means people. All that he wants is that you’ll be safe in his arms and by his side whenever he wakes up.

He makes it a point to prove the words of you tormentors were false and does his best to undo their claims. He’d be so appalled by the whole situation and just can’t wrap around his head at how someone could be mean to you. Like just look at you! You’re literally perfect what the hell were they smoking when they decided to verbally assault you. Yandere! Jock would be so overbearing and clingy towards you. Wherever you went he was close behind you. You’re going grocery shopping? Cool he’s right by your side. You gotta go to class? He’s right by you. Even if he doesn’t have the class he’s still coming. Showering? Move over and make room, he wants to shower as well. Is totally the type to throw a fit when you say no which causes you to relent and let him follow you.

In a few weeks after this incident there were missing people reports all over town of local college students. The same ones who coincidentally were vicious towards you. Everytime Yandere! Jock walks past these posters, he has a hidden smug look on his face. Justifies it by saying that he’s doing it in the name of love and that those people were the spawns of Satan. Besides, they're not even dead yet. They’re just trapped in a cabin in some random woods that only he has access to. Content with himself he spends his days by your side and pledging to himself that he’d never let anyone bother you ever again.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬, zegras' have more fun

♡ ─ summary | set after this instagram post. parker invites stass to a party after a football and somehow, it turns into luke and stass talking about "them"

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, mention of drinking, slight angst, parker slander (poor guy), nothing else!

♡ ─ taglist | made a new whole new form for my au! fill out if you're interested!

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay y'all, this au is back!!!!! finally had some motivation to finish up :) i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, PLEASE SEND IN SOME AU THOUGHTS!! literally anything, i just wanna hear some feedback and thoughts!

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September 29th, 2022

"I am not going out with Jack, Trevor." Stass punctuated as she spoke, her expression annoyed. She was currently facetiming with her brother when she should've been studying for her Chemistry midterm.

Her macbook was wide open as she laid in her bed, looking at the call. She knew the only reason he had been calling was to address those stupid rumors online.

"I know you aren't, he woulda told me." Trevor leaned back in his chair, a frown playing on his lips as he glanced at his sister on the screen. "He was flirting with you, though."

"Yeah, so what?" Stass responded. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Hasn't he always flirted with me, why's it a big deal now?"

"You know why, Stass." Trevor sighed, his frustration evident. You did know why, but it was just another baseless rumor from when you two were teenagers, it didn't matter.

"Luke does not like me, okay?"

It had been a joke since Stass had met the brothers that somehow, she were gonna end up dating one of them. Stass never how that started but all she knew is that it pissed her and Trevor off, because it wasn't true. Well, for the most part.

"Look, I'm not saying he does or doesn't. I'm just saying you have to be delicate when it comes to these kinda things, especially after this summer, with the whole lake house thing-"

"Stop saying that."

"Stop saying what?" Trevor's eyebrows raised, his tone annoyed as he waited for Stassie to continue.

Stassie's frustration bubbled to the surface. "Stop bringing up the stupid lake house incident like it's some kind of defining moment in our lives. It was just a misunderstanding, and we've moved on from it. Besides, Luke and I are fine. We've always been fine."

"Dude, relax. I'm not saying you guys aren't fine or whatever, stop getting so goddamn defensive. I'm just saying this entire situation is just sensitive for Luke, alright, tread lightly."

Stass didn't feel like arguing right now, especially over this stupid topic. She should be studying for her midterm but this situation seemed to keep coming up. "Luke is fine. But okay, whatever. I won't stir the pot anymore."

"Just be how you are, you know? Just minus the flirtiness." Trevor sighed. "I guess rizz is just hereditary."

"I can't believe you just said rizz out loud, Trevor. That was so cringe." Stass rolled her eyes as she looked back at the screen, her brother laughing back at her.

"Shut up. But I gotta go, I have an early practice tomorrow."

"Okay, Trev. I'll talk to you later, goodnight. I love you."

"Love ya too-"

She hung up quickly and shut her macbook, sighing. She could not believe that this whole thing was caused by a few comments left by Jack, they were meaningless. At least, that was what she was trying to convince herself. Before she could open her macbook to study again, she heard a knock from her door.

"Come in."

Parker came into the room quickly, "Hey Stass."

Stassie eyed Parker suspiciously as he entered the room, her eyebrows knitting together in curiosity. "Hey, Parker. What's up?"

Parker gave her his best charming smile as he approached her bed, taking a seat beside her. Stassie resisted the urge to roll her eyes as he continued, "Listen, I need a favor. The guys and I are going to a party after the game on Friday, and I know you swore off alcohol, but can you still come with us?"

Stassie furrowed her brows, sensing there was more to his request. "I was already planning on going to the game, you know that-"

"Okay great, can you bring your short friend? Shit, what's her name... Uhh... Samantha?"

Stassie's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know a Samantha, do you mean Chloe?"

Parker scratched his head, looking momentarily flustered. "Yeah, Chloe! That's the one. Can you take her? She's really pretty and I wanna get to know her."

"Why don't you be a man and just dm her?" Stass half joked as she stared back at him.

"Shut up, dude and just do me a favor, alright?"

Stass shrugged, knowing Parker well enough to understand his banter. "Alright, alright fine. But she's way outta your league. Like wayyy outta your league."

Parker rolled his eyes, playfully swatting at Stassie's arm. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Stass. But you miss 100% of the shots you don't make."

She couldn't help but shake her head at Parker's attempt at motivational quotes. "Yeah, well, just don't embarrass yourself too much, okay? Chloe's not exactly easy to impress."

Parker grinned confidently. "Oh, don't worry about me. I've got charisma for days."

Stass cringed once again before she sighed. "Whatever, can you leave now, I'm tryna study."

Parker chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm out. Thanks, Stass."

"You owe me a vodka soda Friday night." Stass smiled as she looked up at the brunette.

"I thought you swore off alcohol-"

"That was last week, okay? Now leave before I change my mind." Stass flashed a playful grin as she spoke, watching Parker get up and walk towards the door.

"Okay, whatever."

──

"I think I'm gonna step out for a sec, Chloe. I'll see you two later." Stass took that as her cue to leave before she wiggled her eyebrows at Parker, walking away from her two friends. Now that her mission was complete, she had to go find some water. She has had one too many vodka sodas and she didn't wanna be hungover tomorrow morning.

As she searched the entire house for any sign of water, she soon gave up and sighed. This was a frat house, the only thing they had was beer and chips everywhere, what was she expecting? As she stumbled through the crowd, trying to find an exit, she felt someone grab her arm.

Before she could pull away, she looked up at the tall figure and realized it was only Luke. "By any chance, do you know where I can find some water that isn't from a sink?"

Luke smiled as he nodded, "Yeah I'll take you, they have some bottles up stairs."

Relieved, Stassie let out a grateful sigh. "Thank you, Lukey. I owe you one." The nickname rolled off her tongue easily as she spoke.

Luke offered her his arm, guiding her through the crowded house with ease. Stassie couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence, despite the chaotic atmosphere surrounding them. As they reached a quieter hallway, Luke opened a door to a room with a small table stacked with water bottles.

"Here you go," Luke said, handing her a bottle with a knowing smile.

"Thank you, Luke. You're officially my hero tonight," Stassie said, taking a grateful sip from the water bottle.

Luke chuckled, leaning against the wall. "Anytime. So, why'd you need water so urgently? Too many vodka sodas?"

Stassie laughed, feeling a bit more at ease. "You know me too well. Parker talked me into it. Long story."

Luke raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. "Parker causing trouble again, huh?"

Stassie nodded, taking another sip. "Always. But hey, at least I'm not stumbling around looking for water like an idiot anymore. Thanks for saving me."

Luke's smile widened, genuine warmth in his eyes. "Anytime, Stass. Just take care of yourself, okay?"

There was a sudden silence between the two as they looked at each other, Luke's gaze warm and Stass' was a little... uncertain? They had been friends for a long time, but there was something different in the air tonight, something Stassie couldn't quite put her finger on. Like the lake house.

As the silence stretched, Stassie's heart rate quickened, unsure of what to say next. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to read the expression in Luke's eyes. She felt a subtle flush creeping up her cheeks, breaking the moment with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. Just need to pace myself better next time," she said, trying to brush off the odd tension that had momentarily settled between them.

"So, you and Jack have been talking?" Luke finally had ripped the bandaid as he studied Stass' movements and her expression, which had shifted from uncomfortable to slightly annoyed.

"Not more than usual, why?"

"What do you mean, why? I'm just asking, Stass." Luke seemed to be getting defensive too as his eyebrows knitted.

Stass sighed, feeling the tension between them mounting. "It just feels like you're prying, Luke. What's with the sudden interest in my conversations with Jack? And you guys are brothers, if you're so interested, ask him."

"It's not about that, Stass. You know that. We just never got over what happened at the lake house, or at least I thought we didn't."

"What happened, Luke? We kissed, so what? It's not like I'd do anything with Jack anyway. And plus, you're the one that hooked up with that other girl, not me." Stassie shot back, her annoyance evident in her expression.

Luke's jaw tightened, a defensive glint in his eyes. "We're not talking about me right now, Stass. We're talking about you and Jack. And don't deflect this onto something else."

"There's nothing to talk about, Jack's always been flirty with me and it's always been a funny joke until now. If you have a problem with it, talk to him, he's your brother."

Luke's gaze hardened, a flicker of hurt crossing his eyes. "It's not just about Jack. It's about us, about our friendship. You act like the kiss at the lake house meant nothing."

Stassie rolled her eyes, her impatience showing. "Luke, we were drunk, it was a momentary lapse in judgment. We've moved past it, or at least I thought we did."

"Fuck, Stass." Luke ran his fingers through his curly hair before letting out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, then. We can move on."

"Luke, I like our friendship." Stass sighed, defeated. "I don't wanna make it into something awkward, something that can get in the way of an already amazing friendship. Things are just better that way, okay? And we just forget that stupid kiss ever fucking happened and move on?"

Luke's expression softened, hurt evident in his eyes. "Yeah, okay. We can move on."

Stassie nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. "Great. So, can we just put this behind us and focus on being friends?"

Luke offered a small smile, his tone gentle. "Yeah, of course. Friends it is."

"Great, now, let's get back to the party before Parker starts freaking out." Stassie suggested, eager to shift the focus away from their tense conversation.

Luke chuckled, the tension between them dissipating. "Yeah, good idea. Last thing we need is Parker going on one of his rants again."

"You guys left me again, oh my gosh, Luke, I thought I was your favorite freshie." Stass mocked Parker as Luke laughed along, opening the door as the two of them made their way downstairs.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[lilacgyuvin]

star — p. gunwook

pairing: gunwook x gn!reader

synopsis: gunwook unfortunately loses his wallet. luckily for him, a good samaritan is kind enough to trace the address on his i.d. and brings it straight to his doorstep! too bad it’s his newly ex-best friend (post-dramatic confession of love).

word count: 3.6k

warnings: highschool!au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, BARELY proofread, jealous gunwookie, talks of falling out, misunderstandings, miscommunication, feat. seniors hanbin and seunghan (and eunseok), not to be taken serious this is just fiction!!

a/n: needed a break from writing that tattoo artist jiwoong au so i wrote this 🥸

Gunwook’ s lost his wallet.

It’s no big deal! It’s not like his whole life is in there or anything: his money, I.D., credit and debit card, along with his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard— yeah, he’d be fine without them.

He only realizes when he get’s on the train home from school, reaching for the photocard for emotional support after the shit week he’s had until he realizes it’s in his wallet which definitely isn’t in any of his pockets right now.

He finally lets out what he thinks is a quiet ‘fuck!’ after patting his pockets down and emptying out his backpack for the third time, which ends up not being as quiet as he originally thought, if the looks from the elderly couple sat across from him are anything to go by.

A few hours go by, and he’s still mourning the loss of devil Nayeon— oh, and all that other stuff too, he guesses. To get his mind off of things, Gunwook thinks a game of Fortnite with his loving friends would do the trick. It’s twenty minutes after when their entire squad gets wiped out (and proceed to get emoted on) is when he retracts that whole idea.

“I’m positive those guys were like, ten year olds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” Hanbin’s voice comes from Gunwook’s headset, meshing with the groans of Eunseok and the laughter of Seunghan on the other ends of the call.

“Obviously, it just happened to us! And the audacity. of Gyuvin to leave when he’s the reason we lost. His aim is so fucking ass,” Eunseok speaks loud and fast into his mic, making Gunwook wince at the volume. He seriously needs to start putting his volume down as soon as Eunseok joins. “Why do we still play with him? No, seriously someone answer me, why do we still play with him? Can we replace him with Y/n? Matter fact, I’m calling them right now I can’t do this.”

Seunghan’s laughter comes to a halt the minute their name is mentioned, just like Gunwook’s breathing for a split second.

“Eunseok.” Seunghan says his name and it sounds like Eunseok’s movements come to a stop, the only sound being that of the classic lobby music and the occasional Ps4 notification.

“... Does Gyuvin not have shit aim? I mean, we all saw that.” he says, and Hanbin then decides it’s his turn to speak up. “Maybe don’t talk about Y/n right now.”

It’s only now that Gunwook realizes he hadn’t told Eunseok about the whole ordeal this entire time, and it’s evident in the way he gasps from the other end of the call. “Y/n?! The fuck happened with Y/n? Oh my God please don’t tell me I have to cut them off they’re so fun. Speaking of, we have plans next week on Thursday to this new—”

“Eunseok seriously shut the fuck up.”

“ ‘Kay I’m gonna go heat up my hot pockets.”

Gunwook feels bad since he’s kind of the reason why Eunseok got cursed out by Seunghan. He’ll make it up to him after the upcoming, full on expected pep talk from Hanbin.

“You two still aren’t talking?” he asks the same time Eunseok logs off, and Gunwook thinks that maybe he too can escape this if he leaves without a second thought. He then realizes that Hanbin can literally just call him after he leaves, so he decides to dish it out and get it over with, mumbling his next words. “Well they’re not talking to me.”

It sounds childish, but he wasn’t lying! “The phone works both ways, Gunwook.” he sighs, the sounds of him readjusting in his seat being heard before he’s continuing, “Was it that embarrassing?”

Gunwook forgets that he didn’t explain the extent of the situation to his senior, so it isn’t entirely Hanbin’s fault that he thinks that Gunwook is simply embarrassed, but he can’t help the groan that follows anyway. “It’s not just that. It’s- I can’t even say.”

It’s nothing personal, really— everyone knows that Sunghoon and Y/n used to go out (for a mere 5 months, so Gunwook doesn’t even care for real!). What people didn’t know was how they swore to Gunwook that they’d never get back with him, not even for a second, so when Gunwook finally realizes the feelings he has for his best friend and decides to do something about them (queue chocolates and flowers at the end of the school day), the last thing he expects to see is Y/n and fucking Sunghoon, holding each other in a warm hug, like they’d shrivel up and die if they were to part.

Gunwook wished that had happened to him when he walks into the empty classroom, the wrapping from the flower arrangement in his hands startling the two out of their tight embrace. They looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as they watch Gunwook’s word die on his tongue, mouth agape as he tries to restore them.

“Sorry. Bad time.” it’s the only coherent thing he can manage to say before he’s making a beeline for the door, too embarrassed and upset to verbalize the rest of his thoughts. Never getting back together, huh? Gunwook’s feeling a lot of things in this current moment, but the one that sticks out the most is how utterly stupid he feels. It’s so intense it almost drives him to anger, but he’s on the train home before it can get to that point, free from the fear of them running after him.

He isn’t particularly proud of what he does when they text him almost immediately after the whole ordeal, only responding after he gets home.

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: omg i’m so sorry i totally forgot you asked to meet up

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: we were just talking

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: did you still wanna talk? where’d you go??

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: gunwook??

You:

sorry i had to rush home

You:

its fine tho lol

You:

i was just gonna ask your opinion on

the flowers i got

You:

they’re for eunchae

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: oh

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: i didn’t know you liked eunchae?

You:

yup

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: okay well then yeah they’re really pretty

Y/NN🔥🔥💕😘😇: she’ll really like them

You:

thanks 🙌

Okay don’t look at him like that. He had to save face! He feels bad as soon as he spews the lie out, but then he remembers the way his heart dropped to his ass at the sight of Y/n and Sunghoon hugging, and convinces himself that maybe this was for the best.

What Gunwook doesn’t expect are the two weeks that follow. To describe them in two words: extremely awkward. The following morning, instead of the two taking the train together like they normally do, Gunwook makes up some lame excuse about being late and ends up taking the longer way. They talk during the classes they have together, but it’s all stiff and feels uncomfortable, despite anyone saying anything about it. Going home is the same as the morning was, yet this time it was Y/n who couldn’t make it, saying they had to visit a relative after school.

It was always easy for the two to tell whenever the other was lying, but Gunwook wants to give them the benefit of the doubt, seeing as he wasn’t so truthful himself just recently. When the two do arrive home, there are no texts exchanged or calls that go on for hours on end like usual, and it makes Gunwook uneasy, but the feeling of being rejected without actually being rejected was more prominent in that moment, so he left it alone.

He didn’t know that the lack of communication on both ends would lead to them not talking at all, though! It didn’t help that he’d see them talking with Sunghoon again in the hallway only two days later, rubbing a reassuring hand along their arm, which then prompts him to talk with Eunchae during the period he knows he shares with Y/n. That day is what really set the tone for the rest of the week, he thinks; no calls or texts, passing each other through the hallways, and going home together came to a dead end. All the little things that made Gunwook not absolutely hate school were taken away from him, and he feels it’s partially his fault which made it suck even more.

It took his friends, including his seniors, only two days to realize that something was wrong, which is what’s prompted Hanbin to lecture him every chance he gets for the past two weeks.

“Well maybe you should text them anyway. I bet they miss you just as much as you miss them, right Seunghan?”

There’s absolutely no way Seunghan was listening in, seeing as he doesn’t answer til five seconds later when Hanbin clears his throat. “Oh! Yes, definitely.”

“What are you even here for.”

“Emotional support? I don’t know man, I just wanted to play Fortnite.”

“Seunghan.”

Seunghan whines at the disapproving tone of Hanbin’s voice, not sure how he got roped into being scolded alongside Gunwook. Hanbin’s just that good, he guesses.

“Ugh okay fine. Not gonna lie Gunwook, seeing you two not talking is really depressing, for all of us, and honestly super unsettling. Just tell them how you feel and maybe don’t lie to your crush about having a crush who isn’t actually your crush. How’d I do Hanbin?”

“Absolutely terrible. Please log off.”

Before Seunghan can defend himself against what Hanbin identifies as Useless Senior Syndrome™, there’s a steady knock coming from the front door, successfully getting Gunwook out of the lecturing. “Thanks guys, but I have to go.”

The two can barely bid their goodbyes before Gunwook is logging off, scurrying down the steps as the knocking increases in speed.

“I’m coming!” he half-screams. He knows it isn’t his mom because she always has her keys, so it’s okay that he raised his voice a bit. He honestly thinks it’s Yujin from next door, most likely wanting to borrow Gunwook’s switch again after he miraculously submerged his own into water. He swears to God if he doesn’t return it back on time again—

Oh. This isn’t Yujin.

What stood in front of him held waves of familiarity: one being the navy blue leather-skinned wallet he’d gotten gifted by a relative a while back, the one that’s been home to his ultra rare Twicecoaster Lane 1 devil Nayeon photocard for years now— and the other being the person he’s gotten to know over the past seven years, who’s favorite foods he’s mastered and whose voice he can point out in a room full of thousands. The one who sits through the same old episodes of ‘Haikyuu!!’ with him, despite already seeing them multiple times. His best friend, who he hasn’t talked to in over two weeks, over his own fears and insecurities, is now at his front doorstep with his wallet in their hand, face unreadable to Gunwook for the first time since they’ve met.

“You forgot your wallet in Ms. Chwe’s class.”

Ms.Chwe’s class; the last period that they share with each other, where he was too busy trying to avoid Y/n’s gaze so in turn chatted up anyone who’d listen, not paying enough attention to the wallet that was falling out of his front pocket. Gunwook can’t even feel relieved that his most prized possession is safe, nor can he think of a way to make it anyone else’s fault at the moment given that his (ex?) best friend, who he hasn’t even glanced at in 14 days, is standing at his door with it in hand.

‘What am I supposed to even say?’ The silence that follows after still isn’t as embarrassing as that cursed Wednesday two weeks ago, so he tried to avoid saying anything that may exceed that level. “Thanks… okay bye.”

Okay what the fuck was that. He almost slams his head against the door, but he thankfully doesn’t have to dwell on it for too long, as they’re speaking before he knows it.

“You seriously don’t wanna talk about this?” They say, and Gunwook doesn’t know why it shocks him— they’d always been the confrontational type when needed.

“What do you wanna talk about?” He thinks it’s a pretty valid question, given that they could be referring to multiple things, but Y/n apparently doesn’t think so, if the roll of their eyes were anything to go by.

“You can’t be serious. About how you’ve been ignoring me for the longest!”

“Wha- only because you’ve been ignoring me!”

“That’s what most people do when someone’s been ignoring them first, dumbass.”

Gunwook huffs, he almost forgot how stubborn the both of them could be. “This is going nowhere. Just- come inside.” He gives up, decides to be the bigger person and let them in, not wanting their first interaction in so long to be an argument outside his door. Also because Yujin can be quite the creep and likes to instigate arguments from his bedroom window (he knows this because they’ve done it together).

They make themselves comfortable on the couch best associated with movie nights and hot cocoa during winter break, sitting on opposite ends. The air feels stale, and Gunwook feels like he has to say something before he can let the silence linger any longer. “D’you want some wate-”

“What did I do to you?” he’s cut off, the voice quieter prior to it outside. They turn to face Gunwook with hands gripping both knees reassuringly and— are they crying? “I mean, I’ve been trying to figure it out for so long, but I can't think of anything. Was it the flowers? Did she not like them?”

Gunwook wants to wipe off the face of the Earth. Not only were they crying, but they were kind enough to consider the feelings of others while nursing their own, successfully breaking his heart, while also making him feel unfathomably shitty.

He’s by their side in less than a second, not quite sure what to do with his hands as he lets out a stream of ‘no no no’ and ‘please don’t cry’. They won’t even look at him this time either, opting out to facing the wall in front of them instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Gunwook sighs, finally deciding to rest his hands on his thighs. “I’m going to tell you, but you have to tell me why you were too, okay?” He asks and they nod almost immediately. “And you can’t laugh either. Seriously, I will kick you out.”

“I’ll walk out myself if you don’t spit it out already.” They attempt to say it threateningly, but they’re pouting and Gunwook hates how cute he finds it, considering their current circumstances.

“Okay I was getting there,” He can’t help the snark remark, and he half blames it on the fact that he’s about to do the thing that he never got to two weeks ago: confess his undying love for his best friend of over seven years to said best friend. Folding his hands atop his legs, Gunwook takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them as he exhales.

“Those flowers weren’t for anyone but you.” He’s not facing them, he absolutely cannot right now, instead focusing his gaze on his now sweaty hands, but he still hears the hitch in their breathing— it’s as clear as day. “I was going to give them to you, tell you about my feelings, but then I saw you with fucking Sunghoon, and I- I don’t know. I just felt so embarrassed and stupid and angry, so I came up with that stupid lie,” He finally finds the courage to face them, looking up to find their eyes already on him. “I’m sorry.”

Silence follows, and Gunwook fully expects it, but fuck was it agonizing. His face is practically on fire and he doesn’t want to break eye contact because he wants to ‘assert male dominance’ or whatever the hell Eunseok was going on about that one time he gave advice absolutely no one asked for, but it’s getting harder as the seconds go by and he just might explode right where he sits.

“Gunwook. You’re not gonna believe this but I was talking to Sunghoon about you,” Oh thank God they broke the silence— but what did they say? “I wanted to know if it’d make things weird between you and him if I asked you out or something, since you two are on the same dance team. I was also asking for advice on how to do it, since I’ve never asked anyone out before. I was going to the day after, but then you said you wanted to confess to Eunchae and I got really upset, I didn’t want to see your face at all.”

It’s now Gunwook’s turn to stare in silence, his previous anxious feeling replaced with one that screamed ‘what the fuck is happening I can’t believe this is happening right now’.

“What.” It’s all he can manage to say at the moment— if he felt stupid before, it’s definitely hitting harder this time around. He was avoiding his crush (who also has a crush on him, apparently?!), his best friend, all over nothing. His cheeks are becoming hot again and he feels like crying.

In classic Gunwook fashion, he does the most rational thing he can think of at the moment and bows his head beside their lap, clasping his hands in front of it as he lets out streams of ‘I’m sorry’, catching them completely off guard.

“Get up! It’s fine Gunwook, seriously." They reassure him, but he doesn’t dare get up from his position, only raising his head ever so slightly. “You still like me? Even though I lied to you and made you cry?”

They seem to find humor in his current predicament, giggling as they move a hand to pat his head. “I shed one tear. And dude, I lied too. I’m sorry as well, I was just scared.” It’s said with earnest, and Gunwook can feel it through their gaze once he finally gains the courage to lift himself up, his confidence fully restored. “Okay if we’re gonna date, you cannot call me dude anymore.”

“Is this you asking me out for real this time?” A hint of amusement makes its way onto their face, lolling their head to the side as they ask.”

“Yes. Wait no.” The switch up visibly confuses them, even more so when Gunwook gets up from his seat, instructing them to ‘wait here’ as he runs to the kitchen, coming back with a single flower. “My mom wouldn’t let them go to waste. They’re in a vase and she’ll kill me if I take all of them.”

They laugh, both because Gunwook was so so sweet and because his mom really would kill him. “Will you go out with me?” He knows it’s short, but he could tell them all the things he likes about them over takeout, and he really wants to kiss them right now.

“That was lackluster,” They say as they snatch the flower from their hands, but their actions are words are laced with playfulness, and they contradict themselves when they move to embrace him in a warm hug. “But yes, since you asked so nicely.”

Gunwook almost shoves them away if it weren’t for how intimate the current moment was. He’s glad they can still play around after spending so much time apart from each other. “Shut up! I just wanted to kiss you already. Wait, would that be weird?”

They look up, contemplating it for a second before they look back at him with a shrug. “I don’t know, but you can give me a kiss on the cheek. The one that isn’t wet.”

He takes takes that as a win, holding their damp cheek in favor of landing a peck on the opposite. Then another on their forehead. And another on the same cheek, but in a different place. It soon turns to him showering them with kisses all over, causing them to fall back on the cushions as they begin to laugh, taking Gunwook down with them as he refuses to stop. “Gunwook! I said one!”

He doesn’t even have the mind to grace them with an answer as he joins them in laughter, too overjoyed and buoyant with that fact that he’s now free from many things; free from hiding his feelings, from his insecurities now that their feelings were laid bare and are mutual, and free from pretending that he was okay letting his best friend falls into the hands of another. He no longer has to worry about any of that though, as they’re right where he wants them, where he deems perfect.

The cafeteria is booming as always, Gunwook and his friends (seniors and same-age mates alike) already seated at their table as they await the arrival of a few others. None of them say anything about the way Gunwook and Y/n are holding hands under the table, but there are definitely shared glances exchanged between Hanbin and Seunghan.

It’s only been two days since Gunwook’s actual successful confession, and they still have yet to say it outright, so they’ve just decided to let everyone come to their own conclusions. He thinks they’re on the right track though, with the way they shot him a thumbs up from across the table.

“Y/n!” It’s yelled from behind them, making the entire table, if not the whole cafeteria turn their heads to the source of the noise. Gunwook wishes he could say he was surprised as to who it was.

Eunseok practically tackles Y/n with the force in which he runs to their side, engulfing them in a hug from behind. “I thought I was gonna lose you! Don’t tell Gunwook, but you’ve always been my favorite junior.”

“I’m right here.”

“Shut up dont ruin this for me.”

a/n: we all know gunwook would be a communication king but i wanted to write this anyway. and guys i promise i can write things other than love confessions gimme like two weeks!!! also recs are open likes + reblogs are always appreciated ty baii