#this time acrylics were involved

[maxz-b]

i keep making these. heres my favorite guy. he does need to be loved but he also needs. to win.

why did I make this. no but like why did I spend money on printing this and on stickers to put on this. jenson (was the first driver to press the drs) button I guess.

[backwzzds]

can we talk about how konig would be someone who’s quiet when he gets jealous…then when y’all get home he js absolutely goes HAMMMM….

the way i got so excited to write this…it’s actually way longer than i intended but idgaf! part 2 soon 😏

NO BC YOU LITERALLY WOULDNT GET HOW HE’D BE SO QUIET LIKE ???

“papa, i don’t understand what i did wrong,” you’d frown at your man with an annoyed whine. könig, who was a whooping 6’10 would only give you a heavy grunt in response. you’d be on the way back to his car from the mall, dozens of your victoria’s secret and H&M bags held in his visibly large hand. the moment könig reached before you (with help of his tree-like long legs anyway), he opened the door for you, the balaclava on his face making his features ten times harder.

no matter how mad the big bear was at you—or more so, what you happened to get yourself involved in—he’d never disrespect you. anything other than sexually, at least. stepping on the custom made step for your smaller figure, you slide into the huge seat of his completely blacked out bmw suv, allowing him to shut the door behind you. you nearly jump at the visible shake of the car beneath your bottom.

you play with your curls as könig carefully sets your bags on the floor behind your seat. because his was set all the way back to accommodate for his long legs, your seat had the better amount of space for your things. when könig finally got back in the car, he immediately started it, causing the monsterous growl of his deleted muffler to come alive.

and he wouldn’t even break a sweat at you !!! you’re over here going over all your actions for the day, step by step, and all könig could think through his mind was what positions he was gonna force you in when you two got back home.

the sound of könig’s car matched the energy that was coursing through his veins. he know you didn’t do anything wrong; not intentionally at least. but the selfish ass part of him wanted nothing more than for your pretty little ass to sit in the passenger’s seat, overthinking on what the fuck you possibly could have done to rile him up this much.

the ride home is everlastingly silent as the small of your voice breaks the thick tension, “baby,” you don’t know how to further articulate your words. “i know you’re mad at me. i wanna fix it, but i can’t it you won’t talk to me. and you’ve been dead ass silent since we been in the mall.”

könig keeps his cool, though. he knew his silence was practically eating at you alive, shaming you with guilt for something you didn’t even intentionally mean to do. but with the way your pretty body sits in the black skims dress you’re in, accompanied by your black and white dunks—his eyes could practically frame your nipples right through the see through fabric, and he was sure that fucking doorman at victoria’s secret could have as well.

you keep talking. “was it the dude at VS? i swear, i made it very known that you were my man and—“ your words are endless blabber to him as the disgusting and pervasive thoughts cloud könig’s mind.

he looks so sexy in his balaclava, protecting his face from the harsh upcoming winter temperatures. he’s sported in an all black outfit, helplessly matching yours. anyone who saw you two together would automatically know that was your man. i mean duh, he walks around with his hand on your ass protectively 99% of the time.

when you get the sense that the brute isn’t listening to a fucking word you’re saying, you let out a frustrated sigh and turn your body away from him. but the sudden placement of a large hand on your knee takes you by surprise as you eye the man who’s ice blue eyes refuse to falter from the darkening road before you.

the moment könig pulls up in the driveway of your shared home, you can’t help but twiddle with the polish on your acrylics. anxiousness is bouncing off you, and könig could tell. you turn your head and open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off for the first time that night.

“go inside.” könig’s voice is very low, but you don’t miss the command in it. there’s no emotion behind the dark eyes of his balaclava. usually you could decipher exactly what and how he was feeling, but in the moment—

“kö—“ your boyfriend’s snow blue eyes harden at your talk back. with softer features, you whisper, “will you be inside?”

“soon. need to make a call first,” you watch him pull out a fresh cigar pack. “be ready for me when i get in.” you open your mouth to talk back again, but wire it shut when könig lovingly grabs your face. leaning in so the pink of his lips ghost over your full brown ones, he whispers, “now, mama. i won’t ask again. can you listen to that one thing for me?”

with a small gulp, you give him pretty doe eyes, feeling between your legs tingle at his masculinity radiating onto you. in the most confident voice you could muster up, you nod your pretty head at him. “yes daddy.”

könig gives you a nod of approval and runs his hand along the curve of your ass. “good girl. go on, liebling.”

you exit the huge car, already getting idea of what was to come when könig came back inside. with a heavy heart, you head upstairs to your room and slowly begin undressing, hoping that the slower you went, the more your punishment would be delayed.

your hopes were proven to be false the minute you were completely naked and turned around to see könig leaning against the threshold of the door, silently watching you.

you jump in fear at the sudden sight in front of you, but feel your heart beat calm down when könig strolled over to you. naturally, your head tilted backward as a way to get a full view of his face. his balaclava remained on, so you knew he was still upset about the events from earlier.

könig takes his large hand and rests it on your cheek, giving it a comforting rub. “you know i love you and respect you more than anything on this earth, right?” the brown of your skin instantly heat up at his words as you slowly nod your head at his sudden expression, unsure of where he was going with his words. könig’s lips can’t help but lightly turn upward into a small smile. you had no idea what was gonna come.

“good. because for today, libeling, i’m gonna fuck you like you mean absolutely nothing to me.”

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ NSFW

Hear me out, NAKAHARA CHUUYA having an instant turn-on when you have dark red nail polish on. He gets pathetically weak when you get your nails done, especially when you have a manicure and your nails are naturally long. He prefers dark red acrylic nails too if you can't grow your nails long ;)

Imagine him arriving home, exhausted from all the work tasked to him as one of the Port Mafia executives, and you walk up to him to kiss him and he notices you got your nails done. Instantaneously, his exhaustion gets converted into horniness and his dick springs to life in his pants. He gulps.

"...You got your nails done?"

"Oh, yeah! Do you like 'em?"

You smiled innocently and show off your nails in front of his face and the nasty thoughts in his head just flooded in. Chuuya's hands balled into fists as he prays for the horniness to go away but fuck he can't stop staring at your hands. He's fantasizing already about all the dirty scenarios involving those long dark red nails of yours. You could stroke his cock while your nails teasingly trace the veins, or scratch his back until his skin bleeds while he pounds into you, or he'll even let you choke him while you ride him to the point it would have red marks for weeks. Or all of the above in order.

"Chuuya, are you okay?"

You send him a concerned look from across the dining table. Chuuya's sweating profusely and palming his aching bulge from under the table. He's afraid he won't last and that he might have his way right here at this dining table.

"Ye-yeah, I'm good"

He lies. The final straw for him was when you were dipping your food in the sauce with your hands and the sauce got on the tips of your fingers. So, you casually licked off the sauce clean from your fingers and even from your dark red nails. You flinch when Chuuya slams his hands on the table.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, doll?"

"Huh? What do you mea-where are you taking me?"

Startled, Chuuya grabs you by the arm and leads you towards your shared bedroom. You stammered, genuinely confused until you saw his fucking erection. Dinner's not even finished yet! You try to grab and claw at various objects to hold on and stop Chuuya from taking you to your bedroom, you're almost like a helpless prey being dragged to your doom by the predator. When you grab the nearest furniture to try and save yourself (and your hole), Chuuya laughs lowly and effortlessly yanks you away, and the furniture stumbles down on the floor. You let out a desperate scream before the gravity manipulator drags you into the sex dungeon.

"Babe, do you have a hand kink or something?" Chuuya glares and scowls beside you on the bed. There was a laugh from you when his red face gave him away. "I do not!" he huffs before throwing the blanket over his naked figure and turning away. You grinned as your bare front pressed against his back and your lips hovered over his ear "If you pay for it, I'll try different colors for you, Chuu". And that's how you've managed to trick Chuuya into paying for you every time you get a manicure or get nail extensions lmao.

[surrinta]

LOADING: the pudding, the class and the big big brat ₊˙♡﹗˚ ༘

content: be aware of reader having abnormal eating habits n over involved friends. as in concerningly abnormal n her mates have had enuff. you eat like this?? tell someone pls. what else? oh yeah, mentions of implied bulimia (reader is not bulimic) nnn (my memory omg) undisclosed relationship hehe. reader is sort of a brat, female n black coded ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

headers from @v6que <3

“mama you need t’finish this”

you glowered at him over the tops of your glasses as you played with the rim of the rice pudding pot he had picked out for you. ony merely stared back at you. you were all mean faced n pouty, arms crossed tight across your chest — he scoffed. you looked like a damn kitten glaring like that.

he checked his gold linked watch. he had about ten minutes till training and you hadn’t even cracked open the lid of the pot yet.

eren and ony had been watching your eating habits for a while, unbeknownst to you. you barely finished your meals when you three went out, merely sliding it over to them and claiming you were full. you skipped meals — ESPECIALLY breakfast and would only eat about one to two small things. if even. last time you brought in lunch ony had to ransack your bag and get a second eye witness, being eren because he could not in good conscious believe that you had only brought in three small tangerines for lunch.

to your credit you snacked like a motherfucker.

you claimed you didn’t have any disordered eating patterns but the last time they made you sit and eat breakfast recommended for a living breathing person and not your pitiful banana and three biscuits or whatever the hell else you cocked up — you got the worst stomach ache, could barely stand upright.

eren and ony took it upon themselves to meal plan and prep for you. no tv during meal times, no talking and you weren’t to leave spoonfuls behind. they gave you options and as much time as you pleased to pick.

you were good for the most part. but today you seemed to have hit a threshold. ony narrowed his eyes before releasing a breath. he’s never cared when you’ve hit your limit, however. he knew how much you could take. this atrocious display of pure cheek was not your limit.

“just, open it, baby. eat a few spoons for me”

you took in the arm he had on the back of the couch in the student lounge area. you felt bad. hated them fussing. but you ate! most times. well. if you ever whipped up the app you downloaded to see if you were getting your recommended daily intake of calories and showed it to them you’d be a finished person. so perhaps there was room for improvement, but you weren’t starving yourself. you held back an irritated breath. not on purpose. when he plopped the rice pudding pot in front of you, you had barely contained an eye roll and a mumbled, ‘not this again’.

you cracked open the tin foil. took up a white plastic spoon and downed three mouthfuls.

“done”

“you ate three damn spoons”

“you said eat a few spoons for me”

“i-“, ony felt his eye twitch. you raised your eyebrows as if to say you had won the little argument. you picked up your phone to mindlessly tap; pearl studded acrylics tapping against the screen before ony snatched it.

“nigga-“

“eat, im not fucking around. i asked your girls, told me all you had today was water and a damn nutrigain bar. that shit ain’t food”. he furrowed his brows as he planted your phone on the table. you sat back and folded your arms as you stared at the wooden surface. ony knew that you probably didn’t have an eating disorder. you liked food. you snacked religiously and when they followed you to the bathroom to press an ear to the door they didn’t get the feeling that you were throwing it all up either. granted eren nearly crashed to the ground when you had flung open the door. you had gazed up at them with a question before shaking it off, settling for their unreasonable abnormalities and undiagnosed clinginess. one less thing to worry about for them.

still didn’t explain your aversion to eating anything of substance.

“fine!” you huffed as you opened up the pot again, spooning some more of the creamy rice into your mouth. ony watched you patiently. he had noticed how tired you were getting. how irritable you could be at times, a brat as he would call you more often than not. he wanted you healthy and he knew you could do it. you just needed a push cause you were so damn stubborn.

he checked his watch again. training was in five. he got up just as he saw your girls come in to your table. he nodded at them, dapped a few as they sat down.

“i have training-“, he started at the group.

“coulda fooled me”, he shot you a look as if to say he was only an inch away from telling you he wasn’t talking to you. he slung his gym bag onto one shoulder.

“she needs to finish this”. your girls nodded eagerly adding comments of  their own about your terrible eating patterns as you glared.

“thanks, guys”. ony grabbed your jaw, smushed your blush painted cheeks.

“see you in a bit, ma”

you mumbled out a bye and not even a second later eren had come through the door, dapping up ony as he eyed your little table. you threw your head back so hard you were surprised you didn’t knock yourself out. eren was a lot gentler, a bit softer than onyankopon — who always seemed ready to eat the head off you. eren had potential to possess rage but in waves, nearly. just waves. 

till you pushed.

“not happy to see me?”

your friends were but you cut eyes at him before begrudgingly fixing a hug into his side when he pinched at your ribs as you jumped n squealed. he gave a pretty grin, canines peeking before he tucked you into the space between his ribs. your girls were always so awestruck by the pure affection that was always displayed with the three of you. natural n loving n casual. the sweetest.

he sat across from you, greeted your friends, opened up your pot of rice pudding, ate a spoon and then scooped up another to tell you to open your mouth. he usually communicated with you in japanese and as if on autopilot you opened to eat it. no, “what’s this about you not eating?”, he just started talkin. he alternated between telling you about his day n spoon feeding you, eating off of yours at random and before you knew it, it was finished.

“so”, eren fixed you with a dimpled grin, green eyes a glitter. “guess who has a food and nutrition module in about-“, he checked his watch. “ten minutes”.

you pulled a face. “let’s see, someone i don’t give two rats ab-“

“watch it”

you slumped your shoulders back, simultaneously swinging your legs to one side to let the girls out. they had some nursing lab of their own to get to. you were two parts surprised they were even attempting to go to class. usually they bunked off if eren or ony were chilling with you. you cocked an eyebrow at them as they gave giggled goodbyes. you supposed they had to get their life in order at some point. it was final year after all.

“you’re coming”

you shrugged. interestingly you loved topics about nutrition. “no sweat off my back”, you gave a little smile. “i love this subject”

eren eyed you as you picked up your kipling satchel, miffy plush swinging from the corduroy material. “good cause i told the professor i’m bringing in someone that would love to participate in this specific module”

your eye twitched. “you did what?”

[eunseoksimp]

Omg can you please write part 2 on infatuation where a third person get involved and wonbin losing his shit , you can end it however you like , I love your writing and i am always looking forward to your post, and also no pressure at all🫶🏻

hi anon, sorry this is so late (it was literally sitting in my drafts for three months). at first i had no intentions of writing a part two tbh, but i thoroughly enjoyed writing this up, as you can tell by the wc!

Pairing:Toxic! Park Wonbin x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warning: wonbin is possibly the worst human being alive, reader may be slightly irritating with how flaky her emotions are, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, wc is somehow 17.5k.

read part 1 here.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the cafe hummed with the gentle murmur of conversation, a soothing backdrop against the backdrop of your melancholy. you sat alone at a small corner table, your presence subdued amidst the vibrant surroundings. outside, the soft drizzle of rain painted intricate patterns on the windowpane, mirroring the intricate turmoil of your emotions.

yunjin arrived, her footsteps light but purposeful as she navigated through the cosy cafe. her eyes immediately sought out yours, a flicker of concern crossing her features at the sight of her friend's solemn demeanour.

‘you look like shit,’ yunjin deadpanned as she slid into the seat across from you. although you couldn’t quite blame her for her bluntness.

the bags under your eyes ran deep, a hollow emptiness emboldening your irises. your skin was pale, and cuts lined your lips from the sheer amount of time spent biting them.

you were a shell of your former self. soulless, vacant, moving around without purpose. you had lost your will to continue on, all because you had lost the man you loved.

it was pathetic really, how much your heart ached for him, how he was the one you called out for in the middle of the night when you awoke from your nightmare.

his heart belonged elsewhere now, to someone who wasn’t you. and nothing in the world could have prepared you for how gut wrenching it would be.

tired of your moping, and your lack of responses to her texts, yunjin had invited you out for an informal hangout, something more chill, just to get you to stop wallowing in despair and inhaling fresh air.

‘has that bastard called you?’ she spoke up again after a bit, acrylics tapping on the wooden table, eyes narrowing.

you shook your head, unable to articulate your reality. that maybe wonbin really was gone now. it had been two weeks since that day, the day your spirit was crushed, the day your love was harshly rejected.

despite all of this, you desperately wanted him to reach out to you again, just to hear his voice, to be able to smell him again, to have him in your arms, fingers tangled in his hair.

it was torturous, agonising, like a cruel joke that you were the only one not in on. how did things change so suddenly?

‘i swear if i see him i’ll kill him for you. i’ll cut his dick off and make him eat it,’ your friend was visibly upset for you, but a sick part of yourself worried for wonbin, not wanting anything bad to happen.

‘don’t,’ you say softly, picking at your nails, the familiar feeling of your throat tightening quick to accompany your already somber mood.

‘you still love him?’ yunjin sighs, reaching forward to take your hands in hers and giving it a squeeze. there were no traces of judgement in her voice, just pity.

it was a pathetic situation. a guy had strung you along for a year, told you sweet lies, pressed kisses across your face and looked you directly in the eyes as he said over and over again that he loved you.

you were blinded, unable to see the obvious red flags. it wasn’t normal to continue to stay with someone who gets a new girl. you must be stupid.

but what made things worse, was the fact that you still loved him. you yearned for him, a part of yourself still within his clutches.

you didn’t even realise you were crying until yunjin leaned forward, thumbs swiping at the tears.

‘you deserve more than him love. someone who will cherish you, and only you. he used you, like a prick, none of this is your fault,’ she had moved her chair next to yours now, cradling you in her arms as she patted your shoulder.

what could be more than park wonbin? what would be more radiant, more daring, more intoxicating than he was?

‘i just want him,’ you sob, and she soothes you by rubbing circles on your back whilst you try to stop hiccuping.

‘it’ll get better, i’ll make sure of it.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

2 weeks has slowly morphed into a month. 28 days without wonbin’s touch, without his presence in your life.

you wish you could say that things had gotten easier, but time was not a healer of your broken heart. the more the days went by, the more you suffered. every night you chewed your lip as you stared at his contact information, willing him to finally call you.

to do something. to not treat you like you no longer existed. to go back to being the one that you had fallen in love with.

but no matter how much you sobbed, or you suffered through your days with a weight on your chest, he wouldn’t return to you.

‘we’re going out. to a party,’ yunjin announces as she waltzes into your room, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head before she settles into the spot next to you on your bed.

‘party? yujin i-‘

‘oh no you don’t get a say. you’re coming, that’s final,’ she cuts you off, and you sigh in defeat, knowing that she was too stubborn for you to be able to win this battle.

seeing as it was already decided that your evening would be spent surrounded by sweaty bodies and excessive levels of alcohol consumption, you mourned the night you had planned of having, consisting of cheesy romantic comedies and various tubs of ice cream.

it was silent, yunjin busy tapping away on her phone, fingers moving furiously as she quietly spoke out what she wanted to type, sometimes pausing to think about her response.

‘that guy i was telling you about last week, you know mark lee-‘ she starts talking, but her eyes were still glued to her phone, and another buzz of her phone let you know that she was clearly still in the middle of texting.

‘sorry love,’ she apologises, eventually putting her phone down and now giving you her undivided attention, turning so her body was now facing yours.

‘anyways you remember mark lee right? the one i’m talking to. his best friend is having a party tonight and i thought it would be good for you to come.’

‘you really like him?’ you take note of the way her face lights up just by mentioning his name, suppressing the smile creeping on her lips, eyes looking down at the hands folded in her lap.

you wondered if this was what you looked like to others whenever you talked about wonbin.

‘i like him, and i have a good feeling he likes me too.’

‘then that’s all i need to hear. let’s go to that stupid party,’ you’ve barely got your words out before she’s squealing, flinging her arms around your neck and climbing onto your lap, pressing wet kisses all over your cheeks.

‘i promise you won’t regret it. he has this one friend, donghyuck, and i need you to meet him asap,’ she pressed one last kiss to your head, before sliding off of your legs and returning back to her spot on the bed.

‘i don’t want anyone other than wonbin.’

‘i’m not asking you to date him silly. he’s just a really good guy and i think he’s the energy you need right now.’

you hum in response, a question at the tip of your tongue, but it’s like you’re too scared to utter it. and so you go back and forth in your mind, wondering if it’s worth mentioning it.

‘spill it. you look like you’re putting yourself through torture,’ your best friend knows you too well, spotting the telltale signs that you were anxious, down to the chewing of your bottom lip and the twiddling of the ring on your finger.

‘do you think- um- do you think that, you know-‘ it’s hard to get the words out, with the way your heart was pounding ridiculously in your chest, thoughts racing at a million miles a minute.

yunjin scoots a bit closer, putting her hand on your knee, clearly able to see that what you wanted to ask was troubling you. 

‘go on babe, you can say it,’ she encourages you, patting your knee.

‘um- do you think wonbin will be there?’

her face softens, a look of sympathy flashing across her face at your question. 

‘i don’t think so.’

you’re not sure whether that’s a good thing or not. there was nothing that could prepare you to come face to face with park wonbin again without breaking down. but there was still that fleeting feeling; you wanted him back.

‘let’s forget about park wonbin tonight,’ yunjin says as she pats your knee twice, before standing up and heading towards your closet to look for your outfit for the night.

forget about park wonbin. could you do that?

the question continued to circulate in your mind, even as yunjin pulls you into the chair in front of your mirror to start your makeup, clearly not a novice as she primed, and patted and set your face. even as she managed to convince you that the black mini dress that she shoved into your arms was ‘the perfect length’, and that you were too young to be worrying about modesty.

‘you look amazing. fuck park wonbin,’ she spins you around to face your vanity mirror and you blink twice, taking aback by the person staring back at you. It had been months since you had even bothered to care about your appearance, your self confidence depleting to dangerously low levels, as you wished that you lived in an alternate world, where your beauty, just like ning ning’s was enough to keep wonbin from walking away.

but for the first time in a while you felt a surge of confidence, a newfound poise about who you were, about what you could be.

‘you deserve to have fun tonight. to remember what it feels like to be happy.”

she finishes your look with a pair of silver earrings which you’re sure you’ve only seen her wear once due to how precious she regarded it to be. yet here she was, without a thought, handing them to you.

‘thank you, yunjin,” you murmur, your heart swelling with gratitude. ‘i don’t know what I’d do without you.’

she grinned in response, pulling you into a quick hug. ‘that’s what best friends are for. now, let’s go show the world just how fabulous you are.’

you make your way to the front door, the sounds of the night already beckoning. grabbing your clutch, taking one last glance in the hallway mirror, the woman staring back at you looked poised, ready, but inside, you knew you were teetering on the edge of something unknown.

stepping out into the cool evening air, yunjin linked arms with you, a gesture of solidarity.

‘just remember, tonight is about you. about having fun and forgetting all the bad stuff. you’ve got this.’

you nod, taking strength from your friend’s unwavering confidence. together, you head towards the car, the promise of the party ahead a beacon of hope. as the engine roared to life, you let yourself believe, if only for a moment, that tonight could be the beginning of something new, a step towards healing and rediscovery.

the city lights blurred past as yunjin drove, chatting animatedly about the party, filling the silence with her infectious enthusiasm. by the time you arrived, a flicker of excitement sparkled within you, a small flame of anticipation amidst the shadows of her past.

turning off the engine, your friend takes one more good look at you.

‘fuck park wonbin.’

‘yeah, fuck him.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

forgetting park wonbin seemed to be a more difficult task than you had thought. all through the night your eyes were busy, sifting through the crowds, vigilant and curious as you swept over every single corner of the party you were in, in order to see if he would turn up.

it wasn’t like you were doing it on purpose, you were sure that the amount of time spent in the car reassuring and psyching yourself up were done through your genuine attempts of bravely moving on. but, as predicted, you no longer belonged to yourself. a part of you was still with wonbin, and your being desperately ached to feel whole again, with him.

‘having fun?’ you almost topple over as yunjin flings herself onto you, her arms latching around your neck as she presses kisses up your neck. you knew she wanted to be by your side the whole night, yet seeing the way her and mark were exchanging extremely intense eye contact from across the room, you pushed her towards the equally shy male and told her to enjoy yourself.

now she had returned, with a few unfamiliar faces with her, each of them waiting to be introduced as they watched the interaction between you and your best friend.

‘hey, i’m mark lee. it’s really nice to meet you,’ he’s the first to extend his hand towards you when yunjin pulls away, a bashful but nevertheless bright smile on his face as you greet him back with a firm grasp of his own hands.

‘it’s nice to meet you too. trust me, i’ve heard quite a bit about you too.’ you’re both laughing as yunjin turns red, reaching forward to playfully hit your shoulder.

‘this is my best friend donghyuck. super annoying and popular but he’s a great guy.’

a boy a couple inches taller than you steps forward, till the both of you are a few inches apart and you almost forget your composure as you stared at him. his honey kissed skin appeared ethereal, illuminated by the dim light cascading around the space you were in, beauty spots littering the expanse of his face. jet black strands fell elegantly in soft waves over his forehead, styled to perfection but still looking so effortless. his eyes were deep and warm, a shade of brown that held a quiet intensity, drawing you in.

the  jacket he had on was immediately slipped off and delicately placed around your own shoulders. how did he know you were feeling cold?

‘nice to meet you, i’m donghyuck.’

there was a charm that he possessed, one that captivated you and made you want to pay attention to whatever he was saying. such beauty was paired with genuine geniality, and you wondered how you had never come across him before. he was clearly popular, judging by the looks thrown at him by multiple different girls parading past him, but he never gave them much acknowledgement or seemed smug about it.

‘thanks for the jacket by the way,’ you express your gratitude towards him, offering him a small smile which he returns, all while yunjin shoots you a wink, pushing mark towards the middle of the dance floor and leaving you two alone.

‘it’s my pleasure. i couldn’t have you freezing to death at my party,’ you both laugh at his comment and you admire the way he is able to slip into the space next to you with ease, a wide grin on his face as he nudges you slightly.

maybe it was the small sips of alcohol you had taken, or the way the music seemed to surround you, the bass of the speakers vibrating in a steady rhythm that mimicked your heartbeat, or how the lights had paled to a vibrant blue and dancing across the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues over the mingling guests, but something about this atmosphere made you feel alive. your blood was pumping, everything moving in slow motion as if it was a scene in a movie.

‘this is good,’ you tilt your head back slightly, revelling in the moment, and exhale as if you were letting go of all of the problems you had prior to this. you hear a low chuckle, not needing to open your eyes to know that it was donghyuck.

‘glad you’re enjoying yourself. you look even prettier when you’re relaxed,’ your eyes flash open, trying to decipher what it was he was trying to do. but there was no ulterior motive detected by him, simply sipping from the beer can in his left hand, observing other partygoers.

as you begin to talk you notice how good of a listener he is, attentive to every word spoken, his whole body turned to face you as a show of his concentration. oddly enough, you feel safe, like you could say anything and he would take it all in. he had a way of making you feel at ease, his laughter infectious, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, making her heart warm.

‘to be honest i wasn’t that excited to come tonight. life hasn’t been the kindest to me and i would have preferred to curl into a ball and watch 10 things i hate about you. however, it’s nice being here, forgetting about things for a while.’

‘it’s always a good idea to escape the mind. being stuck there for too long makes it like a prison that will trap you in the same darkness till you can break free.’

you nod in agreement, slowly digesting his words. you were not a stranger to being stuck in your own mind, the past two months being a testament to it.

it’s silent for a while, but nothing about it is uncomfortable. there is a serene sense of contentment, two people who feel they’re in the right place at the right time.

‘there’s something about you,’ he says after a while, that intense stare trained back on you, and you fight the urge to cower away from it.

‘is that a good something? or a bad one?’

the question is left unanswered for a time, hanging in the air and over your figures. time didn’t stop for anyone, but tonight it appeared to slow its momentum, just for you.

‘good, of course.’

you chuckle, holding your hand out for a sip of the beer he seemed to be glued to. but he just shakes his head, disappearing from your side for a second just to get you a fresh one from the cooler. when he emerges again he’s gotten rid of his empty bottle and replaced it with a new one which he sets down on the counter as he works to get yours open first.

you thank him, raising the glass to your lips, the cool liquid slipping down your throat with ease. you gulp almost half of its content down, the taste slightly bitter and tingling your tastebuds but you push through.

donghyuck laughs at the way your face scrunches, your lips pursed as you swallow your last drop. ‘not the biggest fan of beer?’

‘it’s sour and lowkey gross. i prefer cocktails.’

‘your wish is my command,’ he makes a show out of giving you a quite dramatic bow, his left hand folding to his shoulder, and then he straightens up his posture and gestures towards a corner of the kitchen that you hadn’t noticed at first, a cupboard line with a few different types of bottles.

‘there’s tequila, smirnoff, ooh thought i finished that bottle of malibu. take your pick,’ he steps aside as you ponder over what type of drink you felt like having before settling for a passionfruit martini.

‘good choice,’ he tells you, taking you a bit by surprise when he asks for your permission to lift you up to the countertop to watch him make your drink. it’s more comfortable than it looks, and you happily swing your legs back and forth, finally feeling the effects of the beer you had chugged a couple minutes prior, a lot more talkative.

you find yourself enjoying his company a lot more than you thought you would and make a mental note to thank yunjin for pushing to make this all happen. it had been a while since you had taken a step out of your wonbin-centred universe and enjoyed conversation that had nothing to do with him.

for a moment, the shadow of park wonbin faded, replaced by the brightness of this new connection. donghyuck’s presence was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. the party continued around you, but in that corner, it felt like you were both in your own little world.

as the night wore on you both found yourself  outside on the balcony, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the hellish warmth generated from all of the other bodies packed together.

the stars above sparkled like distant promises, and the city lights swindled like a million unspoken dreams. you close your eyes for a moment, soaking in the serenity of the night.

‘you know,’ donghyuck said after a while, his eyes fixed on the skyline, ‘there’s something special about nights like this. it’s like the word slows down and for a moment, everything just… makes sense.’

he’s about to vocalise your thoughts perfectly, and you nod in agreement. ‘yeah, i think i know what you mean.’

‘can i ask you something,’ donghyuck’s voice cut through the gentle murmur of the night, his tone carrying a weight of earnestness that shifted the atmosphere around you. his words hung in the air, a quiet intensity that demanded your attention, drawing your gaze to his face illuminated by the ambient light of the balcony.

you turn to him, curious and slightly apprehensive, yet undeniably intrigued by the change in his demeanour.

‘can i have your number?’

donghyuck sees the way your mouth opens, shock painted on your features, knowing enough to sense a rejection and he interjects, sensing your hesitation.

‘i’m not asking you out or anything, trust me. i just think we would be good friends. i like talking to you,’ he reassures you and you see sincerity in his eyes, a genuine desire to connect without any ulterior motives.

he was a great guy, and you were sure that in an alternative universe where both the name and sight of park wonbin had no sort of effect on you, the possibility of him having any sort of romantic feelings towards the end of the night wouldn’t have scared you as much. but this was the real world and your heart and mind were far too broken to entertain the idea of someone else taking over your life again.

‘yeah,’ you finally managed, your voice betraying a moment of vulnerability. ‘i’d like that too.’

relief washes over donghyuck’s face, a small smile tugging on his lips.

‘i don’t just give my phone number out to anyone you know. consider yourself lucky,’ you joke, in an attempt to ease the small amount of tension that had found itself between the two of you since you had met, hoping he wouldn’t take too much offence to your reaction and taking the unlocked mobile device out of his hands to fill out the contact information.

‘i’m sure i am.’

‘how are you getting home?’ he asks when his phone is finally back in his possession, saving the information on his phone before putting it down and turning his attention back to you, awaiting an answer to his question.

‘eager to get rid of me are we?’ you quip, raising an eyebrow in false disbelief and even making a show of crossing your arms across your chest and pushing off of the railing you were leaning on so you could be standing directly in front of him. he mirrors your body language, shaking his head, rapidly trying to reassure you.

‘i just want to make sure you get home safely.’

although this task proves to be quite difficult, given that yunjin has retreated to mark’s room for the night due to her less than sober state, and every other person that was around had also been drinking a sizeable amount. even trying to get a taxi at this time was in vain, given that it was quite late and nobody was around the area.

donghyuck has his eyes glued to his phone screen, bottom lip caught between his teeth. he raises his hand just to scratch the back of his head and you can see the cogs in his head turning, figuring out a way to approach the situation.

‘i mean you could stay over. i can take the couch and you would be able to sleep in my bed,’ he offers, and you feel bad because as much as you would like for him to get some good rest after the chaos of hosting a party all night, it was the only viable option.

he searches your face for confirmation and can tell how torn you are, ‘it’s fine, i promise.’ 

‘it’s fine,’ he repeats.

so even though it kills you to see him have to take refuge on the semi-hard couch in the middle of the living room that still had remnants of the party that was going on not even two hours before, you follow him up the stairs as he leads you to his room, checking to see that you’re behind him before opening the door.

‘got some spare clothes for you to change into here. um the bathroom is free for you to use too, i’m sure there’s some cleanser in the top cabinet to wipe off your makeup. anything else?’ your heart warms at how accommodating he’s being, giving you his clothes, allowing you to use his things, and even taking his bed.

‘i’ll leave you to get changed.’

‘wait, hyuck,’ you stop him just as he’s about to leave and he turns around, leaning his body onto the now half opened door. ‘thanks, for everything.’

‘my pleasure, sleep well princess,’ he flashes you a smile and then he’s gone and you can hear the soft thuds of him descending down the stairs, talking to who you assume is one of his housemates.

you hate to appear nosy but curiosity takes over you as you examine the things in his room. michael jackson vinyls, posters of a few indie bands, tame impala being the one that caught your eye first, an impressive collection of accessories. everything was just like he was, cool, chic, and a little playful.

his clothes are a little big for you, but you find comfort in the way it swamps around your frame, and it smells just like him. you’re surprised at how clean his bathroom is, a questionable amount of both feminine hygiene products as well as makeup wipes, micellar water and even some cleansing wipes.

‘charming,’ you thought to yourself, picking out the things you need, noting how a lot of it was fairly unused, before starting your bedtime routine.

discarding the used cotton pads and closing the lid of the bottle of the micellar solution, you close the tap, doing a quick once over of yourself in the mirror. the hand towels laid out neatly on the side are used to dry your damp hands and fold it neatly before walking back into his room.

it was gratifying, slipping into some clean sheets, basking in the warmth it provided you as you sank further and further under. but, as you expected, it was hard for you to actually fall asleep. you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling willing yourself to cave in to the restlessness you were feeling. yet try as you might it just didn’t work.

sighing, you turn over to look at the time on your phone that was charging on the bedside table. 3:02am and there were still failed attempts of getting you to sleep. groaning, you decide that perhaps some chamomile tea, or maybe even some warm milk could aid you.

it’s dead silent and you’re afraid of waking anyone up so you result in creeping down the stairs, on your tiptoes to make the minimal amount of noise you possibly could. apart from a couple of creaks in the floorboards it was relatively easy.

‘are you alright?’ donghyuck’s voice startles you, even though he’s only whispering and your hand automatically flies to your mouth to stifle a scream.

the lights in the living room are dim, the tv on albeit low in volume, but it’s not hard to tell that despite all of this he’s not comfortable. the spare sheets he was using were tossed to the side, and the constant rolling of his neck indicated that, as you thought, sleeping in that position was unpleasant.

‘can’t sleep?’ you ask him, and he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits up a little straighter. he reaches for his glasses, something you weren’t aware he wore and he perches it onto the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair.

‘i knew i shouldn’t have listened to jaemin about getting the cheaper couch. the expensive ones are pricey for a reason i guess,’ he jokes, but all you can do is feel bad. you can tell he wants to lighten the mood, to try as much as he can to not let it weigh on your conscience, but all it does is make you feel worse.

‘sleep with me,’ the words are out before you can even consider how it could be construed in the wrong way and the way his mouth hangs open makes you want to die of embarrassment.

‘not- no i meant- not like that,’ you’re stuttering, stumbling over your words, trying to correct your minor mistake.

‘i just meant i can see how uncomfortable it is sleeping out here, your room is big enough for the both of us to share.’

‘oh no, i don’t want to-’

‘hyuck please. you’re not making me uneasy in any way i promise. it’s your room anyway,’ you cut him off because you know exactly what he was going to say. from the small amount of time you spent with him you could gauge how much of a gentleman he was, and his efforts of being as respectable as possible didn’t go unnoticed.

‘please.’

he’s quick to give in, partially because he was eager to be able to ease the tension forming in the back of his neck, but also because he knew you wouldn’t give in until he listened.

‘fine, if you’re sure.’

he’s extremely cautious, letting you lead the way even though it was his own room, debating whether closing the door after him would make things seem a little too intimate. he opts for closing it, mainly because the light in the hallway was too distracting, but he still hovers over the bed, not really knowing what to do with himself.

‘what are you doing?’ you question him, slipping back under the covers before watching him from the position on the bed. judging by the things in his bathroom you were fairly certain this wasn’t the first time he’d shared a room with a girl. and it wasn’t like either of you had any other intentions.

‘don’t make this weird hyuck.’

it wasn’t your goal to make him laugh, but seeing the rigidity ease out of his form, you’re happy regardless as the right side of the bed dips slightly underneath his weight

he offers you a shy smile, his eyes warm and reassuring. ‘i’ll sleep on the edge, promise,” he said lightly, trying to ease any lingering awkwardness.

you chuckle softly, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “it’s fine, really,” you reply, feeling an unexpected sense of ease.

at first you lay on your side, facing away from him, but the space between the both of you was filled with a comforting presence. the room was dark, but the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow.

your eyelids drooped, heavy with weariness as the weight of the whole day's activities fall upon your body, weighing you down. as you close your eyes, you feel the warmth of donghyuck’s body close to yours, a steady and calming presence. his breathing was a soothing rhythm, a lullaby that began to chase away the lingering thoughts about wonbin. there was a safety in the silence, a peace you hadn’t felt in a while.

donghyuck’s voice, soft and low, broke the quiet. “if you need anything, just wake me up,” he murmured, his tone filled with genuine care.

you nod, though you doubted you’d need to. for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly safe. the weight of the past seemed lighter, the shadows receding as you nestled into the comfort of the present. with donghyuck beside you, the world outside faded, leaving only the tranquillity of the moment.

sleep came easily,  your last thoughts a whisper of gratitude for the unexpected connection that had brought you peace.  maybe it was the small amount of alcohol still buzzing in your system, or the familiarity of your body next to another, that made you scoot just a little bit closer, body heat radiating off of one another as you let yourself be wrapped in the arms of another man.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the first thing you noticed when your eyes fluttered open slowly was the small but constant pounding settled in your temple. it made you wince, fingers rushing to massage the sore spot as you turned over in your space.

your hands reach out for something, but it’s empty and you frown. memories of the night before come flooding in bit by bit, and you sigh as the back of your head meets the pillow.

the sound of footsteps makes you sit up on your elbows, attempting to not look half asleep to donghyuck. instead you were met with the face of your suspiciously cheerful best friend, bounding through the doorway and flopping down on the bed right next to you.

‘morning sleeping beauty,’ she greets you, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggling at the way you pretend to be disgusted by it.

‘why are you so happy so early in the morning?’ you’re still feeling a little bit groggy, hair sticking up all over the place and you were sure you had a lot less to drink than yunjin did. so it made you wonder how she looked to be in a better position than you.

‘mark asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday.’

‘yunjin are you serious? that’s amazing.’

‘i know, i know, i’ll tell you all about it later. hyuck sent me upstairs to get you for breakfast,’ you’re both clearly excited, squealing like little girls, but it’s hard to ignore the low growl erupting from your stomach.

‘fine, you have to tell me every little detail later.’

you scramble out of bed, only now noticing the neat pile of clothes that donghyuck had folded for you to wear this morning. pulling the hoodie over your head and the basketball shorts up your thighs, you’re making your way downstairs, yunjin right by your side.

‘hey, you’re awake,’ donghyuck is the first one to spot you as you trail behind yunjin, suddenly feeling a little self conscious in the middle of the unfamiliar faces dotted around the kitchen.

he’s right in front of the stove, cracked egg shells in the palm of his hands as he mixes some batter for pancakes. gesturing for you to move closer, you can’t help but keep your gaze trained on the floor as you weave through the crowd that was starting to form.  his roommates, the ones you had briefly met last night, scattered around the table, turning their heads in unison, grinning mischievously as you approached.

you know what it looks like, coming out of donghyuck’s room, drowning in his clothes, and now he’s messing with the strings, pulling you in closer to mess with your hair. you can hear them whispering, teasing, the not so subtle whistling, it makes you feel even more shy as you try to move out of donghyuck’s reach and next to yunjin, even though all of her attention was focused on mark.

one of his roomates leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. ‘i hope his bed wasn’t too uncomfortable,’ he says, winking at you.

donghyuck rolled his eyes, but there was a lightness to his expression as he glanced at you.

‘hyuck’s never made food for the girls he brings over. it must be a miracle,’ a guy whose hair is a platinum blonde speaks up smirking, but his jokes seem to be directed more at hyuck than you.

‘cut it out guys. we just slept, nothing else,’ he points the spatula right at him, understanding what he was implying as  the boy raising his hands in defeat.

‘oh, just slept ,huh?’ another boy chimes in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. ‘you two seemed pretty cosy when we peeked in this morning.’

your blush deepend, and you can feel hyuck’s embarrassment matching yours.

‘seriously, guys, give it a rest,” he said, setting a plate of pancakes on the table with a mock glare.

you shuffle awkwardly on your feet, praying that the focal point shifts away from you. one of the guys, you believe he introduced himself as jaemin, is the first to apologise, letting you know that he meant no harm.

‘our entire friendship is built on the foundation of embarrassing hyuck as much as possible.’

 jeno, the cute guy who started the teasing, follows suit, ‘i was just messing with him, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’

you knew it was all just friendly banter, and it wasn’t exactly their fault that you weren’t the most sociable in front of new people so you let them know you weren’t offended or anything.

‘i think i’ve seen you around somewhere,’ jaemin tells you, pulling out a chair that surrounded the kitchen island so you could hop up first, all whilst hyuck was finishing flipping some pancakes.

‘me? from where?’

‘oh yeah, aren’t you wonbin’s friend? park wonbin.’

the mention of his name made your stomach drop. anxious, blinking back tears. everything came flooding back, all of your emotions going haywire and you have to turn away from them so you don’t give yourself away. the pain is excruciating, enough to make you light headed and your throat instantly tightens.

‘um- i wouldn’t exactly- um- call us friends,’ your grip on the kitchen counter increases, but the way your voice wavers makes donghyuck turn around, barely catching the stray tear that starts sliding down your cheek before you hastily wipe it away.

‘leave her alone and go about your day,’ he scolds his friend, motioning towards the door.

‘i thought the pancakes were for all of us?’

‘out. leave us alone.’

you’re both left alone in a comfortable silence and you’re grateful for donghyuck’s help in getting them to drop it. ‘hyuck,’ you call out to him, wanting to thank him.

‘we don’t have to talk about it. for now, we eat.’

a stack of pancakes are placed in front of you, syrup spread in a smiley face, mirroring the one on his face, and your shoulders relax, exhaling in relief.

‘let’s eat.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

your mind wanders back to the past two months and the unexpected bond that had formed between you and donghyuck. your conversations had become a daily comfort, his easy laughter and genuine concern a balm to your still-healing heart. 

he had been more than a distraction—he had been a true friend. from the late-night talks about your hopes and fears to the impromptu outings that filled you with a sense of normalcy, donghyuck had been there, steadfast and supportive.

his presence was a reminder that not all connections needed to be painful, that new friendships could be forged in the wake of old heartaches.

park wonbin was slowly but surely phasing out of your daily life and you were beginning to get back to your former self- more sociable, less self conscious, no longer weighed down by anxiety and dark thoughts.

your phone buzzes on the table in front of you, lighting up momentarily and displaying donghyuck’s name, and a string of messages he had just sent you.

hey picasso

how’s the art project going?

i’m hungry, are you free for lunch?

please say yes i don’t want to sit by myself :(

you chuckle quietly, your fingers moving to reply to his message to tell him that you would eat with him before setting your phone down.

almost immediately, his reply came through.

it’s my treat <3

you chuckled, shaking your head at another one of donghyuck’s little gestures, always finding ways to make you feel special. putting your phone down again, you feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. donghyuck had been a beacon of light in your life, guiding you through the darkness of your breakup with wonbin. spending time with him was always a joy, and he had quickly become a safe harbour, a place where you could simply be yourself.

packing up your art supplies, the soft chime of your phone stops you in your tracks, and you temporarily place your bag on the floor to glance at the screen, a new message from hyuck sending you the address of the restaurant as well as the name.

the name of the restaurant, ‘arang’, jumps out at you and your breath hitches as memories surge forward, unbidden. you hadn’t been there in almost a year, not since the last time with wonbin. the thought of him made your chest tighten as you close your eyes, letting yourself be momentarily swept away by the flood of recollections.

the first time you visited arang, it was a chilly winter evening. snowflakes gently drifted down, settling on your hair as wonbin laughed and brushed them away. you remembered the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant's facade, the way the soft lighting inside bathed everything in a cozy, golden light. you had sat by the window, watching the snowfall outside, your fingers intertwined over the table. the homely aroma of korean cuisine, the clinking of glasses, and the soft murmur of conversation had created a cocoon of intimacy around you both.

you shake your head, trying to dispel the vivid images. the past was in the past, there was no use of dwelling on it. plus the possibility of this day being the one that he also decides he wants to visit is slim, and you’re not even sure he would be around today, given that thursdays he usually didn’t have any classes and he would use this day for basketball practice.

you become akin to a robot, repeating this over and over again in your head, trying to convince your body- which has started to go into panic mode- that everything was fine and you were just overthinking.

stepping out of the school building after a visit to your locker you make your way to the restaurant. the familiar streets passed by in a blur, each step bringing you closer to a place filled with both joy and sorrow. it’s only when you see hyuck bounding towards you, arms outstretched, that your anxiety dissolves and you allow him to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, muttering something about how everyone but you had abandoned him.

‘i thought i was going to have to eat alone, nobody else wanted to come with me,’ is the first thing he tells you, clearly happy that you were here.

‘so you’re saying i was your last choice?’

‘no no no. i’m saying you’re my saviour,’ he loops his arms with your own, dragging you inside with him just as a couple is walking out. you let donghyuck go ahead whilst you kindly let them come out first.

‘hey -,’ the familiar voice calling your name makes you freeze, all limbs in your body stuck, rooted in the spot you were standing. donghyuck notices how you’re no longer beside him and turns around but is distracted by the waiter approaching him.

your mouth is dry, ominous thoughts squirming in the back of your mind as what felt like cold spider like fingers raced up and down your spine. you wanted to speak, to seem totally unbothered and unaffected like you thought you were. yet you couldn’t get words to come out.

the familiar figure of wonbin emerged from the sea of faces, his presence like a sharp pang to your chest. he stood tall and confident, his fingers laced between ning ning’s, her face practically glowing as she beams up at him, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before landing on hers, leaning down, his touch gentle as he presses a kiss onto her cheek.

the feeling of a shard in your gut encompasses you, taking over all sensory input, comparable to death and bereavement as it washes over you like gruelling waves, choking the breath from your body and short circuiting your mind.

wonbin’s eyes met yours, a smug tugging at the corner of his lips because even though you haven’t said a word yet, he knows your body, how it reacts when you’re nervous, or when you had been disappointed by something he had did. you weren’t over him yet, and that was all he needed from you, blind devotion- just like it had always been.

his gaze was a calculated blend of charm and cruelty, a silent reminder of the control he had once exerted over your heart.

ning ning looks at you, sincere concern etched onto her features at the fact that you had not spoken, your skin paling and hands trembling.

‘are you alright?’ 

your throat is burning, eyes blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay, but you push through the pain and struggle to answer.

‘i-i’m fine, enjoy your day,’ you don’t give them a chance to reply as you turn and dart away from them, neck craning to try and find donghyuck.

you spot him at a table towards the back of the restaurant, waving to get your attention and sprint over, practically collapsing in your seat.

‘was that.. park wonbin?’ he’s careful, aware of the many times your body would stiffen up at the mention of him, or how you avoided talking about him as much as possible whenever he was brought up in conversation. he didn’t want to pry into something that clearly made you uncomfortable.

you nod in confirmation, debating whether or not you should tell him the full story. it was humiliating just thinking about how he would react when he heard how a simple boy had the ability to turn your whole life upside down. how suffocating it was just to see him in the vicinity of other girls, or how much grief it caused you to specifically see ning ning, when she was the one he chose and not you. 

despite all of this, donghyuck had been an amazing friend to you, and you felt that now was the right time to tell him the full truth. and that’s what you told him, starting from the day you first met, the addition of ning ning in the both of your lives and even how you continued to stay with him.

you expected him to look at you with disgust, or to judge you or even be disappointed. but donghuck was quiet, listening to every word you had to say, not once giving his own input.

‘pathetic right? i wouldn’t know what to say either.’

‘no that’s not it. i just thought about how upsetting it must have been. pouring your heart out for someone and getting nothing in return from them.’

‘he loved me. i guess he just- i must have done something to make him stop,’ it’s a habit of yours, rushing to wonbin’s defence whenever anything unfavourable is said about him. you don’t want him to be the bad guy in the story.

he frowns at your words, reaching out for your hand, ‘ please don’t take this the wrong way. you’re not the problem, he is.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘he was using you. using your kindness, your devotion to him, the way you loved him. and he was using that for his own gain, to feel good about himself. and then when you tried to push the boundary he put you in, he abandoned you,’ he explains, and although they were words you had heard before, namely from an extremely infuriated yunjin, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it, to accept that park wonbin was not good.

‘that’s not true, he didn’t use me.’

‘it’s hard to hear, i understand. regardless, know that there’s nothing wrong with you, there’s nothing that you did that can explain why he’s acting like that,’ donghyuck pities you, seeing how reluctant you are to think badly of him. to love excessively is to be blind to all of the ugly parts of the person, shielding yourself away from it.

‘but-’

‘i’m speaking from experience, trust me. i know all about giving your everything to someone, loving them earnestly, thinking that they felt the same, only for them to throw it back in your face,’ it’s the first time you’re hearing about this, seeing a normally cheerful donghyuck change into a forlorn figure, appearing uncharacteristically apprehensive.

‘she left me, all alone when i needed her the most. it hit me so hard, i was sure that i would never be able to feel again. that i would just be numb and broken forever,’ he feels willing to share his own story, to offer you a beacon of light to what you felt was a hopeless situation.

‘that’s why i was so interested in you that night. that calibre of heartbreak, i recognised myself in the sadness of your eyes, feeling uneasy and restless, i understood it all before you even had to tell me your story,’ suddenly that night made more sense to you, why he was so attentive, unwilling to let you out of his sight, going the extra mile just to make you feel comfortable.

‘i see my old self in you, that’s why. we’ve got to build that self confidence all the way up.’

‘everyone deserves love- well not everyone- but you definitely do. you’re a good girl- not in the kinky sense, wow i have got to stop-‘

‘hyuck,’ you cut him off before he can ramble on any further, a habit of his you had picked up on due to his overactive sense of imagination and his inability to multitask.

‘sorry. what i’m trying to say is you’re pretty, a good person, funny and you’re smart as fuck. any guy would be lucky to have you.’

‘you’re just saying that.’

‘i mean it though,’ his face softens, and it’s the most sincere look you’ve seen from hyuck since the first time you met him.

‘you might not believe it now, but trust me. that’s what i’m here for, project mend your heart and make you confident.’

‘and who else but the sexiest man alive to be of assistance.’

you’re laughing, genuine laughter which was something that seemed to become more common when with donghyuck.

‘jeno would beg to differ,’ you tease him mindlessly, a throw away comment that didn’t have much meaning to it. but in true hyuck fashion, everything had to be dramatic.

‘i knew it. i knew you wanted to fuck him,’ he points at you, shouting louder than he should have been in a restaurant, and you sink further into your seat in embarrassment, whilst he mouths quick apologies and bows his head to the few curious customers that turned in your direction.

‘i never said i wanted to fuck him, where did you get that from?,’ your voice is hushed, cheeks flushed as you fight the urge to reach over the table putting a distance between you two and throttle him.

‘well you just inadvertently said you thought he was sexy. what’s the next step from that? begging him to fuck.’

you crinkle your nose in disgust, donghyuck acting like he had uncovered some kind of dirty secret, looking rather smug as he folded his arms over his chest.

‘maybe in a teen fiction book. that’s not how things work in the real world stupid. 

‘of course it does. people who are attracted to other people normally end up having sex,’ he states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world, backed by scientific evidence.

‘not true. i think you’re sexy too but i’d rather keel over and die than be sexually intimate with you.’

but you instantly regret saying that when you see how his eyebrow quirks, his smile becomes a smirk and he leans in towards you.

‘so what i’m hearing is-‘

‘no, you’re not hearing anything. shut up and eat,’ you’re shoving cooked chicken into his mouth before he can have another outburst and bring more shame to your table.

giving up, he takes the tongs out of your hands to put some in your own bowl, placing the pork belly on the grill next.

you both eat in relative silence, enjoying the food, with occasional comments about how good the food is.

‘so-‘ donghyuck speaks up after almost five minutes of no conversation.

you can already tell he’s going to say something stupid by the way he’s raised his eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows.

‘you think i’m sexy huh?’

‘i’m starting to regret meeting you for lunch.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

it was becoming a regular occurrence for you to be dragged out of whatever comfortable position you were in on a saturday evening, yanked out from under the comfort of your duvet by your friends just so you could hang out. tonight was not any different, only this time you were struggling to understand why you were even called out.

‘i don’t know why you invited me and hyuck on a double date, we’re not in a relationship,’ you tell yunjin who pretends like she can’t hear you, allowing herself to be swept away into the arms of her boyfriend, only turning around to stick her tongue out at you and you huff at her childishness.

it had been such a long week and as much as you loved hanging out with these three, another episode of it’s okay to not be okay was calling your name. well, more like another hour of drooling over kim soohyun but that's besides the point.

‘yeah, even though she wants to be with me so badly,’ donghyuck appears beside you, arm lazily hung over your shoulder as he teases you, even going as far as puckering his lips, pretending to ask for a kiss.

you shove him, and he narrowly misses the gigantic pole a few cm away from his face. turning towards you with narrow eyes he lunges forward, successfully grabbing you by the sleeve of your jacket and tugging you closer to him.

‘let me go lee donghyuck, i swear to god,’ your pleas fall on deaf ears, as he’s too busy tickling you to care for your empty threats, enjoying how you’re squirming in his hold and using one arm to hold you up by the waist so you don’t fall.

‘cant hear you over the sound of your squeals.’

‘you two act like this and then wonder why so many people think you’re together,’ the couple who were once further ahead realised that both of you were no longer beside them, and turned around to see you in the predicament you were currently in. yunjin crosses her arm as she stands in place, but contrary to her posture she’s smiling. mark adorns a similar look, content that the two of you got along so well. he remembered how distressed yunjin was whenever they met up four months ago, before they started dating, worried about you, wondering when you would be happy again.

meanwhile you freeze in his hold, and donghyuck stops, looking down to see your face.

‘do people really think that? that me and donghyuck are dating?’ panic is evident in your tone, by the way your voice shakes.

‘donghyuck can’t be that bad,’ mark jokes, not gauging the way the atmosphere had changed a little bit.

‘it’s not that. it’s just- do you think wonbin will think that too,’ you ask to no-one in particular. you vowed to stop talking about him, figuring your friends were tired of hearing you speak about him time and time again. the words became forbidden from spilling from your lips, and it felt almost foreign for you to say it again.

‘fuck wonbin. who cares what he thinks. he has no right to have any opinion on who you are or aren’t dating,’ there’s a fire in yunjin’s eye, one that tells you she means every word she says and you bow your head, choosing to focus on your shoes instead of meeting the eyes of the three standing in front of you.

mark seemed to be the only one unaware of the whole situation, and looks to donghyuck, thinking they were in the same position. but when he tells you he agrees with yunjin, and rubs your shoulder, he realises he’s the only one. you had seen mark quite a lot in the past three months, but he knew it was probably something you didn’t want to talk about for now, especially because although you had developed a decent friendship, you weren’t exactly best friends. although he did have to wonder how donghyuck found out.

‘we should get going, we’re going to be late,’ your desire to change the subject causes you to shift the focus on to something else, namely the restaurant that you had planned to go to. you know that yunjin wouldn’t easily forget this conversation, that within this week you would end up having a serious talk about your feelings for he who shall not be named. but for now she shows you mercy, pulling mark along with her to lead the way.

in a matter of minutes you arrive at your destination, a dimly lit pan-asian restaurant, decorated with japanese kanji on the walls and various references to koi fish. you’re immediately greeted by a server, leading you to a table for four almost in the middle of the restaurant.

donghyuck, being the gentleman he is, helps you slip out of the thin cardigan you were wearing before pulling your chair out for you and pushing it closer to the table once you were sat, whilst mark mirrored those same actions.

hyuck was animatedly recounting a funny story from his high school days, his expressive gestures making you all laugh. he always added the right amount of exaggeration to achieve the art of storytelling. the conversation was flowing smoothly, laughter erupting here and there, so much so that you almost didn’t notice the figure approaching your table.

‘mark? hyuck? fancy seeing you guys here,’ it’s ning ning in all of her beauty, and you curse yourself for falling into a trance, admiring how perfectly her hair was styled, and the way the dress she wore fit her body like a glove. a leather trench coat was draped around her shoulders underneath the black dior saddle bag, matching with the pumps that clothed her feet. anyone with eyes could see that ning ning was alluring, the words pretty or cute would be lost on someone as perfectly crafted as her.

your instincts cause you to fearfully scan the room, half expecting wonbin to be not too far behind just like last time, but instead you could see the group of girls waiting at the table she had just left, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

‘hey ning ning, it’s been a while.’ you’re surprised that she even knows mark, until you’re told about the music class they share and small flashes of them sharing a stage for the school's summer festival flash in your mind. her energy is enthralling, captivating the attention of everyone at the table, drawing them in with her kind smile and envy courses through your blood at the quality you’re unable to share with her, your personality paling in comparison to hers.

you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even hear her asking a question, until everyone turns towards you, and you’re met with four sets of eyes on you.

‘i’m sorry i didn’t hear what you said, i think it’s the noise in here,’ you blame it on the music that plays fairly softly in the background, and the small bustle of conversations surrounding you, but if she had picked up on your poor attempt of an excuse, she didn’t seem to show it.

‘i was just asking if you were feeling better. last time i saw you i was quite worried.’

it’s frustrating, how much you would prefer for her to be a bitch, so you could justify any sort of hatred aimed towards her, and spend your time speaking ill of her just to satisfy the dull ache in your chest. instead she was lovely, extremely compassionate and totally unaware of the despair that her mere presence brought you.

‘i’m fine now,’ you don’t mean to sound so cold but it’s hard for you to muster up the strength to push aside your feelings, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile, one that has the corner of your lips quivering from how hard you force it to stay up.

‘that’s good to hear, you definitely look a lot better.’

‘oh i’m sorry, is this a double date?’ she asks, as if the revelation had just dawned on her that two boys and two girls sat together at a restaurant on saturday evening, dressed a bit more fancily for it to be a simple hangout.

you wanted to correct her, to protest her statement but you feel donghyuck pinching your knee under the table  and he answers for you, ‘yes we actually are.’

you’re perplexed, unsure of what reason he would need to lie, but you figure he would explain things to you after she left.

‘aww that’s so cute, i’ve always wanted to go on one of those,’ more small talk is made, but you’re stuck staring at hyuck’s face, trying to decipher his thoughts but failing miserably.

‘i’ll leave you guys to it, enjoy your night,’ ning ning finally departs from your table, calling out over her shoulder as the rest of her friends also rise to their feets, signalling their exits. you wait till you see the last girl push past the swinging doors before you lightly hit donghyuck on his shoulder.

‘why didn’t you tell her we’re not dating? this is definitely not a double date and you know that.’

he shrugs his shoulders in response, like it wasn’t a big deal before he answers. ‘because what good would it do her if she knew.’

you’re even more confused now by what he’s saying. does he mean that both of you should pretend to be in a relationship like the main characters of a romance novel?

‘so are you saying we should fake date?’

‘is this another one of your schemes to get me to fall in love with you?’ he jokes, and you realise that you seem to be taking this a lot more seriously than he is.

‘hyuck,’ you warn him.

‘i’m just saying if people think we are, do we really need to keep on explaining. it’s nobody’s business and it doesn’t hurt to look unavailable when you’re clearly not interested in dating at the moment.’

‘that’s true, it’s not like you’re going around telling people. plus if people think you two are dating they’ll stop with their stupid questions,’ yunjin agrees with his sentiment, and you pick up on a further ulterior motive, one which involves preventing wonbin from trying to swoop back in and sweep you off of your feet when he feels like it. she doesn’t say this out loud, but the look she shares with donghyuck speaks for itself.

‘whatever, all of this talk about dating makes me nauseous,’ it was meant to be received as a joke, but your voice, tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sadness, causes hyuck and yunjin to exchange concerned glances.

ning ning had just left the table after a cordial exchange, yet the atmosphere felt heavy, laden with unsaid words and unspoken truths, the lively hum of conversations from other diners providing a comforting backdrop for the lingering tension in the air.

mark looks around, blinking slowly, sensing the change but seemingly the only one unaware of its cause.

‘something tells me you all know something i don’t.’

you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you feel dongyuck’s reassuring presence besides you, his hands gently resting on your shoulder.

‘ning ning is…. well, she’s dating my ex-boyfriend, wonbin,’ you began, your voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of pain. ‘it’s a long story, and not a very happy one.’

mark’s expression softened, and he leaned in slightly, giving you his full attention. ‘you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. but I’m here to listen if you want to share.”

you nod, appreciating his sensitivity. “thanks, mark. i think it’s time you knew,’ taking another deep breath you continued.

‘when i was with wonbin everything was perfect, he was charming, attentive, and made me feel special. i thought i had finally found the one.’

you pause, the memories swirling in your mind as you take a big gulp. yunjin reached across the table, taking your hand in a comforting grip and you drew strength from her touch.

‘he told me that he didn’t like ning ning, and that he was dating her only in public just for appearances. it sounds stupid now but i really wanted to believe it, and i did. eventually i got tired of everything, i wanted to be the only one, to make things public and that’s when he got upset and told me he didn’t love me. he left me for her, ning ning.’

mark’s eyes widened with shock and sympathy. ‘that’s awful, i’m so sorry you went through that.’

his expressions were open and earnest, and you felt relief that he didn’t judge you and instead showed genuine sympathy. 

‘i can’t imagine how tough that must be. but you’re incredibly strong for getting through it and for sharing this with us. you don’t have to face it alone.”

yunjin squeezes your hand tighter. ‘we’re all here for you. you don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.’

‘and we’ll make sure to keep things light and fun. like, i can always offer to trip wonbin if he ever shows his face around us again,’ you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly as mark also chuckles, the mood lifting with shared laughter.

as the evening progressed, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the supportive presence of your friends helping to ease the pain of the past. though the memories of your relationship with wonbin still lingered, you knew you weren’t alone, surrounded by friends who cared deeply for you.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the next day ning ning joins wonbin in his room after a long day of classes, looking to relax in his presence. instead she’s met with the sight of him slouching in his gaming chair, his hair a fluffy mess, wearing only a black tank top and basketball shorts, making her feel out of place in her pleated skirt and corset top. kicking off her shoes she settles for the edge of his bed, settling into relative silence as she’s left to scroll on her phone. a picture she had taken at the dinner last night reminding her of who she saw.

‘i saw that friend of yours, the one at the game and at the bbq place too. she was at the same restaurant as we were.’

‘oh really?’ wonbin is uninterested, eyes focused on the game, cursing under his breath at the death of one of his teammates, furiously manoeuvring the buttons on his controller, almost forgetting that his girlfriend was in the vicinity.

‘she was on a date. well a double date actually,’ ning ning continues, choosing to move as closely to him as was possible despite his lack of focus on her.

unknowingly the controller slips from his hands, and he freezes, sure that he had misheard what she had said.

‘a date?’ he repeats in disbelief. the person that he knew you as wouldn’t even be able to bring herself to have romantic feelings for another guy, let alone boldly accepting a date with one.

‘yeah. why is that so shocking?’ she kneels down to pick up the console and hand it to him and he has to fight to conceal how he truly feels, just so that she doesn’t suspect anything.

‘no reason, she's just- you know pretty shy and stuff. didn’t think she would be the type,’ the lie easily falls out of his mouth, and he almost applauds himself for how convincing it sounds as ning ning hums and nods her head, aware of the few times she had encountered her how little she spoke.

‘she seemed super extraverted when i saw her. and her and donghyuck, they look so cute together,’ unaware of the change in wonbin’s expression ning ning continues to talk about last night, all whilst wonbin is left to think.

he’s unsure how the two of you even became acquainted, given that he was one of the most popular people in school. the thought of you moving on was one he had never factored in, so sure that no matter how he played it you would always be putty in his arms, dancing to whatever tune he set. 

was it all a lie when you begged for him, telling him it was impossible for you to move on? he’s not sure what the emotion he’s feeling is called, but it burns inside of him and he’s not feeling good about it.

a flash of anger crossed wonbin’s face, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. ‘i see. so, she’s dating donghyuck now?’

ning ning shrugged, not sensing the shift in his demeanor. ‘it seemed like it. they were really sweet together. anyway, how have you been? I missed you.’

wonbin’s mind raced, anger and jealousy twisting inside him. how dare she move on so easily? he had always controlled the narrative, made her feel insignificant, and now she was out there, smiling and happy without him. the thought infuriated him.

‘i’ve been fine,’ he replied curtly, his tone betraying his inner turmoil. ‘tell me more about this double date. what were they doing?

still unaware of his growing anger, ning ning began recounting the evening. wonbin’s grip on the armrest tightened, his knuckles turning white. ‘it sounds like everyone had a good time,’ he said through gritted teeth.

finally noticing the tension in his voice, she stopped and looked at him with concern. ‘wonbin, are you okay? you seem upset.”

he forced a smile, shaking his head. ‘i’m fine. just a bit tired, that’s all.’ she reaches out, touching his hand gently. ‘if something's bothering you, you can tell me. you know that, right?’

‘i know, thanks babe. it’s just been a long day. let’s not talk about the double dates anymore.

ning ning nodded, sensing that it was best to let the topic drop. she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘alright. let’s just relax and enjoy the evening together.’

as she snuggled against him, wonbin wrapped an arm around her, his thoughts still fixated on you. he couldn’t stand the idea of you being happy without him, and he resolved to find a way to regain control over the situation.

it prompts him to decide to ask about it the next day at school, desperate to find out more. wonbin’s features twisted into a determined scowl, last night’s revelation still echoing in his mind, fueling a mix of jealousy and indignation. you, the one he was so sure he would always have a hold one, had moved on with donghyuck. the thought gnawed at him, stirring a toxic concoction of anger and resentment.

he spotted shotaro, known for his sunny disposition and extensive network of friends, intercepting him near his lockers, his voice clipped with urgency. ‘shorato, i need to ask you something, i heard a rumour yesterday.

‘sure, wonbin, what’s up?’ shotaro, always obliging, nodded and adjusted his backpack.

‘i heard that donghuck has a new girlfriend,’ he puts effort into appearing nonchalant, scrolling on his phone as if he had better things to do, and as if it was just insignificant gossip he had heard in passing.

‘yeah it seems so, i think you know the girl too, the one at your basketball game. they’re together all the time now. i’ve seen them come into school together too a few times,’ shotaro is none the wiser, easily dishing out the gossip, all whilst wonbin fights hard to control the way his jaw now tics, rage pulsing through his veins as he felt a flash of irritation.

it was clear that the time apart between you two had done more harm than good. but park wonbin was not a nice guy, or someone often graced with rational thoughts. to him, in some sick and twisted way, you were cheating on him. you had betrayed his trust and he refused to let this go on any longer.

a flicker of rage crossed wonbin’s face, quickly masked by a cold smile. ‘interesting. and what else have you heard?’

shotaro frowned, sensing the tension in wonbin’s demeanour. ‘well, there’s also talk about donghyuck hosting a party this weekend. he’s invited a lot of people already but it seems like anyone could come.’

wonbin’s mind raced with possibilities. a party meant an opportunity to see you, to confront you in a social setting where he could exert his influence. he nodded slowly, his plan forming with each passing second. ‘thanks, shotaro. see you around.’

with that, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, his mind focused on the upcoming party. he needed to regain control, to remind you of your past and what you both once shared. wonbin was determined to break you down, to manipulate your emotions.

throughout the day, wonbin’s thoughts remained fixed on his plan. he knew exactly what he needed to do at donghyuck’s party. he would corner you, slowly chipping away at your resolve until you saw that being with him was where you truly belonged.

making his way through the crowded halls, wonbin’s outward appearance was calm and collected, but inside, a storm of determination raged. he would stop at nothing to win you back, even if it meant using manipulation and deceit to achieve his goal. the party was just the beginning of his calculated scheme to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

perhaps it was narcissistic, the sense of entitlement that he felt that created the need for admiration, but your naivety and how easy it was to get you to fall at his knees at his every word meant that he would not let go of you.

 not until he wanted to.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

‘home sweet home,’ you kick off your shoes, barely getting your jacket past your waist until you flop onto donghyuck’s bed. it was his birthday today, meaning you had been on your feet all day, making sure his cake was ready, or that the cocktails ordered were the right flavours amongst other last minute things.

as tired as you were though, it didn’t bother you as much. hyuck had been a good friend to you, someone you cherished dearly, so giving up a few hours on his special day was not much of a hassle. you had just gotten back from picking up the birthday cake and cupcakes from the bakery with yunjin and mark, and decided to get what little rest you could before you had to get ready for the party.

‘move over,’ yunjin is motioning with her hands for you to leave some space for her, and as soon as you do she’s lying down besides you whilst mark watches at the doorway, arms folded with a smile on his face.

‘what’s got you smiling?’

‘i’m just thinking about how happy i am for hyuck. he’s got a girl that finally cares about him,’ you sit up at those words so suddenly that you’re sure your vision shifts for a couple of seconds.

‘they’re not in love with each other mark, give it up babe,’ yunjin speaks up for you, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. it wasn’t a secret that mark heavily advocated for the two of you to be together, given that hyuck was his bestfriend and the two of you were getting closer. he believed that your shared experiences of getting your heart broken and being taken advantage of due to loving too hard would work in your favour if you became a couple.

it was a thought that weighed heavily on your mind during this week. you were certain that if you were to be in a relationship with him, your worries of not being loved, or being abandoned, or being treated poorly like the rest of your exes would no longer be a concern. he was the sweetest boy you had ever met, and he always had your best interests at heart.

‘do you really not see hyuck in that way?’ mark turns the question to you, and it makes you pause and think. in an ideal world he would be the perfect partner for you, the one that you needed. but it was impossible to fill a wonbin shaped hole in your heart with someone that wasn’t him.

‘i wish i did,’ you confess truthfully, and to yunjin’s surprise, a little sadly. it makes her also now sit up, bringing her arms around your shoulders to bring you into a hug.

‘it’s alright if you don’t. you’re allowed to take as much time as you need to heal, there’s no time limit for that.’

her words comfort you and she gives you a small squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before she’s up on her feet again.

‘we have two hours before people start arriving and i need at least thirty minutes for my eyeliner alone.’

you’re left in hyuck’s room by yourself, deciding on also getting ready, even though it was a bit too early for you. a part of you felt bad for the mess you were sure to make in his room, your makeup products and brushes laid all over the table, outfit on his bed and a couple pairs of heels by the foot of his bed.

music played softly in the background as you sat at donghyuck’s vanity, your reflection framed by the ornate mirror adorned with fairy lights that you had convinced him to hang up. you ran your fingers through your hair, contemplating how to style it for the evening ahead.

it was nice to have a moment to yourself, leisurely taking your time to get ready. however, it meant that you were also left alone with your thoughts, which were anything but peaceful.

maybe you had healed. maybe all you needed to be completely over wonbin would be to allow yourself to be with someone else. it might help the thoughts of him that would momentarily flash in your mind, or the part of you that you felt still blindly loved him. it was time to let park wonbin go. for good.

just as you finished styling your hair into loose waves, there was a gentle knock on the door and before you could respond, mark and yunjin poked their heads into the room.

‘hey,’ mark greeted, leaning against the doorframe. ‘how’s it going in here?’

yunjin steps inside, her eyes bright with excitement as she waltzes into the room, mark in tow. ‘you look gorgeous my love. are you almost ready?’

you chuckle softly at their excitement, ‘almost, just finishing up. thanks for letting me borrow donghyuck’s room, mark.

mark nodded, his expression kind. ‘of course. take your time, everyone’s still doing one thing or another.’ 

‘someone would think that you were the birthday girl,’ mark joked as he admired his girlfriend parading around the room, a second pair of heels in her clutches.

‘looking good doesn’t need an occasion my love.’

you weren’t too far off either, your hair curled beautifully, cascading down to your back, and the black glittery two piece you wore clung to your body. you would have settled for a simple dress or even some jeans, but yunjin profusely objected, threatening to disown you.

according to her, as his closest friends they had a duty to look equally as good as donghyuck, although you were sure it was just an excuse for her to get all dressed up, like she loved to do.

‘whatever you say princess.’

the soft murmur of conversation fills donghyuck’s room as you all lounged comfortably on his bed, basking in the calm before the storm of his birthday party. you were taking refuge here after helping set up downstairs, enjoying a brief respite before the festivities began in earnest.

yunjin pulls out her phone, noting the time. ‘i think the first guests should be arriving soon,’ she remarked, glancing at you and mark.

‘yeah hyuck said they’d start showing up around this time. we should probably head downstairs.’

you all descend the stairs together, the llively chatter and laughter from downstairs growing louder as you approached the front door. you swung it open first, just as the doorbell chimed, revealing a group of donghyuck’s friends eagerly waiting to join the celebration.

‘hey, come on in!’ you greet them warmly, stepping aside to let the guests enter.

mark and yunjin followed suit, exchanging greetings and directing everyone towards the living room where the party was unfolding. upstairs, the boys were still in full swing, pre-gaming and engaging in last-minute preparations and games. donghyuck’s voice echoed down the stairs as he rallied his friends for the night ahead.

meanwhile, you busied herself ensuring everything was running smoothly. you checked the food and drinks, adjusting a few decorations here and there to perfectionist standards. the cake was laid out carefully on the kitchen table, surrounded by the mini cupcakes, and drinks were lined up with three hired bartenders. the decorations were just as you had imagined, and the presents that his friends were bringing for him were in place.

‘you could totally become an event planner,’ donghyuck’s voice causes you to turn around and you gasp at the sight of him as he leans against the counter casually. he’s always been attractive, that was non-disputable, but tonight it seemed like he had exceeded those plain terms. it reminded you of the night you first met, his dark tresses providing a flawless contrast with his skin, golden and clear, dotted with the beauty marks you loved to stare at so much.

the leather jacket he wore seemed to fit him well, and you wondered if all the time he had recently been spending in the gym was finally paying off by the way his white shirt clung to his body. but it was the faint traces of eyeliner circling his hooded eyes that left you awestruck, complimenting his eyes.

‘is this your way of telling me i look good?’ he bites his lip before a smirk graces his lips, playfulness emboldening his irises as he steps closer and closer, until you can smell the cologne that lingers on his shirt.

‘you do,’ you’re straightforward with your answer because it’s the truth.

‘i’ve got nothing on you though. thought an angel temporarily came down to visit,’ he says jokingly, but something about the look in his eye makes you feel that he means his words. 

the space between you becomes non-existent, and slowly you feel him brush a stray piece of hair away from your eyes, his fingers lingering around your face for longer than it usually would.

your eyes meet, a silent conversation unfolding between you if you were suspended in a moment outside of time. the air in the kitchen crackled with an electric tension, the proximity intoxicating, the space between you charged with a magentic pull.

you’re about to reply but you’re interrupted by jeno and jaemin, a bottle in each hand, hollering about taking shots for the birthday boy. tension that you weren’t sure was even possible to feel with donghyuck dissipates, and you feel him go back to his old self as he allows the boys to drag him out to the middle of the dance floor.

‘what was that all about?’ yunjin asks, and you failed to notice her standing behind jeno’s bigger frame, causing you to jump a little. she looks at you suspiciously, as if you had done something and gotten caught.

‘nothing,’ your reply is too quick, voice far too squeaky for her to believe you, and she had known you for too long to be deceived so easily.

‘so that means there was something. it looked like he was about to kiss you.’

you knew that, you were aware that the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips, or the way his second hand came and held you at the small of your back. you’d been kissed before, and it wasn’t hard to miss the signs. but something else shocked you, and you snap out of your daze to look your friend in the eye.

‘i know, and i think i would have let him.’

yunjin’s jaw drops dramatically before her hands fly to her mouth. ‘you mean-’

‘yes.’

‘i need some more alcohol.’

half of the night is spent inside your own mind, replaying the scene with donghyuck over and over again. he was going to kiss you, and if you hadn’t been stopped by jeno’s loud voice it would have happened. did this mean you were over wonbin? was it just because it had been such a long time since you had been kissed and you missed it? did you like hyuck as more than a friend?

the memory replayed in your mind like a haunting melody, a glimpse of what could have been. but each time you closed your eyes to savour the moment, flashes of park wonbin intruded upon your thoughts. his smile, his touch, his whispered promises- the memories of your tumultuous relationship resurfaced with unsettling clarity.

doubt gnawed at your resolve, casting shadows over the budding attraction you believed you felt for donghyuck. in this fleeting moments of introspection, you confronted the harsh truth. you were not over wonbin.

as the night wore on and the party reached its crescendo of laughter and music, you found yourself slipping deeper into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. despite the outward revelry, an internal storm brewed within you. you drifted through the crowd with a plastic smile, deflecting conversations and laughter as though they were merely obstacles in your path. 

but behind your façade, a maelstrom of doubt and regret churned relentlessly. you had come so far in your journey of healing, painstakingly unravelling the tendrils of love and manipulation that wonbin had woven around your heart. yet, tonight, his ghost haunted you once more.

in a moment of weakness, you found yourself standing at the makeshift bar, fingers gripping a drink with more force than necessary. the amber liquid swirled in the glass, its scent sharp and intoxicating. without hesitation, you raised it to your lips, welcoming the burn that seared down your throat.

the alcohol offered a fleeting reprieve—a temporary numbing of the pain that threatened to overwhelm you. with each sip, you hoped to drown out the memories, to silence the doubts that clawed at your resolve. but with every passing moment, the thoughts of wonbin persisted, stubbornly refusing to be subdued.

disappointment settled heavily in your chest, mingling with self-recrimination. you had worked tirelessly to banish wonbin from your thoughts, to rebuild yourself without the weight of his presence. yet here you were, succumbing to the allure of temporary oblivion.

so you found yourself turning to alcohol with increasing desperation. each drink became a lifeline, a means to drown out the relentless thoughts of park wonbin that plagued your mind.

the burn in your throat was now a distant sensation. with each sip, you felt yourself slipping further from reality, the chaotic noise of the party fading into a dull hum. you didn’t want to think anymore tonight. and eventually it worked its magic. in this intoxicated state, you were free from the torment of memories, free from the disappointment in yourself from succumbing to old wounds.

the dance floor pulsed with energy, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into your bones. the dim, colourful lights spun in dizzying patterns, casting fleeting shadows on the faces of your friends and strangers alike, all moving to the beat. you throw your head back and laugh, the alcohol buzzing warmly in your veins, making everything feel brighter, louder, more intense.

your drink sloshed in its glass as you swayed to the rhythm, the liquid gleaming under the flashing lights. you take another sip, the sweetness masking the burn of the alcohol. your movements become more fluid and uninhibited with every passing moment, the night was a blur of sound and colour, and for once, you felt free.

but then you heard it- ‘who the fuck invited park wonbin?’

your heart lurched, the sound slicing through the haze of joy and alcohol like a knife. involuntarily, you stop moving, your  eyes wide and unfocused as you scan the crowd. the music seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rush of blood in your ears.

the world seems to pause as those two words register in your head and you freeze. hyuck, who is just as oblivious to the situation as you were a couple of seconds ago, feels you stop dancing and furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

you see his lips move, and you’re sure he’s talking to you, but you can’t hear anything. as if you’re wearing noise cancelling headphones, the voices around you sound muffled. worried at your lack of response you feel the palms of his hand coming to the side of your face to bring you out of your trance.

 park wonbin is all you can see. you’re enthralled by the way his hair seems even longer than it was last time, beautifully falling just a few inches above his shoulders. he easily looked the best out of all the boys there, comparable to an angel with the way his delicate features are a distinction from his dark clothes, or his jet black hair that he lets fall freely. that was the man you had fallen in love with, the one who had the ability to render you speechless. the man who had wrapped your heart in a barbed wire of lies and control. a shiver runs down your spine, skin prickling with the memory of his touch, his words. he was here.

‘how is wonbin’s here,’ someone said again, closer this time, making you sure it was yunjin, who was far from pleased, but the damage was already done. he stood at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze locked onto you with the same intensity that had once made you feel special, desired. now, it only filled you with dread, his presence a dark cloud, threatening to consume your light and drag you back into the shadows.

he looks down to your fingers that are laced together with hyuck’s, a sight that ignited a surge of possessiveness within him but you’re unable to tell at first how he’s feeling except for the quirk of his eyebrow. then you notice the way his jaw clenched tightly before he unclenched it and you know what that meant- wonbin was pissed.

panic surged through you, a cold wave that washed away the warmth of the alcohol. you couldn’t handle this. you couldn’t handle him. not here, not now. fear and confusion twisted inside you, making it hard to breathe. the room seems to close in on you, stomach twisting and you quickly excuse yourself, your aim to make it away from his prying eyes.

you turn on your heel, pushing through the crowd, your movements frantic and desperate, too focused on stabilising yourself. the faces around you blurred, their laughter and conversations fading into a distant hum.

you burst into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind you with a loud thud. the room was starkly lit, the harsh fluorescent lights a jarring contrast to the dim, colourful glow outside.

the bathroom was a sanctuary of shadows, the dim light casting long, wavering reflections on the tiled walls. you stood at the sink, gripping its edge with such fervour that your knuckles turned white, your heart a drumbeat of anxiety, pounding in your chest as you stared into the mirror, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

the door creaked open behind you, and  a chill crawled up you spine. you didn’t need to turn around to know who had entered. 

park wonbin’s presence filled the small space like a dark cloud, heavy and oppressive. he moved with the grace of a predator, his footsteps barely making a sound as he approached you.

‘having fun?’ his voice startles you, heart racing as you accidentally hit the sink, shaking your head like a fool as your heart squeezes in your chest.

you feel bile rise rapidly to your throat, head pounding as the room starts to spin, but seemingly only for you. wonbin looks at you with pure disgust, as if you’re covered in filth, not worthy of being in his presence.

you hated the idea of him being annoyed or disappointed in you and soon tears started to streak down your face, the dam breaking before you could even attempt to hold it in, lip quivering as you blinked rapidly to stop the droplets of water from obstructing your vision.

‘wonbin please-’

‘lee donghyuck? really?’ he barely gives you a chance to speak, his actions contradicting the harsh words he spews as he gently uses his thumb to wipe away a few tears. you’re a whimpering mess, body shaking like a leaf as you try hard to stabilise yourself.

no matter how much time passed, no matter how much you willed yourself to, you couldn’t get over park wonbin. you loved him to a fault, you loved him to the point that it hurt. your love was like a rose, appearing beautiful from the red petals and buds, but stinging like the thorns that weaved up the stem.

‘you have no right to care about who i am or am not dating,’ you echo the words of hyuck, trying to seem bold and brave, pushing his hand away from you.

wonbin stops, his eyes trailing down and stopping at your feet, hair falling in front of his eyes and for a few seconds he doesn’t move. then you see his shoulders move up and down, slowly at first but they increase in speed. you know you shouldn’t be but in worry of him crying you hastily lift his head in your hands. only his face is dry, void of any tears and you see that he’s laughing instead.

‘i don’t-’

‘you’re so fucking stupid, he obviously just wants to use you.’

you’re taken aback by how harsh his words are, realising it was a mistake for you to have even said anything in the first place.you want to leave, to turn away from this suffocating situation to somewhere you can finally breathe but you’re trapped, his hands gripping your wrist, holding you against the wall.

that’s not fair wonbin. you left me,’ your voice is small, almost incomprehensible but he catches on to what you’re saying. he had you right where he wanted you, still stupidly in love with him, and he didn’t know whether to feel pity for your naivety or rejoice.

‘do you know how it felt to hear from other people that you moved on? you hurt me,’ it’s become wonbin’s second nature to turn accusations around and throw the blame on you. to make you feel like the bad guy, like you were the one in the wrong.

it was the final blow to your heart, and you feel yourself about to heave, moving past him with a shove to grip the sink, head dangerously close to the faucet as you try to steady your breathing. but he doesn’t stop there, he won’t be finished till he leaves you a mess on the bathroom floor, broken and unable to move on from him.

‘you know how hard it was for me, and you couldn’t even be patient, you tried to replace me so fast. did you even love me?’

‘stop-‘ you can barely breathe, the room closing in as you try to steady yourself, eyes shut as you pray for a miracle, for something to pull you out of this nightmare.

‘but that’s a stupid question, because i know the answer. you love me to a fault, you love me to the point it hurts you, but like a fool you keep coming back. want to know why? it’s because that’s what love is,’ he’s so close, close enough for you to smell that familiar scent of mint and cedarwood that you loved so much. it’s suffocating, making you lightheaded, and yet just like him you can’t get enough.

‘it’s not like the flowery shit you read in your books. nobody can give you that but me. no one can truly love you but me,’ he continues, not caring for how pale you turn, or how you slowly sink down to your knees, the pain of being so close to him making it unbearable for you to even stand on your own two feet.

he watches as you curl into a ball, despair coursing through your blood and a numbness clouding your eyes. your worst fears had been vocalised- maybe wonbin was the only one who would be able to love you. it made sense that he was the only one to ignite the flame of passion that you felt in the pits of your stomach. it made sense that only he held the ability to temper with your emotions to such an extreme extent. true love, that was what that feeling was.

you shrink back down into your own hollow body, lost, lacking and defeated. you sigh as you see him crouch down till he is eye level with you. you let him use his thumb to tenderly wipe away the tears that he caused as you saturate yourself in dreaded affliction.

he leaned in closer, his voice low but smooth. ‘you know, without me, you would still be just the sad broken girl, unable to love again. i’m the reason that you changed. i’ve helped you become the person you are today.’

his words wrapped around you like a silken noose, tightening with each sentence. you wanted to protest, to assert your own worth independent of his influence, but his presence was overpowering.

 every time you had tried to move on, to forget him, you were reminded of the times he had been there for you, the vulnerabilities only he had witnessed, the secrets you both held dear to your hearts. his manipulation was an art form, carefully crafted over time, making her doubt her own feelings and rely more on his.

‘remember when you said you couldn’t imagine your life without me?’ wonbin’s voice was a soft whisper now, his eyes locking onto yours.

‘i know you felt it too. we’re meant to be together.’ 

your heart ached under the weight of his words, the lines between love and control blurring in the fog of your emotions. you nod slowly, the fight within you dwindling as his grip tightened, pulling you deeper into the web he had spun so expertly around your heart.

‘don’t run away from the truth.’

his words wrapped around you like tendrils of smoke, suffocating and inescapable. you wanted to pull away, to escape the web he was spinning, but you felt rooted to the spot.

‘what truth?’

‘the truth that you have never stopped loving me, you were with donghyuck just to make me mad, to lie to yourself that you could move on from me when we both know that’s not possible,’ he murmured, his voice a silken thread of deceit. 

his hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, a mockery of tenderness. you close your eyes, trying to block out the sensations, but his words kept seeping into your mind, eroding your defences like waves against a crumbling cliff.

‘come with me,’ he coaxed, his voice now a siren’s call. ‘leave this party, leave these people who don’t understand you. let’s find our own way, just the two of us, like it’s supposed to be.’

his manipulation was a masterful dance, each step designed to pull you closer, to break down your will. your eyes open again, your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand. you saw the satisfaction in his eyes, the gleam of triumph that he couldn’t quite hide, but it was too late.

your heart twisted, a mix of fear and the old, dangerous comfort of his words stirring within you.

‘wonbin, i… i don’t know.’

‘come with me, please. let’s leave this place. you know we’re meant to be together. no one will ever love you like i do,’ he reiterated. his manipulation was subtle, insidious, and your defences, worn thin by the weight of your history together, crumbled. 

‘okay,’ you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, your willpower drained.

wonbin smiled, a wolf’s smile, and took your hand. he led you out of the bathroom, his grip firm and possessive. the music thumped through the walls, relentless rhythm that seemed to sync with your racing heart. as you descended down the stairs and walked through the crowded room, your head hung low, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. 

the party was in full swing, vibrant laughter and animated conversations filling the room. fairy lights now twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow over the crowded space, yet you felt a chill as you moved towards the door, your ex-boyfriend’s hand firm around your wrist.

yunjin and mark stood near the doorway, their expressions a mirror of the others. yunjin’s eyes were filled with tears, her hand clutching mark’s arm in a silent plea for comfort. mark’s jaw was set, his frustration barely contained as he watched you leave with wonbin.

‘i can’t believe he’s taking her again. after all we’ve done,’ yunjin’s grip on mark’s arm intensifies, her voice trembling out of frustration.

she had seen it all unfold- the sudden arrival of park wonbin, like a dark storm cloud interrupting the starry night. she witnessed your hesitation, your inevitable retreat into the bathroom, and how his figure stalked after yours not long after.

her eyes reflect a mixture of sadness and frustration as she turns to her boyfriend, ‘mark he’s ruined everything. she was so close….’

mark nods in understanding, his own brow furrowed with empathy.

‘she doesn’t deserve this. not after everything he put her through. i was there, mark. he broke her, i was so scared i would lose her.’

you had come so far since breaking free from wonbin’s manipulative grasp. you had found joy and laughter again, surrounded only by people who loved and cherished you, like it was supposed to be. and now, in one swift and calculated move, wonbin had disrupted it all.

 it was donghyuck’s face that stung the most though, his normally cheerful and bright expression now a canvas of hurt and confusion. he had hoped that tonight would be a turning point, a chance for you to find happiness away from the shadows of your past, away from wonbin and in his arms instead. now, he watched helplessly as you were led back into the darkness, both physically and metaphorically.

outside, the night air was cool and crisp, hitting you both as you stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside.  the noise of the party is muffled behind the closed door. wonbin’s smile widened, the satisfaction of his victory warming him from within. he had you back, ensnared once more in his web of lies and manipulation, pulling you back into his orbit and away from the support and love of your friends.

you walk beside him, heart heavy with regret and self-doubt. the night stretched out before you, a labyrinth of choices and consequences, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking deeper into the maze, farther away from the light. the feeling of eyes watching you from behind following you.

but for now, wonbin’s grip was unyielding, and you followed him into the darkness, hoping desperately that you might one day find your way out.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 48 (He Had Him At Hello, Bromance Edition)

Leaving her friends in Old New Henford after dark, Heather, Ash, and Conrad returned to her childhood home with her parents.

They found River and Cassandra still in their work clothes, the two having spent most of the evening trying to get their infant son to sleep. "Doctor Scott says its a phase, it'll pass, but when he doesn't sleep well, we don't sleep well," lamented River. "These days we're thrilled if he sleeps for more than two hours at a time."

Conrad already felt at ease around her siblings, and Heather left them chatting upstairs while her parents showed her the new plants in their always impressive garden. When Michael woke up fussy, she soothed him back to sleep to give his tired parents a break.

Upstairs, River studied Conrad with keen interest. His sister's taste in men had always been a little...off, and he wanted to be sure this one deserved her. "Driving between San Myshuno and Brindleton Bay must not be easy."

"We make it work," said Conrad. "We're waiting for me to get a transfer, but all that driving can be pretty tiring."

"Sometimes I dance just to keep myself awake," said Cass, grooving a little to the music. "Since I left the art studio to help my mother-in-law with her floral business, it's been a bit easier working from home. I never realized the artistry involved in floral arranging, but I can be just as creative with a bouquet of flowers as I can with a palette of acrylics!"

Conrad couldn't relate, but he empathized with their lack of sleep. "I don't know much about raising kids, but Ash likes a story I tell him that my mom used to read to me when I was a kid. The Giving Tree."

"I love that story," Cassandra mused. "I think I saw a copy at the bookstore in the square."

River nodded. "I'll try anything. I'll pick up a copy tomorrow." Despite his fatigue, River's wall crumbled as he got to know Conrad. "What made you think our sister was worth risking your career?"

The question was sincere. Conrad had asked himself the same thing a thousand times. "At first I thought it was because her son needed her more than the Landgraabs needed a win, but then they dropped the charges and I couldn't stop thinking about her. I booked a vet appointment four hours out of the way just to run into her again."

"Why didn't you ask her out, then?"

"River, stop interrogating him," Hazel pushed, but Conrad smiled.

"I wanted to, but I knew she'd been through a lot and I wanted her to be sure she was ready. I sort of knew it would be it for me if I knew she was interested."

"It's a good thing Holly intervened," said Hazel, smiling. "You might still be waiting for her, otherwise."

River grinned. "He definitely would be."

Hazel left to meet Nicola and some friends at the Gnome's Arms, and River and Cassandra finally changed and sat down to dinner. Because they could know no peace, Ash talked their ear off about dinosaurs. "Conerd say t-rex no swim, we safe," he babbled. "T-rex roar!"

"You know there were less scary dinosaurs," River said. "Smaller ones who ate plants. Also big ones. Like brontosaurus."

Ash listened with intense curiosity. "Bront-so-us?"

"Yeah, they were even bigger than your dad's apartment."

Cassandra stifled a laugh. "River, hush."

They were interrupted when Michael woke again from his nap, wailing from the bedroom. With her plate still full of food, Cass left to tend to her son as Heather walked into the kitchen. "We should probably head out. It'll still be an hour on the Simmerloop at this time of night, and we should get Ash to bed before midnight."

Cassandra brought Michael outside for their goodbyes, but the fussy infant didn't last long in the cool autumn air.

River, meanwhile, had found a new best friend in Conrad. "When I found out my sister was dating a cop I wasn't sure what to think, but now I'm pretty confident you've never played bad cop in your life."

Conrad shrugged. "I mean, I don't see the point. It doesn't get me to the truth any faster. But I admire what you and your father do. Building green infrastructure for your community is just as important as what I do."

River laughed. "Please, don't flatter me. You deal with hardened criminals like my sister."

Daisy turned to Heather as they watched River bond with Conrad. "Riv grew up with a house full of sisters, but I think he always secretly wanted a brother."

When Conrad left to get the car, River turned to Heather. "I recognize the way he looks at you, and he's not going anywhere unless you tell him to. I know you like to think you're better off single, protecting your independence, but he's the guy who's perfect for you. You and Conrad finding each other is one in a million, like the day I met Cassandra. He's your Cassandra."

(Can confirm, Jane Simsten's Soulmates mod kicked in for these two way back on the night they ran into each other with Holly and Kris in San Myshuno, but Heather's unflirty and she's been burned in the past, so it's had to be this way. I'm sorry!)

River's beautiful wife gazed at him with love while he spoke. They were so sweet together, and their love used to make Heather feel like she was missing out. Now she had Conrad, who was as close to perfect as anyone she'd ever met, and she couldn't shake her insecurities.

"I know raising Ash with his father isn't easy and you're afraid to get hurt again," River said. "But that is a guy who's waiting for you to say 'I love you' so he can say it, too."

Neal frowned. "Huck, you don't know that. Don't test your sister's emotions-"

"I do know that, and I'd die on Old Mill Hill defending that take!"

"He makes me so happy," Heather admitted. "But what if he moves in and I find out he's a criminal mastermind masquerading as a detective?"

"Then you're even more perfect for each other than I thought."

Heather couldn’t deny her feelings for Conrad, as afraid as she was to put them into words and make them real.

Despite her fears, she was grateful for her family's approval, and she embraced her brother warmly when Conrad brought his car around. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: This got it's own post because Conrad and River literally said hello to each other and were basically best friends (they became official best friends later, when it mattered for Conrad's Friend of the World aspiration. tbh by then I thought they already were but either something glitched or broke with the Lovestruck patches or I never bothered and forgot). Their instant bromance felt so right - River looks up to his older sister and wants the best for her even though he can't help but tease her, and he and Conrad are both responsible guys focused on bettering their communities. It's a perfect match and I loved this development.

[igncrxntripley]

Can you pleeeease do smth w secret weapon helping Rhea celebrate?

and new...

a/n: if y'all thought i was missing this opportunity YOU'RE WRONG!! HOF coming tomorrow bc i'm so sleepy

mentions: NSFW 18+, some alcohol consumption, kissing, grinding, multiple partners, oral (receiving and giving), mentions of 'clit', touching, fingering, poly!judgement day, fem!reader, bottom!rhea, top!dominik/finn/damian, switch!reader

taglist: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites

Wrestlemania weekend.

The night that every professional wrestler dreamed of experiencing. The night that changed lives forever, for the best or for the worst. Nothing held a candle to what an entertainer experienced on the most magical night in the industry.

This year was no different; almost everyone in The Judgement Day had something lined up for the whole Wrestlemania weekend, and they were career-defining matches. Matches that tested relationships and legacies were the main theme in Hollywood, and Y/N had a front row seat to all of it.

The night wasn't off to the best start, as Dominik's match against his father did not have the outcome the group was hoping for. Y/N, Damian, and Finn had each gotten involved at one point and it still wasn't enough, but it wasn't the end of that story. But they couldn't stay down in the dumps for long, because it was Rhea's turn next.

A night that Rhea had been working towards for weeks, months, years...and she got to do it with four of her best friends by her side. The four people she loved and cherished more than anything else in the world aside from her career; she was the luckiest person in the world, and they rang through her head from the minute she walked out onto the stage until the match ended.

Rhea made each of her partners promise they would stay away. While normally she was okay with them getting involved or doing whatever she needed to do to win, she had to fulfill her own destiny. And Rhea was going to do it the clean way, and defeat Charlotte with her own talents. And because they loved their girl, they each made that promise and sealed it with a kiss. The last time they saw Rhea before the match was at gorilla, where they each told her they loved her and they'd be there for her when she came backstage.

They each stood and nervously watched on a monitor backstage. Y/N was chewing on her acrylic fingers like a maniac, and every time Rhea took a nasty hit she would hide in Finn's side. Damian could barely catch his breath as he watched, and Dominik was practically ripping his hair out. All four of them were mumbling and clapping for Rhea as they waited for it all to end. But before they knew it...

One...two...three.

Rhea did it. She fulfilled her destiny and proved she could do it. She made history - something she did well - and proved that she was one of the best athletes in the industry. Not only that, but she did it on her own. She didn't need The Judgement Day by her side the entire match to cause chaos.

Her four partners backstage went absolutely mad. They jumped up and down, hugging one another and running to meet Rhea at gorilla once she was out of the ring. And once they saw their girl, they ambushed her as if she'd won the lottery. Y/N jumped up and wrapped herself around Rhea's body, Damian hugging her from the back, and Finn and Dom taking each side. The mess of kisses and hugs from the five of them was the ultimate showcase of the love they had for one another, and the way they celebrated when someone won.

"We love you so fucking much." Dominik said into her hair. Y/N pulled back and wiped the mess of tears, sweat, and makeup from under Rhea's eyes with her thumbs as they all smiled. "You have no clue how proud we are." She said softly.

Rhea smiled and gave each of them their own kiss. "I couldn't have done it without you guys." She said softly. It was clear she was tired, so everyone broke the hug and gave Rhea her space. "I have to go take pictures and stuff. I'll see you guys later?" Rhea asked softly. Everyone nodded, knowing she needed to make the usual rounds of press and interviews, and gave her one more kiss before she walked away.

Y/N smiled at her partners as they went back to their own dressing room. "I know exactly how we need to celebrate."

--- ---

It was late before everyone was able to leave the stadium and get back to the hotel. They all showered and got changed so it was one less thing to do once they got there, but also because they didn't want to waste any time.

Finn popped a bottle of champagne in the car, pouring himself and each of his partner's a glass. "Here's to the champion." Everyone cheered as they started drinking. It was known that this was a rowdy crew when they celebrated, so this was no different. But tonight, it was going to be about Rhea and only Rhea. It didn't matter what else happened or what anyone wanted; their champion was going to get the celebration she deserved.

Everyone stumbled into the hotel once they parked the car, no one knowing who's hand to hold or who to touch as the alcohol was already flowing through their systems with the adrenaline. Everyone wanted to hold hands with their champ, but she had decided to make herself comfortable against Dominik's side as they made their way to the room. Y/N had decided on a piggy back ride from Finn, and Damian's large hand rested on her back.

"Fuck, this has been amazing." Rhea said as they entered the elevator. "Thank you guys for being here with me." She smiled at everyone, most definitely a little tipsy.

Y/N giggled and reached out to play with some of Rhea's hair. "We wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She said softly. Finn nodded and tightened his grip on Y/N. "You better wake up though, princess." He smirked at Rhea. "Because we still need to celebrate."

Damian led the way back to the hotel room and opened the door for everyone else. He let everyone drop their bags, closed the door behind him, and was the first one to pull Rhea into a passionate kiss. His large hands held her cheeks, Rhea giggling and holding his hips. "Tonight's about you, champ." He told her softly.

Y/N hopped off of Finn's back and moved with Dominik to lay on the bed. "Make sure the rest of us get a turn." She told Damian with a smirk, laying her head on Dominik's chest. Finn stood behind Rhea and kissed her neck. "We've been waiting all night for this." He mumbled against her skin and chuckled when Rhea shivered.

One of Damian's hands came down to hold the front of Rhea's neck. "Lay down for us, princesa." He mumbled softly, looking down into her eyes. "And be the good girl we all know you can be." Rhea looked up at him, her blue eyes already clouded with euphoria and pleasure before moving to the bed. Once she was laying down, Y/N giggled and didn't waste any time before moving to straddle their girl.

"You're all gonna gang up on me, aren't you?" Rhea mumbled as she held Y/N's hips. Y/N smirked and took off the t-shirt she was wearing, courtesy of Damian, to show the black lace bralette she'd put on back at the stadium (Rhea's favorite, of course). "I wouldn't say it's ganging up on you when we're celebrating you." She teased softly, smiling as Rhea ran her hands up her girl's side.

Dominik made himself comfortable by Rhea's head and played with her hair. "She has a point. This is about you, not us." He said softly. Damian took off his own shirt before settling between Rhea's legs, and Finn sat on the other side of Rhea. His hand held her cheek and he gave her a slow kiss. "We love you so much." He whispered.

Damian ran his hands up Rhea's legs, massaging her muscles through her oversized sweatpants. "You just relax and let us take care of you." He said. His hands worked the sweatpants off of Rhea's legs, and she let out a shaky moan in anticipation.

Rarely did they hear those moans from Rhea. It wasn't often they had her in this position, but when they did, her partners cherished it more than anything else.

Y/N leaned down and gave Rhea another kiss, making out with her as Damian continued to massage her legs. "You're so pretty." She told her girlfriend. Rhea's hands had a death grip on Y/N's hips, and she only let go to pull her sweats off to reveal the lack of panties. "Fuck, you wore this on purpose." Rhea whined softly, and it made everyone chuckle at her. She wasn't wrong, either. They had a plan, and they had every intention of carrying it out to make sure their girl was pleasured.

Dominik's finger began to draw gentle patterns on Rhea's chest, chuckling as she'd occasionally moan and whimper from her partner's touches. But Damian was the one who took things a step further, as he also worked Rhea's underwear down her legs and moaned at the sight in front of him. "Shit, hermosa."

Y/N gave Rhea one more kiss before she sat up and adjusted herself so her clit was over Rhea's face. "I've been thinking about your mouth on me all night." She told her girl softly, brushing Rhea's hair from her face. She hadn't lowered herself down to Rhea's mouth just yet as she wanted to tease a little longer. Damian was preoccupied between Rhea's legs though and was starting to leave gentle kisses on her thighs. Those kisses moved from her thighs to her clit, and kisses turned quickly into sucking. Rhea gasped and smiled up at everyone, her hand blindly tangling itself in Damian's hair.

"Oh, good girl." Finn said softly, his own fingers gently playing with Rhea's chest through the shirt she was wearing. "Our good girl." He mumbled softly, moving to kiss Rhea's forehead.

Y/N hummed and finally lowered herself down onto Rhea's mouth. "You've been begging to have your mouth on me all weekend, so I figured it was time to give you what you wanted." She giggled softly, grinding slowly against Rhea's lips. Rhea wasted no time in using her mouth on Y/N and held her thighs tightly. "She looks so good when she uses her mouth." Dominik noted softly.

They each took their time with one another, whether they were using their mouths or their hands. Damian was taking his sweet time with Rhea, and Rhea was allowing herself to feel the pleasure from everyone while her mouth kept itself busy and her hands gave attention to her boys. But it was only a matter of time before Rhea was getting desperate.

Her quiet moans turned into desperate whimpers and whines. Her nails were digging into Y/N's thighs who echoed those same noises; as Rhea became more desperate, her mouth was working harder to pleasure Y/N. Damian was using his mouth and his fingers on Rhea to give her every ounce of pleasure.

Two of Damian's fingers were slowly pumping in and out of Rhea, while her own tongue swirled in circles around Y/N's clit. Finn brushed his thumb over Rhea's forehead and whispered to her, while Dominik worked up Y/N. "You're gonna cum like a good girl, aren't you?" Finn said to Rhea, and she tightened her grip on YN in response.

Dominik pulled Y/N into a kiss, smiling as she moved herself against Rhea's tongue. "Show Rhea how bad you want it, baby. She's been dying all weekend to taste you." He whispered, and Y/N trembled as his words threw her over the edge and she came against Rhea's tongue.

Damian smirked as he listened to everything, and Y/N finishing only made him work harder for Rhea. Finn smiled as well and looked Rhea in the eyes. "Go ahead, baby. For us." He didn't need to say another word, because that sentence alone made Rhea squeal and cum for them. Her thighs trembled and tightened around Damian's face, and he waited until she was done to completely pull away.

Y/N let herself crawl off of Rhea and lay next to her, Dominik's arms around her body and continuing to kiss her. Rhea's hand also blindly reached out to hold Y/N's thigh, and Damian was kissing up Rhea's body until he got to her lips. She smirked as she tasted herself against him, and Finn wrapped an arm around Damian.

"Get ready for round two, baby." The Irishman whispered to her.

[g8dess]

Very niche asks

Finally did these, some aren't as niche because I ran out of ideas. Could be answered for s/i's and/or f/o's, make sure to specify in tags.

OP is proship

💅 How does their nails look like? Are they long or short? Is there a different length for either fingernails or toenails? Are there sensory issues involved with taking care of their nails? Are they painted or not? Do they have acrylic or gel nails?

🫀 Do they have any medical issues? Are their problems physical or neurological? Do they have aids to help with the issues? How do other people treat them because of the issues? Do they wish the issues weren't there or do they accept it as part of themself?

💐 What is their favorite flower? Why is it their favorite? Is there anything about the flower they don't like? Do other people know it's their favorite? Do they often get bouquets of their flower, whether gifted or aquired themself? Do elements of their favorite flower reoccur in other favorites as well?

🔪 If your character were to plan a murder, how would they go about it? Would they get hyper realistic or does it stay as a vague idea or do they not care about realism? Would they ever be pushed to execute the murder, or would they not commit it even in their wildest dreams? Who would their victim be?

🪨 What is their go-to move in rock-paper-sciccors? Do they always do the same move or do they switch up their intro? Do other people know their tactics and how do they deal with it? Do they often win or constantly lose?

💧What is their favorite element? Fire, air, water or earth? Do they often spend time with their element? Are there motives in that element that are important to their character? Is it the same as their sunsign's element? Or another big astrological point of theirs?

🔮 Have they ever wanted to know what the future would bring for them? Do they believe in fortune-telling? Have they ever read their own future, or went to get it read? Would their future be bright or bleak? What type of fortune-telling appeals to them the most?

🛍 What is their clothing style like? What are their sizes? Do they like how they dress currently or would they rather have the courage and money to dress differently? Where do they get most of their style inspiration from? How often do they change clothes?

🚿 How is their cleanliness? Do they shower regularly, how often? Do they shave daily or let it all grow? How are their butt wiping habits? Do they always wash their hands after their business, do they wash them more than necessary? What part do they wash first when taking a shower?

⚠️ Anything else you want to share about them that you can't ever share in other askgames?

[tunaababee]

we will be everything we say - Chapter 7

masterlist // fic playlist // read on AO3 // overall rating: e // wc this chapter: 7.1k // updates Mondays (aest)

Feyre Archeron has been best friends with Rhysand Sterling ever since she moved onto the same street when they were kids - the two became absolutely joined at the hip, with nothing able to come between them.

As they get older, life gets more complicated and things get harder. Not everything comes as naturally as it once did. People change, things happen, friends... drift.

But after drifting apart, maybe life can push them back together again, in time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: smut ahoy! finally!!!

Chapter 7: twenty-five and twenty-six

Rhys looked down at the passenger seat of his car, brows furrowed as he mulled the simple gift over. Was it too much? To be fair, nothing ever seemed like quite enough to him – Feyre deserved the world and he’d been so head over heels for her for so long that he would hand her the world on a silver platter if he could. But she didn’t know that and tonight was her night, the last thing he’d ever want to do was make her uncomfortable. His brothers said it was fine, Mor said it was perfect – even Amren had given her quiet nod of approval. They wouldn’t deliberately steer him wrong, so he had to just keep moving forward. Either way, there was no world where he was showing up for this empty handed, especially considering they were here to celebrate in the first place.

Pushing the fluttering feeling in his stomach to the side, Rhys grabbed the flowers and small gift box out of the seat, climbing out of the car and locking it behind him before striding into her apartment building with as much confidence as he could muster. In any other situation he’d be as cool as anything, but anytime Feyre was involved Rhys managed to constantly feel like a stumbling teenage boy falling ass over feet every damn time. Even through the hiccups the two had experienced between them, Rhys never stopped caring for her. Never stopped loving her either, though he’d never admit it to anybody’s face. It was absolutely, totally not platonic, incredibly soul-crushing love. After the two of them had come back into each other’s lives again it was almost as if everything had picked up exactly where they had left off, only Rhys’ feelings towards her had never quite ebbed away. If anything, they had gotten stronger, but it was something that he would unpack and stash away in the depths of his head another day. For now, he made his way up the few flights of stairs with his hands gripping a little too tightly onto Feyre’s presents and knocked on her door with a deep breath.

He already felt a little bad that everyone else had been able to arrive before him – he’d come straight from working, a day full of meetings and networking to try and keep expanding his fashion business for the better. Rhys’ crisp white button up was rolled up at the sleeves, bunching around his elbows, tucked into a crisp pair of black slacks, and paired with some of his most uncomfortable but stylish dress shoes – it was clear he’d come right over as soon as he could. The slight guilt gnawing at him melted away as Feyre opened the door for him though, flinging it open without abandon and beaming at him from the threshold as he quickly slipped the gift box into his pocket.

“Finally, Rhys my dear!” The absolute joy in her voice warmed his bones.

“Hello, Feyre darling.”

Without hesitation they wrapped each other in a tight hug, Rhys taking care not to crush the flowers in his hands. As he held her close for that moment, he noticed that she smelt like the tang of acrylic paint and soft lilac, like walking into a warm room on a cold day and the jasmine she had growing on the windowsill. She smelt like Feyre. Like home. They pulled apart before Rhys could get any more lost in the moment, quickly bringing the flowers up and handing them to her with reverence in his eyes, Feyre taking them with a smile that lit up the room.

“Rhys, you’re so sweet, this is too much.”

“Nothing’s too much for you, especially when you just sold your first piece! You can’t stop me from celebrating such a huge achievement for you.” He placed his hand on the side of her arm, giving a light but reassuring squeeze.

“Oh, no, I mean it’s literally too much,” Stepping to the side a little, Feyre gestured to her kitchen bench which was absolutely crammed with flowers in different shades running the gamut of the rainbow. Rhys’ flower arrangement added another pop of blues and whites into the assortment, daisies and cornflowers poking out brightly amongst baby’s breath and peonies. He simply chucked in turn, shrugging slightly.

“Well, you can’t say that you don’t deserve it. You’re one of the most talented people I know, it’s about time the art world saw that too.”

Rhys could spot a slight blush creeping up on Feyre’s cheeks – she’d never been very good at acknowledging just how talented and clever she was, and tonight was no different. As she began to open her mouth to respond, Cassian meandered over, pulling Rhys to his side with a grin as he dragged him further into the living room before he could protest.

“Rhys, come say hi to everyone first – we’ve barely seen you since you moved back, you’ll have plenty of time to continue singing Feyre’s praises later!”

Cassian had a point – Rhysand had liked New York, enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city, but it was so… lonely. He never regretted moving there in the first place as it was key to him getting his own business off the ground – though he did regret the awful, self-conceited redhead he’d tried to date for a few months there before it fell apart – but he missed being able to gather with his friends on a whim or just pop by their houses. To see them out and about on the street and make a day out of it. Seeing Feyre in all of her glory was simply an added bonus. Rhys had moved back to Prythian few months ago and it felt right, especially since Feyre and her sisters had never left, along with many of their friends still living in town or staying close by in the next town or two over. It had taken him a little while to get settled back into living in Velaris, but now that he was there on his own terms it felt liberating. So Rhys conceded and did the rounds about the room, happily drinking and making merry with everyone who he loved most in this world.

Nesta and Cassian had not long gotten engaged and Cassian couldn’t resist flaunting the most disgustingly sweet PDA he could manage whenever Nesta would allow it. Nesta kept insisting they were going to have something lowkey, but every time Cassian nodded along, anyone could see the twinkle in his eye – he was going to wheedle her into going big wherever he could. Tastefully big, but big nonetheless. Incredibly fitting for the two of them, especially considering the amount of times Rhys had seen Cassian naked against his will. That man never knew how to secure a towel around his waist back in college to save his life and had not an ounce of shame, even to this day.

Azriel and Gwyn were happily cuddled up in a corner, finally admitting to what everybody already knew – that they had been dating, and for several months at that. Azriel and Elain had almost had a thing a few years prior, especially when Az had been too shy to try and even approach Gwyn, but they’d both mutually decided it was for the best that they stuck to being friends. The two were still on wonderful terms, and Azriel and Gwyn were quietly giggling to themselves as they watched Elain and Lucien try to subtly hold hands without anybody noticing. The two recognised what her and Vanserra were doing easily as it was a game the two had tried to play themselves long ago. Rhys couldn’t help but smile a little, just glad that everyone was getting along.

Amren and Varian were simply… Amren and Varian. Whatever was going on between the two, nobody would know about until long after it happened. Were they engaged? Married? Committing murders and atrocities on the side? Beyond the two of them, who knows. Either way, they were on the couch chatting to Nesta animatedly, debating something that was probably far more niche than anybody else was willing to participate in.

Emerie was also pitching in with her own opinions where she could, seemingly using the conversation as a distraction from the occasional coy glance her and Mor would throw at one another with the subtlety of a brick through a window with a love note tied to it. Emerie always claimed to be too busy with her work as the manager of one of Rhys’ brick and mortar stores over in Windhaven, but she always managed to find time whenever Mor would stop by and check in on how everything was going and what the sales trends were. ‘Part of my job as a designer,’ Mor would say. Honestly, Rhys was just happy that his cousin was happy.

Even Jurian and Vassa had managed to make it – they were originally suppliers that Rhysand had made contact with on Lucien’s recommendation when his fashion business was in its infancy, but they’d quickly grown into fast friends of the group and made sure to meet up with everybody whenever they were in Prythian from overseas. It was a rarity that they were able to make it to these little parties and get-togethers, but it was always a joy to see them.

The hours flew by around them like they were mere minutes – everybody was talking, laughing, eating, drinking. Exactly how things should be, should feel. Warm and comfortable and happy. It was wonderful seeing Feyre absolutely in her element, showing off her piece that sold along with other works in progress. Ever since she’d picked up her artistic ventures again a little while after they’d reconciled, she had been doing nothing but going from stride to stride. It was hard to convey the sheer amount of joy it brought him to see her succeeding like this, but for the time being he held his tongue. Last thing she needed was their best friends needling at him about being ‘down horrendous’ right in front of her – not that they were wrong, though.

Soon enough, the late night hours began to crawl toward early morning and people were filtering out one by one. Jurian and Vassa were the first to leave since they had to catch a flight the next day and it didn’t take long for everyone else to slowly taper off afterwards, each with their own commitments or just from exhaustion seeping into their bones. Eventually it was just Rhys, Feyre and Mor all sat around together in the living room talking about nonsense. The clock ticked just shy of one in the morning when his cousin got up with a dramatic stretch.

“Well, it’s been fun you guys, but unlike you two, I have places to be tomorrow that require my beauty sleep.” Mor wiggled her eyebrows slightly with a little smirk.

“Ooh, what’s the occasion? Out to break hearts, or maybe swindle someone dastardly?” Feyre posited, giggling slightly as she leaned forward onto her knees while Rhys simply rolled his eyes.

“Not too far off, actually. I’m planning on finally asking that cute friend of your sister’s out on a date! And with these looks, who could resist?” She moved toward the door to Feyre’s apartment, grabbing her purse along the way with a sly smile and no lack of confidence about her.

“Christ, it’s about time. I could see you and Emerie practically undressing each other with your eyes all night – it’s definitely going to go well.” Rhys punctuated his sentence by finishing off the wine he had in his hand.

“That’s for me to know and for you guys to find out later. See you guys, and congrats again Feyre!” Mor blew them kisses as she waltzed out the door, a smile on Feyre’s lips as she watched her leave.

The atmosphere, while already fun and relaxed, settled into something cozier and comforting as Mor left – no matter what happened in life, Rhys and Feyre always stuck together to celebrate or commiserate and tonight was no different. It was moments like these Rhys’ heart couldn’t help but clench, desperately wanting to claw its way out of his chest and spill its contents before her. She was always so gorgeous, the moonlight flowing in through her wide apartment windows making her look utterly ethereal as she rose from the floor, plucking Rhys’ glass from his hand before grabbing her own and meandering to the kitchen. Feyre held the bottle up, looking at him with her eyebrows raised in questioning before he muttered a ‘please,’ and she filled their glasses up once more.

“While I’m never one to complain about having a drinking buddy, let alone such fine company as yourself, don’t you have to drive home?” Her brow furrowed with concern as she screwed the cap back onto the bottle, grabbing both of their glasses before coming back to settle on the couch right next to Rhys, side pressed to side. He could feel his heart skip a beat almost as if it was on cue.

“Ah, I could always take an Uber home or something. Besides, I know where you live and it’s not that far.” He chuckled lowly, clinking his glass with hers before taking a sip.

“…Or you could just stay over? You know you’re always welcome here, my house and your house have always been one and the same anyway!” Feyre practically beamed at him and fuck, who was he to deny her when she smiled at him like that? All joy and mirth and perfectly content?

“Well shit, I guess you’ve twisted my arm – absolutely no other option, I’m going to camp out here forever now. Hope you like me laying all over your apartment in my off time.”

Feyre’s head tipped back with laughter, a hand lightly smacking his chest before coming to settle on his leg. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear he could feel his skin searing under her touch. He forced his mind to other things, like the gift box burning a hole in his right pocket – he knew she’d probably think it was too much, but surely everyone deserved to spoil their best friend once in a while, right?

Fuck it, he thought. What's the worst that could happen? Take the chance.

“Though, since tonight has been all about celebrating, I actually have an extra little gift for you. Y’know, for you getting your name out there and everything for the first time in a professional sense,” He leaned forward to set his glass down on the coffee table, fishing the deep navy rectangular box from his pocket. Rhys gently set it on her lap, a small but genuine smile beginning to creep up on his face. “Open it.”

Feyre set her own glass on the table before tentatively beginning to pry it open. Inside it laid a necklace – a little silver heart-shaped lock pendant, a single small diamond on the front of it, hanging from a matching delicate chain. It looked like the stars were dancing in Feyre’s eyes as she looked it over, turning the pendant in her hands only to see a slight inscription – the date that her first piece had sold. Rhys could see her eyes going a little glassy as he opened his mouth to speak before she beat him to it.

“Rhys, this is gorgeous. I don’t deserve something as lovely as this, it’s too much.”

“You have worked so, so hard to get to where you are. Taking up art again, going back to college and finally finishing your degree, busting your ass to keep creating and working and putting yourself out there. If anything, it’s not enough. You deserve so much, Feyre.” He could feel more sitting on the tip of his tongue like a weight, but he could feel the air knocked from his lungs as her gaze met his expectantly, handing him the necklace carefully.

“…Can you help me put it on?”

“O-Of course. C’mon, turn around.”

Rhysand’s breath hitched in his throat as they shifted, him moving to face her as she turned her back to him. She gathered her long, golden-brown curls with a delicate sweep of her hands before pushing them upwards to allow him access. He snaked his arms over her shoulders, fumbling for a moment with the clasp – he didn’t want to have the pendant fall off, but the expanse of skin across the nape of her neck and his proximity to it was enough to drive any man insane. Rhys brought his hands towards her collar, fingertips brushing feather-light against her neck, as if it was a sin to be touching something so pure and holy as he pulled it through. He could swear he heard Feyre’s breath catch as he brought the clasp back together, fingers occasionally pressing against the nape of her neck as he did so.

Hesitantly, Rhys pulled his hands away, moving an arm to rest on the back of the couch while he took the flicker of a moment between them to drink her in. He watched her shift, hands coming to touch the necklace hanging delicately around her neck with something he could almost mistake for reverence. Feyre moved to sit facing forward once more, head turned toward him with something sweet behind her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. Earlier, as their friends had slowly filtered out through the night, Feyre had brought the lights down lower to suit the more cozy atmosphere, and right now the warm light mixed with the white-blue glow of the moonlight to make her look like a vision before him. It was almost impossible to keep the warmth of his affection off his face, and he probably looked stupider for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She smiled at him, radiant as ever with a giggle floating from between her lips.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?”

“Nothing, just… You look stunning, that’s all. I was worried you might not like it.”

A pink crawled onto her cheeks, quickly deepening into a red and blotting out the constellations of her freckles as her eyes broke from his. “How could I not? You know me too well - even if it looked atrocious, I’d still wear it because it’s from you,” It was Rhys’ turn to feel his face warm then. Before he could even muster a response, she had practically thrown herself over the couch toward him and wrapped him up in an embrace with her arms snaked tightly around his neck. It was almost instinct to move his arms around her waist in turn, bringing her in as close and tightly as he could muster. “Thank you for always being in my corner, Rhys. Being there no matter what, even when I’m being a dumbass. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“…I’d walk to the ends of the Earth and then some for you, darling. Just say the word.”

Feyre pulled away slightly, sitting back on her knees as she brought her hands down to rest against the sides of his arms. His own hands moved to rest lightly on her waist, not daring to sink toward her hips despite how desperately he yearned for it. “You don’t need to be dramatic Rhys, it’s just me.”

He simply chuckled lowly, heart practically jumping out of his chest – whether it was ten years of preamble or a few too many glasses of middling wine talking, he felt a bit more brazen than he’d normally allow himself in front of her right now. He knew his heart wouldn’t stop trying to lurch through his throat if he didn’t say what was weighing him down like lead in his mouth. “Feyre, for once I’m not being dramatic here. Do you realise how much I would lay down for you? The one fucking person in this world who I trust with everything? You know more of my embarrassments, my failures, my hopes, my dreams than literally anybody else in this world and I am so lucky that you trust me enough to let me in and know yours, too. They mean everything to me. You mean everything. You have always been the one bright spot I can count on in my life if everything else fails. Like stars in my night sky. So if you told me to sell my business, make a fool of myself, burn it all down? For you? I’d do it. You’re the only person I’d do any of it for.”

“…You really mean all that?” Feyre looked almost shocked, stormy blue eyes looking almost glassy. No matter what he said, it felt like he couldn’t ever convey just how fucking deeply he felt for her. Had been feeling for her for so fucking long. He was so tired of sitting on it, of seeing how she constantly devalued herself to seem more palatable to everybody around her. If anyone deserved to be treated like a goddess among mortals in his eyes, it was Feyre.

There was never anybody else.

A soft smile split his face, gaze flicking to the ceiling for a moment before meeting her eyes again. One hand moved from her waist, shifting to cradle her chin in his fingers so carefully –like priceless art being handled by knowing hands. “Shit, how many times do I have to tell you I love you before you believe it, Feyre?”

“I love you too, Rh-“ He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb lightly, stopping her in her tracks as he leaned in closer.

“No, Feyre – when I say I love you, I mean I love you. I’ve loved you since we were teenagers, I loved you when we weren’t speaking, and I love you now. You, Feyre Archeron, are endlessly kind and forgiving and prickly and beautiful. You are braver than you give yourself credit for and you are one of the smartest people I have ever met,” Rhys could hear her shakily exhale as he pressed his brow with hers, the hand at her waist tightening ever so slightly. “For twenty years you have been my best friend, and for at least ten of those years you have been the subject of all my fantasies. All of my daydreams. When we said that it was going to be us against the world, that you were stuck with me forever, I meant forever. That is, of course, if you’ll have me.”

Their lips were mere millimetres apart, the softest brushes sending electric shocks all the way through Rhys’ spine. The hand on her chin moved to the side of her face, thumb brushing over her cheek softly, a slight tremble the only indication that he was holding anything back.

“So, will you, Feyre?” Rhys dropped his voice down low, barely above a whisper but heavy and full of longing.

“H-Huh?” She mumbled, seeming to have been lost in her own little reverie.

“Will you have me?”

What was only a few seconds, a mere beat between them, felt like an eternity until she feverishly pressed her lips to his, electric currents shooting through his nervous system so much it felt like fireworks. For the first time since she’d kissed his cheek that day outside of her house, it felt like the tilt of his world had finally been righted as he snaked his hand into her hair and greedily pressed her closer.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Feyre always knew that there was something… else simmering under the surface with her relationship with Rhysand Sterling. Something searing, something peculiar, something… living. She’d felt it since they were young and never knew what to make of it – she assumed it was just a feeling that came with being so deeply entwined in someone’s life for so long. It was a feeling that she hadn’t ever been able to replicate or feel with anybody else – not with high school flings, not with Tamlin, nobody. But as Rhys was talking to her, laying everything and then some out before her about how he felt? The feeling that jolted straight to her belly as his lips brushed over hers so tenderly? It all began to make sense.

Then, as she threw caution to the wind and finally pushed her lips hastily against his, Feyre finally felt truly alive.

Rhys’ hand moved into her hair, knotting itself firmly as he pulled her close like his life depended on it. The searing pull against the base of her scalp, the heat of his body against hers, the clashing of lips and tongues and teeth, swirled into a delightful murky haze through her senses that brought her world’s focus down to him and only him. How had they not been doing this? How had she even lived without knowing how he felt pressed up against her? There was no hesitation as she climbed into his lap, straddling him with her hands gripping his shoulders like a vice.

“Yes,” She breathed against his lips, her chest pressing against the hard planes of his own. His lips began to curl into a smile beneath her own.

“Yes what, Feyre?”

If her face wasn’t flushed before, it certainly was now. She knew he was teasing, always taking immense joy in riling her up. “You know what.”

She tried to press forward again, but he stopped her before gripping her jaw gently with a mischievous smirk, a finger coming to rest on her cheek. “I need to hear you say it. Say you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you, Rhys,” Her eyes flicked up to find his gaze, his pupils wide with want and admiration and everything in between. It made her heart feel full and a fire begin to lick at the base of her stomach to see that she made him like this. “Sorry you had to wait so long.”

“Baby, I would have waited five hundred years if it still meant I got to kiss you.”

A whine slipped from her throat involuntarily and she could feel his hands shifting, one sliding down from her hair to press her closer at her back whilst the other began to slide unsubtly into the back pocket of her jeans – not that she minded in the slightest. Even if she didn’t quite have the words yet, it didn’t escape her just how right being here with Rhys like this felt. She’d entertained the thought in high school that she might have a crush on him, that she might even love him, but she brushed it off as teenage hormones because she was just so close to him. Besides, it was natural to love your best friend.

To love them so much that you snuck out of your house in the dead of the night to hang out.

To love them so much that you’d make up excuses for why you couldn’t be with your boyfriend that weekend just so you could see each other for the first time in weeks.

To love them so much that, even when you were the one who asked for space, all you could do was tear yourself up over the fact that they’re not there and you wish they were.

To love them so much that you didn’t entirely realise you’d been in love with them the whole fucking time, and you knew it in your heart but were too scared to admit it until he said something first.

She was distracted from her musing and beating herself up about how she had been so blind for so long by a firm but tender squeeze to her ass, Rhys beginning to pepper her jawline with kisses oh-so-sweetly. Feyre didn’t hesitate to expose more of the column of her neck to him, pressing her hips down teasingly against him with a dreamy sigh. She relished every touch, every kiss as he moved slowly but surely down the length of her neck to her shoulder with tantalising slowness, but it wasn’t quite what she was looking for. The warm, flickering fire that had began at her core and the pit of her stomach had spread into a syrupy, intoxicating sensation across her senses, her skin, her body that demanded… more. There was so much lost time to make up for – there would be time for tenderness later.

Both of her hands moved into the inky black locks of his hair, pulling his mouth off her with a small longing groan on Rhys’ part as he looked up at her.

“If you don’t want to go any further than this, you don’t ha-“

Fucking hell, he was so much kinder toward her than he had any right to be. It sent a shot of arousal straight through her, further spurring her on as she leaned down to brush her lips teasingly against the shell of his ear. It made a delicious shiver go through him and Feyre brought her voice down low and quiet, a treat just for the two of them.

“Rhys, you’re so sweet, but I was kind of hoping…” Feyre tugged his earlobe roughly with her teeth, grinding down roughly against the rapidly hardening length of him. It drew the most ragged, low moan from him as he visibly struggled not to drag her in closer. “…We could make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, Feyre,” Rhys’ voice was strained, intertwined with lust and awe. At her ­– she’d still struggle to believe it if he wasn’t right here in front of her. His hands shot to her waist, pulling her right down against him as he rolled his hips upwards. “Tell me what you need.”

“Y-You,” Her thoughts struggled to coalesce into anything coherent beyond the pure instinct and want that addled her brain. “Just you. You won’t break me, promise.”

Feyre punctuated her sentence by shucking off the loose t-shirt she had been wearing, tossing it to the side as she had a flicker of regret at not wearing a nice bra today. That flicker was extinguished the moment she caught the way Rhys was looking her over, his gaze hungry and practically drinking her in. It made her feel like there was live electricity coursing through her all the way through to her fingertips. Their hands worked almost in tandem now, Rhys’ working to undo the button of her jeans while her own moved clumsily to untuck his shirt before fussing over the buttons on his dress shirt. He was finished his task before her however, cutting Feyre’s mission short by simply pulling his shirt open and letting the buttons clatter helplessly into the couch.

Fucking hell.

Now it was Feyre’s turn to groan at the sight of him – night black whorls she had only ever been given mere glimpses of now on full display before her across the broad expanse of his warm chest. Before she could overthink it, she moved down to trace her tongue along the lines of every swirl and line, Rhys’ shirt joining her own on the floor beside the couch as she continued her ministrations. His hands, still adorned in gleaming silver bands that made her gasp at the sensation, travelled quickly up her back to unhook her bra with surprising deftness. Pulling her hands away to readjust, she dropped the garment onto the couch beside them before Rhys was gently pushing her away.

“Get up,” he purred, voice melting over Feyre’s brain like warm butter permeating her consciousness. She obeyed without thinking twice, keeping her eyes locked squarely on his as he stood from the couch. Rhys’ hand moved to cup her face, the other palming greedily at her breast. “So fucking gorgeous. My perfect girl.”

He used a foot to knock her legs wider before sinking to his knees, yanking her jeans down roughly along with him. Rhys was so delicate in the way he helped Feyre out of her pants, a stark contrast to the hunger he prowled back up the outside of her leg with. He left a trail of kisses – ankle to calf, knee to thigh, thigh to hip – that had Feyre transfixed and her breathing a little ragged as she watched. The expression on Rhys’ face changed from reverie to mischief in a blink, flashing his signature grin at her as he began to pull her panties down with his teeth at a pace that was tantalisingly slow. She couldn’t get enough of the show, but Feyre couldn’t help but be aware at how wanting she was, how empty her cunt felt. A desperate, whiny little whimper escaped her.

The minute her panties hit the floor, Rhys snatched them up like they were a lifeline – an invaluable tether as he held the soaked-through gusset of them close to his nose and inhaled deeply, eyelids fluttering closed in what seemed like an indulgent moment of bliss. “So much better than I could have ever dreamed,” Rhys murmured, eyes locked with Feyre’s as he quickly tucked them into his pocket for safekeeping.

She felt like a goddess before him, being blessed with her first apostle, so ardently dedicated and worshipping of her in a way she couldn’t have ever pictured. It felt heavenly.

Rhys’ lips lightly traced along the inside of her leg, a shiver running down her spine as her hands slid into his soft curls. His hot breath breezed over her core before licking a long stripe up her centre, while she pulled at his hair. A moan warbled out of her mouth shakily.

“I... Ah, fuck, I n-need you Rhys, please.”

He hummed against her folds, her hips canting against his face of their own accord at the sensation. “You have me, darling.”

“I need you inside me, or I’m going to f-fucking lose it.”

That got his attention.

He shot onto his feet like a bat out of hell, Feyre standing on her tiptoes in an effort to hook her leg over his hip. Rhys helped her out the rest of the way, grabbing the backs of her thighs to hoist her up, her legs locking around his waist firmly. She could feel the cool metal buckle of his belt pressed against her cunt, a small squeal leaving her lips before it was stolen by Rhys’ lips pressing against hers once more in a frenzy. He carried her with full confidence through her apartment, knowing exactly where her bedroom was – he’d been here so many times before, but seeing him so self-assured really did something for Feyre. Her arms were firmly snaked around his neck, one hand reaching up into his hair to force him closer, the other digging relentlessly into his back.

He only broke the kiss as they burst through her bedroom door, though it didn’t stop him from suckling and biting at her neck. “You have condoms in here?”

“If you- ah- stop touching me right now, I swear to god, I will k-kick you out,” Rhys lowered her onto the bed gently before beginning to climb over her, still maddeningly too clothed for her taste. He looked absolutely delectable in his well-tailored pants and belt, dress shoes still on somehow and jaw slightly agape. His pupils were blown wide as he took in the breadth of what she’d said, but she really wanted to speed this realisation along. Her hand shot down, palming his cock roughly over his pants. “I’m on birth control, now fuck me already.”

The clanking of his belt buckle and the accompanying thwip as he yanked it out of his belt loops made Feyre’s skin break out in goosebumps. “Whatever you want, pretty girl, I’ll give you. I’m all yours.”

He took a moment to coax her onto her stomach, guiding her wrists above her head before wrapping his belt around them until the leather dug into her flesh slightly, a delicious pleasure-pain as he restrained her. “All mine,” Feyre said in turn, pressing her ass into the air to tease him into giving her exactly what she was after.

The lack of his body’s warmth against her made her shiver slightly, the sound of his shoes being discarded and the rustle of fabric from behind her making her even slicker at her core than she already was in sheer anticipation. Soon enough he was behind her again, hands on her hips to pull her back against the searing length of him and splay her out exactly as he wanted. As much as Feyre was desperate to get a glimpse of his cock – her cunt fluttered just feeling the length and girth of him pressed against her backside – she knew, in the back of her mind, she would have plenty of time to get well acquainted[c6] . Suddenly Rhys’ hand was in her hair, wrenching her head back as he leaned over her.

“Gonna let take you, baby? Let me mark you up and make sure all your neighbours know who’s cock you’ll be coming on? You’re gonna be so good for me, right? I’ll make sure that my cock fits inside you so well.” His free hand was over her core, thumb idly tracing circles on her clit.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it all. I’ll be so good, please.”

With that his hand pulled away from her centre, moving back to grip her hip bruisingly tight as he notched himself at her entrance, thrusting into her and oh god, the stretch of it all made Feyre release the most wanton moan into the bedsheets. Her brow pressed against the bed with eyes clenched shut as she focused solely on the delightful sting, the way she felt just that little bit closer to right, to the full sensation she was chasing.

“Christ, Feyre, you’re better than any fantasy, did you know that? So tight and dripping just for me.” Rhys murmured in her ear, showering her in sweet words and mind-meltingly delightful praise. He pulled back before pushing in again another few inches, Feyre muttering curses under her breath between please and more and yeses.

Rhys pulled himself out almost entirely, tip nearly slipping out of her with a whine before he slammed all the way home and Feyre screamed as she flung her head back, walls pulsing around him as he hit a spot inside that made her mind go blank for a few moments. The exposed line of her neck allowed Rhys to litter the creamy expanse of skin all the way down to the curve of her shoulder with dark purple hickeys, ah-ah-ah spilling from her lips like prayers as he kept slamming in relentlessly in conjunction with his ministrations. There was nothing except him and her and the way he was practically splitting her in two and the sting of the marks that told the world she was his. Nothing else in this world would feel quite as right to her as this moment, right now, merely a slave to the pleasure Rhys was more than willing to provide.

That telltale tension at the base of her spine continued to build with no signs of slowing down. She couldn’t help but begin to babble sugary-sweet nonsense from her mouth totally unfiltered, nothing but love and adoration and utter bliss that she was swimming in all verbalised. “Fuck, fuck, Rhys, I lo-love you- Love you so mu-uch. All yours, all yo- mmh!”

His pace picked up, much less measured and more animalistic as his hand flew from her hair to smack her ass sharply. She couldn’t help but moan like a whore in response. “Yeah, y-yeah you are. Love you so fucking much, nobody else for me but you, Feyre.” The way he was losing himself in her only brought her ever closer to the edge of her release – the way he was so gone for her made her only fall deeper and deeper into her feelings for him and she didn’t want it any other way. “Gonna be a good girl and come with me? H-Huh? Fucking take it, come for me, take it-“

With that last little drop of praise she was gone, sobbing a little with the intensity of her orgasm hitting her like a tidal wave. Her pussy clenched around Rhys’ cock relentlessly, feeling every twitch of it as he painted her inner walls with cum, letting out a series of filthy moans into her ear. It felt like a small eternity as those tidal waves slowly eased into a lapping tide, until the both of them were well and truly spent, fucking her right through until the two of them were curled up together in her messy sheets. Rhys moved to undo the belt around her wrists, throwing it haphazardly off the bed and onto the floor. Feyre let out a small whine as he pulled out of her, pressing her ass against him as she felt his spend leaking out onto her inner thigh. It didn’t escape Rhys’ notice, his fingers dipping low to lazily sweep through and push it right back into her, a subtle act of possession that was far hotter than it had any right to be.

She rolled over to face him, unable to bear another moment without being able to look at that perfect face and smile softly at him, perfectly sated. Rhys simply smiled back, pressing soft and lazy kisses to her mouth with the cutest, most dopey expression shaping his features. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her as closely to him as he could manage while the other pressed her head gently into the crook of his neck. Their skin was slicked in a sheen of sweat, the stickiness of it all ensuring there wasn’t a single gap between them.

There was nowhere else she’d rather be.

“You know you’re stuck with me forever now, right? Love you too much t’let you go ever again.” Feyre mumbled, the weight of sleep already starting to take her so easily in Rhys’ arms.

“Of course, and you’re insane if you think I’m letting anybody else s’much as look at you. Us against the world, right? Always has been.” Rhys murmured in her ear, a gentle kiss pressed into her hair.

“Always will be.”

Feyre pressed a tender, gentle kiss to his neck before drifting off into sleep. Her sleep was restful and dreamless, something that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She almost would have thought the whole previous night was a dream if it wasn’t for the warmth of him and his near-violet eyes greeting her in her bedroom the next morning. As long as she was with Rhys, she knew every day would feel like a dream no matter what.

She’d be forever grateful that it was her new reality.

[venus-haze]

Adam Raised a Cain (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: The Sinclair house is haunted. It always has been and always will be as long as it’s standing. It’s a house you can’t think straight in, always keeping you on edge. The inhabitants are haunted too, and the longer you stay there, the further into the mire you get dragged by a dead woman’s claws and a man who can’t seem to decide whether he hates you or not.

Note: This fic can be considered a companion piece to Howl, though you don’t have to read one to understand what’s going on in the other. The reader is a woman (who gets put through the wringer again) but no other descriptors are used. It should surprise no one that the title comes from a Springsteen song. I’m going with the draft script where Bo killed Trudy, but it’s only mentioned briefly. Also I headcanon the Sinclairs as being Catholic for the drama of it all, so there’s some of that sprinkled throughout, though I want to explore that more at some point. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Murder. Descriptions of violence involving weapons (guns and knives). Disturbing and sadistic behavior. Misogyny. Kidnapping and prolonged captivity which involves physical abuse, emotional and psychological manipulation, major Stockholm syndrome, distorted sense of self. Unrequited crush (reader on Vincent). Threats of harm to one’s self. Descriptions of body horror on a victim and also parental abuse. Mentions of sexual content but nothing explicit. Do not interact if you are under 18. 

You didn’t have to meet Trudy Sinclair to know you hated her. Some place between nowhere and eternity, you hoped her incorporeal being ached every time her name was internally cursed upon by you. Her specter loomed throughout Ambrose, a shadow that somehow had a chokehold on your life, but more so on your—captor? boyfriend? fiance? Whatever Bo was to you, he made Trudy your problem too.

The day after Bo brought you up to the house, he made you go back down to Ambrose with him, giving you no indication of what he had planned except to wear black. When he brought you to the church, an odd building you hadn’t noticed before, you wondered if god could even be present in such a place. Regardless, he led you up the aisle, past the wax congregation and up to the coffin that lay before the altar where the wax priest was giving the funeral mass through a recording that played on loop. As if the scenario wasn’t morbid enough, Bo knelt in front of the open casket, and you followed his example, paying your respects to his wax-preserved, deceased mother. 

You’d gone to funerals before, seen relatives and friends done up in open caskets, one last hurrah before becoming food for worms. Trudy had been dead for at least a decade, you knew as much, but for a 10-years-dead bitch, she didn’t look half bad, all things considered. Her manicured hands, long red acrylic fingernails filed into what you could only call claws, were gripping a glass-bead rosary—you doubted she was a pillar of piety. Though, you could see her blonde wig was somewhat ajar, revealing what looked like an entry or exit wound on her temple. You knew better than to ask who shot her. 

Anything you did around the house was under Bo’s scrutiny, and you were constantly compared to Trudy. For a man who seemed to live on microwave dinners before you started cooking, he sure had a lot to say about every meal you prepared. His most common critique was “Ain’t how mama made it.” Especially for Trudy’s recipes, written in a feminine scrawl on discolored index cards that you painstakingly followed to the letter. Her recipes weren’t good, either. Unseasoned slosh despite living in proximity to the capital of Cajun cuisine in the States. 

Bo had seemed glad when you offered to clean up around the house, how quickly it seemed like you’d learned your place within the Sinclair household dynamic. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. It never was with Bo. When you greeted him as expected when he returned home, with a warm kiss and a cold beer, he flew into a rage upon finding you had, in fact, cleaned. He somehow didn’t consider that cleaning involved you organizing belongings and throwing out garbage, ranting about how you can’t touch his stuff and now he can’t find anything. 

Mornings weren’t too bad. In fact, it was when things were most domestic with Bo, when you could best convince yourself that you were in a normal relationship with him. Morning sex with Bo was far tamer by his standards than any other time he’d have sex with you, and sometimes he’d actually kiss you during it. 

Despite technically not being on a schedule, he liked to be out of the house by 9 to work on whatever he did to keep Ambrose up and running. It didn’t matter whether or not you were an early riser, because he inexplicably was, and expected you to cook breakfast for him each day, a hot plate of whatever was in the fridge and a freshly brewed cup of coffee waiting at his seat by the time he sauntered downstairs. He’d greet you with a grin and a smack on the ass, as if you two were playful newlyweds.

Though you lived in the house, he didn’t entirely trust you, as he’d wait for you to eat your portion of whatever meal you’d cooked first before digging in. Playing house with Bo was far more stressful than you could’ve expected, though you hoped over time you’d get the hang of it. With the glittering ring adorning your finger, it seemed like he expected you to.

This particular morning was a pan of half a dozen scrambled eggs and a few slices of toast. You liked working with the radio on, cooking and cleaning during the day felt far less lonely with another voice around. Only three radio stations got any reception in Ambrose and one of them wasn't even consistent, as you found to your disappointment. Bo’s metal music was a collection of mixtapes made by various victims, which sent a chill down your spine as you briefly considered the implications. With your radio choices being country and oldies, you chose oldies, finding Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday the appropriate soundtrack to your Stepford Wives-esque existence. A lump always formed in your throat whenever Connie Francis came on, no matter the song. She was Trudy’s favorite singer, Bo had informed you one day.

You took your seat next to him, grabbing one of the nearby newspapers. Bo would bring you newspapers or magazines he got from victims. It was how you found out you’d been in Ambrose for nearly three months by the time he let you out from captivity beneath the gas station. At first, you scanned every one for some mention of your disappearance, but gave up hope after a few weeks. Instead, you resigned yourself to ripping recipes out of women’s magazines and preoccupying yourself with crossword puzzles and comic strips.

Still, you found the astrology sections interesting and read yours and Bo’s horoscopes over breakfast each morning. He hated when his was negative, even though he claimed “I don’t believe in that garbage,” so sometimes you’d have to improvise. The news of the world was increasingly foreign to you, and you found the trends and gossip in magazines vapid. 

“Whatcha got today?” he asked through a mouthful of eggs. 

Though the paper was from two days prior, your eyes drifted to your sign. “Luck in love.”

“Damn right, darlin’.”

“Yours says an unexpected stranger will help you.”

He made a noncommittal grunt, shrugging before downing the rest of his coffee. “I’ll try to make it back here for lunch, but I probably won’t be home till late tonight. You give Vincent a holler if you need somethin’.”

“Okay, I love you,” you said, as was expected.

He didn’t always say it back, but for some reason, he made you tell him you loved him before he left in the mornings. You wouldn’t fight it, not if it made his mood even remotely better than the mildly-pissed-off to furious states that he seemed to operate under. In that instance, he returned the sentiment with an unknown amount of sincerity, giving you a kiss before leaving his dirty plate and empty coffee mug behind for you to clean. 

You liked taking your time with your chores for the day. It was easier to cope with everything if you kept yourself too busy to start thinking too much. You flipped to the next page of the newspaper, reading some of the letters to the editor. 

Creaking stairs caught your attention, and you looked up from the paper, surprised to see Vincent making an appearance so early. He was more of a night owl and seemed to avoid Bo when he could. The first time you met him was awkward as hell, and you still found it difficult to make eye contact with him over it. Bo had been in the middle of fucking you on the kitchen counter when his twin emerged from his basement ‘studio.’ You were mortified, and Vincent seemed to be as well, since he began backtracking until Bo shot him a grin, “Good ‘a time as ever to make introductions.” At least Vincent had the decency to mostly leave you alone since then.

“Morning Vincent,” you said, petting Jonesy as she ran up to your side. “Breakfast’s scrambled eggs.”

He nodded in response, piling the cold eggs on a plate and sticking it in the microwave. You looked down at Jonesy. She was a sweet dog, but you saw her just about as often as you saw Vincent, since she seemed to be his shadow.

“Do you want coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

He looked at the coffee pot, considering it for a few moments before shaking his head. Unlike Bo, who drank half a pot of coffee every morning, Vincent would switch between coffee and tea in the mornings, at least the mornings you actually saw him. It wasn’t uncommon for Vincent to disappear for days at a time, though you always cooked enough for him, leaving a plate for him in the fridge.

Bo was a creature of habit, as you’d observed his strange and sometimes disturbing rituals living in the house with him, from drinking a beer as soon as he got home each evening to spending at least an hour visiting Trudy’s casket in church every Sunday at noon. Vincent seemed to do things sporadically, getting so involved in his work that you weren’t sure if he consistently ate let alone showered like he should. You knew they were twins, but even when you first met Vincent, you were aware of how different he was from Bo.

Of course, meeting Lester was nothing short of a shock to the system. You had felt like you were going crazy when you saw the man from the highway who’d directed you and your friends to Ambrose in the first place walk into the house with a friendly smile on his face while you were preparing lunch. Then Bo introduced him as his “kid brother” and Lester congratulated you for “shacking up” with Bo. The experience was dizzying and confusing, especially since you ended up getting along with Lester surprisingly well, having the closest thing to a regular, mundane conversation in months. He didn’t come up to the house very often, though.

Compared to Bo and Vincent, Lester seemed normal enough, though he was still complicit in your suffering and that of everyone else who came through Ambrose. You could barely piece together how it all started, when had their mother’s career warped into the surreal hell you found yourself in? Was it inevitable or avoidable? 

From the news clippings you’d seen throughout the house, Trudy was undoubtedly talented when it came to wax art, but you couldn’t tell whether the grainy, black and white photos of the wax figures she posed with were real, like how your friends ended up. Then again, Ambrose had been a small, bustling town with real people to notice if tourists went missing. Once the highway was built and the sugar mill shut down, everyone left but the Sinclairs. Not that there was anywhere else for them to go, since Dr. Sinclair was practicing medicine unlicensed in Ambrose and Trudy’s skills didn’t have much of a practical application outside of being an eccentric and volatile small town celebrity. 

You noticed that Bo rarely mentioned his father, and when he did, it was only in the context of his mother. There were no stories about playing catch with his old man or going to car shows together. If the myriad of rusted surgical tools laying around the house were any indication, you had a good guess as to how Bo bonded with his father, since Vincent seemed to get most of his mother’s attention. You could practically see Bo–young, devious, and starving for some kind of positive parental attention–kissing up to his father with claims that he wanted to be a doctor just like him someday. He probably ended up with a front row seat to the illegal and risky procedures that Dr. Sinclair performed in the family home. The one time you had to go into the dusty room that was the late Dr. Sinclair’s office, you almost passed out at the sight of the surgical bed that looked far too much like the one you had been strapped to for months beneath the gas station. 

By the time you looked up from the newspaper, not having read a word of the letters to the editor, Vincent was gone, and Jonsey along with him. You sighed, figuring it was about time to start cleaning up from breakfast and get to the laundry list of tasks for around the house. As a result of none of the Sinclair brothers keeping up very good care of the place, there was a lot that had to be done in the way of cleaning. You hated it when you had to point out yet another part of the house that needed repairs to Bo. It was necessary, but you sure as hell didn’t want to push your luck by seeming like you were nagging him. Some days you really thought he was going to call it and either bring you back to the basement or kill you. You weren’t sure which option scared you more. 

After cleaning up from breakfast, you began the task of cleaning out Lester’s old bedroom. He’d assured you that he had taken everything he needed when he moved into his own place and gave you the okay to throw away whatever you found in there. It would be a long undertaking, as you discovered when you first looked in the room, full of junk and smelling rancid. You had a bucket of cleaning supplies that you kept under the kitchen sink, all of which Bo had bought for you under the pretense that if you tried something smart with the cocktail of chemicals, he’d pour bleach down your throat himself. 

Equipped with yellow rubber gloves and a dozen trash bags, you began cleaning your way through the room. It seemed Lester had developed his knack for taxidermy in his childhood bedroom before moving out, as you found roadkill in various states of preservation in a cardboard box. You shoved it all in a garbage bag, resisting the urge to gag at the smell. 

Despite the monumental cleaning job before you, you were confident in your ability to make the room habitable–for whom, you weren’t exactly sure, but it’d be better than the state it was in. It had gotten to be a little past noon when you decided to go through one more box before taking a break for lunch. You’d set aside some things you found that Bo might want, figuring it best to check with him after the fit he threw when you cleaned his room.

When you opened a small, dusty box in the closet, your eyes widened upon seeing a pistol laying amongst other junk. You weren’t sure if it was even real, let alone usable, but holding it in your hands sent a shockwave through you. Dropping everything, you sprinted into your and Bo’s room, finding a shoebox with a pair of heels you never wore shoved toward the back corner of the closet. Your breath caught in your throat when you heard the front door open, Bo calling for you. Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to be home. Haphazardly, you threw the gun in the box, pushing it back in place before rushing downstairs.

“What’s kept you so busy?” he asked, regarding you with suspicion.

“Lester’s old room. I lost track of time,” you explained, sweat beading at your forehead.

To your relief, he laughed. “Shit, I don’t even wanna think about what’s in there. If you still got an appetite, I picked up somethin’ to eat while I was in town.”

“That sounds great. Let me wash up,” you said, giving him a kiss before heading into the bathroom.

You turned on the sink, holding your hands under the running water until it was too hot to touch, pulling your stinging hands away and staring at them. Less than five minutes ago, you had a gun in your hands, a get out of jail free card, and now you were going to eat lunch with a man who made your life miserable. 

Bo had already helped himself to one of the burgers he’d bought from McDonald’s the next town over. You sat down in your seat, munching on the cold french fries that had spilled onto the table. The food wasn’t necessarily good, but it gave you some comfort with its familiarity. He was in an unusually good mood, which you were sure wouldn’t last, so you relished in it, allowing yourself the luxury of pretending you were having a normal lunch with your normal boyfriend. He told you a funny story about a woman falling over in a hardware store he’d stopped in for supplies. Sure, it was mean-spirited, but the way Bo told the story had you nearly doubled over.

“You got a great laugh,” he said with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said, shocked and flattered by the compliment.

His eyes were bright as he looked at you, but it didn’t last. His expression became serious, and he picked up his hat from where he’d placed it on the table. “I better head back out. I’ll see ya later, darlin’.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, kissing your cheek before leaving.

After cleaning up the mess from lunch, long enough to be sure you were in the clear, you raced back upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind you as you retrieved the shoe box from its hiding spot. Adrenaline rushed through you as you picked up the gun, staring at it in awe.

You bit your lip, silently praying to whatever deity may have been out there that if they could give you one thing, it’d be to not accidentally set off the gun while you tried to figure out whether or not it even had any bullets in it. Of course, as soon as it made some kind of clicking noise, you shoved it back in the box. Vincent was more than likely in his studio, but with how he’d spontaneously make appearances in the house, you didn’t want to take a chance.

As you went back to cleaning Lester’s old room, you tried not to let your discovery burn through your mind. It was so hard not to, though, not when for the first time in months you actually had a chance. You had to plan, knowing better than to be sloppy and impulsive when it came to Bo and Vincent. 

While Bo liked to have his routine, his schedule could be unpredictable, especially if tourists came into town. You avoided Vincent’s studio, but knew it connected to other parts of town through a tunnel system. Both brothers were capable of ending you in an instant. They knew Ambrose’s layout by heart whereas you’d only actually seen the town on a handful of occasions, and very briefly at that.

Noticing the sky getting dark through the window, you set your racing thoughts aside to focus on cleaning. Easier said than done since you dreaded nighttime, the sunset marking the end of the day, when you’d have Bo’s undivided attention. The evening was routine, as he expected you to wait by the door for him with a cold beer and a warm kiss when you heard his truck pull up outside. The two of you would eat while he talked about his day, but from there, it was a crapshoot. It didn’t matter whether his mood was good or bad, you inevitably ended up manhandled into bed at some point in the night to scratch whatever itch he had. 

Bo wouldn’t be back until late, but you weren’t sure what to make for dinner. Sometimes he’d request certain dishes, and others you’d just have to hope he liked whatever you cooked. Even if he complained, he still ate what you served him. 

You headed downstairs, dragging the garbage bags filled with junk behind you. While you still had a ways to go before you’d consider Lester’s old room clean, it was nice seeing evidence of your hard work. Calling out to Vincent, you let him know that you were going to bring the trash out. He’d hear you go out there anyway, but you quickly learned it was a lot less trouble if you let him know beforehand.

The night air was cool as you threw bag after bag into the garbage cans outside the house. You weren’t sure where Bo took everything when he’d load up the back of his truck every week. Out of sight, out of mind, you supposed. 

Rushing back into the house and out of the cold, you quickly decided to make some kind of soup, hoping there’d be adequate ingredients for it in the fridge. A major downfall of not being able to get your own groceries meant having to rely on Bo to grab the food you requested and not whatever he felt like throwing into the cart.

Just about everything you needed was in the kitchen, and oddly enough, you felt excited for Bo to come home for dinner, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that loomed over you as you chopped and sautéed vegetables. Things always seemed to balance in Ambrose. Bo’s unusually good mood earlier in the afternoon would be matched with a horrific one when he got home.

You unfortunately experienced such in your stint in the basement dungeon below the gas station, the fresh scars on your body evidence of this. As much as you used to pray for predictability, you hated knowing something horrible was about to happen next. 

The soup was almost to your taste when you heard Bo’s truck pull up outside. Grabbing a can of beer from the fridge, you tried to hold out hope, you’d go crazy if you didn’t. 

As soon as you heard the way he stomped up the front steps, you could feel all of the butterflies in your stomach die one by one. The door swung open to reveal Bo, covered in blood and sweat. Whatever victims had come into Ambrose put up a fight he clearly wasn't expecting.

He grabbed the can of beer from you, throwing it across the room, leaving a fresh hole in the drywall. You ran into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and rushed back into the living room, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table.

You pulled up a chair close to him, setting out the first aid kit on the table. At a glance, it seemed like his wounds were mostly superficial, so you assumed most of the blood wasn’t his. Still, there was a decent looking cut on his forehead above his left eye.

“I swear to god this shit’s more trouble than it’s worth sometimes,” he mumbled. 

You didn’t respond, trying to carefully pour peroxide onto a cotton ball, only for some of it to spill onto the kitchen floor. 

He grabbed the cotton ball from your hand, pressing it against his forehead as he hissed out, “You sure are too, when all you’re good for is gettin’ fucked. Mama would be rollin’ if she knew a slut like you was in her house.”

Your jaw clenched. You wouldn’t even be in the damn house if it weren’t for him. It wasn’t like you’d invited yourself. He was trying to get a rise out of you, make you feel as awful as he was feeling. That was his M.O. when he was feeling down, drag everyone down with him.

“What? You got somethin’ to say?”

The clock read 13:77 when you reached for the gun you hid in your pocket. Since when did this dress have pockets? Wordlessly, you stood up, firing three shots into Bo’s chest. His expression was almost cartoonish as the chair tilted back and crashed onto the floor, his head rolling away from his body like a bowling ball.

You awoke with a start. The dream seemed so real up until the end. You almost went upstairs to see if Bo was still alive. You had patched him up, and he had made his cruel comments toward you. In reality, the interaction ended with his demanding you sleep on the couch as he wasn’t in the mood to fuck you, and that was the only reason he let you in his bed in the first place. You were nothing short of humiliated and furious when you laid on the couch with a worn out blanket, crying yourself to sleep into one of the smelly throw pillows.

As you shifted, you noticed another blanket in much better condition was on top of you. It felt like some kind of quilt, not that you could tell in the dark. You hated that your broken ass brain made you love Bo regardless of everything he did to you, when clearly Vincent was considerate enough to cover you with a real blanket.

After about an hour or so of tossing and turning, you fell back asleep. With no alarm around, you could only hope to wake up in time to make breakfast for Bo. There were no dreams of gunshots or decapitated heads this time.

A little after six in the morning, you woke up to the sound of Vincent rifling through a drawer in the kitchen. You sighed in relief. Sure, it was earlier than you were used to getting up, but you could possibly sneak a nap in during the afternoon if Bo was out for the day. You hoped he would be. 

You looked at the thick quilt that was covering you, noticing dried bloodstains on it. Other than that, it was in pretty good condition and appeared to be handmade. You wondered who made it, and when. Right away you knew it wasn’t Trudy’s work, all she seemed to have cared about when she was alive was wax sculptures and terrorizing her children. It probably came from a victim, a family heirloom they had brought along with them when their trip ended prematurely in Ambrose. The thought made you push the quilt off of your body.

Shuffling into the kitchen, you were surprised to see Vincent still there. He always made his trips upstairs short and scarce. 

��Thanks for the blanket,” you said.

He hesitated before nodding. 

“Is there anything special you want for breakfast?” 

You watched as he opened one of the cabinets, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms. 

“I figured you must be the one eating the cereal. Bo got so mad when I tried giving him Froot Loops one morning, I just gave up on it,” you said.

Vincent shrugged as he poured the cereal into a bowl with a worn out Snoopy design on it.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

His head shot up in your direction, so quickly it nearly startled you. You recognized him signing ‘No.’

“Well, let me know if I am, okay?” you said. “I–um–I can go, if you want to eat in here.”

He motioned with his thumb toward the basement. Right. Two new victims needed his attention. Still, you found it odd he even ventured upstairs. Usually he’d have to be torn away from his work by Bo, insisting he needed to take a break. Even then, he’d do so quickly and reluctantly until his sculptures were finished. 

You took your time making breakfast but weren’t sure what to expect when you heard Bo coming down the stairs. You’d been on the receiving end of his wrath plenty of times, from blunt knives to bloody fists, you’d taken it all from him–as if you had a choice. Still, he’d never cast you out like that before.

He stood in the doorway almost awkwardly, and you acknowledged his presence with a slight nod. With this, he closed the distance between the two of you, and you tensed up.

“Missed you last night,” Bo said, leaning against the counter as if he hadn’t banished you to the couch.

Those words were the closest to an apology you were going to get. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to hear him say ‘I’m sorry’. If he ever uttered that phrase, something would have to be terribly wrong. Everything was your fault anyway. It always was.

You shook your head, giving him a forced smile. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”

That was it. Your apology and admission of wrongdoing tied up neat in a bow for him. Unfortunately, his expression fell, and you wracked your brain for what you left out of your statement. Clean, crisp, and concise, there was nothing wrong with it. Why wasn’t he happy with you doing what was expected? 

He didn’t respond after that, and breakfast was mostly silent. You sure as hell weren’t going to initiate conversation with the man who made what he thought about you more than clear the night before, ruining what had been such a good afternoon that you had been looking forward to him getting home. Trying to pretend with Bo was pointless. He always ran his mouth and ruined it. 

You were relieved when he left for the day and didn’t return until late in the evening. Though you did what was expected, as always, there was a coldness to your actions. In your heart, you’d forgiven him for so much despite him not deserving any of it, but the way he treated you the night before stuck with you more than anything else he’d done. 

Your cool attitude toward him thawed over the next few days, getting into the normal routine as he graciously allowed you to share a bed with him again after three nights of roughing it alone, him in his bed and you on the old couch that made your back hurt. Three nights wasn’t even that long, but somehow the separation had made him insatiable, as he practically devoured you as soon as you stepped foot in his room. Hours had passed by the time he finally stopped–your wrists were bruised, lip bleeding profusely, salty tear tracks drying out the delicate skin on your face. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Even though there weren’t as many tourists coming through Ambrose, and even during the “busy season” they were few and far between, Bo almost always had something to do in the wax town or errands to run in the next town over. Lester had come by to visit more often, which lifted your mood. Conversations with him tended to be on the lighter side.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna take a look at your old room? There’s still a lot of stuff in there,” you said.

“Most of it ain’t mine. I’ve lived on my own for a long time now,” he answered.

“How far is your place from here?”

“Few miles. Maybe you can visit soon.”

What you wouldn’t give to spend a few hours outside Ambrose, even if it was at Lester’s house. You were dying for a change of scenery. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. I’ll have to ask Bo.”

“I can’t see him sayin’ no. He’s got a real soft spot for ya.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you gave Lester a smile before letting him steer the conversation elsewhere. What the fuck about your split lip indicated anything soft was going on with Bo? You didn’t want to begin thinking about how he treated his other partners. You nearly laughed at yourself–as if Bo considered you remotely equal to him. Besides, your affection had shifted toward his twin not long after the blanket incident.

When you weren’t cleaning Lester’s old room or doing routine chores around the house, you’d hang out downstairs with Vincent. You asked him several times if you were bothering him, but as no victims had come through Ambrose in a few weeks, he wasn’t as busy. He worked on projects that had fallen to the wayside in the urgency of creating with his living subjects. 

The studio was silent, save for the opera music, but sometimes you’d have long, rambling, mostly one-sided conversations. After months of giving short answers to Bo in fear of his temper, it was nice to vocalize what you were thinking, mundane observations and surface-level feelings. 

You knew what Vincent had done, what he was capable of, but when you’d watch him work, shaping and molding the wax like it was second nature, you couldn’t help but admire his artistry. His hands were big and strong like Bo’s, but there was a softness to them. You wondered what they’d feel like on your skin, if he’d hold you, caress you with the gentleness that Bo was deeply lacking. 

If Bo was aware you had been spending your free time with Vincent, he didn’t say anything about it. Sometimes you’d look at Bo, trying to imagine his face on Vincent’s body. You’d only ever seen Vincent with his mask on, and there were no photos of him maskless anywhere in the house. You wondered if his expressions would be like Bo’s, if he could channel the same meanness his twin did. In the part of your mind that was still a hopeless romantic, you pictured him looking at you fondly. 

To your dismay, a victim had come to Ambrose, which meant you wouldn’t see Vincent for some time. As much as you allowed yourself the silly fantasies in your head and tried to romanticize him as an artist, you knew you’d never be able to stomach that overwhelming aspect of his craft. He was just as much of a killer as Bo, but you never had to witness such.

It was only a matter of time. You knew that, but you didn’t expect it to happen as soon as it did. 

You decided to make shrimp fried rice for dinner, having a craving for Chinese food and finding a promising recipe in a magazine Bo had given you. The dish was almost done when you heard an unusual noise coming from the basement. Victims usually struggled before Vincent subdued them, but this sounded different. 

As you considered whether or not to investigate, a frantic footfall that definitely wasn’t Vincent’s became louder as they ascended the stairs. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. 

The person before you hardly looked human, and you froze at the sight of him until he uttered a garbled “Help!”

Immobilized by fear, you couldn’t do anything but scream at the sight of the grotesque man before you. Nude and completely hairless, his body was littered with fresh wounds that had been inflicted and stitched up by Vincent. 

You scrambled backward, falling on your ass as you heard Vincent storming up the stairs. He grabbed the pan that was on the stove and followed the man into the living room. You could hear their struggle from your spot on the floor until there was a clang and a disgusting gurgling noise. The sound of the pan crashing to the ground made you jump. 

Vincent grunted, not sparing you so much as a glance while he dragged the man back downstairs. You tried not to throw up at the sight of the raw, burnt skin on the man’s head. 

It took you a few minutes to pull yourself together enough to stand up. Cautiously, you walked over to the door frame, feeling your stomach churn at the mess on the floor. At a loss for how to begin cleaning it up, you grabbed your tub of cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and hoped they’d do the job. 

Your hands shook as you put on the yellow rubber gloves. You tried to use the broom and dustpan to sweep up the fried rice on the floor, only finding it stuck to the bristles because of the blood it had been mixed with in the scuffle. Gagging, you pulled the clump off and threw it into the dust pan. A combination of cleaning sprays at least masked the rancid smell with bleach and lemon, and you coughed every few minutes as you used sponges and paper towels to clean the floor.

Besides yours and your friends’ victimization in Ambrose, you’d never been directly confronted with what the Sinclair brothers did. Bo rarely allowed you to leave the house, and Vincent’s subjects were brought to his studio through the various trap doors and tunnels beneath the town. You’d certainly heard things, but seeing the worst of it for yourself was harrowing. 

You scrubbed the floor frantically as you heard Bo’s truck pull up, trying to think of how you were going to explain what had happened in his absence, the snafu in the dinner he expected when he’d come home. Your brain seemed to short circuit as you tried to decide whether to keep cleaning or make a run to the fridge and grab him a beer. 

The front door swung open, and Bo’s rare good mood collapsed at the scene before him. You didn’t dare acknowledge his presence, too afraid to speak. You weren’t even sure if you could.

“What the fuck happened here?” Bo asked, observing you cleaning the mess of blood and fried rice on the floor.

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you pointed toward the kitchen. “Vincent—“

“Darlin’, go upstairs,” Bo said. 

You looked at the floor and then back up to him. 

He grabbed your arm and helped you onto your feet. “Y/N, I want you to go upstairs. Now.”

His rare use of your name caught your attention, and something in you snapped. Calling you by your name as if he knew you, as if he hadn’t made sure Y/N was long dead by the time he let you out of that basement. You wrenched yourself from his grasp and ran upstairs, not bothering to shut the door behind you as you curled up on his bed and began sobbing.

Sure, the incident scared you, and you felt guilty for not doing more to help the man. The feeling that most overwhelmed you, however, was heartbreak. It was stupid to have conjured up a romanticized version of Vincent in your mind, yet it was alarmingly easy to do so when you never witnessed any of his brutality firsthand. He was as violent as Bo, cruel too, but it manifested differently. You wailed at the crushing weight of the realization that you wouldn’t have been better off if he found you first. You would have ended up just like the man in the kitchen, your former friends, everyone else in Ambrose. He wouldn’t have saved you. He wouldn’t have given you a second thought. 

As much as Bo made your life hell, at least you were still alive. After years of feeling average and overlooked, he saw something worthwhile in you, worth keeping around—or maybe you were just desperate and weak enough for him to break you so easily. You wanted to claw your insides out for loving him anyway. 

“Doll?” Bo asked tentatively by the doorframe, the first time he ever seemed remotely nervous around you. 

You quickly gave up trying to respond coherently, rolling over and screaming into his pillow until your throat hurt and your head ached. It wasn’t fair. You tried so hard to show him you deserved to be in his house, in his bed, and it never seemed like enough. 

When you looked at him through hazy, tear-filled eyes, you expected to see that all too familiar smug expression on his face whenever you cried. Instead, he was sending next to the bed, his eyebrows furrowed in the closest thing to concern you figured he could manage. 

“You got spooked, huh?” he asked softly.

A pained noise came from your throat in response. No shit. You wished he would take the initiative to hold you, to comfort you. You knew better than to hope he cared about you, but at least he could pretend. Instead, to your further disappointment, you had to be the one to initiate any kind of tenderness.

Feeling pathetic as ever, you uttered, “Will you just hold me?” 

He sighed, his heavy footfall punctuating his reluctant non-answer. The mattress dipped as he got onto it, wrapping his strong arms around you as he gave you an imitation of the comfort you craved. You buried your face in his chest. His emotional constipation wasn’t entirely his fault. The affection and care that most people grew up with in one way or another had almost no presence in Bo’s upbringing, his wrists and ankles were evidence of that. 

Speculation and “what if’s” did you no good, though. No amount of empathizing with him could ever undo a fraction of what he’d done to you, not to mention the dozens of other people who met their end in Ambrose. Suddenly, you felt disgusted by his touch, regretting your request for it in the first place. It was insincere, disingenuous, a way to placate you until next time, and the time after that, and after that, too. Sobs wracked through your body again as you considered going through this song and dance again for the rest of your life, however short or long that would be. To your dismay, he held you closer.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms. The room was pitch black when Bo shook you awake, claiming you started screaming. You had no reason to doubt him. Despite the darkness and false sense of calm, you had trouble falling back asleep.

The following morning, panic rushed through you when you awoke late in the day, Bo nowhere in sight. All you could think about was how pissed he’d be that you hadn’t started breakfast for him yet. You practically sprinted out the bedroom door and almost fell down the stairs in your rush to the kitchen. 

He was already leaning against the messy counter, eating some concoction he’d made for breakfast directly from the frying pan. It was the first time you’d ever seen him attempt to cook. By the looks of it, you could understand why he left that to you.

“Bo, I’m so sorry. I overslept—“

“Don’t worry about it, darl’,” he said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t made it clear in the past that this was one of the few tasks your survival hinged on. “Why don’t you take it easy today. I’ll even bring home somethin’ so you don’t have to cook dinner.”

“Thank you,” you uttered in disbelief.

He glanced at the kitchen clock, setting down the frying pan as if he had a boss who’d chew him out if he was late for work. “I gotta get goin’. I’ll check on ya later.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to his—chaste, routine, robotic. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he said quickly.

Just like that, he left without incident. Reluctantly, you grabbed the frying pan—a different one from the night before, thankfully—he’d just set down, regarding the slop he’d cooked for himself with apprehension. You weren’t sure if it was edible enough for Jonesy to finish. Deciding to spare the dog from Bo’s attempt at cooking, you dumped what was left of the food in the garbage and while washing the pan, considered what to make yourself for breakfast. You ended up making plain toast before trudging your way back upstairs to yours and Bo’s shared bedroom. 

Shutting the door behind you, you dug your shoebox out of the closet and opened it, staring at the pistol that was nestled between your heels. The damn thing had been burning a hole in your conscience for weeks. It kept you on edge, yet was a source of comfort. You knew it wouldn’t last. It’d only be a matter of time before Bo found it, and you tried not to think about what he’d do to you then. 

After all, anyone else in your situation would have acted as soon as they found the gun. Instead you sat on it, telling yourself it wasn’t the right time, that you needed to plan more. It was all lies. Bo’s undivided attention was torture, but it was all yours. 

Besides, going back to a “normal” life after your months in Ambrose would be a struggle in itself. After the pity wore off, people would regard you with frustration for not getting over it fast enough. You’d seen as much with acquaintances who’d gone through traumatic events. The rest of your life would be punctuated with regular therapy sessions and taking a cocktail of medications to curb the nightmares and PTSD from your experiences. It sounded exhausting, and you were already so tired. You’d rather be broken with Bo than broken on your own.

You spent the next few hours lying in bed, considering where to go from there. Having been confronted with the worst of the Sinclair family, brutal and cruel and ruthless, it was only a matter of time before it consumed you too. 

As much as you wanted to sleep, you were afraid to, unsure of what nightmares await if you closed your eyes for too long. Instead, you stared at the wall and thought over everything that happened in the past 24 hours, replaying the incident over in your mind.

Rage filled your chest at the thought of Vincent, who hadn’t paid you any mind since the previous night, not even to check on you. He never did. At least Bo felt bad enough to give you the day off, even though he had no involvement in the incident. You couldn’t believe you had convinced yourself Vincent cared about you. It was always you initiating conversations, making yourself at home in his studio, thinking he might enjoy the company. He was only tolerating you for Bo’s sake.

Your lip trembled as you considered how lonely you felt. If one of them didn’t kill you, loneliness would do it eventually. After all, if you were going to be in such a fucked up situation, couldn’t you have the slightest bit of happiness to make your survival worth it.

Bo returned home not long after the sky became dark. While you went downstairs to meet him, you didn’t rush. You half expected him to be annoyed with you for not having a beer in hand for him, but instead, his expression lit up when he walked back into the living room from the kitchen. 

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bo said with a smile as he put his arm around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He looked at you with a gleam in his eye that you hesitated to identify as adoration. You assumed too much of Vincent and found out the hard way that you were wrong. In your hours of wallowing, you came to the conclusion that if Bo didn’t love you, you’d rather be dead. 

“I wasn’t sure what ya wanted, so I went a little crazy,” he said, gesturing to the three Olive Garden takeout bags on the counter. “Figured you probably haven’t eaten today.”

“I need to get something from upstairs first,” you said. “Is that okay?”

He nodded. “‘Course, just be quick. Food’ll get cold before ya know it.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before making your ascent upstairs. As soon as you walked back into the bedroom, you exhaled, trying to ground yourself despite your thoughts doing laps around your brain. No more talking yourself out of it. If you were going to stay with Bo, you needed him to know you were serious, that you couldn’t take the hot and cold attitude anymore. Either he wanted you, or he didn’t.

Opening the shoe box, you stared at the gun for what must have been a few minutes too long, because you flinched in shock when you heard Bo calling for you from downstairs. Grabbing the gun, you felt adrenaline rush through you as you went back downstairs with it in your hand. You almost wanted to go ahead and fire it just to see what would happen. 

His eyes widened, jaw clenched upon seeing you holding the gun. “Where’d you get that?”

“Found it while I was cleaning.”

You cocked the gun, and his chair scraped against the linoleum floor as he got up from the table, lip curled in a sneer. When you lifted the gun to your temple, however, determination seemed to leave his body as he froze in place.

“Do you love me?” you asked.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “Put the fuckin’ gun down, and we can talk.”

Your voice was loud and uneven as you demanded an answer. “Do you love me?”

“I—what is this about?”

“I can’t go back to a normal life now. I can’t fucking leave here, but I can’t keep saying ‘I love you’ to a man who doesn’t mean it when he says it back,” you said. 

It was the most you’d spoken to him since he brought you down to that basement all those months ago. Used to brief answers from you, the severity of the situation finally seemed to dawn on him. His hands were half raised as he inched toward you, the handler shit out of luck without a taser or tranquilizer to subdue the lion that had escaped its cage.

“I don’t want you to blow your brains out in our kitchen, doll. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to ya, just put the gun down,” he said, trying not to raise his voice despite the bulging veins in his neck indicating how bad he wanted to scream at you.

Our kitchen. You were holding a gun to your own head and that was the best he could do. Then again, if he really didn’t give a shit, he could have called Vincent up to help, though you’d be dead by the time his twin reached the kitchen. Perhaps he wanted to do it himself, already having your death elaborately planned out and unwilling for you to take that from him. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky sigh. Our kitchen would do.

He jolted as you slammed the gun down on the table, rattling the silverware. His eyes widened as he looked from it to you. Holding his gaze, you lifted your hand from the weapon and took a step back. 

He wasted no time grabbing it, nostrils flaring as he pushed you back into the counter. The cold barrel of the gun pressed beneath your chin so you held eye contact with him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, a scowl on his handsome face, chest heaving as he came down from the adrenaline rush. “Givin’ me half a fuckin’ heart attack while I’m tryin’ to eat my goddamn dinner. I wouldn’t go to none ‘a this trouble if I didn’t love you—“

His rant was muffled by your mouth on his, your hand on the side of his neck, thumb brushing his Adam’s apple. He growled into your mouth, setting the gun down on the counter to pull you closer in what was more teeth and tongue to be considered a kiss. 

“You don’t got any other secrets you’re keepin’ from me, do ya?” he asked almost breathlessly as he pulled away from your lips far too soon for your liking.

You shook your head. “That was it.”

“Where’d you hide it?”

“Shoebox in the closet.”

His eyes widened at your response. He hadn’t expected you to have it in the first place, but especially not under his nose the whole time. You were either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, probably a mix of both. Yet the fact that you had plenty of chances to use it and never so much as pointed it at him spoke to the desperate devotion you had for him. God, you might as well have just recited your wedding vows.

He licked his lips, “Maybe I can let ya help me out in town sometimes.”

“You mean it?”

“‘S long as you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

You knew what he meant. Being in the house meant you wouldn’t have to deal with victims directly. He hadn’t brought any up to the house for as long as you’d been there. The last you knew of was your friend who had disappeared with him to pick up a part he claimed was delivered there instead of the gas station. This was always coming, your complicit involvement in the Sinclairs’ disturbing cruelty in the name of art or legacy or something.

“Don’t make me kill anyone, please,” you implored, eyes glassy as you teared up.

“It ain’t as bad as people say. The first time makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.”

“Like when you killed her?”

He grinned, giving you a kiss. “Remember what I said when I first brought you up here? I knew I got lucky with you.”

He knew what you were thinking. It wasn’t the act itself that scared you, but rather the possibility that you would like it, that just like him it would be something you did with no remorse. 

“One day,” he whispered, voice husky as his blue eyes bore deep into yours, “one day you’re gonna do it too. You’re gonna wanna do it.”

Your voice was barely audible as you answered, “I know.”

“It’ll be the best feelin’ you’ve ever had in your life, doll. I promise.”

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - Nine

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death (but I think some of you have been waiting for this), weapons, blood, 

word count: 2.7k

eight | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom  @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21​ @unaxv​ @mal-adaptive-dreams @elizacusi-blog​ @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Jessica had sent Sunny a rather vague text stating that she would be over and they needed to talk. Calling her and blowing up her phone with texts did nothing to ease the anxiety in Sunny considering that Jessica never responded. It had been weeks of constant anxiety and worry no thanks to Bucky appearing in her life and finding out that Alix is in New York. Everything that she had worked for was about to come crashing down around her and at this point, she’s not even sure she’d survive it this time. New York was the only place she would think of that would be far enough away and big enough for Alix to not be able to find her, aside from moving abroad. But with what little money she had, Sunny had no way of getting any fake documents and there was no way she would risk Alix tracking her if she used her real ones. 

So here she is in New York after five years of hiding, awaiting the return of her devilish ex with no way out and no reassurance that she would make it to the other side of this. The appearance of Bucky and Yelena did little to ease her wrecked nervous system. Sure they may be able to protect her for a little from Alix but Sunny was bed hopping at this point; jumping from a Lycan bed to a Strigoi bed. On the bright side, it seemed like whatever business the Strigoi were involved in, it was either less illegal than Alix’s or they hid it better. So far she had heard of any police raids or anything that would suggest that Bucky and his people were being looked at by the police. Either way, monsters are still monsters, meaning that associating with any of them meant bad news for humans. 

In her usual fashion, Jessica walks right into Sunny’s apartment and loudly announces that she’s arrived and needs coffee. From her bedroom, Sunny all but rolls out of bed and barely greets her friend in the kitchen who is making herself right at home with the coffee pot. 

“Your text made it sound like you needed to talk to me about something serious.”

Jessica throws her a smile over her shoulder and continues with the task at hand, “I mean it’s not that serious but I like to be mysterious. Keeps you on your toes.”

“No it’s just fucking rude.”

“Rude to you but fun for me.”

Sunny rolls her eyes and plops down on the couch, wrapping herself in the blanket from the night before. The kiss and the hurt in Yelena’s eyes flash before her and she throws it, earning a look from jessica. She grabs another one and stares blankly at the offending piece of fabric on the floor. Jessica drops a cup on the coffee table for Sunny and sits in the same spot Bucky sat the night before. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “M fine,” Sunny mumbles, still fixated on the blanket, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Wow just diving right in, okay,” Jessica says, placing her cup next to Sunny’s untouched one, “I don’t really know how to say this.”

Sunny rips her eyes away to narrow her eyes at Jessica, “Just say it.”

The other woman starts fiddling with her nails, pulling the top of her finger from the acrylic as she searches for the right words. 

“Jesus just come out with it.”

“Sunny this isn’t something I can just come out and say.” “Yes it is.” “No you don’t understand,” Jessica looks at her dead on and lets her eyes flash gold as a light start. Sunny takes in a sharp breath and tosses the blanket as she scrambles to get off of the couch. Anger, hurt, embarrassment, and betrayal race through her as she processes what she just witnessed. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I’m still your best friend, nothing has changed that,” Jessica states in a calm voice, staying seated so as to not spook her, “Please come sit down.”

“You are not my best friend. You’re a fucking Lycan and you never told me,” Sunny breaths angrily, “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Y/N sit down. Now.”

Sunny goes completely still, her body refusing to move while her brain screams at her to run or at the very least, don’t stand still. 

“I don’t have a lot of time and there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Then talk and start with how you know my name.”

Jessica clenches her jaw but answers anyways, “We knew each other in Fresno.”

“No we didn’t.”

“Yes we did, I just had blonde hair and everyone called me Amy,” she argues, grabbing her phone to show her a picture of them together with Alix in the middle. “I swear to god Jessica, Amy or whatever the fuck your name is, if you don’t get out right now, I will call the police.”

“They can’t do anything.”

Sunny starts to back up slowly however Jessica snorts at her poor attempt at running away. 

“Alix is my pack leader and she sent me to keep tabs on you but I’m here to warn you. She’s planning on wiping out the entire New York Strigoi leadership and taking you back. You need to leave right now before she can get any closer.”

“Does she know where I am?” “She’s always known. She just likes to play with her food beforehand. ”

“So you’re telling me that she’s known where I’ve been this entire time,” Sunny drags a hand down her face at the realization that her safety has been fake this whole time and she’s never actually been free.

“Where do you expect me to go? It’s not like I can hop on my private jet and leave.”

Jessica shrugs, “I can’t help you with that. If I know where you might be at, Alix will be able to use that. I suggest that you find some place that she would never think of.”

“That’s really helpful, thank you for your wonderful advice,” Sunny scoffs while she fully backs into the kitchen. Her knives are within reach but they’re useless against a Lycan’s strength. Still she snatches one and holds it between her and Jessica. 

“Put that down and go pack. Alix has a tracker on my phone so she’ll know that I was here and will hunt me down first.”

“As if I believe you.”

Jessica’s phone rings as if on cue and she answers it, putting on a fake smile and voice when she greets Alix on the other line. 

“Hey girly what’s up?”

“Nope just hanging with my bestie.”

“She’s good.”

“No problem. I’ll be home in an hour. See ya then,” she hangs up and makes eye contact with Sunny, “Alix is on her way here. You need to get out of here like right now.”

Sunny turns and sprints to her room, slamming the door behind her and locking it with shaky hands. Like it did nights before, her chest starts to grow tighter as her breathing becomes shallower. Her hands shake as she tries to pull her thoughts together but to no avail. Without a second thought, she starts to throw random clothes into a backpack. Anything that she sees, she grabs and quickly pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She hears Jessica moving around in the front room as she slips her shoes on. A knock at her front door scares her and she drops her phone on the ground, shattering the screen as it hits the wood. 

The sound of boots dropping down has her whipping her head towards her window to see Bucky crawling into her room. He holds a finger to his lip as Yelena and Steve climb in behind him. They all have guns drawn and held out in front of them. Bucky waves a hand for her to come closer but she stays put. 

“Come here,” he whispers as Yelena and Steve flank either side of her bedroom door, whispering amongst themselves. 

“Don’t look back and keep your head down,” he whispers when he approaches her, his hand gently grabbing her by her bicep, “Stay next to me and duck when I tell you, do you understand?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Sunny whispers back, trying to rip her arm away from him but his grip tightens. 

“I’ll tell you later but we need to go now.”

“No.”

“No? Let me walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“Stop arguing like an old married couple and go,” Steve hisses at them. Bucky grumbles something under his breath and pulls her towards the window while she weakly struggles against his grip. Alix’s voice booms through the small apartment, rattling the walls in Sunny’s mind. 

“I know you’re here, Y/N, and I know you have those fucking blood suckers with you.”

“Come on draga,” he says while pushing her out of the window with a hand on her head to help her duck and other with the gun pointed behind them. There’s more pounding on the door while Steve and Yelena back up to cover them better as they slip out of the window and down the fire escape. 

Bucky takes her backpack from her and goes down before her as Sunny climbs after him. The fear of Alix is worse than blindly following Bucky. 

The door splinters as Alix breaks it down and Steve warns her to stay put before he empties his clip into her. She laughs maniacally and questions if he would really shoot his kid’s daycare teacher just to get to her. Without being able to see what’s going on, Sunny can only assume that she’s holding Jessica in front of her as a shield. She tries to stop and climb back up but Yelena and Bucky both push her to keep going down. Neither allows her to get very far as Steve tries to negotiate with the madwoman of a Lycan. 

“She’s going to kill Jess,”  she hisses at Yelena. 

“And Jess was helping her get you and kill us so keep moving,” Bucky pipes up from behind her. 

“Jess is still my friend, you dick.”

“No she’s not,” he says lowly, his voice dropping an octave. 

She turns her attention to Yelena, “You’re friends with her.”

“I wouldn’t call us that…”

Her sentence is cut off by the sound of shots firing and a heavy thud. Alix’s angry growl rips through the air around them and Steve shouts down to them to get a fucking move on it. More shots ring out that are followed by more pissed off shouts from Alix. Sunny isn’t able to comprehend what the thud is because Bucky wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her off the ladder. He doesn’t let her go as he helps Yelena and Steve down, his arm still wrapped tightly around her waist. 

The four of them take off towards the street and they clamor into Bucky’s mercedes. Sunny is shoved into the backseat and she makes eye contact with a bloody Alix as she drops to the ground. Not a thing has changed about the Lycan in the five years that it’s been since they last saw each other. She’s even still wearing her signature black and white braids albeit some are stained red from what she assumes is Jessica’s blood. She clasps a hand over her mouth as the dry tears burn her eyes. Alix gives her a deadly smirk as they speed away from the curb as if to say ‘this isn’t over’.

Yelena grabs her free hand and tries to coax her to look at her, “Hey look at me.”

Sunny drops her head into her hands after she pulls her hand back and silent sobs take over her. Bucky looks over his shoulder at Yelena and then to Sunny. Yelena and him share a concerned look as Steve nervously checks the mirrors, praying that Alix isn’t following them. 

“I don’t think anywhere in the city is going to be safe, Buck,” he tells their boss. 

Bucky lets out a deep sigh, “I don’t think this country is going to be safe.”

“Bucharest?”

Bucky nods in agreement, “I’ll call Peggy and let her know. Yelena get the plane ready.”

“You’re not taking me out of the country,” Sunny says, struggling to keep a stable voice. 

“Do you want to be safe?” Bucky remarks. 

“You’re not taking me out of the country,” she repeats. 

Bucky repeats his own question but when he doesn’t get an answer back, he nods to Steve that they will be going to Romania regardless of what Sunny says. 

The car fills with a thick tension as Sunny zones out on the passing landscape outside of the window. Within a matter of minutes, everything came crashing down around her and her only chance at survival might be her end after all. 

Alix smirks as she makes eye contact with Y/N through the car window. When the car speeds away, she turns and climbs back up the ladder, wincing at the pain blooming in her shoulder. Pushing through, she barely pulls herself into the landing in front of Y/N’s window and takes a shaky breath. The blood loss is starting to blur her vision but she has shit to do. Blood smears on the window seal where she grips it for stability and she drops into the apartment. Sirens blare in the distance as the cops that neighbors called race towards her. 

Jessica gasps for air as the blood pools around her. She tries to reach for Alix, asking for help but she kicks the hand aside and steps over her body. She half turns to her and spits on her like she’s the biggest disgrace to ever grace this planet. Continuing her slow walk, she shuts the bedroom door and leaves Jessica just as she said she would if she betrayed her.

Alix grabs a towel and wraps it around the wound in her shoulder and gingerly pulls a sweatshirt she found in the living room on. The smell tells her that it’s Y/N’s and the familiarity of it calms her nerves but they begin to unravel again as she remembers that she chose the Strigoi over her. For the sake of time, she doesn’t take it off and leaves the apartment, pulling the hood up so no one can get a decent look at her face. Thankfully no one has really come out to see what happened and she’s able to slip out without being noticed or questioned. 

A small black car is waiting for her when she exits the building and she quickly climbs in. Juliette goes to question her about the smell of blood however she can sense the rage just beneath the surface of Alix’s skin. She keeps her mouth shut and her question to herself as she hides them in the flow of traffic. Alix drops her head back and lets her eyes shut as she tries to slow her breathing and hopefully slow the rush of blood coming from her shoulder. 

“Jessica is dead,” is the first thing that she says. 

Juliette hums along with the sound of her blinker. 

“They took Y/N but I don’t know where they’re going. Has that Strigoi bitch said anything?”

“Uh,” Juliette pauses as she glances at the car’s screen, “She said they’re going to Romania but that’s all she knows.”

“Fuck,” she hisses and grips her shoulder hard, “Figure out how to get us there and tell her to not let Y/N out of her sight.”

[bleachbleachbleach]

8/19-8/25/2024

ToT I know I said I was hoping to finish Renji 11 this week, but I ended up not having much writing time. Of the 3.5 scenes remaining, I did not finish any scenes at all--not even the 0.5, because that 0.5 scene is exactly as difficult as I thought it was going to be.

Kensei wants something from Renji, but wants it without having to explain to Renji why he wants it, what it is, or why he wants it from Renji, specifically. Which is a tall order, exacerbated by the fact that Renji does not actually care about any of this, so has absolutely zero skin in the game re: the great Muguruma Mystery. He's narrating POV, but he has no incentive to investigate/try to pry any of this information out of Kensei!

I’ve managed to get Renji to realize that Kensei EXPECTS him to care about something, but his reaction was just “lol I don’t tho??” so I dunno that that’s the in I was hoping for, especially since I still don’t think the scene/realization actually makes much sense to begin with.

I think maybe my way out of this is finding a way to convey that Kensei doesn't know who Renji is, so is just throwing out ways of interacting with him based on various typecasts of Renji until he finds something that gets him what he wants. And Renji, at some point, Yes Ands him because it is easier than being responsible, which he's had to be altogether too much of recently.

Because god hates me, I got to have a Round 2 with gift fanworks this week, too. We had a participant who missed the deadline and wasn’t great at communication. And yes, we should have just stopped it then and gotten a pinchhitter set up right off, a month ago. But they had extenuating personal circumstances and promised they were almost done, they were gonna finish! So we kept trusting them up until we needed a pinchhit within 24 hours. 🙃

Which had to be me, because despite having a lot of pinchhit volunteers, 24 hours is a rude amount of time to ask for as a turnaround—but more importantly, our pinchhitters were either all writers or in the process of selling their parents’ house, and the prompter asked for art. (Another rules adjustment for next year is going to be requiring at least one fanfic prompt! Because the writer:artist ratio in that fandom is veryyyy writing-skewed!) So I was like, great, great, I guess it is already time to make another gift for someone, but this time in a medium I do not identify with! Even greater opportunity to make something the giftee really loves, as they always do!!!

I enjoyed the creative process (which involved modgepodge and acrylics and tearing up paper and actual halftone—so many textures!) and my take on the prompt. At the same time, I know for sure it’s not the style the giftee really wanted. Which, like, yeah, you can’t and shouldn’t expect to choose someone’s art style, unless you’re paying to commission a specific artist! But also I happen to already know that this specific person is kind of…. hahahaha, yeah. So I’ve really set myself up for success and feelgood here.

MY HEAD, IT IS IN MY HANDS

[minustwofingers]

is there anything YOU are most excited to write about in the epilogue? finishing a story is such an amazing and bittersweet accomplishment! are there any scenes/details you wanted to write/include that didn’t make the final cut? any personal headcanons you have, additional terranova lore? don’t feel like you have to answer all this btw 😭 just anything you wanna include <3 thanks for readinggg

this is SO sweet lmg. i’m just excited to write ellie as someone who’s like. happy and healing after all i put them through lmaoooooo.

and omg i am SO glad u asked bc i actually have a lot to say about this bc i ended up cutting out a lot…

for scenes that aren’t making the cut:

- originally i already had whole epilogue planned out that involved ellie and y/n going back to terranova for a supply run which had the following scenes:

ellie looking through a real telescope at some stars for the first time

y/n showing ellie where she used to live

i also had a scene planned in the final part that never happened including the lab/all the evidence of ellie’s planet burning down right before y/n and dina leave, but i ended up scrapping it !

lore/headcanons/things

ellie is a loser lesbian bottom sorry everyone! i won’t be writing the smut to back this up but u have to trust me that it’s canon on this one

y/n had acrylics when she came to jackson (this one is something that an anon picked up on that i thought was very funny)

terranova would’ve killed ellie if they had known she was immune. if tlou1 had ended with ellie dying and the fireflies successfully engineering a vaccine/cure (i have feelings about whether or not this would actually be possible but i’ll save that for another day), they would’ve done everything to stop distribution once they caught wind of it. i was originally going to have ellie tell her that she was immune at the scene where terranova picks her up, but then i realized that a country that depends on the desperation of people outside of its borders would never want that

speaking of that scene: a close reader may recall what colors the terranova flag were… (this was intentional but also before i knew about the inspo behind tlou2/neil so ironic ig!)

[chthonicathenean]

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaang wool purists are snooty! I'm watching a video on machine washable wool, and the video starts with a description of how wonderful wool is (water resistant but water absorbant, warm, etc etc), but unfortunately it tends to felt if you're not careful with it. After describing the superwash process (which involves a coating of polymer, I had no idea!), she says "So what do we gain by doing this? Well, the wool is now machine washable and softer." *stares blankly at the camera with cricket sounds*

Oh pardon me, fancy fiberwear lady who thinks unadulterated wool is incomprehensibly superior, some of us have been using acrylic yarn that we can get from the craft store for years and are only just starting to explore wool! The switch from completely plastic yarn to mostly natural and a little bit plastic yarn is so much less intimidating than going directly to something that you have to give so much care to. I've seen so many instances of people not buying something if it says hand wash/dry clean only because "Ain't nobody got time for that!" so the wool now "only" being machine washable is actually a huge deal for people. Plus most people don't spend hours in frigid, windy, wet environments, so all of the main reasons that wool was such a super-fiber back in the day when people were more exposed to the elements are really just not much of a concern anymore. ALSO there's the fact that a lot of people are sensitive to textures and knowing that they can make something that touches their skin without worrying that they have proper under-layers that extend past the edges is pretty great as well.

Don't get me wrong, I think the fact that superwash wool is partially plastic is pretty important information that should be more widely known, but yikes. I will also concede the point that any industrial process is likely rife with all sorts of environmental concerns (the creator said she was an environmental chemist so it's not just "ooh, scary chemicals bad!).

She mentions that she does not judge people for their choices and points out that individual choice and systemic issues are very different things. I still think the video overall comes across as a bit disdainful.

[ottiliere]

oh my goodness your dios.. what a delight to see someone so fully invested in phantom blood dio wow. i am very happy. i love your 3D dios. really makes me want to sculpt him as well

Do it... clay is cheap bake it in the oven paint with 10 dollar set of acrylics your life will never be better. I adore phantom blood Dio so very much... years ago saw someone coin the term “phantom blood purist” and it's so funny I think about it literally every time I enter a Dio cycle. There are many aspects that go into this preference of course, and upon a great amount of time pondering i can say confidently that this is because mainly that:

1) I love history (especially the fin de siècle) and I love thinking about him in relation to Victorian values/etiquette/sociology in general... there's something so special about a society that enabled such a gross disparity of wealth&poverty while being so inherently pretentious that its asinine etiquette rules would completely elude you unless you were raised in an aristocratic family or had access to etiquette books. Dio absolutely read a great amount of these before going to the Joestar mansion btw, even before his father snuffed it I think. God help him he would not be doomed to look like a slovenly ill-bred gamin if and when he needed to manipulate the upper classes. I really can't think of a way for him to have developed these skills enough to outclass Jonathan otherwise. god and like thinking about him as a barrister too with his profligate fashion sense you just KNOW he gets drawn that way into all of the court sketches that go in all the newspapers since everyone loved to read about crime and there were a million papers for this in England alone... he'd get caricatured so bad sometimes and he is NOT happy about this.

2) You can probably tell from my indifference to the rest of the parts (except sbr; I call this the "diego rule") that I'm not the biggest fan of fantastical elements and I'm much more interested in interpersonal conflict/relationships in general... PB is extremely unique to the rest of the series because for five WHOLE chapters absolutely nothing abnormal happens and we just get to see Dio harassing Jonathan and his girlfriend until Jonathan snaps and humiliates him so bad in beating him up that he makes Dio cry. and then Dio kills his dog. Like it's literally just some impoverished child abuse victim bullying a spoiled rich kid who wanted to be his friend because lalala sunshine daisies only knows what "poverty" is from reading Oliver Twist and has no conceptual understanding of what the real-world implications of that are. That was the character development that needed multiple chapters to develop it's so fucking awesome. like yeah I'd read an entire novel of just this alone happening and how it impacts their relationship as adults no vampirism needed. I reread "dio the invader" so frequently I'm surprised the spine of my jojonium copy isn't cracked at the exact endpoint of it. I just adore him interacting with Jonathan so much it's hard to remove him from that… that's his FOIL... all the stories (some "AUs") I make with Dio involve the way he and Jonathan gravitate each other to some degree. we get the clearest view of who he is in the face of someone who is the polar opposite of himself. 🤯

2) This iteration of him is the closest degree of separation he has from his "humanity" (childhood), thus

3) I find him to be the most interesting, endearing, etc., version of him walking around, given that... well. behaviors stem from somewhere... the thematic & active severance of himself from a species he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with due to the way he adapted to help him tolerate his childhood... from his point of view I can't imagine that there is one convincing reason for him to continue being human after given the opportunity to deviate from it (despite likely still being inebriated when he vamped himself — very much an impulsive decision since he had, what, an hour or two to think that through? drunk?). If everyone's underneath him, yes, after the fact the choice seems extremely fitting. Maybe he'll cultivate a vast swathe of worshippers and disciples that obey his every command. Maybe he'll rule the world. And then, maybe, he will start to feel genuinely content for the first time in his life. But probably not. That's the drawback of having something fundamentally missing from within you.

4) He lacks a certain type of introspective awareness that 100 years alone in a box might enable him to develop... he's very animalistic to me and possesses a precarious/immature/nonexistent grasp on his emotions just given the fact that he exhibits enraged outbursts from perceived ego wounds (in both childhood and adulthood) + struggles with alcoholism due to an incapacity to self-soothe any sort of negative emotion that makes it past the self-aggrandizing filter he can't help but see life through; he really isn't in conscious control of anything happening inside of him despite needing control over everything and everyone so he can get exactly what he wants, and deserves, always. PB paints a very dim and pathetic view of his character by allowing us to see when he's most "vulnerable", which is the thing he likely hates being the most, so getting to see scenes where he's walking around publicly intoxicated and disparaging himself for acting like his father (implied: again), who he hates, and attacking men with a wine bottle for evoking the concept of his mother, who he also kind of hates but lacks the cognizant cogency to dissolve whatever cognitive dissonance is causing this mental incongruence, rules. he rules

tl;dr SDC dio is "iconic" but I feel like he misses a lot of the charm he had in part one, removed from the context of the society that had such rigid social boundaries and rules of decorum, in addition to his maladaptive approach to interpersonal relationships, his substance abuse issues, his humbling foil... he's too "cool" for me. In the end SDC dio is simply not my Dio... he is someone else's Dio. And that's okay.

[gifti3]

Short smut fic for asmo 🫡

MC and Asmo are having private time in a random room in RAD

(GN!MC and i dont bring up any parts either)

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

"You act like you haven't been fluttering your eyelashes at me all day."

"But it worked didn't it?"

You huff partially from this statement but also from the way you were bouncing in Asmo's lap. This position was tiring.

"Need some help?"

He scoots back on your futon to lean against the wall. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his hands hold your hips to support you.

The responsible part of you knew you shouldn't be doing this. But the way Asmo kept looking at you. The unnecessary touches as he passed you in the hallway…You couldn't ignore it. So you dragged him to your "secret space" you'd sneak away to when everything became too much at RAD. The spot was a room that wasn't being used in a quiet part of the school. So you slowly started sneaking in things that would certainly have Lucifer lecturing you for hours. Now it was your own personal lounge.

"This stupid...uniform...is stuffy." Your jacket was unbuttoned but you were beginning to overheat.

"That's why we should have stripped," Asmo sighs.

You rest against him. "No way. What if there's a drill or someone decides they desperately need to get in this room?"

"But that's what makes this so fun~"

He kisses you against the neck as his pelvis rolls against you.

"The idea of someone seeing us together like this...." you feel his nails digging into your hips. "It's very exciting."

You look at Asmo and almost want to laugh but realize he's being very serious. So you start to actually think about this idea.

Someone seeing you and Asmo so intimately involved with one another that you were completely unaware of your surroundings?

It's a little embarrassing but you feel a rush of arousal and end up clenching around Asmo.

"See? You always get me MC ❤ "

His kiss silences any denials you have. When he pulls back he's slightly out of breath. "MC can I finish in you? I don't want to pull out!"

You're not thinking straight and practically beg him to. You're so tired and stopped riding him a while ago so when Asmo stops supporting you to hug you instead you immediately slump down on his cock. Your body tenses and your own orgasm hits you while Asmo moans directly in your ear.

Your grip on Asmo loosens and you lay against him. As you feel your eyelids getting heavy the room door rattles.

You jump, fully awake.

"It's okay we locked the door. You're too nervous hon."

You feel Asmo's hands rubbing your lower back but you get out of his lap. And immediately regret letting him finish inside you.

You pull your school bag towards you to look for a napkin or something.

"We should get out of here anyways...."

"Nooo, let's skip our next class and hang out here! Anyways, you're obviously sleepy."

Asmo reaches his arms out towards you, motioning for you to come back into his arms.

But you shake your head and wipe your inner thigh. "I actually take notes during class though."

He huffs. "You're such a nerd." He lays on his side on the futon and starts to inspect his acrylic nails.

"...Asmo come on."

He stares intently at you. Too intently.

"Whatever you're trying to do, it's not gonna work."

"MC please, I can literally smell your horniness from here."

You deadpan. That little ability of his was so troublesome. Sometimes he was able to tell what you were feeling before you even acknowledged it.

"We can mess around after school, let's just get to class!"

"Hmmm...kay." He sits up and starts tidying himself.

...That easy???

In the middle of your class you suddenly remember you had plans with someone else after school and internally groan realizing you'd have to cancel. Dealing with an annoyed Asmo was out of the question.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and side eye said demon. He notices you looking and smiles.