#to love something without even knowing anything about it .... there's nothing like that in the world

[im4rmy]

when he hurts you during sex by accident - OT7 (idol AU)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Mark　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• after growing up with only men, he's still trying to size down his strenght when he's around you, but when he's lost in the pleasure of pounding into you chasing his climax... he loses that last thread of control. and that's a little too much for you.

• you squeeze his shoulders to get his attention but he doesn't seem to notice. "mark- wait, slow down please"

• nothing. but when he thrusts again roughly, hurting you, you scream and squirm away from him, finally getting his attention.

• "what's wrong baby?" "you were hurting me- ugh" you groan clutching your lower belly.

• mark widens his eyes. "w-what? oh my god, i'm sorry! are you okay baby?"

• you take a deep breath and relax your legs, feeling the ache already fading. you give him a little smile and get closer to him again, but his face and body are completely shutted down.

• "i'm so sorry... it's- are you okay?" "yeah, it's nothing. don't worry, okay?"

• he keeps on apologizing again and again until you snort and decide that the night it's over

• he feels so guilty that he won't touch you again for almost 2 weeks

• "i just- i fear i will hurt you again" "that was an accident, baby. i trust you"

• let's say that the sex with him will be VERY gentle and careful for the next two months or so.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Renjun　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• he's not rough in bed but he's freaky: he likes to tie you up (and to be tied up but this is not the case).

• but tonight he seems to be a little too lost in the moment to notice that you arching your back that way is not from pleasure but pain: you're lying on your belly with your hands handcuffed behind you while a whiny renjun pounds into you from the back.

• and when you feel like your back is about to break in half, you decide that is the right time to use your safe word. "APPLE PIE!"

• renjun instantly stops his movements and takes a breath to regain awareness of his surroundings and when you try to relax your back squinting in pain, he comes out of you gently. "are you okay baby?"

• "no please- u-untie me"

• you don't need to say anything else: your hands are free in no time and you collapse on the bed with a whine, face buried in the pillow.

• "talk to me pretty, is it your back?" you nod against the pillow and you feel his warm hands on you, softly massaging you.

• you breathe a few times relaxing your whole body, then you turn around to lay on your back now. you meet his worried eyes and offer him a little smile "i'm okay now"

• "are you sure? we can stop-" "nono, it's okay, really"

• you lift a little to kiss him and he reclutantly melts into your warmth again. he's still a little hesitant but it doesn't last long: you two comunicate a lot and you have a safe word for a reason. it's not the first time one of you isn't comfortable in a certain sexual activity since you both love to experiment new things. you say the safe word, the other stops and then you can continue your love making without overthinking it.

• that's why now renjun is thrusting in you again, slowly and deeply, passionately but gently, kissing you and taking care of you in his embrace. you smile at him and anything else doesn't exist anymore.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jeno　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• you love sex with jeno. you absolutely LOVE it: he's hot af, he knows what he's doing, he's a pro at using his hands and mouth. he isn't even that rough but he's strong and sometimes he doesn't notice if he's gripping your sides or your wirsts with too much strenght. let's be honest, you don't notice either in the moment.

• in the morning, however, you feel the skin on your hips BURNING. and when you look in the mirror and see dark bruises here and there... you know that jeno can't see these or he'll never touch you again. (you can't let that happen omg)

• but when you can't seem to mask the winces every time you twist your body, he knows something is wrong. he ignores your protests and lift your hoodie, revealing your secret.

• "what the fuck happened??" he looks at you worried and when you can't even look at him nor answer- he realizes it's his fault.

• "oh my god baby- did i do that? i'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me i was hurting you?!" "because you weren't! i swear it didn't hurt till this morning"

• he looks at you with mortified puppy eyes and hugs you tight. "i'm so sorry baby. does it hurt a lot?"

• you giggle and enjoy his cuddles. "no it's okay, really. it'll fade quickly, don't overthink it okay?" "mhmh"

• you stayed cuddled up like that for a while, he even skipped his gym session with jaemin just to stay with you and do absolutely nothing but spoil you with endless cuddles.

• the next night he makes up to you eating you out like never before.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Haechan　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• sex with him is messy and loud and whiny. so it's understandable that he doesn't notice immediately when your pleasure moans turn into pain ones.

• when he angles himself wrong and thrust in you roughly, you choke out a cry and flinch, but he thrusts in you again making you scream.

• he finally looks at you sensing that something is wrong and he widens his eyes seeing your hurt expression. he's out of you in a second.

• "are you okay?" "fuck- ow"

• you hold your legs to your chest to ease the pain and take some deep breaths.

• "y/n you're scaring me, say something" "i'm okay, i'm okay" "can i take a look?"

• his soft and gentle voice and his warm hand caressing your knee are enough to make you relax. you nod and let him spread your legs.

• "you're not bleeding sweetie. what if i prepare a hot bath and we can cuddle until it gets cold and then i massage your whole body with my lotion and then i cuddle you until you fall asleep in my arms?"

• you giggle at him, locking your arms around his neck letting him lift you up and bring you to the bathroom. "why i have the feeling that you're going to enjoy this more than me?"

• "impossible! i'm using my good and expensive lotion for you!" "and rubbing it on all of my naked body is not worth the waste?" "it'll be SO worth it omg"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jaemin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jaemin is a HUGE... anal lover. you have to be honest: you don't enjoy it as much as him but he loves it so every now and then you give in, despite the initial discomfort you know you'll feel.

• but today you seem to not be able to overcome the stiffness, not when you're pressed against your door, completely naked, with your buff boyfriend thrusting in and out of you from the back holding your breasts like his life depends on it. that would be the hottest thing you two did in a while (and you two do a lot of steamy sex sessions so-) if you could at least relax just a little...

• "wait jaem- please stop" "w-what?" "i-it hurts- please"

• jaemin stops his movements and release the pressure on your body. "are you okay?"

• you collapse back against his body. "i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry i can't" "what's wrong princess?" "i don't like it- it hurts"

• he starts to caress your belly leaving sweet kisses on your shoulder. "i'm sorry... was i too rough?" "no it's just- i can't relax tonight"

• you can FEEL his smirk against your skin. "mhhh my girl wants to relax? i know a thing or two that will do the work"

• in less than thirty seconds your discomfort is well forgotten and replaced by the pure bliss of his head buried deep between your thighs. a win is a win.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chenle　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• it cannot happen. during sex, chenle is entirely focused on you. he can't lose himself enough to not notice if he's hurting you.

• his every move is oriented towards YOUR pleasure so it's hard to believe he would hurt you even by accident.

• the worst it can happen is him doing something you don't really enjoy.

• "oh you don't like this? noted. and what if i do it like this instead- yeahhh that's my girl c'mon"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jisung　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jisung is not rough or wild in bed, at all. but- he's big. you're the experienced and freaky one in bed so you can play and tease him all you want masking it as foreplay but honestly- you do all of that to make sure that you're wet enough to take him without accidents (and of course you enjoy the foreplay).

• but today jisung is tipsy from wine and he seems to feel like taking control. you don't mind it, he's hot af and you're really down bad for the clumsy and awkward boy.

• so when he eagerly undresses you and BOLDLY licks and kisses your breasts you're on cloud nine, but when he goes straight between your thighs and you feel him against your core- you flinch and widen your eyes.

• "wait ji- SHIT"

• he enters in you (or at least he tries to) but you're not lubrificated enough. you curse squirming away from him, who is looking at you confused as fuck.

• you get on your feet to ease the pain and shot him a glare. "are you insane? you can't do that straight away! ouch"

• you moan in discomfort and take a few steps around his room. you're not angry at him, of course, so you take a deep breath to calm your scared heart.

• "did i- did i really hurt you?"

• you look at him and your heart melts in your lungs: he's on his knees on the bed, very naked, cheeks flushed and eyes popping out. you sigh and go back to the bed, sitting beside him. "baby, you're too big to just slide in"

• "t-too big?" "yes baby" "so i hurt you every time we-" "no! make love to you is my favourite thing in the world. but i have to make sure that i'm ready to take you. you understand?"

• jisung keeps looking at you with puppy eyes. then his gaze goes down, directly between your bare legs. he wouldn't be able to do that without alcohol in his system. he faintly nods. "i understand. i should touch you first"

• you blink a few times and try to answer but you feel his fingers on your clit and your words die in your throat. you feel his unexperienced but effective movements and relax instantly.

• "is this working?" you laugh giving him a kiss. "yes, my good boy"

• (he came right in that moment)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

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[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ELEVEN ━━ The Story of Us

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of cheating

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: never date a penn state boy (i say this from experience)

JO FEELS her body move before her mind can fully catch up, her legs shaky as she pushes herself off the bed. The room feels suffocating, suddenly too small, too loud in its silence. Asher’s phone is still in her hand, the weight of it like a lead anchor pulling her into the crushing reality she can’t seem to process. Her fingers tighten around it, her knuckles white, but her face betrays nothing. Not yet.

“Asher,” she says, her voice calm, steadier than she expects, even though it feels like there’s venom in her blood, poisoning her. “Get your shoes on.”

He’s standing near the bedroom door, mid-step. Confusion flashes across his face, his brows furrowing. “What? Why?”

Jo meets his eyes. The familiar green she’s known her whole life. But then his gaze flickers down, just for a split second, to the phone in her hand, and she sees it—the faint, fleeting flicker of something that looks like realization. Panic, maybe. Guilt.

Her chest tightens, and she feels like she might choke on the sudden wave of nausea that rises in her throat. But she doesn’t let it show.

“Just… put your shoes on,” she repeats quietly, her voice still calm, still too steady. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else yet.

Asher hesitates, his mouth opening like he might argue. But then he closes it again, his jaw tightening. He nods, moving toward the corner of the room where his sneakers lay. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but Jo can feel his unease growing with every passing second.

She starts to walk, leaving the bedroom to go put on her slippers near the apartment door. Her grip on the phone is still so tight that her hand aches, but she doesn’t let go. Her thoughts are loud, a deafening roar in her head, but at the same time, she feels hollow. Empty.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real.

The words keep looping in her mind, a desperate chant she clings to even as the truth sits in her hand, undeniable. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to see whatever’s written in his face when she says the words she knows she has to say.

She’s not a fighter. She never has been. She’s kind, and forgiving, and willing to let things slide because she hates conflict, hates the way it leaves scars on her heart and the hearts of the people she loves. But this? This is too big to let slide.

She thought she knew him. She thought he was hers.

Asher’s been her constant, her everything, for as long as she can remember. The boy next door who she used to finger paint with when they were kids. The boy who held her hand when she was anxious on the first day of middle school. The boy who kissed her for the first time in eighth grade, on one of the picnic tables at their neighborhood park.

He’s the only boy she’s ever thought about, ever wanted, ever loved. She built her future around him in her head—her dreams of getting married, of starting a life together, of building something that would last forever.

Forever.

The word feels bitter in her mouth now, a cruel joke. She can feel the cracks forming in her heart, the fissures that threaten to split her in half.

When Asher finally walks out of her bedroom, his shoes tied and on, he looks at her, his face unreadable. Jo avoids his gaze, focusing on the door instead. “Come on,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He follows her without a word, and they step out into the hallway, the soft click of the door closing behind them echoing in the stillness. They have to do this outside; Jo doesn’t want to wake up Paige.

The Jacobson girl stops a few steps from the door, turning to face Asher. She keeps her grip on his phone, her fingers trembling now despite her best efforts to stay composed. Asher stands there, his hand shoved into his pockets, his eyes darting between her face and the phone. She can see it in his posture now, the way his shoulders are tense, the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. He knows.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for her to speak first, and for a moment, she almost can’t. She stares at him, her lips parted but no sound coming out, her throat tight and dry.

She doesn’t want to do this.

But she has to.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she takes a deep breath, the sound shaky and uneven in the quiet hallway. Her voice is soft, almost fragile, when she finally speaks.

“So, her name’s Brooke?”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Jo watches as Asher’s expression crumbles. His face twists, guilt flashing so obviously across his features that she doesn’t even need to hear him confirm it. But then he does, stumbling over his words in a rush to apologize.

“Jo, I—God, I messed up. It was a mistake, okay? It���it only happened once, I swear.”

For a second, she just stares at him, her mind short-circuiting as it processes the words. Her heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, cracking with every beat, and yet she somehow still finds the strength to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. She gives him a look then, one that she knows has to cut deep.

“Why are you still lying?” she asks, her voice quieter now, but sharper, trembling at the edges. “I looked through your texts. You’ve been seeing her since September.”

The tears in her eyes blur her vision slightly, but she can still see the way his face falls completely at her words. His mouth opens, like he’s about to defend himself, about to deny it or say something—anything—that might patch up the gaping wound he’s just ripped open. But no words come out. Jo can tell he’s scrambling now, reaching for an explanation, a lifeline, but nothing comes.

Jo lets out a small, bitter laugh that feels foreign to her, a sound so unlike the person she usually is. Her body feels cold, her chest hollow, like everything inside her has been scooped out and left her with nothing but this raw, gnawing ache.

Her voice wavers as she speaks again, the tears finally slipping free, her composure fracturing under the weight of it all. “If you wanted to break up for college, we could’ve. You could’ve just told me that long distance would be too hard and you wanted to see other people. I would’ve—I would’ve understood.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she hates how small she sounds, how stupid she feels. She’s giving him too much credit, too much grace, but she doesn’t know how to be any other way.

“You didn’t have to cheat on me,” she continues, her voice rising a little now, her hurt spilling over into anger, “and then—then pretend like you still love me.”

The tears come faster now, hot and unrelenting, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She lets them fall, lets him see the full weight of what he’s done.

Asher steps toward her then, closing the space between them, his hands reaching out as if to comfort her. “Jo,” he says desperately. “I do love you. I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you, okay? I just—” he pauses, choking before continuing, “—you weren’t around, and I was missing you so much, and you’ve been so busy with basketball—”

She steps back before he can touch her, shaking her head, her voice cutting through his excuses. “—when then gives you the right to have sex with another girl? To tell her she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

Her words seem to hit him like a physical blow, his face paling as he shuts up. Jo doesn’t stop, though. Her voice is sharp now, full of a fury she rarely ever allows herself to feel.

“I saw the texts,” she says again, now shoving the phone back into his hands. Her breath hitches as another sob escapes her throat. “It doesn’t really seem like you still love me when you’re talking to someone else like that.”

Jo feels the air in her lungs grow heavier. The hallway is too quiet, every sound—her shallow breaths, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead—feels deafening in the stillness between them. Asher stares at her, his lips once again parting and closing uselessly, trying to find words that might somehow undo all of this.

“Jo, please,” he says finally, his voice thin and frantic, like he’s clutching at straws. “It didn’t mean anything—she doesn’t mean anything. I was lonely, okay? I was missing you so much, Jo, so much, and I just—I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

His words hit her like a stab to the chest. The sheer audacity of them leaves her feeling sick, like her body can’t keep up with the reality of what’s happening.

“Why would anyone do this to someone they love?” she asks slowly.

Asher shakes his head, stepping toward her again, but Jo takes another step back, hitting the wall. She’s never felt so trapped—trapped between the ghost of what they were and the cruelness of what they’ve become.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly, desperate to make her understand. “You were always on my mind, Jo. You’re always on my mind. But you weren’t there, and I was—God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Her chest tightens, a sob clawing it’s way up her throat. “You knew I wouldn’t be there!” she says loudly. “You knew since I committed nearly two years ago! That’s why I’m saying you could’ve just broken up with me before we both went to college instead of doing—this!” She gestures to the phone in his hand, the tears still spilling freely down her cheeks, mixing with her mascara. She probably looks insane.

Asher takes another step closer, and Jo flinches without meaning to. She sees the way his face crumples at her reaction.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. “I’ll do anything—anything to make it up to you. Please, baby, I’ll never talk to her again. I’ll block her, I’ll delete her number, I’ll—”

Jo cuts him off, shaking her head violently. “It’s not about Brooke!” she cries, the name tearing through her like glass. “It’s about you! It’s about the fact that you lied to me, that you betrayed me, that you’ve been doing this for months! It’s about the fact that you’ve made me feel like I’m not even enough for you anymore.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says weakly.

Jo lets out a noise between a laugh and a sob. “Well, you did,” she tells him firmly.

She doesn’t know when she starts crying harder, but suddenly, her body is wracked with sobs, her chest heaving as everything she’s been holding in comes pouring out. She can hardly even breathe.

And then Asher’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching for here. “Jo, baby, please,” he begs, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, let me make it up to you. I’ll transfer if you want me to—I’ll come here, be closer. I just—I love you. I love you so much. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us.”

His hands are warm against hers, but she barely feels it through the numbness creeping into her limbs. She stares down at him, her vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, she thinks about all the years they spent together. When they were younger, when they were older. Every moment, every memory—they flash before her eyes like a cruel montage of everything they’ll never be again.

Jo pulls her hands away from his, her chest aching like it’s being ripped in half. Her voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it’s absolute. “No matter what, I’ll never be able to trust you again,” she says, the finality of her words settling heavily between them. “I can’t have a relationship with no trust, Ash. I love you—I’ve always loved you—but I can’t do it. I can’t.”

The words ring out and, for a moment, they stay where they are. And then Jo turns and opens the door to the apartment. Her fingers tremble against the knob as she pushes it open, but she doesn’t stop. She can feel the way Asher stands from his knees behind her, hovering a mix of desperate and disbelief radiating off him like a suffocating heat. She steps inside, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her, and she doesn’t turn back to look at him when she hears his footsteps following her.

“Jo, please,” Asher says again, his voice cracking, the way it always does when he’s on the verge of tears. “Let’s just—keep talking, okay? I’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t do this.”

But there’s nothing left to talk about. Not now. Not after everything.

Jo’s head pounds as she crosses the room, her eyes scanning for the things he’ll need to leave. His coat is slung on the back of one of the chairs, and his keys and wallet sit on the table. She grabs both, her hands shaking, and turns back to him.

“Asher,” she says, raw and unsteady, “please.” She holds out the coat and keys to him, her arm outstretched like it’s the only way she can keep any distance between them. “If you love me like you say you do, please leave. Please.”

He doesn’t take them at first. He just stands there, staring at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes that make him look younger than he is, like the boy she used to know. Her next-door neighbor, the boy who used to race her to the ice cream truck every summer. The boy who brought her flowers from his mom’s garden the first time he asked her to a school dance in eighth grade, nervously holding them out to her like they were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. The boy who kissed her on the Ferris wheel, telling her he’d never seen anything prettier than the way the lights reflected in her eyes.

Jo thought that boy was perfect.

But now, that boy is clearly gone.

“So this is really it?” Asher asks, his voice barely a whisper. He finally takes the coat and keys from her, his movements slow, almost mechanical, like he’s not fully in his body. His words hang in the air, heavy and final, and Jo feels like they have hands and they’re suffocating her.

She bites her lip hard, the metallic tang of blood sharp on her tongue. A sob claws at her throat, but she swallows it down, refusing to let it out. Because—God—she doesn’t want this to be it. She doesn’t want to end this chapter of her life, doesn’t want to say goodbye to the person who’s been by her side through everything. She thinks about all the time they’ve spent together, the endless summers of childhood spent chasing fireflies in their backyards, the countless nights they stayed up late talking about everything and nothing. She thinks about the way he used to cheer for her at every basketball game, the way his laugh uses to make her feel like the world wasn’t so big and scary.

But then she thinks about the texts. Brooke. The lies. The betrayal. The pain of knowing that the person she loved most in the world didn’t love her enough to stay faithful. And she knows—she knows—that she can’t stay with him. Not after this.

So, with a terrible, gut-wrenching finality, Jo forces herself to meet his eyes. Seafoam. She’ll never look at them the same again. “Yeah,” she tells him. “It is.”

Asher flinches like she’s just slapped him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something else, like he’s going to keep fighting. But then his shoulders sag, and the fight leaves his body all at once. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, and the sheer heartbreak in his expression nearly undoes her.

Jo takes a shaky breath and steps toward the door, her movements stiff and unnatural, like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore. She holds the door open and watches as Asher hesitates, lingering in the threshold like he’s waiting for her to change her mind.

“Um,” she starts, staring at the floor, unable to meet his eyes anymore. “I’m not gonna be back in Boston for break. I’ll be on that ski trip with my family. So, uh, when they get back, you just… you get your stuff from the house and bring mine back to them, okay?”

For a long, excruciating moment, Asher just stands there, staring at her like he’s trying to memorize every detail of her face. Then, finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

He steps out into the hallway, and Jo closes the door behind him with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicks into place, she presses her back against the door, her knees nearly buckling. She buried her face in her hands and keys the sobs come.

PAIGE LIES in Celeste’s bed, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in soft sheets that smell faintly of sex and Celeste’s perfume. The room is dark except for the faint orange glow of the streetlamp outside the window, cutting through the blinds and casting uneven stripes across her skin. Celeste is already asleep, her breathing slow and steady beside her, an arm draped lazily over Paige’s stomach.

The weight of the arm feels suffocating. The room feels too still, too warm, and Paige can feel the alcohol from earlier churning in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she drank until she laid down, the world tilting slightly when she closed her eyes. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on anything but the growing nausea.

Her phone sits on the nightstand, and she reaches for it, squinting at the brightness when the screen lights up. 3:08 AM. Jo and Asher should be asleep by now, she thinks. The thought is a small relief, though she hates that it’s on her mind at all. When she’d come here earlier—straight from Ted’s—it wasn’t just for Celeste’s company. It was to avoid them. Avoid the sight of them fueled up on the couch, or worse, the sound of them behind Jo’s closed bedroom door.

But lying here now, with the alcohol making her stomach roil and Celeste’s soft breathing only amplifying the pounding in her head, Paige knows she can’t stay. She hates being sick, hates it even more when it happens in someone else’s space.

Carefully, she moves Celeste’s arm off of her, sliding out of bed with practiced quiet. She pulls on her jeans and shirt, then her coat, then slips on her sneakers and grabs her phone. By the time she’s in the hallway, she’s regretting every drink she had tonight.

The walk back to the apartment feels endless. The streets are deserted, the air sharp and cold against her flushed skin. She shoves her hands into her coat pockets, her breath visible in the air. Her head spins with every step, her stomach twisting tighter and tighter until—without much warning—she’s doubled over, throwing her guts up into a bush. It’s humiliating, even though no one’s there to see it.

But after, she feels marginally better. Her legs are still shaky, and her throat burns, but the nausea ebbs, replaced by exhaustion. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, cursing herself under her breath, and resumes the walk home.

When she gets to the apartment, it’s quiet. Thank God. She lets herself in carefully, taking care not to let the door slam, and moves toward the bathroom in the dark. She brushes her teeth quickly before going to her bedroom. There, she toes off her shoes, drops her phone onto her own nightstand, and collapses into bed. The sheets are cold, her pillow soft, and she burrows into them, hoping sleep will come quickly.

It doesn’t.

Instead, Paige ends up staring at her phone, her thumb absently scrolling through TikTok, then Instagram, then TikTok again.

It’s probably a half hour later when she hears footsteps outside her room. She doesn’t think much of it, only registers that Jo and Asher are awake. She thinks she hears the apartment door open, but she can’t really tell. She just resumes her scrolling.

Maybe another twenty minutes pass before she hears the door reopen. There are voices this time, too—Jo and Asher’s. They’re too low to make out what they’re saying, but there’s something off about the tone.

Paige feels her stomach twist again, though this time it has nothing to do with alcohol.

She tries to ignore it, forcing herself to keep scrolling, but the voices continue. Then, suddenly, the sound of the apartment door shutting—loud enough to make her flinch.

Paige sits up in bed. She stares at her closed bedroom door, debating. Curiosity—and something heavier—wins out. Slowly, cautiously, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands.

The floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she crosses to the door. She hesitates for a moment, hand on the knob, before turning it and pulling the door open. She steps into the hallway, walking slowly at first, unsure of what to expect. But as she rounds the corner, the sight in front of her makes her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jo is pressed against the front door, her back flat against it as though it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling with sobs that Paige can hear from a few feet away. The sound cuts through her like a knife, raw and unrelenting.

Paige’s stomach drops, dread pooling deep and cold inside her. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Jo cry, and not even the panic attack she had before the first game of the season looked like this. The sight freezes her for a second, but then she’s moving, instinctively, her feet carrying her closer without hesitation.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice a little unsteady as she steps in front of her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She hates seeing Jo like this, hates the helplessness it churns up in her. Jo’s supposed to sunshine and rainbows and butterflies and happiness. Seeing her like this, crumpled and sobbing, feels wrong, like the world has tilted off its axis.

Paige notices, too, that Asher is nowhere to be found, and her stomach knots tighter at the implication. There are only a few reasons why Jo would be crying like this in the middle of the night, and Paige doesn’t like any of the possibilities running through her mind.

She steps closer, only inches away from Jo. She gently reaches out to tug Jo’s hands away from her face. The brunette resists at first, her fingers curling tighter, as if she’s trying to shield herself from the world. But Paige persists, her touch gentle but firm, until Jo lets her pull them down.

She looks wrecked, utterly and completely undone. Her mascara is streaked across her cheeks, smudging into the skin where her tears have carved wet paths. Her lips are trembling, and her eyes—red-rimmed and glassy—hold a look of devastation that Paige has never seen before.

Paige’s stomach drops a little. This isn’t just a bad night. This is something worse.

“Joey,” Paige says again, her voice soft but coaxing. “Joey, talk to me. What happened?”

Jo shakes her head violently, fresh tears spilling over her cheeks. “I feel so stupid,” she chokes out.

Paige’s protective instincts kick in hard, a fierce surge of anger and worry burning in her chest. Jo is her best friend, and Paige can’t stand seeing her like this, so small and hurt and vulnerable. It makes her want to fix it, to fix everything, to hunt down whatever or whoever made Jo feel like this and give them a piece of her mind.

“You’re not stupid,” Paige says quickly, her hands moving to Jo’s face. She cups her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the tears as they fall, even though it’s futile. The tears keep coming, harder and faster, and Jo’s sobs are so harsh now that Paige worries she’s going to make herself sick.

“Jo,” Paige whispers, her tone soothing, steady. “Joey, you’re not stupid. Just tell me what happened. Please.”

Jo looks at her then, and the brokenness in her expression hits Paige like a tidal wave. Jo’s breaths are short and uneven, catching in her throat as she struggles to speak. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she manages to force out a choked answer:

“He’s been cheating on me since September.”

Paige isn’t sure how to react at first. Not because she doesn’t care—no, she cares too much—but because it feels incomprehensible. Asher? Cheating? On Jo? It’s like trying to convince herself the sky isn’t blue or that the sun doesn’t rise in the east. Jo is the kind of person who radiates light, who gives more than she takes, who makes everyone around her better by simply existing. The idea that anyone—anyone, let alone Asher, who Jo has loved since they were kids—could betray her like this? Paige’s chest tightens, a painful knot forming deep inside her.

“Oh, Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice breaking. She steps forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around Jo and pulling her in close. Jo is stiff at first, her body trembling like she’s holding herself together by a thread. But then she leans into Paige, her arms coming around her back, and she crumples completely.

The sobs come harder now, racking Jo’s body as she buries her face in Paige’s shoulder. Paige can feel her shirt dampening with tears, but she doesn’t care. Not even a little. All that matters is keeping Jo held together in this moment when she clearly feels like she’s falling apart. Paige’s chin rests against Jo’s hair, and she squeezes her tighter, as if that might somehow protect her from all of this—might take away the pain.

Her mind flashes to Asher, and the anger that surges through her is immediate, white-hot, and consuming. How the fuck could he do this? Asher, who seemed to adore Jo, who, just earlier tonight, had looked at her like the world revolved around her. He’s the guy everyone thought Jo would marry, the guy Paige didn’t want to like because of her own feelings for Jo but begrudgingly respected because he seemed like he loved her. Paige’s fists clench at the thought of him, the betrayal he’s inflicted on someone so good, so perfect.

Jo pulls back just enough to speak, her voice trembling through the sobs. “I just—I don’t get it,” she chokes out. Her hands are fisted in the back of Paige’s shirt now, clutching at her like she’s a lifeline. “He never seemed like—he would do that. He was never distant or anything. I—I don’t know. It’s just—it’s been us forever. He’s—he’s literally all I know.”

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, biting back her own emotions. She knows this—of course she knows this. Jo and Asher are the couple everyone compares themselves to, the pair who grew up together, who went to prom together, who everyone thought would get married and have a picturesque life together. Paige knows this betrayal isn’t just about the cheating—it’s about the loss of something Jo has held onto her entire life.

And as much as Paige didn’t want to like Asher, she can’t deny that even tonight, when they were all together, he seemed so in love with Jo. He didn’t seem like the type to cheat. Then again, Paige thinks bitterly, a lot of them don’t.

Paige hesitates, her voice careful. “Did you…?” She doesn’t have to finish the question; Jo knows what she’s asking.

Jo nods against Paige’s shoulder, her tears warm against Paige’s skin. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I broke up with him.”

Paige lets out a slow breath, one she didn’t realize she was holding. She always thought if this moment ever came, she’d feel something else—relief, maybe even happiness. She thought it would mean she finally had a chance with Jo, that the door might crack open. But as Jo sobs in her arms, as her heartbreak bleeds out into the quiet hallway, Paige feels none of that.

Because Jo isn’t happy. She’s broken, and Paige would rather suffer her unrequited feelings forever than see Jo like this. All she’s ever truly wanted is for Jo to be happy, to be the kind of happy that lights up her eyes and makes her laugh the way she does when she’s teasing Paige. This? This is not that.

Paige pulls back just enough so they’re face to face. Her hands come up to Jo’s cheeks once more, cradling her face gently. Jo’s eyes are red and swollen, tears still spilling over. Paige’s thumbs brush over her cheeks, wiping away some of the tears, though they’re still coming faster than she can catch them.

“Joey,” Paige says softly, her voice low and firm, “you are the most beautiful, selfless, talented, smart person I’ve ever fucking met. You don’t deserve any of this, okay? He doesn’t deserve you. Not even close.” She shakes her head slightly, her throat tightening as she continues. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

Jo nods slowly, her breath hitching as she tries to calm down, but the tears are still there, streaming down her face.

Eventually, Paige convinces Jo to come with her, leading the brunette to her bedroom, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back as they navigate the dark hallway. Paige can feel the exhaustion radiating off of her in waves—emotional, physical, every kind of tired there is. She figures Jo doesn’t want to go to her own room, where everything probably still smells like Asher. And Paige figures Jo doesn’t want to be alone, either. That much is obvious in the way she stays close, almost leaning into Paige as they walk.

Once inside Paige’s room, Jo hesitates by the bed, looking small in a way Paige isn’t used to seeing. Jo’s always been the kind of person who fills up a space just by being in it—confident, easygoing, happy. Now, she’s quiet and folded into herself, arms crossed protectively over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Paige doesn’t like it.

“Stay here for a sec, yeah?” Paige says softly, her voice careful, like she’s afraid to push Jo too far or say the wrong thing. Jo nods, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Paige slips out of the room.

She goes to the bathroom first, grabbing some makeup wipes from the cabinet. Her mind races as she moves, filled with anger toward Asher, with concern for Jo, with guilt that a small, selfish part of her is glad to have Jo here, with her, instead of with him.

On her way back, she detours into Jo’s room just long enough to grab the emotional support stuffed animal—Bubbles. She tucks the little turtle under her arm and heads back to her room.

Jo hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting there, looking at her hands, the way her fingers twist together nervously. Paige kneels in front of her, setting Bubbles aside for now. She doesn’t say anything at first; she just takes one of the makeup wipes and gently starts to clean the streaks of mascara from Jo’s face. Jo blinks in surprise, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips.

“I could’ve done it myself,” Jo mumbles, her voice thick and uneven.

“I know,” Paige says simply, and there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at her own lips.

It’s a quiet, intimate thing, wiping away Jo’s makeup. Paige works slowly, carefully, brushing over her skin with a tenderness she hopes Jo can feel. When she’s finished, she tosses the wipes aside into her mini trash can and hands Jo the stuffed turtle.

Jo takes Bubbles with both hands, clutching him close to her chest. There’s a tiny moment of relief in Paige’s chest when Jo actually smiles a little at the sight of him. It’s fleeting, but it’s there.

Paige climbs onto the bed beside her, hesitating for a second. The air between them feels heavy, uncertain. Jo curls up on her side, facing away from Paige, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she should leave her alone, give her space. But before she can decide, Jo’s voice breaks through the silence, shaky and fragile.

“Can you—can you just hold me?”

Paige’s heart clenches. Of course. Of course, she can. “Yeah,” she says softly, already shifting closer.

She slides in behind Jo, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hand comes to rest gently on Jo’s stomach, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shirt in smooth, soothing patterns. Paige doesn’t think much about it; she just does what feels natural. Her face ends up close to the back of Jo’s neck, and she can feel the faint hitch in Jo’s breathing, the way it stutters each time another quiet sob escapes her.

Every time Jo shakes or cries, Paige instinctively tightens her hold, pulling her closer, letting her know she’s there. Jo doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Paige. The silence is filled with the faint rustle of the blankets, the sound of their breathing.

Paige focuses on the rise and fall of Jo’s chest, on the feeling of her heartbeat beneath her hand. It’s comforting, in a way, even though everything about the situation feels wrong. Jo deserves better than this—better than Asher, better than heartbreak. And if Paige could take it all away, if she could somehow absorb all of Jo’s pain just to see her smile again, she would.

But all she can do is hold her, keep her safe in this moment. So she does. She stays there, tracing patterns on Jo’s stomach, her own breathing falling in time with Jo’s. Eventually, Jo’s crying slows, her breaths evening out into something softer, something closer to sleep. Paige doesn’t let go.

She feels her own eyelids growing heavy, the exhaustion of the day—and mostly the night—catching up to her. She doesn’t remember exactly when she drifts off, but the last thing she’s aware of is the warmth of Jo in her arms, the quiet sound of her breathing, and the hope that maybe things will feel a little better in the morning.

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[if-loves]

because you're everything (i have left)

// Phainon

sum: Is it so wrong that Phainon is everything you know?

wc: 1001

warnings: 3.0 story quest spoilers, amphoreus inaccuracies, ooc phainon, written before phainon release, implied (??) yan phainon, reader is a hot mess tbh

a/n: help i tried to make him yan but this just devolved into codependent relationship 

likes & reblogs appreciated :)

Phainon has known you his whole life. You have both seen each other in your most vulnerable of times, as children who had yet to understand the cruelties of the world, and as adults who have suffered the cruelties of the world. Through it all, you and Phainon held onto each other, mumbling promises of never leaving each other.

That was when Aedes Elysiae first fell to the savage flames, and the two of you were the only ones who managed to escape.

Years have passed since then, but the sight still lives in your mind, a vivid image that only seems to refresh and worsen the pain and guilt in your heart. Could you have done something and saved at least one more person? Was the way you were acting at the moment too selfish? Had you been a little stronger, a little smarter, would your home still be standing? 

You know enough about Phainon to know that for all his act as a playful young man, he harbours a grief and rage so deep in his soul even you don't know if you'd be able to coax it out of him. It's true he'd do many things for you, yes, but asking him to open up may be a boundary even if you can't cross.

But you'd do anything to keep Phainon happy, because you know he would do the same for you - because you're all each other has to remind you of home. Because you're all each other has left.

Upon finding asylum in Okhema, Phainon decided to leave his original name behind with the ruins of Aedes Elysiae and start somewhat anew in the Holy City. He had even told you to forget the name you've known him by all your life in favour of this new one, yet asked you sweetly to keep yours.

Sometimes you wonder if, had it not been for the destruction that rained upon your village that day, you and Phainon would be as close as you were today. Would you have shared all these intimate moments, like kissing and cuddling and all that naturally followed after, if everything was still as you had known. Would he have looked at you with the same disarming smile he always does when he comes back from another mission, or would he have slowly left you, like watching a boat be carried away by the sea's currents. 

You try not to let yourself be consumed by these thoughts. Phainon wouldn't be happy to know you doubt his love for you, and you'd hate to make him sad. He works so hard to keep you safe and happy, so the least you could do was make him happy when he was home. 

You'd do anything to make him happy. Even if it meant isolating yourself in the four walls of this home, even if it meant reducing yourself to nothing more than the one he'd come home to, even if it meant sacrificing your happiness for his, because this is what love is, isn't it? 

Phainon tells you he loves you often, while holding your face gently in his calloused hands. There's an emotion in his eyes you can't quite decipher, but it reminds you of a feeling you're very familiar with - guilt. You wonder why he feels that way, and why it only appears when he looks at you. What emotions does he harbour inside that lonely head of his?

You think it's hard to imagine Phainon wanting to hurt people. He's always been a kind person, even as a child and especially as an adult. He's always wanted the best for everyone, and he's never done anything to make you feel otherwise, so it's no surprise that when he tells you to never leave the house without him, and to never answer any knocks on the doors or windows, and to never open the curtains and windows, you listened. As a Chrysos Heir, he must be privy to some sensitive information, and as your lover, he must only wish to protect you. Phainon would never do anything to hurt you.

Despite your unwavering faith in him, you find it especially difficult to control your thoughts on particularly lonely days like these. He told you that he may be gone for awhile for some business to do with being a Chrysos Heir, and left you with a chase kiss on your lips before he was locking the door on his way out. How long would he be gone this time? 

Without him around, the disease named fear starts its infection and spreads throughout your soul. You're well aware of its tell tale signs, and you have yet to find a remedy for it that isn't Phainon's presence. It starts slowly, taking its time to seep into the crevices of your soul, before it comes crashing down on you and all of a sudden you're drowning.

Is Phainon taking care of you because you're all that's left of Aedes Elysiae? Do you deserve everything that Phainon has given you? Was your life worth the deaths of all those villagers? Phainon is a Chrysos Heir, greatness is written in his script since the moment he was born. What were you?

It's okay, though. Because when Phainon walks through the door, all your doubts disappear in an instant. He engulfs you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and everything feels right even if only for a moment.

But sometimes even his presence isn't enough to dispel some of your doubts. Does Phainon truly love you for you, or does he love you for what you remind him of? Of a bygone past that only exists in your memories, that smells of ash and sounds of screams, that the both of you can't let go of, even as it threatens the destruction of you and him? 

But it's okay if it’s Phainon, you think. Because you love him. Because he's all you have left.

[transformers-spike]

(Not a request)

I’ve been like honestly thinking, what would certain bots call their little human partners? Like I could imagine TFA megs being “my darling” but like at the same time I don’t. Just a random ramble I hope you could help me out here bc it’s been on my mind for a while��

I've been discussing this question with @drunkeninlovesailor this morning and we've brainstormed a bunch - so keep in mind we've also come up with a bit of extra worldbuilding (since we don't always vibe with official sources) Honestly, it depends on how well a bot is acquainted with/willing to use human terms. TFA Megatron for example would only use "my darling" if he knows it terribly flusters the human. He obviously looks down on humanity (and this includes everyone but his human - whom he still looks down upon to a degree but shhhhh). If his planet's terms don't have the same impact, then "darling" it is. But if he were to use a Cybertronian term, he would go for "my spark" (meaning "person I cannot live without"). TFP Megatron always goes for something that's a thin line between affectionate and demeaning. Things like "little one" where you're really questioning if he views you as someone he loves or a glorified pet. To be fair he's weird with everyone - any affection he has is mixed with murderous intent. TFP Optimus would call you something that shows his respect and appreciation for you. Not big on nicknames, but I'm sure you can get him to adopt something - be it Cybertronian or human lingo TFP Bulkhead and Breakdown are well-acquainted with human media (thanks to Miko and Knock Out) - but the nicknames they choose are either obscure references or sickeningly sweet to a point it gets ridiculous. Are they aware of this? Mostly Bulkhead - Breakdown would call you cotton candy with a straight face because it's sweet so it must be affectionate, right? TFP Ratchet would refer to you as his associate and later friend until he finally figures out his feelings and admits to himself he's been pining for so long it's starting to take a toll on him. Then he'll start calling his human "my spark" in private, because he's old as balls. But also "sweetspark" if he's feeling playful. Although he's willing to adopt some human terms as well and lovingly mock you by using the most grotesquely cute nicknames when you're alone. TFP Starscream? Absolute disaster. He tries so hard but he's too self-aware about how weird it sounds to call you anything affectionate. Usually everything he uses sounds demeaning even if he starts them with "my" - ie: my fleshbag. Unless you're in private and he's feeling particularly generous, at which point he's going to see if he can use some of the human lingo he learned while scouring the internet. He's testing them out to see which ones work - this can either make or break your boner. He's trying to seduce you not call you his "honey bear" TFP Smokescreen is a virgin who's never been with anyone before (you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands) so he's navigating the land of pet names with even less experience. Don't let him use the internet though because he'll probably end up calling you his bitch and see nothing wrong with that. Cybertronian terms tend to be easier. He says sweetspark and acts smooth to impress you, but all it takes is a sultry voice and his entire system needs to reboot. TFP Knock Out has a good grip of human lingo and is the best at mixing human and Cybertronian nicknames. He can easily switch between sweetspark and love - my spark and darling. Heck if he wants to be a smug bitch he'll call you kid/kiddo by saying Newspark.

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 5/7

summary: part 5 of the naive series baby!! you and mandy get some one on one time bc she’s going thru it until she sends you and hamzah off on an adventure of ur own ;)

contains: SFW and NSFW content… it’s going down.

w/c: 3.4k-ish

a/n: ik yall hate me atp but listen. listen. uhhh.. yk what just read it!

~

Hotel breakfast is really good. It's even better when you can be an annoying vacationer and sit in the dining hall to eat while wearing your pajamas. The dirty looks from the well-dressed staff does nothing to deter you from going to town on a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with assorted spreads. The one thing that is ruining your appetite, however, is your gloomy friend prodding her food with her fork.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you ask for what feels like the hundredth time that morning.

"Mhm."

Mandy continues moving her eggs around her plate and never taking a bite. She's been in a near catatonic state since last night. By the time you'd taken a shower and gotten unready, she'd already passed out in your bed without so much as an explanation as to what happened. You exhale loudly and she looks up.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

She drops her fork. "I think Martin is hiding something from me."

"Oh!" Your eyes widen and you try to look confused. "What makes you think that?"

"He's been acting so weird," she says, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head in her hands. "Even before we came on this trip... I don't know. Something's off."

"What d'you mean?"

"He's being so secretive," she says. "I don't have proof of anything, but he's, like, really bad at acting innocent."

"Is that why you guys have been fighting?"

"Well, I don't exactly want to fight with him!" She tosses her hands in the air. "I wish he'd come out and say whatever it is. It drives me crazy that he acts like nothing is going on."

In that moment, you consider blurting out the truth. Talking about Martin's proposal idea would be so much easier than sitting back and watching the couple get into trivial arguments from Mandy's growing paranoia. But alas, you've sworn to secrecy and you really don't think it would be your place to ruin the surprise, even at a time like this.

"Have you asked him about it?"

"Yeah. He just deflects. I thought I could get him to talk last night, but I ended up crying because I got so frustrated with his cryptic bullshit."

You're stuck on what to say. It breaks your heart to see Mandy like this, but there's not much you can do without giving away her soon-to-be fiancé's plan. It's not exactly a conversation you thought you'd be having to mediate.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think Martin is doing all of this to deliberately hurt you," you say, reaching across the table to hold her arm. "He loves you. A lot. He's just an idiot sometimes."

Mandy smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Thank you."

"I mean it, Mandy. What you guys have is really good. Don't let a bump in the road ruin the rest of the journey."

"When did you become such a beacon of wisdom?" she asks sarcastically, looking down at the table.

"I'm trying my best here. Be grateful." You begin to laugh and she joins in.

You bring your plate back in front of you and gesture for her to do the same. The two of you chow down and talk between bites, discussing what other places you could visit before your inevitable departure from Curaçao. Despite the challenges, it's been an experience for the books and you take a moment to reflect on the joy that it's brought you.

As you take a sip of your tea, your phone buzzes in your pocket. When you unlock it, you open up the message notification and bite your lip to hide your smile.

i see u

"Is that Hamzah?"

You look up at Mandy and your face flushes. "Huh?"

"You remind me of when I first started talking to Martin." Mandy points at you with her knife.

"Shut up," you groan. "Is it really that obvious?"

"Yeah." Mandy nods. "Plus I saw his name on your screen."

You glare at her and she giggles at your expense. Over her shoulder, you spot him. He's in the buffet line, also in his pajamas, and you stare for a little too long at his grey sweatpants. When he turns his head in your direction, you duck behind Mandy's figure.

"He's coming." You use your phone camera to quickly assess your face. "I look rough. Fuck."

"Girl, you look fine," Mandy says, rolling her eyes, "and you've literally slept next to each other. It's nothing he hasn't seen before."

"Wow, uplifting. Thanks."

When you dare to raise your head again, he's making his final few strides towards your table. You smile and wave, and he attempts to do the same. He shakes his hand that's holding a cup of coffee and it sloshes around, nearly spilling all over him. Mandy gives you a funny look before greeting him.

"Good morning," Hamzah says cheerily.

He places his plate and cup next to yours. You scoot over so he can sit down, but he moves to sit so close to you that the sides of your thighs are pressed up against each other.

"Good morning," you reply, slightly taken aback by his chipper mood. "Sleep well?"

"I slept great," he says. He takes a bite of his eggs with bacon and looks between you and Mandy. "So... was it a breakup?"

You slap him on the arm and scoff. "Come on."

"'M just asking!" he all but shouts, earning the three of you a couple more dirty looks. "Last night looked serious."

"No, we didn't break up," Mandy mutters. "But I'm considering it if it means not having to deal with you anymore."

"That's mean," Hamzah says, taking another bite of his food. "I'd stay friends with you if I broke up with Martin."

"Don't talk while you're chewing," Mandy warns.

"Thorry." He swallows his mouthful. "So what are we supposed to do if you guys are still fighting?"

"I don't know, Hamzah." Mandy sighs. Then she looks at you. "I don't really feel like going out today. Maybe you two could do something."

Your eyes narrow and she shrugs innocently. "Where would we go?"

"Google some nice places. Walk around the city. It can't be that hard."

"I'm down," Hamzah says. "I'm in charge of directions, though."

He smiles mischievously and you mock him, making him laugh. You turn to Mandy, noting the way she's picking at her food again.

"Will you be okay? You can stay in my room, but I don't know what time we'll be back."

"There's free WiFi and room service. I'll be fine. Go have fun."

Mandy was right. Finding something to do in such a tourism-centered area isn't hard. The difficult part is spending time with Hamzah with no social buffer to avert the tension between the two of you. You hope it's not too apparent that you're staring at him every chance you get, but you can't find it in you to care about getting caught anymore.

"Now we go left," he mumbles, placing his hand on your shoulder to direct you to the crosswalk.

You know he tends to be touchy with his friends, but with how awkward he usually is about it, this feels different. Even when you hung out as a group back in Toronto, you could always sense that Hamzah was a little more hesitant around you. You chocked it up to not knowing him that well, despite having mutuals. Being close with each others' friends did provide an entry point for your friendship to blossom, but this trip has done more for your connection than all the time you've known him previously. Maybe it's because you're in such constant, close proximity now that your initial attraction to him has finally taken shape, unavoidably so.

"Alright, it's down from here," Hamzah says, gesturing at the beach you're nearing.

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," you say, furrowing your brows.

"We're not swimming." He shakes his head. "Over there."

You look to where he's pointing and take notice of the mountainous landscape surrounding the beach. Their overarching coves reach the edges of the shore where the waves splash against the rocks.

"I'm not cliff diving. No way."

You stop in place and cross your arms. He turns and walks a few steps back to you.

"We're not doing that either, my gosh," he grumbles playfully and takes hold of your hand, "follow me."

Hamzah leads you through the sand to the bottom of the ridges. This beach isn't nearly as busy as the one near your hotel, so the silent walk with your palm in his feels all the more intimate. The sun is less harsh under the arch, but the sand is still warm beneath your feet. The soft earth easily gives way as you take a seat in the deeper parts of the rocky expanse.

"How'd you know this was here?" you wonder.

"I found it before the trip," he says, stretching his legs out in front of him until the waves are barely licking at his skin. "I didn't think I'd get the chance to visit, though."

"Guess it's a good thing for the fight then," you joke. Hamzah looks at you with his face scrunched up and you share a laugh. "Sorry. Too soon."

You stare out at the horizon, absentmindedly cupping the sand and letting it pour down between your fingers. The waves are crashing, but there's a quiet serenity inside of the cove that makes you feel at peace.

"Nah, I just think we talk about them enough, right?" He leans back to rest his weight on his palms and your eyes flicker to the sight of his shirt stretching across his pecs. "Wanna talk about us."

"Right," you agree. "I never really expected this."

"What?" he asks. You become aware of how close his body is to yours.

"'Us.'" You make quotes in the air with your fingers. "I didn't even think you saw me that way."

"Really?" he questions, tilting his head. "I thought the same thing."

"Hm. Funny."

You move to lay on your back. You'd decided against changing out of your pajamas—the two of you look infinitely more out of place in such beautiful scenery—but it makes for great cushioning against the ground. Hamzah stays unmoving, looking straight ahead.

"Do you see us being the same way? When we go back home?" He speaks outwardly, eyes on the view.

"I don't know. Do you?"

"You answer first," he says, smiling at you from over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and try to push yourself further into the sand, as if it'll provide a protective barrier between him and the words you're going to say next.

"I hope so," you answer honestly. "I don't see why it’d change."

"What if it doesn't feel the same?" he asks like he's talking to the sky. "What if it's just because we're here, y'know? Isn't it usually a 'what happens in Vegas' thing?"

"Oh, so you've done this before?"

Hamzah groans and you snicker, flicking sand into his pocket. He doesn't notice so you continue until it's full, giggling to yourself.

"Of course not," he says, shaking his head. Some of the sand trickles out. "I guess what I'm saying is...I hope you don't feel that way."

You take a deep breath to calm the butterflies that erupt in your belly and sit up. You look at the impression your body has left in the sand before turning to completely face him, criss-crossing your legs.

"I won't," you promise. "I couldn't."

"Good." Hamzah's eyes finally meet yours. "I don't think I'd be able to handle it."

You grin and let your fingers trail up the side of his neck, not wanting to hold your affection back any longer. He closes his eyes as you trace his cheek, the charming acne scars and slight stubble on his jaw acting as a roadmap for your fingertips. Then, you cup his chin and lean in. His lips move softly against yours. He places his hands on your thighs and runs his fingers across your bare skin where your shorts have ridden up. It's almost like the whole world goes on mute, and all you can possibly focus on is the way his touch awakens every cell in your body.

Without breaking the kiss, Hamzah pushes you down into the indented sand until he can comfortably slot himself in the middle of your legs. He holds himself up with a hand by your head, the other resting on your waist. The gentle caresses turn heated, and pretty soon the two of you are full-on making out, pulling each other closer and closer until his body fully surrounds yours. You love how he hums when you wrap your arms tighter around his neck and run your nails across his shoulders.

You can't get enough of him, holding his hips in place with your knees as your tongues entwine. When his hand strays below your hoodie, you pull away momentarily to slip it over your head. He helps tug it off you when it gets stuck, the two of you giggling quietly before tossing it away and locking lips again. His fingers trace a path up your torso, clad in nothing but a thin tank top. His palms slowly find their way higher up, and you moan when he gives your chest a testing squeeze. Upon hearing this, he squeezes again before running his thumb across your nipple, making you shiver.

His hoodie comes off soon thereafter, except he's completely bare underneath. You run your hands down his chest and his stomach clenches under the ghost of your touch. When you reach the edge of his boxers, he breaks apart to leave kisses from your cheek down to your neck.

"I-I didn't really prepare for this," Hamzah whispers against you.

"You didn't shave?"

"No, idiot," he scoffs, making both of you giggle giddily. "I, um, didn't bring condoms..."

You breathe out as he continues kissing your skin. "That's fine. We don't have to do anything."

Your fingers are tucked in his waistband against his happy trail, but you make no effort to move them. If it wasn't evident already, his erection presses against you painfully, a reminder of how close yet so far you are from what you're craving. Still, he seems determined to make the most of the moment. He sucks on the spot below your ear, making your mouth drop open in a breathy moan.

In a hasty decision, you take your tank top off and lay back down. Hamzah's eyes follow along your newly exposed skin and he leans down to kiss a trail from your collarbone to the valley between your breasts. His hands leave a wake of heat everywhere he touches you, yet goosebumps rise on your arms when his lips reach your lower stomach.

"Can I?"

He looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded and his hands on your shorts. You nod and raise your hips so he can pull them off. When he sees your underwear, he raises an eyebrow.

"You wear boxers, too?" Hamzah jokes, tugging on your waistband and letting it snap against your skin. You flinch and he laughs.

"They're comfy!" you defend, blushing. "I wasn't exactly planning for this, either."

"I'm kidding. Why would I care?" He leans up on his forearms to peck your lips. "They're coming off, anyway."

He reaches under your final layer of clothing and you gasp when he touches you where you need him most. His lips part as he dips into your wetness, bringing it up to circle your clit deliciously. You grasp his bicep and your other hand holds the back of his head as he continues his delightful assault on your throat.

When you feel his fingers inch into you, your hips jut forward. He whispers praises in your ear as he fucks his fingers into you, first slowly then relentlessly. You can't contain your moans. Your fingers tug at his curls lightly when you feel the knot in your stomach forming. All too suddenly, he pulls his hand out of your underwear and you whine.

"As much as I like 'em, they gotta go," Hamzah says, leaving one final kiss on your jaw before dragging your boxers down your hips.

He flings them aside and you breathe heavily as he descends to your lower body, situating his head between your legs. He plants kisses on the inside of your thigh teasingly, dipping his head down only to start back at the top with the other thigh until he has you squirming under his grip. Just when you think you've reached your limit, he bites at the swell of your thigh and connects his mouth to your core. Your lungs spasm as you feel his tongue flick your clit, struggling to catch your breath at the surreal sensation.

He sucks on your bud and has you a complete mess of moans under him. Loosening his grip from your thigh, he makes eye contact with you as he brings his hand back to your center and his fingers penetrate you steadily. Your back arches and he groans when you clutch at his hair. He suctions his lips, watching every reaction and noise you emit without once coming up for air. It's a dizzying sight, and your head lolls to the side as your moans get louder. He works harder, curling his fingers, toying with you in all the right ways to make you fall apart.

"Just like that," you cry out, "Hamzah, please."

You're panting at this point, yearning for a release that's sure to send you reeling.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs. "Cum for me."

The quickening of his pace has you clenching around his fingers, and as soon as he speaks those words, you screw your eyes shut and let your climax overtake you. Your jaw slackens and you throw your head back. Your legs shake uncontrollably as you call his name out in broken gasps while you ride out your high. The scent of saltwater and moss fills your nostrils, and all at once your vision clears when he lightly kisses your sensitivity. You sharply inhale and white-knuckle the sand below you. Your other hand wraps around the side of his neck to hoist him back up so you can be face-to-face.

Hamzah's arms cage you in and you pull him down to lock lips. He tastes sweet. Then, he rolls the two of you over so you're sitting in his lap while he lays flat.

"All good?" he asks, holding your cheek.

"Perfect."

You lean in to kiss him again, propping your hands on his chest. Teasingly, you grind your hips against his and he groans.

"Stop," Hamzah grunts. "I don't wanna cum in my pants."

The friction makes you shudder, but feeling how hard he is makes you not want to stop. You laugh and do it again, making him squeeze your hips. He halts your movements and grins, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"That's it."

Without warning, he sits up and you wrap your legs around him, latching onto him like a koala as he stands straight. The swift switch in positions makes you squeal. His palms cup your ass as he walks out from underneath the cove.

"What're you doing?!" you screech, clutching him as tight as you can.

"I asked nicely and you didn't listen!"

He cackles maniacally as he wades deeper into the water. When you're up to your hips in the waves, he turns backwards and sends the both of you plunging into the ocean. In an instant, you're soaked to your bones and springing up to the surface.

"You bitch!" you nearly scream as he re-emerges beside you. "I'm butt-ass naked!"

"No one's here, don't worry," he says, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "Look. Just us."

Hamzah lifts you in the water and swings you around to show you the entirety of the vacant beach. He's laughing above you while you smack his arms to let you go.

"Okay, I get it! Put me down."

You plummet into the depths once more.

~

a/n: sorry to disappoint w the lateness again this would’ve been updated sooner if california didn’t literally go up in flames around me and half my roof tiles got ripped off my house from the crazy ass wind (another one flew off as i typed this). also my dumbass friend deleted tiktok off his phone and we lost our 231 day streak bc he can’t get it back no matter what we tried. also elon did the hitler salute?????? what is going on. anyways lmk if u enjoyed or want me to rot for eternity <3 love yall sm

[morgana-larkin]

Hii! I just want to say, I really enjoy your style of writing!!

And also perhaps request :)

I’ve been thinking about the Party ep from S3. Maybe reader attends with Melissa, and ends up having to take care of a drunk Mel, could be fluffy or smutty whichever hehe.

I am thinking though established relationship, either wife or girlfriend :))

Hopefully you like this concept and can put your own twist on it!

Thank you 🥰

Hello! I can’t believe I’ve gotten 3 prompts for this specific episode and I love all the different ideas! Here’s your request! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

My Lovely Fiancé

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, breast kink, strap on

Words: 3.2k

“So tonight, I’m your protector? Making sure you don’t do anything stupid while drunk.” You ask her while you sit on her desk and she nods.

“You know I can do crazy things when I’m drunk.”

“Like propose to me?” You ask and she smiles.

“That was only stupid because I wanted to ask you the right way.”

“And you did, and now we're getting married next summer.”

“Who knew that my miracle would be a woman.” Melissa tells you and you wrap your arms around her. She gets in between your legs and kisses you.

“And who knew that Melissa Schemmenti would be soft when in love.”

“Zip it you.” She says and then kisses you again.

“Lovebirds, I’m closing the school in 15 minutes.” Mr Johnson says and you pull away from each other.

“We should go, we gotta get ready.” You tell her and you both walk out of the school and to Melissa’s car.

You both get home and change into your outfits for Janine’s party.

“Barb wants to get there an hour early as we know Janine will need help.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Well you can go early but I’ll be there a little late.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you.

“And why are you going to be late?”

“I have to go pick up my outfit from the tailor, remember? It’s been ready for 2 days but I haven’t been able to pick it up yet.”

“Ok, I have to go, Barb is almost here to pick me up.” She says after checking her phone. “She was going to drive us but I guess I’ll meet you there.” She says and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll see you there, I love you.” You tell her.

“I love you too.” She says and then you both go downstairs. You head to you and Melissa’s car just as Barb pulls up.

“Aren’t you coming to the party dear?” Barb asks as Melissa walks to the car.

“I gotta go get my outfit from the tailors but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You tell her. “Keep an eye on my wild fiance until I get there.” You tell her and she nods.

“You know I can hear you.” Melissa complains and you smile.

“I know.” You say and then get in the car and drive to get your outfit.

You pull up to the party about 30 minutes late and knock on the door to see Mr. Johnson blocking it.

“Mr. Johnson let me in.” You tell him.

“Do I know you?” He asks.

“Do you want me to punch you in the face? Melissa taught me how to do it properly.” You tell him and then he moves out of the way. “Thank you.” You walk in as the party looks to be in full swing and you look around for Melissa or even Barb. You run into Janine who looks to be stressed out. “Hey Janine.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, nothing is going right.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone to whatever crisis is happening with you, do you know where Melissa is?” You ask her.

“She’s in the middle of the dance floor with Barb.” She tells you and you nod.

“Thanks, your party looks great.” You tell her and then walk to the dancefloor. You see Melissa and Barb dancing and you go to walk up to them. “Melissa!” You yell over the music and she turns to look at you.

“Heeeyyy! You made it!” She slurs out and gives you a dramatic hug.

“Holy crap, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, just happy that you’re here.” She says happily and you smile at her.

“You’re clearly drunk…and apparently so is Barb.” You add as you look to see Barb dancing without shoes on.

“Dance with me, my lovely wife.” She says and grabs both your hands. “I can’t wait to permanently make you my lovely wife. Let’s get married right now!” She says and you widen your eyes.

“No, I’m not marrying you when you’re drunk.” You tell her and she pouts.

“I’m not drunk on alcohol though, I’m drunk in love with you.” She says very close to your face and you smell the alcohol on her breath.

“How about I get us both drinks?” You offer and walk to the kitchen.

“I’m too sober for this.” You say and roll your eyes. “Here Melissa, your favourite beer.” You tell her and hand it to her.

“I have the best fiance in the world!” She shouts out and takes a sip.

You and Melissa start dancing with each other and you keep having to stabilise her as her coordination isn’t the best when drunk. Then the lights go out and the music stops playing and you hear a lot of ‘boos’ from everyone.

“Y/n?” You hear Melissa ask and you turn on your phone flashlight.

“I’m right here Mel.” You say with a smile and she giggles.

“It’s like we’re in an eclipse.” She whispers and you laugh.

“Ya it does.” You tell her and you mess up her hair a bit and she gives you a glare. She then leans forward and captures your lips with hers. Melissa puts her hands in your hair while you wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah! I’m blinded by the light!” You hear Barb say and pull away. You quickly realise your phone flashlight was pointed right at her eyes.

“Sorry Barb.” You tell her.

The lights suddenly come back on and the dj gets the music ready and they start the music again.

“Come on Y/n, let’s dance!” She says and starts dancing. She then suddenly pulls you in closer to her and takes control of the dance. She spins you around so your back is pressed up against her front and she wraps her arms around your waist. She then leans in close to your ear so only you can hear her. “With you pressed up against me like this, I just want to pound into you with the strap until you can’t walk.” She says and you lose your balance for a second and Melissa notices. “I think you want that too.” She adds.

“Melissa, you’re drunk and not thinking straight.” You tell her.

“Thinking straight is for straight people.” She tells you and you giggle.

“That’s true, and we’re not straight.” You say with a smile.

She’s about to reply back but then you see Janine start to dance and people backing up to form a circle.

“GO JANINE! GO JANINE!” People chant and you and Melissa join in.

An hour later, everyone starts leaving and Barb calls Gerald to come pick her up. You and Melissa wait until Barb is picked up and then you lead Melissa to the car to drive you both home.

“You know I had a lot of fun tonight!” She says quite loudly and you giggle.

“And you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” You tell her and she laughs.

“You know I haven’t forgotten about wanting to pound into you until you can’t walk.” She says and you glance at her quickly before turning your attention back to the road.

“Play on your phone.” You tell her and she does take her phone out.

You get back home and you help Melissa as she stumbles back into the house.

“Let’s get you upstairs and to bed.” You tell her and she hums.

“Want me already?” She asks and she gets closer to your ear.

“We need to get you upstairs before you pass out.” You tell her and she scoffs.

“Schemmenti’s don’t pass out because of a bit of alcohol.” She slurs out and you shake your head at her.

“You didn’t have a bit of alcohol though, you had a lot.” You tell her as you make it to the bedroom. You drop her onto the bed and then you take her blazer and shirt off.

“Seems like you want me since you’re undressing me.” She says and then you take her bra off and put a pj shirt on her. “What the fuck? What’s with the shirt?” She complains as she tries to take it off. You then push her gently and she falls back on the bed. You then take her shoes, leather pants and underwear off. You try and put some shorts on her but she moves her legs, making it harder so you decide to just ditch the shorts.

You tuck her in and then you go and get ready for bed yourself. Once you come back out of the bathroom, you see her already asleep and you roll your eyes and then climb into bed. Once you get in, she unconsciously moves closer to you and you wrap an arm around her before you fall asleep.

Melissa wakes up first as the sun is in her eyes and she whines. “Y/n?” She calls out and you wake up but don’t open your eyes. “Y/n where are you?” She calls out again.

“I’m right behind you genius, my arm is around you.” You tell her and she grabs hold of your hand. She then gets a notification on her phone and she grabs it to see a calendar note.

“Y/n?” She starts.

“Ya?”

“Why is there a reminder on my phone that says pound into Y/n with strap?” She asks you and you open your eyes and look at her phone.

“When the hell did you… you must have put that in there in the car when I kept denying your advances.” You tell her and you laugh.

“You were able to deny me?” She asks and you nod. “And how hard was I trying?”

“Honestly? Not as hard as I thought you would.” You tell her and she turns around to face you.

“Why don’t I have shorts on?” She asks and you chuckle.

“You kept kicking your legs when I tried to put them on so I gave up.” You tell her.

“And why do you have shorts on?” She asks and you look at her.

“Because I didn’t get plastered last night. I had one drink when I got there and nothing else.” You say and she hums.

“I think you should take the shorts off.” She says with a deeper voice and you look at her eyes and see how dark they are, her normal green is now gone.

“And why’s that?” You ask with a smile.

“Because you’re on my to do list today.” She says and she takes her shirt off. Melissa knew that you can’t deny it when she’s fully naked, or if she’s topless, as her boobs are too perfect for you to say no to.

“You're using my weakness against me.” You tell her and move closer to her and she winks at you. She leans forward and kisses you and doesn’t pull away until you moan. You start to move down to suck on her nipples but she stops you and you look at her.

“You can’t touch them unless you take your clothes off.” She tells you and you quickly take your pj shirt and shorts off. “That’s better. As cute as you are with my shirt and your little shorts on, I much prefer you without anything on.” She says and she tilts your chin and places a kiss on your lips. “Now be a good girl and suck my tits really well.” She says and you happily move your body down and put a nipple in your mouth.

You start sucking and swirling your tongue all over and she’s spewing out moans and gasps. It doesn’t take long until you move your hand down and start circling your clit, turned on by the noises she’s making and sucking on her tit. It isn’t until you’re sucking on the other one that she notices you touching yourself. She pushes you off of her nipple and grabs the hand that you’re touching yourself with, and you let out a whine.

“I think you’re being bad, touching yourself without my permission.” She tells you and you look up at her. “Without mommy’s permission.” She adds and you try to suck on her nipples again but she stops you.

“I’m sorry mommy, let me please you.” You plead and she smiles.

“I know how you’re going to do that.” She tells you and then she goes into the nightstand and pulls out the strap and the dildo. “I’m going to put this on with some lube, and then you’re going to ride it.” She tells you and you nod.

You watch as she puts the strap on and then puts the dildo on it, she grabs the lube and puts a good amount on it. She lays down on her back and instructs you to start riding it. You get up and straddle her lap, you go up a bit and she aligns the dildo with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it, feel as it slowly fills you up, stretching you out. It isn’t until you’re halfway down that you realise that she grabbed the biggest one and it’s filling you up nicely, stretching you out a good amount, especially since you haven’t used the biggest one in 2 months.

“It’s big.” You whine out and she grabs your hips, helping you slide down all the way.

“I know, I want to watch as your pussy just swallows up the entire thing, like the little whore that you are.” She says and that just makes you wetter. You take the whole thing as she bottoms out and then you take a second before you start moving your hips. “That’s it, keep going until you come all over it.” She says and you whimper before you move faster. “If you come like a good girl then I’ll reward you by pounding it into you.” She says. “The way I know you like.” She adds and you suck in a breath at imagining that.

Melissa made sure to position the dildo exactly where it will rub against her clit, knowing how you’ll ride it as she’s gotten you to do it before. She decides to tease you more. She brings a hand down to her pussy, under the strap, and she covers two fingers in her wetness. She then brings them close to you and instructs you to suck on them. You put them in your mouth and you immediately taste her in your mouth, making you move faster and getting you to want to come even faster than before. Melissa watches as you suck her fingers and feels them in your mouth and how your tongue is licking them clean. She really should have thought that through as it’s teasing her more than you. She decides to fuck it and grabs your hips, she pulls you off the strap and you’re looking at her confused.

“Don’t give me that look, you look and feel so good, I can’t wait any longer.” She tells you and she gets you on your hands and knees before she slams the dildo in your entrance and you gasp out. She doesn’t start off slow, she starts pounding into you and you start gasping and moaning right away and that makes her smile. “You like that baby, don’t you? When I’m a bit rough with you, isn’t that right?” She asks you and you whimper. “Use words my love.”

“Yes Melissa, I like it when you’re rough with me.” You tell her and she stops and bends down to your ear.

“When I’m making you feel good, I’m not Melissa, remember baby?”

“Mommy.” You say and she smiles before she sits back up and continues slamming the dildo into you. She watches as you just take the dildo, all of it, all at once and she moans out.

“I just love watching you take all of me, all I give you.” She tells you and she stumbles a little as her orgasm is building. “Oh god baby, do you feel it building, your orgasm?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes mommy, I’m getting close.” You tell her and she grabs your hips to stabilise herself.

“That’s good baby, mommy is getting close as well.” She tells you and you can tell as she’s getting messy, stumbling a bit.

“Make me come mommy.” You whimper out and she moans out.

“Oh god, I love it when you beg.” She says and she sees your legs start to shake. She can hear your breathing get heavier and she has to move harder so she knows you’re clenching around the dildo. “Come baby, let me hear you.” She says and you take a few breaths before you come with a moan. Melissa comes a few seconds after and she holds onto you for stability. She gently pulls out of you but it still has you whimper as it’s big and you’re still coming down from your high. “I know baby, shh.” She says and then she’s out of you fully and she takes it off. “Come here.” She says as she lays down and you join here, and she wraps you protectively in her arms.

“You sure got over your hangover quickly.” You say after a few seconds and she laughs.

“Well my lovely fiancé needed me to make her feel good. I still have a headache though.” She tells you and you look up at her.

“You know you said something last night.” You say and she hums.

“I bet I said a lot of things last night. What stupid thing did I say now?” She asks.

“It wasn’t stupid actually, it was nice.” You say and she looks at you. “You called me your lovely wife and said we should get married right now.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well I do think about just going to city hall and getting married but this is your first wedding and if you want a wedding then you’ll have a wedding.” She tells you and you kiss her.

“Really?” You ask and she nods.

“I asked you to marry me a month ago because I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy and seeing that smile of yours.” She tells you and you can’t help but smile at her words. “That’s the smile I’m talking about.” She says and boops your nose.

“I know next year we’re getting married but if you want to start calling me your wife then you can.” You tell her.

“Really?”

“Ya, I mean you’re going to be calling me that for the rest of our lives, why not start now?” You tell her and her smile grows.

“Ok, my lovely wife.” She tells you and gives you a kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

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@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

Let me know if you want to be added!

[pali-and-proud]

Finale Thoughts

This is a very special thank you to all the Fast Passers. Y'all did amazing, truly, because I actively read anything and everything without any attempt to shield my eyes from spoilers and I still knew nothing. This post is dedicated to you guys.

Alright guys. You know the drill. Get the hot coco and strap in.

Lets start with Deacon:

Deacon acknowledging that Chase is more likely to interact well with Buddy is actually so good to see. It's so nice to see Deacon prioritize Prunella's safety and to be more comfortable with being put in "lesser" positions, like babysitting! (Think back to sick! Chase, and look at how far Deacon's grown)

Deacon and Prunella's talk: Prunella calling out Deacon for always talking about being great instead of just being great. That's so good, genuinely--Prunella shrugging and being self-confident and Deacon finally really hearing it. He needs to just be what he wants.

Deacon's relationship with horses symbolizing his frustrations with his inability to control his life was NOT something I expected and I openly applauded. That's brilliant.

Don't be mistaken: Deacon sacrificed himself. He knew the risks of making the horse play bridge. He watched the horse fall victim to the spread of the pages. The horse was still neighing when it's legs started to turn--Deacon could have yelled, but he didn't, because he was too focused trying to make sure that Chase and Prunella, at least, could escape.

The speech Buddy gave him, which I will reference so many times, about there being a time to be the hero and a time to be the helper, is SO applicable. Deacon "is happy to help." He isn't trying to be the hero, and he isn't trying for glory, and he just wants his cousin and his friend-ish to be safe. And it's specifically when he's not trying to be the hero that he ends up being the hero, by taking control of the reigns and getting Prunella to Chase and risking his life. He follows Bronze and Prunella's advice, and listens to the speech, and listens to himself: He stops asking for permission. He steps up. He becomes the hero.

Cannot wait to see Deacon's reaction when Chase undoubtedly tells him how they escaped. I can't decide if Chase is immediately going to say "Buddy and I kissed" or if he's going to say "I figured out an escape and stop asking questions" but no matter what, Deacon's going to be squinting at his cousin and groaning.

ALSO can't wait to see how this arc impacts his relationship with his parents. Like I'm so excited. A Deacon that's more confident being able to step forward and say "No, I don't want to devote my life to something I'll actively hate. That's ridiculous." might be the end of me ngl, I love him.

Prunella!

Prunella my love

Prunella my LOVE

She has this confidence that we only see falter twice: when she struggles with the other kids, and right now. And in both situations, she didn't know what to do, and she was in over her head, and she reminded us that she's just a KID

Her arc has been the exact opposite of Deacon's, and it's so cool to watch them both experience opposite lessons in the same arc. Deacon learning how to step forward and lead while Prunella learns how to step back and follow.

Prunella hearing, constantly, about how dangerous the books are and finally SEEING the books as dangerous. Prunella finally understanding why Deacon was so strict about the books she could travel in, because most of their worst-case scenarios came true in a single swoop.

Prunella also has not met Buddy yet. She saw him, described him as the mean guy, and then perished. Truly an icon.

I am so convinced that Prunella and Buddy would be friends. Even if it starts rocky, I think they both enjoy humbling the Hollow boys too much to not grow to like the other's presence. I can't believe I have to wait for season 2 to get confirmation of this but I am going to be so smug when I am correct

Chase:

CHASE

CHASE EVERETT HOLLOW i have never in my life ever loved a character like I love Chase. I talk so much about Buddy but that is me being a wing-woman, Chase my love Chase, I love him so much

Fun fact I didn't even like Buddy until the first Cinderella story. I was so convinced I wouldn't like him, but I resigned myself to cheering for Stargoth anyway (I was part of the Canvas/Discover Squad, i had a LOT of hiss hiss Buddy) solely because if Buddy made Chase happy then sure I'll accept it, and now i adore Buddy, Punko is just that good

Every single moment of Chase in this arc stole my attention. every single panel. God I could do a dive longer and deeper than my Buddy analysis but exclusively on Chase during the finale arc. i could do it exclusively on Chase during the finale. I could do it on any singular panel.

Chase being guilty about lying to Buddy alone was heart-wrenching, but Chase literally only got more and more heartbreaking. Him constantly trying to help everyone--the keys, for example, with a resort for them to enjoy--only for things to go wrong--the resort, for example, drowning the book. He just wants to HELP

Buddy was 100% correct in calling out Chase for pinning the blame on Deacon, but what he didn't realize is Chase wasn't trying to do that. Chase truly felt terrible, and he truly wanted to apologize, and him bringing up Deacon was him being honest and factual because he did argue with Deacon about it, but he did end up listening to Deacon. And Buddy gets more frustrated because Chase is misunderstanding the problem--it isn't Chase hiding Prunella, it's Chase refusing to trust Buddy

And when you think about it. Chase absolutely has no reason to. Chase doesn't even know his name WHICH I WILL TALK ABOUT LATER bc kdjfherigh but! In Chase's eyes, yeah why would he. He's literally desperate to have Buddy prove that hes legit and good and kind and Buddy keeps shoving that away (Buddy saving Deacon's life and then pointedly not mentioning that, for example).

It's also the fact that Chase is trying so hard to stay optimistic despite such extreme levels of guilt. It's the fact that he stays clutching to that persona of optimism even after seeing paper! Deacon and Prunella, and it's only when he's staring at a bleeding Buddy that the full situation sinks in

Chase finally breaking. Oh my God you dont know how long I was waiting to see Chase splinter apart. This is a kid trying to do the impossible, and every single time something goes wrong, he feels like it's his fault. The book got destroyed? Buddy got betrayed? Admitting that he doesn't trust Buddy? Getting way less narratonin than Deacon or Prunella? He blames himself for all of it, first and foremost, and it's finally on full display

Chase even trying to send Buddy away? Pushing and pushing because he is so desperate to save someone, anyone, even though that's literally a death sentence for him. And he doesn't hesitate, either--it's practically instinct, even though Chase would never agree to leave if the roles had been reversed.

And like...augh Buddy hugging Chase, and Chase hugging him back? That was painful enough, but you add in Chase admitting that he doesn't want Buddy to leave?

This is not the post for me to point at Chase and accuse him of abandonment issues, but know that I am pointing at Chase and I am accusing him of abandonment issues. I am looking at him feeling hurt that Deacon left him in the Toffee arc, I am looking at him constantly repeating that he's not going anywhere, I am looking at him running to apologize to Buddy after spending so much time bitter about Buddy avoiding him, I am looking at his avoidance of talking about his mom in situations where "My mom is dying and this is important to me" would be really helpful, and I am thinking accusations

But anyway

Chase and his abandonment issues: literally all he wants is for someone to stay, safely and securely. His mom, Deacon, Silver, Buddy, even his dance partner. He's always at risk of losing someone, and he's about to lose everything, and all he can do is admit that he just wants Buddy to stay, because he's scared

Chase you are my sun you are my stars you are my whole solar system I will give you the world

Also, I absolutely knew the repeated comments about Chase being an idiot would get to him. Chase is SMART, guys. He's perceptive. He knows when he messes up, and he tries to look past the mistake and into how to rectify it, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware that he did something wrong. And people (Buddy) kept snapping that he was stupid, or an idiot, or ridiculous, bc Chase would make a mistake (or stick by a decision), and he would NOTICE that people thought it was ridiculous. He just didn't care, because he was either sticking with it, or trying to fix it.

And he DOES. He notices the words in the sky, realizes the solution, figures out the entire thread behind the stories (they want to be enjoyable and they want to have a good ending), and explains it all to Buddy. Chase figured it out, because he's so much smarter than everyone assumes.

Anyway Buddy hugging Chase and telling him he can stay a while longer (this is a scene burned into my heart) (more on that later) and telling him he's not stupid and that he's trying his best is SO important. This might be the first time in the entire story that someone finally sees Chase. Someone finally prioritizing Chase and putting Chase's wellbeing first and telling Chase yeah sure maybe you messed up but you're doing the impossible every single day and you're TRYING.

And for it to be Buddy? Like ignore the romance entirely--if someone who always insults you and is notoriously difficult to please tells you "No, you're not stupid. You're trying your best" while hugging you? thats the most sincere thing in the world. that's tears immediately.

Chase suggesting kissing is also askdjns because (again, ignore the romance part of it)--he always skips the kissing scenes. We know thats because he wanted to save his first kiss, and he's the one who offered. Yeah, okay, sure, it was life or death, but Chase didn't hesitate, and didn't weigh his options, and didn't even consider saying "a kiss on the forehead would probably suffice." guy went straight for "i need the mouth to mouth"

the grin. The bright eyes. the pressing fingers to his lips. He's so happy, so genuinely happy.

I truly, truly, TRULY cannot wait to see what this means for our idiots. I can't wait for someone to try to have a conversation and for someone else to not want a conversation, or for them to be so awkward with each other, or for Deacon to want to skin them both, or for WHATEVER turn this takes. And im SO happy for Chase.

Buddy:

I wrote this whole thing and it just deleted. i am furious

NOX

NOX I LOVE THAT NAME NOX NOX NOX

Punko i cant believe you were worried we wouldnt like it. nox nox nox nox nox i love that

okay first: the two theories for key Nox, as they are rn, are 1) that Nox has always been the villain key, or 2) that Nox was tricked/manipulated/experimented into becoming the villain key.

1) If he'd always been the villain key, it makes sense why he never told Chase his name. Chase would have immediately told Silver and company, who would have had to stare at Chase and ask them if he had a crush on their brother

1) if he'd always been the villain key, his distrust of Chase could be explained by him distrusting all humans. This would follow course with him also being frustrated by Deacon, which yes was partly because of jealousy but also partly because Deacon was a new key holder.

1) ALSO of course he was a nightmare about Chase with the key--he had no reason to believe Chase would treat the keys well. it's also possible that he knew Silver had a crack, and thats why he helped Chase in the first cinderella book--so that Chase could meet Silver.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he never asked Chase details about his key. Why he never asked about Silver or Bronze, or if they were okay, or how they were settling, despite routinely trying to get details about other factors of Chase's life. He assumes Chase is selfish, true, but he doesn't ever accuse Chase of being cruel with them.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" holds a lot of power. Yes, it's possible that the keys were once people and Nox wants to go back to that, but its been CENTURIES.

2) if he was always the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" would be applicable to all the keys, bc it would assume they were all human once (obligatory Keys are People Too mention, it's an amazing ao3 fic by incomple shoo go read it). Silver, Bronze, AND Goldie never mentioned that, and Punko likely would have foreshadowed it earlier.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he wasn't included in the dream Silver had! Where she dreamt about her family!

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his constant reference of Silver as "the key" or as "it" also makes sense. Earlier, like episode three or so, he mentions needing to get Silver back before the old man returns. It's Silver specifically, without mentioning trying to track down anyone else.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his name being objectively different from the other keys makes sense. Silver, Bronze, and Goldie were all named after the metal they were made from! Violet is purple! Yes, Nox means night, and yes, Nox has a moon on his back, but if Goldie isn't called Sunny, then I would argue Nox's name should count as way more subtle than everyone else's.

anyway theres a lot of points on either aspect

I could do into the character growth of Buddy, but I'm actually going to focus on the hug. Not the kiss, even though it's nice to see the fixation on Chase's hair stays strong, but Buddy immediately recognizing a hug is needed and immediately giving him one.

Buddy love language is touch, or something

Chase says "I think we need to kiss" and there's not a single arguement from Nox's lips. He literally stares at the sky, turns slowly, and goes "Not a problem"

actually the whole "I've never been the hero. Not even in my own story" goes so strong when you remember the speech he gave Deacon about needing to act as the hero, the helper, and whatever other role when need be. Nox was given the chance to be the hero, and he took it. "I'd like to be your hero" isn't just a romantic one-liner to preface a kiss--it's Nox genuinely saying that he wants the happy ending that Chase always skips. And Chase, this time, doesn't skip it.

Nox, returning back to his space with Violet, immediately says he doesn't think he can keep doing this. But he wants to be a human, more than ever, which implies that "keep doing this" isn't just travelling into the stories, but doing something additional. Something that, we can infer, is hurting Chase.

i am wrapping this up its snowing outside and i cant feel my fingers, how do you snow people do this

if you read all of this! grab a treat <3 hope you enjoyed and love you all

[markleessodalite]

What Scares Them About Love: NCT Dream

Haedcanon: what are the dreamies most scared of when it comes to falling in (or out of) love?

content: mentions of general insecurity, but nothing specific... i don't think there's anything specific to warn about here but lmk if i miss something!!

Mark:

 Mark is scared of being a fool for love. Mark likes to think of himself as a clever guy, quick on his feet, nothing and no one can get the better of him. On the other hand, though, he knows how he gets when he’s in love. Its like any finesse or composure he has flies out the window as soon as that certain someone appears. Yeah, its cute and charming, a usually cool and collected guy suddenly becoming a bumbling, rambling mess– unless a lovesick Mark lands in the hands of the wrong person. Mark knows he’d be so easy, too easy to take advantage of if he’s in love. And he’s terrified of being the fool who gets his heart played with, just because he was too dumb to notice the game.

Renjun:

Renjun is scared of not being enough. So much of his life is already under scrutiny, the very nature of his career is dependent on millions of people watching his every move, every performance, every look on his face at every second. You might think that with him being judged so often, he would become immune to it– but its different when Renjun is in love. People talk about love making you feel light and secure, safe, like nothing in the world could hurt you now. For Renjun, love just makes him remember all the things he’s insecure about, and all the ways someone might be dissatisfied with him. He’s scared of wanting to be everything for someone, but not being able to amount to anything.

Jeno:

Jeno is scared of exposing himself. He’s most comfortable when he can keep others at arm’s length, and there’s a very, very select few people in his life who actually get to see Jeno’s true self. Yes, he’s a member of one of the most popular idol groups, he performs to thousands of people on a regular basis who completely adore him, he posts a selfie that he took two seconds to snap and the comments are flooded with praise and affection. But he's in control of all of that– he knows exactly what to say and do to get the exact reaction he wants from others. When it comes to love, its an entirely different story. He knows that for a relationship to truly grow, he must show his true self to someone. And he knows that when he shows his true self, his most vulnerable insecurities and transparently naked thoughts, he loses all control over how that someone thinks of him. Jeno is so afraid of someone seeing him in such an exposed state, and deciding that they don’t like what they see.

Haechan:

 Haechan is afraid of effort. Not in the sense that he’s lazy– in fact, its the exact opposite. Haechan might just be the busiest man on the planet, and he puts an extreme amount of care and effort into everything he does. He’s constantly moving, constantly thinking, he’s not sure he even knows how to stop moving or thinking. But there’s only so far he can stretch himself without tearing apart at the seams. So really, what Haechan is afraid of is giving what little of himself he has left to somebody, and it ends up not being enough. He doesn’t have enough time, enough focus, enough energy to really give to someone. His biggest fear about love is losing it altogether because the effort he puts in just isn’t enough.

Jaemin:

Nothing about love scares Jaemin. The only thing he’s afraid of is seeing his love story end. Jaemin is a romantic at heart, he loves the very idea of love, and love truly means something very special and important to him. So, he doesn’t give his love easily to just anybody. He’s picky, because to him, his love story is meant to be the only love story he’ll experience, and it’s supposed to last until the end of time. He’s built to love someone until his last breath; he is not built to suffer through love fading, to go through a break up with someone he thought he’d be with forever, to watch everything he hoped and worked for dissolve into dust. When Jaemin’s incredibly high standards prevent him from finding someone, its not because he has an aversion to love. Jaemin is just terrified of what happens when love ceases to exist.

Chenle:

Chenle is afraid of backing down. Chenle is a prideful man, confident and sure. So confident and sure that he’s sometimes uncompromising, and a successful relationship is all about compromise. Chenle is perfectly aware of how important compromise is, yet there’s just something in him that refuses to let go, refuses to give up, refuses to compromise when he knows that he’s in the right. In a way, Chenle knows that a potential roadblock on his journey to love is his tendency to sabotage himself. He’s not just afraid of conceding defeat, he’s afraid that his stubbornness will be the death of his love.

Jisung:

Jisung is afraid of what love might mean for him. Jisung is still so young. Not to mention with how busy he is, how much stuff he has going on in every aspect of his life, how he’s still trying to fit into his own skin and figure out who he is… he just knows that if he were to fall in love at this stage in his life, it wouldn’t last. It would result in some sort of heartbreak that would change him in some way, and Jisung is terrified of what that change could be. He doesn’t want to become someone hardened and bitter, he doesn’t want to be heartbroken and sad all the time. He’s so scared of feeling all the emotions that come with love and the end of it, that for him, it seems better to avoid it altogether.

[abdy-18]

Fanfics where Yor takes care of Loid will always be my favorite because Yor genuinely enjoys taking care of the people she loves; it's her way of expressing affection and she wants to take care of her (fake) husband, not because she feels the obligation to do so because of the traditional wife role but because that's how her heart is.

Loid, on the other hand, has never had anyone to truly take care of him since he lost his mother. His life has been a constant cycle of loneliness and distrust. Even if his handler or some senior agent ever showed him the slightest empathy or suggested he take things easy, he would probably have assumed they were only doing it because he was a valuable asset, a resource they had to protect for utility. Twilight would surely think that, the moment he stopped being useful, they would throw him away like just another object.

But then Yor cares for him when he's most vulnerable, unable to contribute anything, when he feels like he's nothing but "useless," Yor is there, attentive, genuinely caring for him without expecting anything in return. She not only takes care of Anya, but also keeps the household running smoothly, showing him that everything will be okay even if he can't take care of everything himself.And for the first time in a long time, Twilight lets his guard down. He allows himself to relax, let the exhaustion catch up with him, and finally rest because Yor, Anya, and Bond give him a peace he never thought possible.

I have all of these in my ao3 bookmarks but I need more please 😭 if anyone knows more please tell me 😭

Harbor by frumplebump

Succumbing to the flu is not a luxury Twilight can afford, but when his immune system betrays him, Yor is there for him.

swing the spinning step by firewoodfigs

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an overworked and underpaid spy must, at some point in time, be so besieged by a terrible flu—in order that his lovely wife might take care of him. 

Something More by Thurito for nightofnyx8

The first thing the spy felt in the morning was such a strong weight on top of him that for a moment he thought it was someone who finally found his identity. His heart jumped, but as soon as his eyes were open and the man felt himself waking up more, he noticed what it was. He was sick. Twilight was sick. For the first time in more than a decade.

But I'm Here and So Are You by EmmyGracey

The Forger family returned to their hotel room after the airship crash wanting nothing more than warm clothes and a little bit of rest. When it’s Yor’s turn to get cleaned up she notices the cut on Loid’s head is bleeding again. She needs to take care of that. Loid’s not used to being taken care of. He finds it rather nice.

Spies Don't Get Paid Enough by Justanotherfannerd

Twilight does a shady mission that goes awry and Loid and Yor deal with the fallout. Purposeful obliviousness and injuries ensue. It's probably for the best that Anya is at a sleep over while all of this happens. or Twilight gets hurt, Yor plays doctor, and the both of them hide behind obliviousness.

Consequences by Raindrops_On_The_Pavement

Loid Forger is not indestructible, despite being Westalis's best. (I suck at summaries but I promise the story is good) Just a Loid Forger sickfic because why not? (The intro is a bit slow, but it gets sickfic/angsty dw)

A way out by MDSpencer

Twilight faces the consequences of his actions, and he seems to drag his family down with him

The Man From Mars by neejmorp

Something was wrong with Yor’s husband. He wore a constant smile on his face. It fooled colleagues, neighbors, and friends alike. The three people in his life who knew him best — his wife, his daughter, and his handler — all knew better. There was something off about his eyes. Loid survives a near-death experience following a mission abroad, but the incident impacts him and has an affect on his relationship with his family—particularly Yor.

You need to knock out this blondie more often :3

[violet-eng]

🔞 See you on the other side | Thanos (Choi Subong x fem!reader)

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME, VERY ASHAMED OF HOW BADLY WRITTEN OR BASIC THIS MAY BE.

Anyway, I don't know where this came from, I've had this desire for Choi Seunghyun stuck for like 10 years now, somehow I had to get rid of it. I'm still embarrassed…

Awkward plot, as always, I must add drama because if my life is full of drama then the fanfic just the same.

Summary: Fem reader has cancer, her ex is Subong, who asked her for drugs when she was working at the hospital, she gave them to him because they were for his jet lag and dizziness, but things escalate and she ends up fired and he with some sort of dependency. Anyway, they meet again in the squid game and he tries to fix everything with her because he obviously didn't forget her. And OBVIOUSLY for this first fic we have the typical and respectable BATHROOM SCENE.

Warnings 🔞🔥: mentions of cancer, SEX, SMUT, oral fem receiving, fingering. That…

In this fic, Thanos would be behaving somewhat bottom/sub? Is real life T.O.P a bottom? ask jiyong, enjoyyyyyy but not too much

〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□

Three people down, or perhaps it was four? In situations where one's personal safety is compromised, the finer details can appear insignificant. Your hands and legs trembled, and your entire body was a nervous system susceptible to error and misstep. You felt the acceleration of your heartbeat in your throat and ears, echoing in your head, and perspiration running down your cheekbones, the salty sensation in your mouth.

Your eyes turned to the spot where a figure was jumping carefree, holding the surprise in your chest when you saw Subong in the crowd, your Subong. He looked like a hallucination, hovering among the players, jumping over the corpses with a maniacal grin… drugs… your drugs.

The daily game had reached its end. It was shocking that people had died in such a strange way, and there were many questions to be answered. However, the pain was even more overwhelming because cancer was like that: painful, unbearable without medicine, especially in the current circumstances.

'Señorita' the voice was behind you; you felt his presence, the shadow of his figure enveloping you completely, and the scent of his skin and the dye of his hair brought back precious but bitter memories. How much pain love can endure.

'Su-bong', you whispered, though you thought your voice was firm, the nuance was faint and the volume low.

'My baby! What are you doing here?"His arms abruptly embraced you, drawing you into his body, and your cheek bumped against his chest.You felt that familiar, heady feeling of being protected by him — loved.

Away from the crowd, Subong inspects your face, noticing spots of blood that are not yours and a couple of dark circles under your eyes… nothing else.

'You don't look well,' he says with a grimace.

'I need some,' you say, your breathing heavy, your eyes watering, your gaze beseeching, 'You owe me. I got them for you.'

He does not take you up on your request, nor does he attempt to argue with you, because he knows that is one of the reasons you lost your medical licence.

'Say "Aaah"'.

He brings one of his hands in front of you, a colourful pill between his fingers, and slowly touches your lower lip to make you open your mouth.His fingers enter, and your tongue takes the pill, but habit, treacherous habit, appears and your tongue tastes his fingers. A touch of what you had been.

Your eyes meet his as you both reminisce about the good times you shared during your relationship. When you two were an item, he would gently slide his fingers into your mouth, and within moments, you would be caught up in a passionate embrace, him on top of you, making love from behind while whispering a range of compliments in your ear.

'Better?' he inquires, his fingers gently tracing the lips around your mouth. You nod as the memory fades. You feel as if you've tasted a taste of normality, something you haven't enjoyed in years.

The night after games and food, you feel heavy and lethargic. You sweat and shiver, and you realise that it is a reaction of your body. You had treated several patients like this for years, and the helplessness of becoming one had made you fall into a very dark place, almost abandoning yourself.

"Bathroom" you request one of the guards, but your voice is not as steady as your gaze. The guard declines, and you consider that if you had a pen with you, you would have moved him out of your way, as you did with the insurance agent who had refused to cover your chemotherapy.

"It's urgent. I just want to freshen up" you insist, aware that in your position you can't make demands like that.

‘Hey bro, she has cancer, if it was your sister or your mother would you treat her like this?’ Subong appears at the right moment, after having watched you for a long time, “look at her, she can't even stand up”.

He places his arm around you and shakes you vigorously, as if manipulating a rag doll. His methods are deceptively straightforward, yet his success is unparalleled.Even if you had been in optimal health, he would have still prevailed.

You wash your face and pour water on the back of your neck, observing the reflection in the mirror. Your bruised features bear little resemblance to the respectable oncologist you used to be.

Subong's drugs have effectively mitigated your feelings of rejection, causing all sentiments towards the person in the mirror to dissipate within moments. Although you don't recognize yourself, you feel a sense of rejuvenation, as if returning to a state of strength and painlessness.

Subong approaches you, resting his chin on your shoulder, leaning his hands against the sink. You feel his breath in your ear and the soft brush of his lips on your neck, his kisses below your ear, at the precise spot that makes your skin bristle, reminiscent of their days together.

Subong's voice, husky and subtle, with sweet undertones, asks, "Feeling better?" The enigma that is Subong: he seems impenetrable and stoic when he raps, yet under the stage he is a sensitive and playful creature, always with a striking look and a touch of madness.

"Better," you reply, looking in the mirror and observing the closeness between the two of you, as if time hasn't passed, as if you were never done with him, as if your souls weren't on a tightrope drifting off to who knows where. You experience a sense of longing for him, the intimacy, the warmth of his embrace, the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way his lips cling to your skin without kissing you, as if it causes him discomfort to touch you, as if you were made of porcelain.

"When we make that money, I'll pay for your chemotherapy," he says. His voice is masculine and deep, rough, and his eyes are like fogged glass, intrinsically wounded by your illness as if it were his own.

"What about your debts?" you inquire, turning to him, cradling his face in your hands, him still leaning on the sink behind you.

He bends down to look at you blearily, and with a smirk, almost cartoonishly, he says, "Fuck the debt. I only care about your well-being. I'll see who I'll take his share from."

This provokes laughter from you, which you hadn't experienced in nearly a year. The corners of your lips ache, and the sensation of your cheeks expanding sends shivers down your skin.

Subong remarks, "There it is," as he touches the tip of your nose. "My girl's cute laugh." His fingers trace the contours of your lips, evoking memories on your skin with his touch, and reviving sensations you thought were lost.

He knows how to make you feel good, how to tease you, and how to be gentle because he knows your body wouldn't be able to handle it if he used all his strength.It's like when you went to the bars -the body remembers, so you move naturally from soft kisses and panting to one of the cubicles.

Your pants are on the floor, your underwear is around one of your ankles, and you are sitting on the toilet seat.Subong is skilled at rapping, which allows his tongue to glide with delight. He breathes softly as he holds his face between your legs.His fingers glide up your thighs, tracing ancient marks with his thumbs, while his tongue paints your velvety walls with his devotion.

You intertwine your fingers in his hair, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back as the combination of drugs and his adept tongue takes hold. You hear him emit a low, throaty sound as you discreetly disengage from his grasp and press his face against yours, his nose brushing against your sensitive area.

You inhale his scent, the rhythm of your heart accelerating, and you feel the warmth of his fingers between your legs. His fingers begin to brush against your folds, and you recognize the familiarity of this touch.

"I don't think I can bear it," you whisper, pulling him away from you. Your hands are in his hair, your eyes fixed on his, which are black and smiling as his tongue wipes his chin. His tanned skin is glistening with the crystals of your juices.

"I promise to be gentle. I will make you feel good, baby." The dichotomy of sweetness of his face and the naughtiness of his fingers exploring your womanhood plunges you into an unknown territory somewhere between amusement and discretion.He enjoys seeing the way you squirm at his touch, at his fingers delving inside you and roaming over formerly dominated territory.

He swiftly locates your sensitive areas, his fingers pressing firmly into your body. His fingers disappear into your ecstasy, and you begin to rhythmically shake your hips, in harmony with the intruders testing your last reserves of sanity.

"So… ohhh-"

Subong looks at you satisfied as you begin to chant incoherently. He has always loved to please you, and that's why he has been so devoted to your body, learning every nook and cranny and experimenting with his movements to achieve the perfect reaction of your being, which is now destroyed under his fingers.

"More," you moan, gripping his shoulders with your nails, and he, your devoted instrument of pleasure, takes you to the edge of losing yourself in your own pleasure, of feeling every electric fiber of your body.

"Don't hold back."The rough voice and soft tongue are in full effect, and you can feel your body responding with heightened sensation. Your voice is almost a scream, your teeth holding back your lips, and your shoulders tensing as it reaches its peak, and then it explodes inside you. You exhale hard, your legs wrapping around his head, your hands in his hair, almost tearing out his locks.

"Shit," he laughs, as you shudder and catch your breath. "When you heal, I'll do you better. I promise." He rises to kiss you, his tongue touching the roof of your mouth, and your own taste bathes your tongue.

"How did you know I had cancer?" you know this is not the time to ask, and yet you do.He smiles over your lips as he kisses you.

"When I went to see you at the hospital, they told me you had been arrested by the police for stabbing an insurance agent during your chemotherapy," he says over you, proud as he wipes traces of saliva from your chin.

"You knew my medical license had been taken away. Why did you look for me at the hospital?"

"I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I would ask one of your old friends for her phone to call you, you would have answered them," he said, kneeling down to pull your panties up.

"I am sorry I blocked your number."

"It's all in the past," he says, smiling up from the floor and wiping his lip with his thumb. "It was good," he continues, "when we get out of here, you can unblock me."

"Do you believe we'll survive this?" you pull up your pants and escort him out of the cubicle.

"I'm not certain of anything, but if anything happens, I'll see you on the other side," he says, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your skin.

"See you on the other side…"

[jareaul0ver]

I love you, I'm Sorry

wc: 978 warnings: angsty but a happy ending! pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

A/N: omg im actually posting?? don't get used to this i go back to school soon and probably wont post anything til either spring break or the summer

Two Years Ago

You were pacing around your apartment, waiting for Nika to come over like she said she would.

Nika's been your unofficial girlfriend for a while, but you never put a label on what you had.

But she was leaving for the W soon, and you either wanted all or nothing with her.

A few minutes into your pacing, there was a knock on the door. You walked over and opened it, seeing Nika's smiling face. "You wanted to talk?" She said.

You nodded and invited her in. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee or tea?"

Nika shook her head and sat down on your couch. "I'm okay, thank you."

A small sigh left your body as you went over and sat down, leaving a bit of space between the two of you just in case everything went south.

"What's this about?" She asked cautiously.

You took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch a little. "You're leaving soon, and-"

"That doesn't mean this has to end, if that's where you're going with this," Nika interjected.

A small frustrated sigh left your lips. "What even is this, Nika? Are we girlfriends? Or just casually fucking?" She stayed silent and you just scoffed. "It's your choice, either we put a label on this, or I'm done."

The last thing Nika wanted was to completely lose you, but she didn't like the ultimatum you were giving her. "That's not fair, I need to focus on basketball-"

"And just lead me on the whole time? Have me thinking we could be something more, even though we never will be?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was getting difficult.

She sighed and stood up. "I- I'm sorry, but I can't do this," she said before grabbing her things and walking to the door.

You stood up and watched her. She was so ready to leave, no hesitation. "So that's it then? You're just leaving?"

Nika's jaw twitched and she stared at you for a moment. "I"m sorry," she mumbled before opening the door and leaving, letting it close behind her.

You forced your eyes away from the door and looked out the window, watching the May atmosphere warming up the world, but it felt so cold in your apartment without Nika.

It hadn't been that long since Nika left for the W, and everyone already loved her. She charmed everyone she met, other players, fans, the media.

It's like she trained herself, got lessons on how to be a people person. She never was before. She was always polite, but kept to herself.

Except around you. You always were able to break down her walls and see what was really going on with her, how she really was.

But now you see this people pleaser on TV and social media, and all you can do is complain to your friends about it.

Two Summers from Now

After a while, you had managed to get over Nika. Well, more so over what happened with her.

You'd always have a soft spot for the girl, she saw you and supported you at your worst, and you could never stop loving her because of it.

It was ironic. You were about to head out to Seattle to visit some friends, and Nika was about to get on a plane back to Storrs to see her friends.

At this moment, you broke no contact with her. You sent her a text, hoping she didn't have you blocked, or that she didn't change her number.

You were a little surprised to see an answer from her short after you sent the message. The two of you ended up talking about life, realizing that just maybe, you could be cool with her.

She gave you some advice about Seattle, and you let her know how excited the other UConn girls would be to see her again.

The next few days went by in a blur. You were in Seattle, taking in the scenery, leaning out the window of your hotel and having a drink.

I love you, I'm Sorry

You were still in Seattle. You didn't realize that Nika had messaged your friends, asking what hotel you were at and your room number.

She came back early, and she wanted needed to see you before you left. She wanted to attempt to fix things.

Nika's feelings for you never left. She knew that she reacted badly when you told her what you wanted, and she wasn't sure that she could forgive herself for walking away so easily.

But she at least needed you to know that she still loved you.

At about 10pm that night, there was a knock on your hotel door. You looked over in confusion before getting up from your bed and walking over.

You opened the door, and it was like everything from the past few years came flooding back. "Nika?" You invited her inside. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to say sorry for everything. For the way I reacted back then, I was a dick about it, and you didn't deserver any of it," she said.

You were speechless, so she took it as her que to keep going. "I was the worst, and every time I go for a drive I think about the ones we used to take to clear our heads. I swear, it haunts me-" She cleared her through.

"Nika-" You said, but she cut you off.

"I still love you, I'm sorry." The words fell from her lips so effortlessly, you couldn't help but want to give in and see where it led.

So you did. You caved and rushed up to her, pressing your lips against hers.

It lasted for a few seconds before you rested your forehead against hers. "I love you, and I'm sorry, too."

[koyagifs]

𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮

pairing: seonghwa x reader au: idol | friends to strangers | genre: angst word count: 1.1k synopsis: seonghwa didnt mean for things to end badly, but boy did he sure regreit when you released your newest album warning(s): angst w/ no comfort,

The news hit you like a wave, but your reaction was more of disbelief than anger. You felt the rush of emotions, but nothing felt concrete enough to grasp. Scoffing was an instinctual defense, but inside, you could feel the hurt begin to swell. The room felt tighter with each passing second, and you noticed your stylists exchanging uneasy glances, their eyes darting from you to each other. They were used to your sensitivity—your emotional shifts, your vulnerability—but they never knew how to manage it when it was raw.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. There was no point in crying here, you're supposed to go on stage here shortly.

" we're changing things up a bit. We're dropping fast times and adding please," You said, standing up from your chair.

Your manager looked at you in shocked, " but the dance crew - "

" we'll improvise, so what," Your voice was steady, but your mind was racing. The thought of performing in front of the audience—especially with everything weighing on you—felt almost suffocating. But you weren’t about to let it show. Your fans, many of them followers from your ex-boyfriend’s influence, were expecting the usual performance, but today you weren’t about to give them the usual.

Your manager hesitated, clearly unsure, but the finality in your voice was undeniable. You could see the wheels turning in their head, weighing the pros and cons. But you were already moving forward, walking over to your stylist and motioning to get the changes made quickly. The crew scrambled to adjust, knowing better than to push back now.

As the team worked to shift things around, you tried to collect yourself. You were angry—angry that you were here, angry that you were expected to hide it, and angry at him for making you feel so small. But the stage? The stage was yours. You could handle anything there.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, seeing a glimpse of someone who would take this betrayal, turn it into something raw and real, and give them a show they wouldn’t forget.

The energy in the air was electric as you stood under the spotlight, your heart still racing from the performance. You could feel the heat from the stage lights and the pulse of the crowd’s excitement, but for a brief moment, everything seemed to freeze. Their energy was contagious, and it was a welcome distraction from the chaos swirling in your mind.

A giggle escaped your lips, and the sound felt like the first real moment of joy in what had been a difficult day. "So, how is everyone?" you asked, your voice light and playful. The crowd roared in response, their cheers and screams vibrating through the floor beneath your feet.

You glanced around, letting the moment stretch just a bit longer. "My, such a loud crowd," you teased, a grin tugging at your lips. You could feel the love and support radiating from them, and for a moment, it made you forget everything else.

The crowd fell into an anticipatory hush, their eyes on you, hanging on your every word. You could feel their curiosity building, the tension electrifying the air. This was your moment to reclaim control, to remind everyone, and maybe even yourself, that you were still the one in charge.

You paused, letting the suspense linger just a bit longer, enjoying the attention before delivering the punch. "So, I have a surprise for you guys tonight. Very last minute!" you said, your tone playful, yet laced with a hint of mystery.

The crowd erupted in cheers, excited whispers rippling through them as they eagerly tried to guess what was coming. You could feel the thrill of it, a spark of excitement that momentarily distracted you from the storm brewing inside.

Without missing a beat, you motioned to the crew, signaling them to get ready. "I know you all came for the usual, but tonight, we’re doing something a little different. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."

A few staff members gave you questioning looks, but you ignored them. You were already moving, already shifting the plan and taking charge. The surprise you were about to reveal wasn’t just for them—it was for you, too. A new version of yourself, one who was taking back the power and refusing to let anyone—especially him—define you.

The crowd’s confusion was palpable as the first few notes of the new song filled the arena. They hadn’t expected this, and it was clear from their puzzled expressions that they were trying to process what was happening. But you could feel the shift, the collective curiosity rising in the air.

With a small, knowing smile, you leaned into the mic, voice smooth and confident. "This is my new upcoming song, Please, releasing in a few months, but I think you guys deserve a treat."

The audience’s murmur of surprise quickly turned into cheers, the promise of something fresh and exclusive lighting up their faces. You could hear a few excited whispers in the crowd, some fans already buzzing with anticipation at the idea of hearing something new before anyone else.

Seonghwa’s fingers drummed anxiously on the surface of his desk, his mind racing through the consequences of his actions. His heart felt heavy, and the silence in his dorm room seemed to echo every doubt that had crept into his mind. He knew he should have been more careful, but now it felt like the damage was already done.

He muttered to himself, a mixture of frustration and regret in his voice. "Fuck, did I really mess up..."

The guilt gnawed at him, and he paced in a tight circle, rubbing the back of his neck. The wait was unbearable. His manager had gone off to handle the fallout, but Seonghwa wasn’t sure what kind of news would come back—he only knew that whatever it was, it wouldn't be good.

Seonghwa's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Hongjoong's, a mix of guilt and anger flashing in them. The words stung more than he’d expected, but deep down, he knew Hongjoong was right. He had been caught up in something he shouldn't have been, and now he was facing the consequences.

"She's on tour... how can I do that to her?" Seonghwa muttered, his voice almost a whisper, like he was trying to convince himself that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

Hongjoong’s expression didn’t soften. He crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. "And cheating on her was the best idea?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "You think that’s any better?"

Seonghwa’s chest tightened as the weight of Hongjoong's words hit him like a brick. He had no defense, no excuse. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment, and now he had hurt someone he cared about deeply. "I didn’t mean for it to happen," Seonghwa muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I messed up. I’m... I’m trying to fix it."

The door creaked open, and his manager stepped inside, their face grim. Seonghwa’s stomach twisted as he met their gaze, knowing that whatever was about to be said would change everything.

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Mydei Headcanons

Mydei x gn! reader

cw: isolation, controlling relationship, overprotectiveness, paranoia, spanking, leg injuring, mentions of non-con (Mydei thinks of it but doesn’t act on it), coercion.

Beware of spoilers.

Don’t read it if you’re a minor!

Origins

You’re all good with Mydei until something happens to you—suddenly you’re a threat to yourself, or anything bad that there is becomes a threat to you as well.

—When Mydei first met you, he thought of you as capable enough of taking care of yourself. Not only did you know how to fight, you also had a mouth on you, one comparable to his. While it brought him trouble, he admired your strong will and an ability to stand up for yourself in this cruel world, even in front of someone like Mydei, and he eventually he let you close to him and form a relationship with.

His feelings of confidence towards your ability quickly started to change, after you got badly injured in the battle. Hearing about this felt like a hot whiplash on his back. It didn’t matter nothing has been happening to you so far until this point, and that you were still alive. This singular incident proved that there’s always an enemy stronger than you, a risk worse than you can manage and… his mother Gorgo was a great warrior too, only to meet a deadly fate in the end too.

Paranoid thoughts filled his mind, and soon, his feelings changed from pride for you, to the sense of anger at your willingness to expose yourself to so many risks of this world with how eager for the world and challenge taking you were. And only Mydei could protect you from these risks, taking on another burden. He needed you with him desperately, the only person that truly can get through him.

—You weren’t happy about any of this, of course. From being so free, to Mydei constantly checking on you, demanding answers, questioning your ability, scolding you; until you no longer were an autonomous person, but instead under his control he’d never dare to call something else than “guidance”.

How Mydei treats the situation

All this road along, he failed to realize he was protecting his feelings instead, more than you actually needed to be protected.

—With time, rules became stricter, until you no longer could leave outside without him. No matter how much not being able to fight was depressing to you, if it truly bothers you so much, while it hurt Mydei to cut your wings like this, all he’d tell you is that you could always have a sparring training with him. He’d rather let guilt eat him alive at night, than let you get yourself injured again. Mydei truly didn’t enjoy hurting you, but hurt was never avoided either.

—Mydei’s actions were fueled by his paranoia and fears, but he was still self aware about how this affects you—he just had to prioritize one over another, safety over happiness, but still balance your wellbeing somewhat as suffering wasn’t an option either.

If you were unhappy about something, he’d try to find a substitute for what you were lacking, which of course would never compare to the real deal—but the need to keep you safe was bigger than you being fully satisfied. He lost a lot of his tribe, he lost his mother, how can he lose someone he loves too? He learned from his lessons of being merciful towards the world. He’d be cruel towards his enemies, involuntarily cruel to you, but at least you were alive and safe.

—With his usual ways of dealing with problems being violence, a most straightforward and effective method, there was not much that Mydei wouldn’t do or much that would hold him back from doing bad things in your name—any threat to you would be immediately dealt with, even if it was meant to be more bloodshed. Just don’t look at him as if he’s a monster afterwards, or he’ll have to start making it a secret to keep away from you. Mydei had enough self-doubts after killing his own father.

Punishment

He loved you, but he’ll be strict if he needs to be. It was a matter of you forcing him to be.

—With what little freedom he puts you through and him not being entirely delirious, he’d try to be patient with you. He didn’t expect you to ever forgive him, knowing it’s difficult on you and that your life will never be really yours, even if your coldness towards forgiveness made him feel guilty… but he still chased your compliance and understanding, reminding you it’s about your safety. He’d give you time, but if you continue disregarding his orders and concerns for too long, he’d be forced to take measures he wouldn’t want to deliver onto you. He might hurt his enemies with ease, but hurting you was a last resort, as you didn’t cross him the same way his enemies would and naturally his affection held him back; so you’d have to push him really hard for him to finally make a decision, that perhaps this is his only chance.

—Constantly trying to run away and him always hunting you down, despite his warnings and small withdrawal of comforts from you as a punishment—Mydei didn’t know what else he could do to keep you in place, it’s enough for him to finally think that maybe only his usual way will work at this point.

He just wouldn’t make his violence as severe as he’d do towards a foe, considering you were meant to learn and were his love, not to be brutalized upon his anger. He needed something you can recover from, but something painful enough to leave you hesitant to misbehave again.

He didn’t enjoy putting you over his lap, he felt guilt hearing your cries and pain, to the point that he’ll hold you tight afterwards, for his own comfort too. However, that guilt was something that will gradually disappear if you shall repeat same attempts regardless of being punished. If you ever reach that point, you’ll be deemed just stupid and stubborn by him, and each spanking session will feel only right and not cruel anymore. If you choose to listen instead and stop running away, but still keep making other forms of disobedience towards his protection , such penalties will be rare, replaced with from simple harsh scolding to taking away your privileges (especially outside-related); all depending on the extent of the offense.

—In worst case possible, he’d simply chain you up or… hurt a leg or two so you can’t leave, but it’d have to be done after long months of you exposing yourself to the danger and ignoring his accumulating anger and anxiety. The injury wouldn’t be anything that would permanently disable you either, even if the pain of it would be unimaginable; but Mydei would make it clear to you, that you left him no choice, and that he’ll take a care of your legs as long as you listen to him now. If anything, you having to be dependent on him when recovering felt most relaxing for Mydei.

Living with Mydei:

You are his lover, no matter how much you might struggle. Let him keep some sense of normality with you.

—While your relationship could never be the same again, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to accommodate it to be about the same. What can be done only outside, he’d still let you, as long as you were leaving with him. You weren’t entirely a prisoner by him, it wasn’t really about locking you up but keeping you away from harm after all. However, this didn’t mean you’d be able to drag him everywhere. There were certain places deemed as more dangerous, but not even because of the threat, but his paranoia you’ll take advantage to escape again.

—When it came to his treatment towards you as your lover, he still offered you same affection or respite in his arms. The issue was, your eagerness was naturally disappearing, creating a distance between you two. It was something Mydei found hard to accept. Accepting this would mean accepting your defiance towards what he was doing for you. This would fuel the sense you’re being ungrateful. Even scarier was losing your love for him, and he was so scared of losing you.

That’s why sometimes he’d force that affection on you, but he loved the moments when you came to him even more; whether they were out of sentiment or you feeling down by your situation. He’d comfort you about everything as if it wasn’t his own doing, but something that simply needed to be done. And no matter how selfish it sounded, he wanted you to comfort him too, with Mydei behaving as if this situation affected him a lot too, especially when you were so disobedient and not understanding. He tended to make himself victimized without even realizing.

--If you snap at him because you have enough of living like this, he won’t be happy. He’ll try to be patient for first few moments, trying to comfort you still, but drag this on and he’ll snap at you too, maybe with a threat of punishment on his lips. That usually shuts you up. Mydei just wasn’t good at being vulnerable, and it was hard for him to sometimes understand your cries and handle your emotions, no matter how valid they were. You just made him even more guilty again, he just wanted to make you quiet, despite it being a runaway from the problem and not a solution to your growing resentment or depression.

But if you really need your space and can’t stop talking about it, he’d let you have it… just not without making it look like a problem for him, no matter how childish that may seem from him. Mydei was used to sleeping next to you.

—If you’ve been particularly well behaved recently, you’ll see his mood to get much better, even show some excitement at the prospect of having normalcy with you again. Living with him could become more bearable, as his positive mood keeps the atmosphere lighter, and him bit more lenient with you. Keep up the good work and he’ll reward you too.

—Mydei would never admit this to you, but he keeps dreaming about the idea of you becoming entirely dependent on him. No more struggle, and he gets to be your hero and feel assured in his sense of need for your protection. You clinging to him, coming to him willingly, telling him you need him, maybe even being scared of being away from your Mydei. Of course it’d mean you are far gone at this point, nothing like the person from the first meeting, and this state, he did not want you to reach. You’d try to kill him after hearing his fantasy spoken aloud anyway.

Sexuality

There were things he wanted to do to you, he didn’t want you to know.

While Mydei still had enough decorum and self restraint to not force himself on you, especially aware of the pain it’d bring you and guilt for him, he couldn’t deny the fact he missed the pleasure and closeness your body used to bring him. It was hard to keep himself around you sometimes, especially with his strong emotions about the situation that needed the relief too or his need for your affection, but he managed when he thought of your possible pain.

It’s just his thoughts that started to go haywire after a while of controlling you like this. Mydei wouldn’t actually force you physically, but he kept having his “what if” thoughts and unwanted fantasies. Maybe if he was to do this, he’d enforce compliance onto you, with you crying, begging and promising him you’ll listen and stay. Maybe you’d be able to think about him only and not the outside world. Maybe it would remind you of what you two once had, that it still exists somewhere, and your begs would be for more this time.

Thankfully he was able to see it was just wishful thinking, and not act on these thoughts like a fool… at least for now. Mydei felt lonely in this situation too; you’d least expect it when he’s trying to seduce you again, perhaps by an attempt of forcing desperation into you with little sneaky touches during his affections or by instilling a sense of guilt with a reminder of how much he’s trying for you. Surely you needed to blow off some steam too anyway.

Final words

Living with Mydei doesn’t have to be most miserable, if you play your cards right and choose to accept his offer of safety. While you didn’t have a choice in a traditional sense, you had a choice to make a situation better for yourself and keep some normalcy and happiness leftovers—if you choose to try to understand his reasonings, because sadly, he won’t ever change his mind. Mydei wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone in your name, but he’d hate for you to ever blame him for it. He’d hate to hurt you even more, he constantly lived with the fear he was doing so and with that, had even more guilt to carry; yet it was all buried by the sense of duty to keep you safe, one driving him motivated enough to keep going in “protecting” you, even if it felt more like avoidance towards his own problems.

Accept him, and he’s your old Mydei… somewhat. Reject him, and now you two struggle.

[broidobe]

𝔫𝔦𝔨𝔨𝔦 𝔰𝔦𝔵𝔵 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔞𝔩𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔱

requested by 📼!

⁎⁺˳✧༚motley crue masterlist

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

never shuts the fuck up

as briefly mentioned in his nsfw headcannons (linked in the motley masterlist)

practically gives a summary of everything that happens.

he’s honestly adorable

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

as also mentioned in the nsfw headcannons,

ASS GUY TILL HE DIES

absolutely OBSESSED with your ass

he likes his arms

they are big and covered in tattoos

and he LOVES his tattoos

so therefore

he loves his arms

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

okay loves cumming in you

like don’t get him wrong he does love it

but all time fav??

you guessed it

your ass

sometimes when you guys are doing missionary or anything where your on your back,

he will flip you over when he’s cumming

and cum all over your ass

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

has this fantasy of having a threesome with tommy and you

but honestly, he’d just like to watch tommy fuck you

while you make direct eye contact with him

and tell him how good his friends cock feels inside you

everytime he even sees tommy near you

he will immediately think of this

and HOPE that you’d be up for it one day

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s pretty damn experienced

but that doesn’t necessarily mean he knows what he’s doing

before you he just had hookups where it didn’t matter how good he did

because it would be over and he wouldn’t need to think of it

but with you, he did

because the first time you fucked, you didn’t cum ONCE.

it WAS that bad.

so you talked it over with him and he really listened. he took mental notes and everything. he PREPARED for the next time you guys fucked

and overtime…he just got way better

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

CHIBI

now if you haven't read the headcannons, this position is linked in it

but im gonna do my best to explain

so one partner is standing in front of the bed while the other lays down in a doggy style position. the partner on the bed has their knees right on the edge so their feet are hanging off. and they are laying with their ass up in the air.

if you didn’t understand that, PLEASE JUST CHECK THE LINK ON THE NSFW HEADCANNONS

but he gets really deep in you

and gets easy access to your ass

so it's a win

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he is pretty funny

but he does view sex as a form of connection

so he just cracks joke from here and there

but when he’s drunk..?

he takes ABSOLUTELY NOTHING seriously

and says EVERYTHING WITH A SLUR

you know what would make this even better? a tambourine... or a cowbell. just trust me on this one.

psssh, yeah, i’m totally... i’m... mumble mumble... gonna write a song about this. or, like, somethin’. you know what i mean, right?

i’m, uh, i’m like a... a rockstar... but, like, the rockstar, y’know? i’m... yeah, i’m so good at this.

you’re so hot. like, fiiiiiire. you probably have, like, a... fire extinguisher ready or somethin’.

wait, wait, i’m supposed to be... doin’ somethin’... uh... oh yeah, that’s right. come here, you!

y’know, if we were in the 80s... wait, we are... we’d be like... the best band ever... yeah, but like... in bed, too.

mmmmmm, lemme tell you somethin’, babe. the secret to a good night is… uh... whisky, definitely whisky.

i feel like i should be... doing somethin’... no, no, no—wait, i know what i should do... oh god.

no... seriously, are you... really into me? or do you just, like, wanna be part of the circus or something? i’d totally get it if you were…

this is... this is totally what... rockstars do, right? like, we... we... this is... uh... yeah, just roll with it!

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

yeah uhhh..

not the best…

they are decently long

and like a really dark brown

and they aren’t the nicest feeling ever when you give him head

but still, he’s fucking great so does it matter??

not really

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

really passionate

he really loves the emotinal aspect of sex

not just the pleasure one

he sees sex as a ritual to show someone how much they mean

he’s covers you in kisses and praise

and just constantly makes you feel like a goddess

j = jack off (masturbation headcannon)

he used to do it a lot

but not a BUNCH

because he had lots of girls

but with you?

barely ever

he’s a total sucker for mutual masterbastion though

honestly, the only times he ever jacks off is with you.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

voyeurism and exhibitionism

but like heavy on exhibitionism

as discussed earlier, he has fantasies about watching you get fucked by his bandmates

he honestly would watch any he’s close to fuck you tbh

voyeurism is more in threesomes/gangbangs

he likes the idea of being watched during sex

especially if his actions spark envy

bondage

now it's not too light but not too heavy

he likes tying you up so you can’t move

and he doesn’t mind being tied up himself

sensory play is a big one

especially blindfolds, floggers, and wax

due to his obsession with your ass, it becomes the main culprit of wax and flogging

but c’mon you don’t mind

semi-public play

like he’ll probably finger you at a booth in the bar

in front of all his friends

or you’ll give him a blowjob under the table.

but that’s about as far as it goes

in the public eye anyways ;)

impact play

he LOVESSS when you leave scratches all over him

when he looks in the mirror next morning he gets so overwhelmed

it’s like heaven on earth to him

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

okay now fight me if you don’t see it

but i feel like he’d TOTALLY have a sex dungeon at home

with ropes, restraints, sex swings, like literally EVERYTHING

so he would absolutely LOVE to have sex in there

your bed

just comfortable and easy to just pass out in after

but he does have a thing for bathrooms

especially in bars

throwing you against the wall and pounding into you at an ungodly pace?

fuck yeah

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

honestly anything

you just being you can make him insanely horny

when you laugh at a joke he tells, he just gets a massive hard on

he’s like “omg she thinks i’m funny. I’m gonna cum now”

but when you wear some short skirt, dress, or ANYTHING that reveals that ass??

ooohhhh boyyy it will be a LONG night

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

he wouldn’t hurt your feelings

and he definitely wouldn’t make you insecure in any way

any of the…odd kinks

anything “too vanilla”

he doesn’t really like “just having sex” he likes to have a thrill to it

absolutely no life risking kinks

no gun-play or erotic asphyxiation

like he’s okay with choking but to the point where you literally can’t breathe? no way

this man has already died once, he does NOT wanna die again

and anything that doesn’t feel emotionally connected is a big NO

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

this is really a 50/50

he loves giving so so sooo much

just making you squirm in anyway is guaranteed to make him hit the roof

but he literally calls you “the goddess of head”

he cannot get enough of your blowjobs

it’s literally become a before-show ritual

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

i talked about this a bit on the nsfw headcannons but again, this is another 50/50

well actually i lied

80/20

he mostly pounds into you like a jackhammer

but any other time he takes his time and explores your body

maybe it’s after a hard day where you just feel really down

and he shows you how beautiful you really are

or maybe he’s just feeling romantic

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

they’re really only a spite of the moment thing

they only ever happen in those beloved bar bathroom breaks

or in the pre-show rituals

but he isn’t the biggest fan

he takes his time on you whenever he can

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

LOVES experimenting

he’s the type to get bored if sex stays the same

you guys totally have a kink jar that you pick out of when you wanna spice it up

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i’d say four rounds

about…forty minutes each..?

but that’s on like a really freaky ass day

the average day is like 1-2 rounds

like i said he takes his motherfucking time

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

this is mister “i have a sex dungeon guy”

and mister “i love making you feel good” guy

OF COURSE HE OWNS TOYS

but just for you

i really can’t see him as a guy that would need them for himself

but for you??

holy shit

he has like a color-coded drawer

i kid you not.

he fucking loves using them at any given moment

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s not the biggest tease

during buildup to sex he totally is

what’s with that look? you want something, don’t you? come on, say it.

what’s the rush? i like watching you squirm a little first

guess what? i’m not letting you sleep tonight. better cancel your plans tomorrow

come here. i want to hear you beg for it before i even touch you.

you look so damn good right now

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he is one loud man

he lets out these guttural moans NO MATTER WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE

let's refer back to you giving him head under a table. with all his friends there…so y’know you’d be getting down to business and he’d be talking to his friends all normal right? and then boom mid sentence

hey, did you grab my—ahhh, Jesus Christ—grab my leather jacket from the—uhn—van?

no, I’m totally listening, just... ahhh—ahh, f**—keep talking, keep talking…

but when you guys are at home.

holy fuck he like breaks the sound barrier

oh, fuck... god, just like that— (groans deeply, his words breaking off as he grips the sheets).

you’re gonna—ahh—kill me, babe. Holy... fuck

jesus christ, you’re—uhhnn—so fucking good at this.

i can’t—fucking—ahhh, you feel... amazing.

oh, my God... yeah, just—uhn—keep going, keep going...

you’re—ahhh—gonna make me lose my goddamn mind.

fuck babe... don’t stop, please don’t—ahhh—stop.

shit, you’re—uhn—driving me insane right now.

i can’t handle—ahhh—how good you are at this.

goddamn, you’re gonna make me—uhn—lose it, babe.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he’s secretly into being vulnerable

nikki might seem like he’s always in control, but when he’s with someone he really trusts, he loves moments where he can let his guard down.

maybe it’s letting you take the lead, or whispering about his deepest desires in a hushed, raw voice while you’re tangled up together.

if you ever gently cup his face and look into his eyes during an intense moment, he’d melt completely. he might mutter something like:

you have no idea what you do to me...

Ii’s rare for him to let that softer side show, but when he does, it’s deeply intimate and unforgettable—proof that, for all his wild energy, there’s a tenderness underneath he only shares with someone truly special.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

now i’m gonna make a guess and say we’ve all seen…the photos

but i should be allowed to have my own beliefs shouldn’t i?

in MY WORLD (and hopefully yours if you're reading this)

he is a beautiful 7.5 inch with a very slight curve to the right

he’s girthy

he’s got some light veins (lets pretend he didn’t inject heroin in his dick okay? okay cool. in the perfect world (daphne’s world) he does have veins left on that dick)

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it’s pretty damn high

he gets needy too

he will call you late at night if you aren’t with him

just so you two can masturbate with each other

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

well he doesn't really shut up

so like…an hour??

but if he’s really tired like 20 minutes

he will still talk lol.

he might just pass out mid sentence

[creativeinfinite13]

AROMANTICISM - THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND ROMANCE AND YOU HAVE TO BE APART OF IT 

When you're a kid, you don't question much. Some things about the world are just fact, you know? The sky is blue, ice cream is tasty, strangers are dangerous, the world is good, and your mom is all-knowing. But as you grow up, you're expected to question things. The world gets more complex; you learn about politics, or statistics- misogyny and personhood. Your mom was a kid once too, and she has her own biases. But some things aren't ever questioned. Not even considered. It's on the radio, on tv. It's on the billboards, in the coying questions about every boy you meet. A kiss begins with Kay. True love conquers all. Martha and Dereck are getting together- isnt that so nice? Because everyone strives for that, right? Everyone feels it. You should want this. Mom and dad are married. And you will be too. 

Love. The uniting human emotion- or so it claims. Of course there is love for your friends, for your family- and that for sure is all-emcompasing, a deep connection unlike any other that makes your heart feel warm and safe. That is love of course, but thats not the first thing that came to your mind, right? No. This is about Love, the coupling emotion, full of kisses and rings and nights of passion. Its the eternal connection to which nothing can compare, and without it, you are only half of a whole. Half a person- you are nothing without a partner to marry and obsess over. Half a feeling- You wont get the true human experience if you dont fall in love. A half without a whole. A half that needs to be fixed. 

But what if that was all you were? 

What if you never felt broken? 

But you are, of course. You have to be. You simply dont get it. Everyone has there special someone, and it will be alright in the end. You cannot be truly happy without a partner. Just look at all the newlyweds. And their parents. And their grandparents. Look at how happy they are. Dont ask about the divorcees, or the abusive spouces. Dont look at your friends, doing drugs and ignoring meetups for the sake of love. Love is always more important than friendship. It is simply more. Lovers support you- like friends dont? Lovers give you joy- like friends cant? Lovers fill you up with warmth and safety and trust- but of course, also lust. Also passion. You have to be a little crazy to live with someone forever. And isnt that just what it is? Crazy? Thats what its always seemed like. So much emotion for someone- that you never felt. Something that you dont really want to feel. Because you have felt warmth, trust, and fondness. But only with friends. But never that overwhelming force that Love seems to be. That overwhelming force that makes you only focus on one person above all others. Its almost terrifying, that obsession. Your not sure if you could ever want something like that. But you have to. You have to kiss and marry and go on dates. Because otherwise? You're crazy. Broken. Some- Thing that just doesnt understand. That just has to find “the right one.” And then you will be whole. You will be normal. Because everyone falls in love. Thats just how it is. How it always will be. 

You will be a mom, and you will have a husband. And you will kiss under the moonlight, make love to each other, and you will pretend to feel something when you say your vows. You will stop hanging out with your friends, and more with your husband, and life will begin to dull. You will love your children, truly, and barely make eye contact with the person who shares your home. You will grow old, and he’ll grow alongside you, and you will wonder when you will be happy. But this is all it is. All it will be. And soon, you will just be a wife. You will not have friends. You will not have a hobby. And you will not feel happy, or sad, or anything at all. Because you are not just a half now. Love has made you a hole.

AROMANTIC: A PERSON THAT FEELS LITTLE TO NO ROMANTIC ATTRACTION TO ANYONE. EX: “I'M NOT GOING TO MARRY, I’M AROMANTIC.”