#two is the biggest pushover

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

ponyboy can make this exact face btw 🥺 if u even care

[galaxysharks]

Hello, I feel like being a menace.

Rio would have left Agatha along centuries ago, out of respect. She would have found ways to wait until Agatha had fled to collect the souls.

.

.

.

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But Nicky wanted to see his Mama. He's been watching and waiting for her for so long.

[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[niningtori]

make you cry | part three: hyuka's ending

part one | part two: beomgyu's ending

pairing: hueningkai x you, past beomgyu x you

summary: after your falling out with beomgyu, kai becomes your new best friend as you spiral out of control. his actions may not be completely platonic, though.

genre: angst, romance, smut (mdni), best friends to lovers

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!hyuka, oral (f. rec), dirty talk, praise, choking (sorry), possessive!kai, just some really sweet sex if u ask me, pregnancy kink

word count: 3.9k

notes: y'all... ik i said this would come out on my bday (which is exactly 2 weeks from now hehe) but i couldn't help but post it as soon as i finished it... lord knows i'm impatient. anyway, i said this would probably never exist but since ppl were asking for it, as the biggest pushover in the world, i couldn't say no ;_; i hope you enjoy it!

"you're not gonna die," kai says softly. "it's a shitty circumstance, but you're just making it harder on yourself."

you hum noncommittally while downing another searing shot of vodka. kai watches in horror as you don't even think to chase it, too much of a hassle, you said.

"look, i know how you're feeling, trust me. i just think that torturing yourself is the worst thing you can do right now. whatever happened to self care in the face of heartbreak?" he pleads, and it's like he's talking to a wall. you had been staring listlessly at the same spot for what had to have been at least an hour — no tears, no nothing. just a blank stare and an insatiable need for the next sip.

"yeah, i know. i just wish things were different." you were miserable being just friends with beomgyu before, but that pales in comparison to how used you feel now that you’ve slept with him. 

"i know, baby. i know." at this point, he kind of just wishes you would cry. the awful look on your face seems significantly worse than if you'd just burst into tears.

beomgyu is your best friend, sure, but as you slowly descended into a pit of unrequited love for him, kai had understood like no one else after a particularly nasty breakup with his serial cheating ex. you two found some sort of secret camaraderie in the feeling of loneliness, something beomgyu would never understand, given how easily everything tended to work out for him. except for right now, you guess.

"alright, i think i'm done here," you slur and shakily stand as the vodka seems to be doing its job. kai scowls in frustration, wishing he could do more for you, but knowing he can't.

-

kai refuses to let you go home alone, so he hitches a taxi for you two. in the backseat of the car, you lean your head on the window and close your eyes, but all you see is the repeating image of beomgyu with a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he shows you the girl who he will probably end up fucking. you feel mentally sick knowing those eyes will never light up that way for you. you feel physically sick knowing that you gave him everything now and it still wasn’t enough. 

then, as if hearing your thoughts, kai carefully slides his hand around your cheek, which is currently somewhat numb from the coldness of the window and bumpiness of the ride, and softly places your head on his shoulder.

when you finally get to your apartment, you invite him in. he can tell you just don't want to be alone, but he doesn't say anything, just wraps an arm around you as you lead him into your bedroom. after plopping down in your bed, he turns to leave before you grab the end of his shirt.

"can you stay with me?" you plead. and he nods without a word. lying down next to you before pulling you in his warm embrace.

"you know, i think you're gonna be just fine," he whispers into the top of your head. and just like that, the dam breaks, and you finally, finally burst into tears. wail, really. 

you kick your legs like a child, chanting "no, no, no," and lamenting on and on about how things are wrong, wrong, wrong. this isn't how things were supposed to go. he was supposed to fall in love with you and open his eyes and see who’s been with him all along. he’d apologize and kiss you gently to make up for lost time. you hate how you hoped against hope that he would return your feelings and finally, finally start respecting you. but none of that happened the way it should. the way you so fervently hoped it would.

kai just pats your head and rubs your hair, all while cooing "shhh, i know. i know.”

you lay there with him, legs all tangled together and heart aching until you fall into a fitful sleep. 

-

you miss beomgyu, that goes without saying, but it's getting easier these days. this is due in no small part to kai’s persistence. he comes to see you nearly every day and calls you when he can’t. you spend countless nights with him on speakerphone. most nights, he talks about his day, where he went, the people he saw. on the really, really bad nights, he’s just trying to console you. like right now. 

“shh, it’s okay. i know,” he whispers into the phone.

“i-i’m sorry, hyuka. i’m just so sad,” you sob.

“no, don’t be sorry. why are you sorry?” he coos.

“because i’m dumping this all over you. it’s not your job to baby me,” you cry, feeling guilty beyond words, which only makes you cry harder.

“you’ve done the same for me. you know that. i couldn’t have gotten through my breakup if it weren’t for you, so you don’t need to be sorry. i’m here. i’ll always be here.” if you were less confused and hurt, you’d hear the extent of his tenderness. you might even realize how he’s bending over backwards in a way that’s reminiscent of the way you did for beomgyu. the way somebody who really loves you only ever does. but as it is, you don’t register any of it.

-

beomgyu shows up at your doorstep, sometimes. he doesn’t ever really say anything other than your name in a desperate voice between pleas to let him in, but you never do. you have no idea how strong your resolve will or won’t be if you see his face again, so you do your best to avoid him altogether. on a particularly bad night, though, you feel your self control waning. listening to what he has to say just once couldn’t hurt, right? you can’t stand the uncertainty and this seemingly endless purgatory you find yourself in now. you decide, no matter what the outcome is, you’ll put a stop to it tonight.

with newfound courage, you lightly crack your front door to come face to face with the boy who's been haunting you for months now. his red-rimmed eyes widen in shock as he finally sees you in person instead of from his friend’s instagram account. 

“what do you want?” you attempt to ask coolly, but you sound unsteady even to your own ears. beomgyu doesn’t seem to notice, though, and if does, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“i just wanna talk to you,” he pleads, and you nod before widening the door and letting him in. you gesture for him to take a seat next to you on your couch and he cautiously sits while never breaking eye contact with you, as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he takes his eyes off of you.

“so?” you ask plainly. he clears his throat as if he's been in a daze until now and nervously begins.

“i-i’m sorry for what i did to you. so, so sorry,” beomgyu says weakly. “and i miss you so much i can’t stand it.”

“then why did you do it?” you ask, not without a hint of malice.

“i.. i don’t know. i think i was just so scared to be hurt that i hurt you instead. but being away from you has shown me just how much i need you.” need. what a strange word coming from beomgyu’s mouth. as for needing you in particular? even stranger. 

“you know, i really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, but even he knows how flimsy his words seem right now.

“i know,” you reply quietly.

“i ruined everything,” he says with a sense of finality, no room for argument. “i know i did. but i-is it always going to be like this? i don’t think i can live without you in my life, one way or another.”

“i don’t know, beomgyu.” he flinches at the use of his full name. “it’s going to take some time before we can be friends again.” if ever. you don’t say those last words, but he can swear he hears them.

“that’s okay,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “as long as you know that i’m sorry, and that you didn’t and don’t deserve how i treated you.”

“i know,”  you repeat. you can’t believe you’re not bawling and pulling him into your arms right now, for better or for worse, but surprisingly, you don’t feel any of the emotions you could’ve bet your life you would feel. you pity him more than anything, and your heart does ache, but more so for the friendship you lost instead of the love that never was. beomgyu wasn’t your best friend for nothing, so as if he can sense how detached you are from him, he says his next words.

“are you seeing him?” he asks with a tinge of melancholy.

“who?” you ask, taken aback at his sudden question.

“c’mon, be serious. kai.”

“k-kai? what do you mean?” he smiles bitterly at your words. 

“i’ve seen the way he looks at you. if you don’t see it yourself, you’re either delusional or blind. after i last saw you, he really told me all about myself.”

“he talked to you after that?” you ask in shock.

“oh yeah. he said he’d beat the brakes off of me if i ever tried to hurt you again, and the only reason why he hadn’t done it already was because you would be sad.” you pause at his earth-shattering words. your sweet hyuka really said that? you can’t imagine someone as soft and caring as him uttering such unforgiving words, but when you think about how much pain he knew you were in, it makes sense. kai had seen the worst parts of you after beomgyu had broken your heart. only he knew just how much you were hurting, and only he would care as much as he did. you don’t know why, but you can’t help but smile softly at the thought of him being so riled up that he acted completely out of character for you. just for you.

“and if i know you, and i do, i’d say that you probably feel the same way he does.” you gasp at his observation. how could he possibly think that?

“y-you’re wrong! we’re just good friends.” best friends, even. you haven’t really thought about kai in that context. everything you’ve ever done seemed purely platonic on your end. but now that you’re really thinking about it, is it actually? the late night phone calls, spending the night in his arms, waking up to kisses on your forehead and promises to see you later. that’s not what “just friends” do, is it? 

“really? then you’d be okay with him acting the same way he does with you with literally anyone else?” you’re at a loss for words at this. what would you do if kai showed his gentleness to anyone else the same way he does for you? how would you react to him staying up all night on the phone with another girl? to him dropping everything just to make sure she’s eaten? to looking at someone else with infinite warmth and care? you wouldn’t like it at all. 

beomgyu smiles sadly at your reaction. he knows now that you’ll never love him again. not in the way he’s realized he loves you. but that’s okay. love is supposed to be selfless. he realizes that now as he watches you stutter and vehemently deny the love you have so obviously begun to have for another man.

on your end, all you can think is: oh god, how long have you been stringing kai along? since your fallout with beomgyu? or even before that? sure, you could hide under the pretense of being each other’s primary support system in heartbreak, but you can’t do that forever. especially not now. in the middle of your reverie, the sound of your front door opening snaps you back to reality. who else would it be besides the boy in question?

“what the fuck are you doing here?” kai growls when he catches sight of beomgyu. he had just stopped by to see if you’re okay since you hadn’t texted him back in awhile. he figured he’d walk in to you sleeping soundly, not to the sight of you and beomgyu getting cozy on your couch. you, of course, were decidedly not getting cozy with beomgyu in the slightest, but kai couldn’t see that in the midst of his rage. 

“me? i’m leaving now,” beomgyu says, sensing danger and cleverly wanting to escape it.

“yeah, you’d better,” kai spits. 

when beomgyu shuts the door behind him, kai immediately turns to you.

“did he hurt you?” you shake your head no. 

“are you okay?” he asks and all you can do is nod. actually, you haven’t felt this okay in a long, long time. things that didn’t previously make sense to you are incredibly clear now. you love kai, you really do. you loved beomgyu, obviously, but those feelings of pain are gone now that you feel the tenderness that is actual, reciprocated love. 

“kai?” you ask in the middle of his barrage of questions about what happened.

“yes?” he asks, completely dropping his interrogation as soon as you say his name. 

“do you love me?” his face crumbles at this question.

“don’t be stupid, of course i love you. you’re my best friend.” 

“not like that. i mean, do you love, love me?” you search his eyes for an answer. his mouth widens and he sputters for a moment before realizing there’s no way out.

“...yes.”

“since when?” you can’t help but ask.

“since always,” he says with a smile, reminiscent of the words you had spoken to beomgyu all that time ago. you can’t even imagine how kai must have felt when he saw you pining after beomgyu, and for so long. actually, you can. that’s how you felt about beomgyu. your heart aches when you think that you’ve unintentionally inflicted the same pain on the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“what about your ex?” 

“she’s not you. and i think… i think she knew my heart was never really in it. not like it is with you. i think that’s why she cheated.” it still hurt to be cheated on by her, to be clear, but not more than it did to see your eyes following beomgyu every second of every day. when he cried to you about her, he was really just crying over you.

“i’m… i know you’re not into me like that, and that's okay, it really is. i just don’t want to lose you.” your heart flutters at his words. kai’s selflessness, his care, his indulgence. his love. you try to imagine a world where kai shows the sides he shows to you to someone else. you’d feel absolutely gutted, now that you think about it. unconsciously, you’ve grown to want to monopolize everything about him. you can’t imagine giving him up, not for anyone. not even for beomgyu.

without another word, you gently place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards yours. you kiss him softly, tenderly, and he can’t help but gasp before melting into the kiss. there’s so much care behind it along with love, appreciation, and the sense of making up for lost time.

his eyes redden when you insert your tongue into his pliant mouth. 

“s-stop. any more, and i won’t be able to hold back.” “so don’t hold back,” you say as you grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom.

“a-are you sure?” he asks nervously.

“i’m sure,” you say breathily. “i love you, too. so please, just take care of me, okay?” he can’t hold himself back now. the girl he loves is practically begging him to take her, what kind of person would he be if he said no? so he doesn’t. with great care, he strips your clothes off of you and watches in awe as he sees your naked body in front of him. slowly, intentionally, he lays you down on your bed and admires you for all that you are. your cheeks heat up as he presses kisses onto every inch of your trembling body, almost like he’s trying to mark you with a seal that makes you his own, completely. almost like he’s removing traces of anyone else, and you love the feeling of practically being worshiped by a man who’s clearly in love with you.

eventually, his kisses become more and more fiery as he inches towards your fluttering pussy. 

with a curse, he grabs a pillow and shoves it underneath your hips, raising your glistening cunt so you can more easily fully take in the sight of him lapping up your sweetness like he’s starving. you’ve felt similar pleasure before, but nothing quite like this. is this how it feels to be with someone you love who truly loves you back? you think so. your legs are shaking and involuntarily caging him in between them, but he doesn’t try to resist you. it’s like he could die happily in between your legs as he moans into your cunt, the vibrations racking through your body deliciously. he chuckles when you gasp at the feeling of one of his long, knobby fingers entering your heat. he curls experimentally, you cry out his name when he finds your sweet spot and taps it mercilessly, sliding another finger in and following suit. the sweet feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit and the cruel curling of his fingers is enough to bring you to your climax. you cry out his name as your toes curl and legs shake, which only spurs him further, slurping up your slick like he can’t stand the thought of losing a single drop.

“did that feel good, baby? you wanted me to take care of you, right? so just sit back and let me do it. i’ll make you feel better than you ever have.”

he rips off his shirt and unceremoniously tosses it behind him. you’re panting now, gasping for air, but he’s not done with you yet. he sits up and unbuckles his pants, sliding them down his creamy thighs and letting his cock stand tall. his whole body is flushed pink with embarrassment when you take him all in, matching his reddened member, which is currently leaking profusely with precum. he’s so needy for you, and you can see it all over his bright pink face. you should be tired from the intense orgasm he just gave to you, but you can’t help but gulp in anticipation as he lines himself up with your entrance. slowly, he pushes his wide tip in your spasming pussy. 

“o-oh, god,” he says as he splits you open. you can’t even form words because the stretch you feel is absolutely scorching, so you whine instead. tears spring in your eyes as he shakily pulls out then pierces you with one fluid motion, bottoming out completely. 

“y-you’re going to break me,” you cry.

“oh, baby. it’s alright, you can take me,” he says soothingly, but not without a tinge of mischief. that’s all you get before he begins thrusting into you. the harsh curve of his cock dragging along your walls and inadvertently hitting your g spot relentlessly has you opening your mouth, trying not to drool, but failing when he sticks his thumb in your mouth. like a madwoman, you begin to desperately suck on it, which only fuels the fire even more. 

“you look so pretty sucking on me like that,” he coos. “bet you wish it was my dick instead, don’t you?” he snickers as he stuffs his cock into your pussy. “i’ll give it to you every day, okay? you don’t have to beg.” you nod pathetically in agreement. the thought of kai filling you up every day has you needier than before, somehow. you need this feeling, the feeling only he can give you.

his body is scorching hot in your arms. his cock throbbing inside you? even hotter. you watch in awe as he rams himself into you, your whole body shaking with every thrust. 

“t-take it, you can fucking take it. my pretty girl, so fucking perfect for me,” he praises.

this can’t be your sweet, sweet hyuka, right? but as your teary eyes look up at him, you know it has to be. as if he can hear your thoughts, he smirks as he takes one of his hands and lightly grips your throat. it’s not hard enough to hurt you, but enough to have you whimpering. he calls your name lovingly as he drills into your swollen pussy, walls clenching down around him. you whimpering out his name in tandem with the indecent sounds of his balls slapping against you ring inside his head. he feels more and more that he’s losing his grip on reality as he continues to impale you on his cock. a shudder pulsates through you as you feel an orgasm approaching again. you don’t have to say it’s coming, because he can feel it when you clench around him, pussy begging him not to leave as it sucks him in deeper and deeper. 

“fuck, baby, you look so beautiful coming undone around my cock. so gorgeous, this pussy is the best, never wanna leave it.”

neither of you feel particularly sane at the moment, especially not as he clutches your thigh to steady himself as he thoroughly fucks you into your soiled mattress, hand still gripping your throat. 

“gonna come, gonna get you pregnant so everyone knows not to mess with you. do you want that? do you want everyone to know how good i’m fucking you? that you’re all mine?”

“yes, yes, yes! come inside, please!” you manage to choke out. you place your arms around his neck and dig the heels of your feet into his ass as he drills into you. that’s all it takes, really, before his warm seed fills you to the brim. he moans as he releases his grip on your neck and pumps it further and further into you, pushing his load into your cervix as he peppers your face and neck with sweet kisses. 

he collapses, pushing your hair off of your sweaty face so he can get a better look at you. 

“d-did i hurt you?” he asks cautiously, only sobering up now that his release has come.

“it was good, i liked it,” you giggle, admiring his cuteness. he smiles contentedly as he places one hand on your stomach and gently caresses it. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you’re really mine.” mine. what a beautiful word, only made more beautiful by the boy who’s insisting you belong to each other.

“i could say the same thing about you,” you whisper, placing your hand on his blushing cheeks. 

“wanna go again?” he asks, cock already hardening once more.

“w-what?” you ask dumbly as he shifts from beside you.

“i meant it when i said i want everyone to know you’re mine,” he says, positioning himself over you again and sliding his cock up and down your slit. he was right. you’ve never felt this good before in your life, and you wouldn’t want it to be because of anyone else.

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast @softesyoongi

series taglist*: @gyulinoo @moamidzyism @sooberryworld @dreamxerz @sweetttkissess @gothraccoons @jaxyy219 @idontwantoeatspicy @soobsfairy444 @denleave1088 @notevenheretbh1 @fairfootedflekk @hihello-pinky @ilovesimjaehyun143 @seolis-world @midwinterblizzard @slutty-cherry @run2min

*if you were tagged in part two: beomgyu's ending i assumed u wanted to be tagged in this one too! if i was wrong, i'm sorry n i will delete ur tag jus lmk!!

[pedropascallme]

Crush

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: “The door opened and you turned toward it out of impulse. The man that was suddenly in front of you was Tess’s age, you guessed. Dark hair greying, sleeves of his denim button down rolled up to the elbows, face…mean. Joel Miller in the flesh.”

Warnings: Smut (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), age gap (reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is canon typical age), p in v sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), kinda mean!Joel, degradation, praise kink, orgasm denial/edging, I will sprinkle in queer Tess. If I missed anything please let me know!

Soundtrack: Crush by Ethel Cain

Joel had a problem with saying no.

He knew it made him seem soft, but he just couldn’t get it out. There was something about becoming a father that increased the negative connotation of the word; using it as a response meant hampering the needs of someone who trusted you. Or the wants. And it was always the wants he fell victim to. Sarah knew his weaknesses—she was his biggest one. A goldfish, extra dessert, a slumber party— “Sure, darlin’.”

Sarah was all he cared about, and he’d give her everything she ever wanted, even when it meant looking like a pushover.

But his window had passed; all will to live drained and replaced by pure survivalism. He pretended to get over it out of instinct, willing himself to push everything down in order to keep going.

He didn’t mind saying no anymore. He had nobody to say it to, anyway.

Maybe that made him a bad man.

~~~

You had befriended Tess by chance. She frequented the same spots you did—speakeasies and back allies, surrounded by men she wanted nothing to do with. 

At least you had that much in common with her.

Tess was older than you by maybe twenty years, and you knew nearly nothing about her. You knew her name, you knew what she did to get the extra rations she kept in her front pocket, and you knew she lived with Joel Miller. You had never pried about their relationship, and all you knew of Joel was that he was as gorgeous as his reputation was mean.

She had the tendency to be hot headed, there was no doubt that she could be rough, although you felt her fire was what drew you to her in the first place. Another person who had lost everything obviously wasn’t inaccessible, but it helped that she was one of the few women that you had seen around. When she had thrown a punch so hard it nearly shattered her hand, you grabbed her and walked her home while she stumbled along with you.

No matter how watered down the whiskey in the QZ was, enough of it would do the trick.

“You ok?” You grabbed her by the waist, catching her before she fell, distracted by the blood on her knuckles. You didn’t know if it was hers or the man whose bottom tooth she had loosened.

“Guys here are as bad as fucking raiders…” She mumbled, looking down at her feet. “Could’a walked home myself.” You knew she could’ve, but the thought of letting her stagger home by herself so close to curfew made you uneasy. 

Some things never change. 

“Didn’t want you to,” You kept walking, one stride ahead of her at all times. “Could’ve been dangerous.”

“They know not to fuck with me,” she was giggling now, and she looked almost girlish with her features softened. “Living with Miller has its perks.”

“Wouldn’t want your boyfriend having to exact revenge just cause I let you walk home drunk.”

“What?” Tess stopped walking.

“Aren’t—sorry, are you and Joel not—?”

Tess snorted, “Joel and I are not an item. I don’t, y’know. He’s not my type.” She had sobered almost instantly. “I like my partners…feminine.”

Oh. Oops.

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We get it a lot. Easy living with each other cause we’re the only two that know how to empathize with the other.” She started walking again, leaving you with space to catch up. You didn’t inquire further about what she meant, it wasn’t something anybody wanted to discuss, ever. Loss and death were everywhere, there was no need to reflect on past experiences. Especially with someone like Tess who, in all honesty, intimidated you mightily. You just jogged to meet her pace. 

You followed her into the building, not that you could really explain why.

She had pushed the door open and motioned to you, silently telling you to come into what once could’ve been passed off as a $3,000/month studio apartment. She dropped her belongings on the kitchen table, getting two glasses and pouring watered-down sambuca into each one. You hated the taste, but appreciated that she seemed to genuinely want to spend time with you.

“You remember anything?” She prompted after finishing her drink.

“What?” You had barely touched yours. The anise flavored booze had a different burn than whiskey.

“Before.”

“I was little. I remember seeing Attack of the Clones. And that Scooby Doo movie.”

“I was in my thirties when those came out,” she laughed, “I fucking loved Scooby Doo.” You found yourself laughing along with her. She deadpanned after a moment, examining you.

“You’re still young. Not fair to you to have seen all that as a kid.”

“I guess. But I didn’t think episode two was all that bad.” You tried to laugh through the sudden solemnity. Tess rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the bottle to refill her glass.“But it’s not fair that anybody had to see any of that. Ever.” You could hardly call yourself eloquent, but she knew what you meant.

“What are you doing here?” She took smaller sips of her drink this time.

“Same thing as you.”

“Why?”

You didn’t know. “Gotta do something.” 

She nodded, “I want you with me.”

“Tess, I’m flattered—I am, but I don’t, I mean—”

“I want you to work with me.” She smiled into her glass, amused by your flustered response.

Oh. Oops.

“Oh. I...mean, ok. Yeah, ok.”

The door opened and you turned toward it out of impulse. The man that was suddenly in front of you was Tess’s age, you guessed. Dark hair greying, sleeves of his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows, face…mean.

Joel Miller in the flesh.

“Joel.” Tess was stern.

“What’s this?” Joel’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You realized you had never spoken to him, never been spoken to by him. You’d only ever gawked from across the room. You felt yourself straighten your posture.

“Business. New teammate.” Tess took another sip from her glass.

Joel walked across the room, grabbing the liquor bottle and taking a swig from it before placing it back into a cabinet. He looked at you, giving you the up-and-down from where he stood at the counter.

“No.” He turned, walking into the bedroom.

Wide-eyed with concern and embarrassment, you looked at Tess. 

“Be here at nine tomorrow. PM.” She said, finishing her drink and getting up to take her place on the couch.

You let yourself out.

~~~

It was obvious when you arrived the following night that Joel was still irked by your presence. Also obvious was that Tess had made him swallow his pride. She gave you your instructions at the kitchen table while you nodded along. Joel was statuesque and showed no signs of emotion or consideration towards her words. 

And when Tess had explained that it would be you and Joel and only you and Joel, your brows furrowed and he still hadn’t budged. 

“I’ve gotta be here,” she dictated, words coming out slowly as though she was speaking to children, “Don’t need all of us gone, it’d be too much attention. I’ll cover.”

“I can cover.” You blurted out, suddenly nervous about being alone with Joel.

“No.” Joel spoke for the first time all night. You shrunk back into yourself and kept listening.

“—Into the sewer, out to the east, all we need is booze, maybe some pharmaceutical shit if you can grab any.”

You probed, “Pharmaceuticals?” 

“For us.” Tess had finished giving you the rundown, getting up from the table and walking into the bedroom, leaving you alone with Joel.

Saying nothing, he immediately started towards the door, leaving you to follow.

~~~

Contrary to popular belief, the sewers were not your ideal hang out. No matter how many times you went down there, it took days to scrub the feel and smell off of your body. If Joel cared about the dank surrounding, he didn’t show it.

When you popped the grate to crawl out, he moved to lift you slightly, but that was the only interaction you’d had on your journey. You wanted to get this over with, desperately wanted to be back in the company of anybody you could converse with. You made quick work of collecting what you needed and making your way back into tunnels below. Joel hadn’t said a word since he had objected to you taking watch, and you didn’t know why that bothered you so much; plenty of people didn’t speak to you, and you relished in it. You could walk around the QZ and not a soul would approach you—it was safer that way. Easier, too. But Joel’s silence made your head spin almost as much as his voice did. You kept looking at the way his biceps flexed under his shirt, the stern look on his face and the scar on his right temple. 

Despite his cold exterior, you felt at ease in his presence. Sure, his domineering attitude was somewhat troubling to you, but his lack of emotions made you feel less paranoid. You weren’t as preoccupied with looking over your shoulder as you would’ve been otherwise thanks to his presence, and the gun slung over his shoulder acted as additional reassurance. If anything were to happen, you doubted he’d have any trouble dealing with it.

Maybe the smell of the sewer was making you delirious. Or maybe you were experiencing a genuine attraction to him—not that you expected a man that wouldn’t speak to you to feel any sort carnal desire for you. Even so, you found your mind wandering on the route back to the QZ; you could imagine him smoking the cigarettes your grandfather used to buy, Marlboro reds that he kept in a silver case. The thought of a cigarette hanging between Joel’s lips made you shiver, though you tried to tell yourself you were just cold from the clammy tunnels. You tried to hide the curious looks you shot at him, the way you studied his hands and thought up reasons as to why they would be so calloused. It could’ve been from the work he did now, but the thought of him pre-outbreak, working with his hands in the heat, wiping the sweat that dripped down his forehead...

You heard a clang somewhere along the route. Looking up, you could make out a shadow growing larger, then smaller. An unmistakable clicking followed. 

Perhaps it was due to the unexpected encounter, or the daydreams still playing in the back of your head, but you found yourself frozen. If you could think straight, it would be embarrassing, but every noise was deafening, and you could feel your heartbeat in your skull. 

And then you were on the floor. Joel’s full weight pinning you down before he rose up again and two shots rang out. You tried your best to regain your composure, blinking rapidly and staring into nothing. Joel looked down at you, face painted with his routine grimace only inches away from your own.

“This,” he breathed heavily, voice frayed, “is why I said no.” 

But he waited for you to get up and brush yourself off before he kept walking.

“You’re a fuckin’ amateur.” He continued homewards.

~~~

You went with Tess after that. Nobody gave you an explanation—you didn’t need one. You had fucked up, made more apparent by the dismay painted on Joel’s face at your continued appearances in the apartment. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone speak to him, maybe attempt to apologize. He didn’t want to hear it; you knew as much as he did. You couldn’t even crawl back like a guilty dog with your tail between your legs, because you knew you’d just get swatted by the morning paper. And, worse, despite the obvious friction, Joel was constantly on your mind. It was humiliating that a man who never spoke to you could be the focal point of your private moments. You thought of his hands entirely too often, his name slipping out between hushed gasps in the darkness of your bedroom.

Your breaking point was the night you walked into the apartment, opening the door to barking laughter that ceased on his end the moment you crossed the threshold. It was purposeful, the way he drew his mouth into a frown as soon as your line of sight had connected. Scowling, his eyes followed you. You felt heat rise in your face and pool in your stomach.

You scowled back. You wouldn’t endure his attitude anymore. 

It went on like that for weeks. You figured that if you got under his skin he’d crack, forcing him to interact with you on a higher level—even if it was shouting at you. 

Joel Miller was a bad man, a mean man. You knew as well as anybody, and it pissed you off as much as it turned you on. 

~~~

You had let yourself into the apartment, flipping through an old magazine to pass the time you spent waiting for Tess.

When the door opened, your gaze met Joel’s. You turned back to skimming a story about Ewan McGregor, brows furrowed as you internally questioned what had happened to him in all this. 

You started the countdown for the game you were playing: Who would break first? You glanced up once or twice to see where Joel was, and he remained in the same spot in front of the doorway, dark eyes fixed on you. You crossed your legs.

“Tess isn’t here.” He spoke, and you stopped your countdown, congratulating yourself as tonight’s winner.

“I know.”

“She’s not coming.”

“I’m reading.” You turned the page, eager to read about who was dating who in August of 2000. 

Joel stayed in his spot by the door before making his way to the liquor cabinet—which you had discovered were most of the cabinets in this house. He put a glass in front of you and sat across, a glass of his own in his hand as he leaned forward to put his weight on the table.

“Jared Leto and Cameron Diaz.” You mused. Joel tipped back his glass, glaring at you. “Do you ever wonder if any of these people are still out there somewhere?”

“No.”

“Imagine killing some infected schmuck and realizing it was Ryan Gosling.” You smiled, enjoying your one-sided conversation. “I’d feel kinda bad…”

“’Least you’d be puttin’ him out of his misery.”

You looked up, surveying Joel, trying to find a trace of anything that could’ve prompted his sudden embrace of your goading. “Uhuh,” you raised an eyebrow, “just don’t think I could do it.”

“You scared?”

“Of you?”

“Of surviving.”

“No. Just of an infected Ryan Gosling.” You put down the magazine. “What’s your problem, Miller?”

“What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then neither do I.” He got up to refill his glass, and you had déjà vu, recalling how Tess had sat you down at the table months earlier to invite you into their professional lives. She had been much friendlier even then than Joel ever was. 

“You can’t fight for shit.” You turned to see Joel leaning against the counter, a bottle of whiskey in hand. You tried not to let your frustration at him show. “Hard to get good at this shit when you freeze at the first sign of trouble.”

“Shut up.” You brushed him off. You picked up the magazine again, trying to find your place.

“You know I’m right.” He drank from the bottle. For some reason you couldn’t stop yourself from standing up and facing him.

“What?” 

“Y’know you can’t fight for shit. Couldn’t to save your own life. You know that. I know that. Why’d’ya think Tess always goes with you?” He put the bottle down and crossed his arms. Wrath boiled in your chest; you wanted to rationalize, tell yourself that he was mad you were winning the game he made you start playing so he opted to hit below the belt; but, Jesus, he had gotten you where it hurt. You had long prided yourself in having the ability to survive, taking care of yourself and doing whatever it took for you to see the next day. For him to waltz into the space you had found some form of comfort in, where Tess drank with and felt for you, to imply that you were a failure—just some fucking kid with a knife?

You put as much weight behind the punch you threw towards him as you could muster, aiming at for his face in the hopes that a black eye might help him register your dedication to staying alive. He barely moved, grabbing your wrist to stop any real strength your blow might’ve had.

“You can do better.” Joel provoked you further. You were breathing hard but not heavy, staring into the eyes of the man you wished you could see for the evil everybody said he was. “Do better.” He continued. You grabbed him by the collar, nose to nose; you could smell the liquor on his breath, and you were sure he could smell it on yours. You were far from drunk, and the seething anger sobered you more than a cold shower ever could.

So you had no excuse for kissing him, which is probably why it was a quick peck, testing the waters and feeling as though you owed it to yourself as much as to him to see if this was one-sided. 

“That’s better.” He snaked an arm around your waist and cupped the opposite hand over the back of your head. You didn’t say a word, barely breathed at his response, before you attached yourself to him again. You forgot all about testing the waters and immediately dove in; you kissed him with an open mouth, tongue, teeth and all. He licked into you, pulling you in closer. He separated from you to speak.

“Bed.” Forever and always a man of few words. You stumbled over each other as he pulled you towards the bedroom, neither of you bothering to say anything else as you were pushed onto the bed. Joel straddled your chest, looking down at you and undoing his belt, brown eyes blown out with complete exasperation and lust. 

“Y’been botherin’ me since day one,” he pulled his cock from the confines of his jeans, “bad fuckin’ attitude.” He stroked himself, still looking at you.

“Doesn’t seem to be bothering you now.” You taunted him, reaching up to wrap both hands around him and sitting up as best you could to lick across the tip of his cock. He pushed his hips forward and you took the initiative to swallow as much of him as you could; no small feat, considering his size. You managed half before you gagged. He just laughed. 

“Gonna be quiet ‘round me, might as well put yourself to good use while you’re doin’ it.” He threw his head back as you licked circles over the head of his cock, hand working every inch you couldn’t push past your gag reflex. You made a noise in response to his words, though it was unclear if you meant it as an agreement or a rebuttal. You pulled yourself off of him, placing a kiss on the vein that ran up the underside of his cock. You looked up at Joel, content with your work, his breathing heavy. His hand came up to your jaw, prying your mouth open and sliding his thumb inside. You closed your lips around it and sucked, you heard him groan. He took his thumb out after a few more seconds.

“Open.” He placed his wet thumb on your chin. You opened wide, sticking out your tongue slightly, expecting him to give you his cock again. Instead, he spit directly into your mouth, before pressing on your lower jaw to force it closed. “Swallow.” You did as you were told. He shuffled himself further down your body, leaning down to kiss you, pushing his tongue between your lips before he continued moving downwards; he pulled the buttons of your flannel apart, kissing and sucking on the skin he revealed before licking over the burgeoning bruises. You thanked whatever God was out there that you had given up bras so long ago, as if it was all in anticipation of this moment. Joel’s mouth reached the waistband of your jeans, and he continued placing open mouthed kisses over your stomach as he undid your button and fly, pulling the fabric down your legs and revealing your panties. He bent forward into you, pressing his face into your clothed core, his nose and open mouth fanning hot breath across you. 

“Need a good lay.” You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, though he answered your silent question soon after; “That’ll keep you from bitchin’ over everythin’.” He licked a straight line over your folds, tasting the tangy wet that seeped through the fabric of your underwear. You let out a shrill whine when his tongue danced over your clit, and reached down to shed yourself of the final layer of clothing that covered your bottom half. He caught your wrist and pushed it aside. “No,” He looked up at you as he licked over you again, “been playin’ your fuckin’ game for weeks. S’my turn. Don’t get greedy, now.”

You moaned when he released your wrist from his grasp, only to begin rubbing circles over you. “Pl—ease, Joel!” You arched your back, lifting yourself up to him in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Say it again.”

“Please,” it was barely audible, “please, Joel. Please, please…” Your eyes were hooded as you begged for more. Either he was satisfied by your attempt or took pity on you for coming undone over practically nothing, but he slid the panties down your thighs and threw them over his shoulder. He admired your naked cunt, ghosting a finger over your slit and collecting what you’d already released. He leaned back down and attached his lips to your clit, pushing his finger into you and bending it upwards. You gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging, earning a satisfied grunt from him. He rhythmically sucked your clit in time with the movements of his finger, adding another slowly and then increasing the pace. Over and over, he brushed the spongey spot inside of you that made you clench around him, tugging his hair tighter. 

“Go—ing to, Joel, fuck! Joel—!” You were panting, fist gripping his hair.

“No.”

“Please!” You were trembling.

“No.” He was unforgiving, absolutely ruthless as he fucked his fingers into you faster, licking tight and fast over your clit. You were close to tears now, grabbing onto the pillow underneath you to stabilize yourself. You were sweating, and he was the one doing all the work, but, Christ, it took effort to hold off on cumming when he was knuckle deep in your pussy like that.

“Now.” He said, pushing up against the spot you needed him to touch most, sucking hard on your swollen clit. You all but yelled, body turning to jelly, your eyes screwed tight—all while Joel continued his ministrations. He stared at you open mouthed as you trembled. He slowed once you stopped shaking, sliding his fingers out of you and licking them clean. 

“Still gonna act like a bitch now?” He peppered kisses over your thighs.

“F…fuck y—ou, Joel Miller.” You wheezed out. He laughed, standing up to remove his shirt and trousers. 

“’F’I’d known you wanted it I’d’ve done it a month ago.” He crawled over you, pressing kisses into your neck.

“Fuck you.” You finally caught your breath, and he pushed himself up enough to meet you face to face. “You’re a bad person. Everybody in the QZ knows you’re a bad man.”

“Then why are you in my bed?” He was half sincere.

“You tell me.”

“Can see the way you look at me. Terrible at keepin’ secrets. ‘Nother reason you need someone to protect you out there.” He scoffed, and you pulled him down for a kiss. Though bruising in force, you were gentler with each other. Neither of you felt inclined to use teeth this time around.

Joel pushed himself up and onto his knees, sliding his cock over your clit and pushing his tip into you slightly. You whimpered, trying to wordlessly urge him to sink into you. 

“Ask me.”

“Please.”

“More.”

“Please, Joel, need it…”

“Need what, sweet thing?” You closed your eyes, savoring the nickname as it rolled off his tongue. 

“Need your cock. Joel, please, I need you to fu—” He cut you off with one sharp thrust, pushing his full length into you and bottoming out. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, and Joel brought a hand down to rest on the side of your face.

“Atta girl,” his mouth hung open as he began shallowly thrusting into you, “take it all, darlin’.”

You whined, hands scrambling to touch him wherever you could reach; his shoulders, his chest, his thigh if you stretched down a bit further. It only spurred him on.

“Fuckin’ pathetic.” He pushed his hips into yours, attempting to get even deeper inside of your warm, inviting pussy. “Been such a bitch with me ‘nd now you’re so eager, huh? Li’l slut, needed t’get fucked s’all?” All you could do was let out a wonton moan, loving how he stretched you. “Gonna be nice from now on?” You couldn’t respond, could only think the word no as he sped up, sliding all the way out and all the way back into your cunt. “Answer me, girl.”

“F—uck, n—no!” You stammered. 

He brought a hand down harsh on your clit, pulling out so just the tip of his cock was seated shallowly inside of you. You squeezed around it. “Don’t be a bitch,” he spanked your pussy again, “tell me the truth.”

Tears pricked your eyes in frustration, and you nodded your head yes.

“Words.”

“Yes! I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, wo—won’t give you attitude, Joel, I—I won’t be such a bitch, I pr—omise.”

“I like you a li’l bitchy,” he slid his cock back into you, resuming the punishing pace, punching up into you. “Like my pretty li’l bitch. Like this tight fuckin’ pussy.” He flattened himself on top of you, chest pressing into yours with every breath he took and every rough shove of his cock against your cervix. The slight pain was worth the abounding pleasure. He reached under your midriff, sliding his hands between the flannel you still half-wore to meet your skin, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you into him further. You wrapped your own arms around his waist, completely lost in him. 

“Y’needed this as much as I did,” he groaned into your ear, “tell me, sweet thing.”

“Needed—oh, fuck, I needed it.” You whispered against the skin of his shoulder. He managed to reach a hand down between you, fingers finding your clit. You buried your face into him, suddenly very aware of what was happening; your daydreams coming to fruition, winning the game in a manner leagues above what you had hoped for. The attention was staggering. The tears you had held back during his earlier taunting escaped, spilling over your cheeks and smudging into the sweat on Joel’s skin. It was overwhelming in the best way. Anxiety inducing in the worst. 

“So good, being so—so fuckin’ good, darlin’.” He was getting sloppy with his thrusts, rhythm failing as he neared his own high. He pulled away from you, shifting positions to hold you so that you could be face to face. You couldn’t count how many times today you had found yourself staring at Joel Miller. “You’re so good.” A fully earnest sentiment, punctuated by every inch of his cock. “Want you to cum, need you to cum for me again.” He was practically begging, words coming out in moaned whispers. He kissed the tear streaks over your cheek and down to your lips, the wiry hair of his short mustache rubbing against your top lip in a manner that made your skin instantly sore, but it felt too good to be connected to him like this to complain at all. He continued his movements, fingers running over your clit at a heightened pace and cock throbbing inside of you. You squeezed around his cock, arms squeezing his torso, and you felt yourself coming undone. 

“There you go. Feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ me. Gimme one more, sweetheart.” You were pushed over the edge, once again cumming for Joel Miller in a way you had only ever imagined. He held you tight, letting you wrap yourself around him while you came, whispering his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. He managed a few more deep thrusts before pulling out and spilling across your stomach, chanting your name. Your breathing was labored, and Joel admired how he had painted you with his spend.

He stood up, walking out of the room, and you felt the urge to cry again, feeling suddenly abandoned after something so new and intimate. But he walked back in with a threadbare towel, wiping down your stomach and the wet between your thighs. You were both silent as he finished cleaning you up. He exited once more to rid himself of the towel before reuniting with you in bed. He lay beside you for a moment before turning to hold you. You turned to face him.

“It’s a shame you wiped me clean. Wanted a taste.” You failed to keep your tone even and unbothered, the crack in your voice apparent as you tried your hand at humor.

“Next time.” You looked up to find him staring at you once again. His usual scowl replaced by something softer. You fell back into a semi-comfortable silence.

“I am a bad man.” He spread his fingers out between your shoulder blades.

“Joel—”

“I am,” the words came out harsher than he had meant them to, “I’ve done bad shit just to get by. It’s fuckin’ embarrassin’ to kill someone just to see another day of this. Bad’s an understatement.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m hard on you cause I don’t want you gettin’ hurt. Don’t wanna be out with you if somethin’ happens. Don’t wanna be away from you if somethin’ happens. Wouldn’t be able to—”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. S’fuckin’ awful. Shouldn’t have’ta fend for yourself.” He swallowed.

“Have to to survive, Joel. Made it this far.”

“No,” he countered, “shouldn’t have to survive. You should be livin’. Shouldn’t need’a run with a crowd like me ‘nd Tess.”

“Don’t you think we’re a little past that? I’d be doin’ the same thing even if I didn’t have you two to do it with.”

“I’ve seen how you freeze up.”

“I knew you’d be there.” You nearly snapped, astonished that after all this he was still hung up over the first run you did with him, despite the effortless shots he had taken. Even more astonished that he hadn’t realized that despite the external bitterness he had fashioned and the constant stream of “no” that left his mouth, you knew even then that he’d keep you protected. He looked away from you, and you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, trying to show him that for all your bite you were capable of being docile when the moment called for it.

“Shouldn’t wanna hang around bad people.” Joel’s eyes looked into the nothing of the distance as he muttered. “Shouldn’t have to risk everything just to do bad things.”

“Good men die, too, Joel,” You were firm, “I wanna be…” You trailed off. He looked back to you and traced a finger over your collar bone, admiring the marks that had formed from his kisses. “Wanna be around you. With you.” You saw a faint smile creep across his face.

“Not a good man?”

You scoffed, “Never a good man. Wouldn’t know how to handle me.” He laughed softly. You allowed his hands to roam over your body while you mirrored his movements, tracing your fingers over the scars that littered his chest. “Come with me on the next run.” You weren’t asking.

For the first time in 20-odd years, Joel was unable to say no.

[i-cant-sing]

Saya want know how Qasim look,are you have proposal?(≡・x・≡)

(pics below) Qasim, the brother, is older than reader by 5 years. He has chocolate brown hair, thick messy locks, and green eyes. He's gifted with eiditic/photographic memory which made him excel in school and he obviously had a high IQ as well. Doesnt mean reader thinks he's intelligent. Sure, Qasim is book smart, but he's not- street smart. Y/n has been the one to often make him realise that his friends were taking advantage of him by making him do their homework, or that they were laughing at him not with him because of his intellect. But reader chalks it up to his sweet nature, her goody-two-shoes of a brother who was hafidh (memorised the Quran) would always be the forgiving person. Its not that he was a pushover, he just... preferred to be the bigger person. Always. He'd chuckle and ruffle your hair "so what if I cleaned up their mess? it only took me 5 minutes and the job was done. Its okay, Y/n." He's always so selfless. You used to worry that he'd get hurt because he's too kind, you used to think he couldnt stand up for himself because he just didnt know when to- but no. Qasim was quite protective over you. When he saw you trying to tackle one of his so-called bullies, the boy towering over you (but you dont consider the height advantage, not when youre a raging kitten), Qasim stepped in and landed a single punch that knocked him down. (then big bro had to spend the rest of the day consoling u because you made him fight someone- and in ur head, that was the biggest sin u made him commit).

Qasim in Arabic means "the generous one" or "the one who shares", and being the older bro, he took his name quite literally. You were the younger sibling, the spoiled brat, the princess! But Qasim never had any problems with sharing anything with you, be it materialistic things or advice or even knowledge. You memorised Quran by his help (because u were competitive) and he had the extraordinary patience of a saint. You two would often participate in competitions at the local mosque just to get the cash prize and help your parents a bit (they never took ur guys money, encouraging u to either save it or spend it on something). Since both of your parents worked long hours, you two were left unsupervised for a long time and that only meant genius yet chaotic shenanigans, including prank calls to the pentagon hq.

Qasim grew up to get a lot of full ride scholarships from top colleges, and once he did his masters (a STEM major), he decided to start his own travel agency, surprising everyone because it seemed like something he wouldnt do? Everyone expected him to go into sciences, but he said he liked to travel and see the world, and Qasim told you that he enjoys running his own business, being your own business.

You supposed it made sense because he was a polyglot and he did enjoy learning new things and seeing new places, their history, etc. Due to his job, he would be gone for long months at a time, but he never returned empty handed. His arms full of souvenirs and sweets and BOOKS! Its not that he bought them for u, no. He bought those books for himself, but once he read them- he's already memorised it and he doesnt have anymore space in his home for more books, so he's always dropping them by your place (as kids, u made him memorise the phonebook before hiding the entire neighbourhoods phone books and had people pay to use your brother's memory for contacts, which was a good business until your father busted it down).

Qasim is the softest, kindest, most generous person. Even though he has a busy schedule due to work, he always made time for you. Whenever he came by, especially during your finals season, not only did he help you study, but he would also stock up your fridge and made sure to do some maintenance around your house. Fridge not working? Qasim has the tools, and if you werent so tied up with studying, you wouldve freaked out over him disassembling your fridge like lego. Sink clogged? No need for the plumber, Qasim knows the right potion of chemicals to unclog it. He's always been the one to prefer to do things himself, by his hand rather than relying on help.

what do u guys think???

[aluciahaz]

Sorry if this isn’t the askbox or not right I never done this before..

If requests are still open and whenever you feel like it of course.

I would like a dom male Reader x bottom Alastor rough smut, where the reader is in an important meeting as he is an overlord or prince of hell which ever you prefer.

And Alastor have been more chaotic lately which is messing something up for the reader and now he have to correct Alastor’s behavior.

Anyway hope you’re doing well today and take care of yourself and of course you can ignore this. Thank you.

RAHH!! im very late, sorry! i havent been feeling like writing in awhile, especially hazbin unfortunately 😭 so i decided to just post my wip i had for this request! i dont think ill ever finish it, so i wanted to post it rather than let it rot lmao, hope you enjoy although its unfinished ❤️

don’t forget your place

alastor x male!reader

includes: crying, gags, bondage

you don’t know what’s gotten into alastor recently.

the two of you sit in a meeting, right beside each other of course, and you watch as other overlords trickle into the modern room.

you didn’t even need to look at them, you could tell which people had arrived just by the sounds of their footsteps alone. each overlord was unique, it wasn’t hard to differentiate them. zestial had this almost spider-like sound when he walks, carmilla’s shoes pierced through the quiet like blades, and alastor—

“what are you thinking about, darling?” he asks, smiling at you with an inquisitive look.

you glance over at your troublesome lover, pursing your lips. “about how you’ve been harming my reputation with some of the statements you say in your radio show,” you tell him honestly, the sound of chairs moving against the pristine floors covering your conversation well enough to not require you to whisper.

“and how you keep killing some of my biggest customers. they’re too afraid to even call anymore.”

“oh, but you could always get more—”

“it’s not about that,” you hiss, your hand clenching alastor’s tightly. his smile freezes, but he’s still smug, looking at you under his hooded eyes.

“it’s about you walking over my image, al. stay in your lane,” you scold him, letting go of his hand as you feel him pull away.

all he does is shrug, clearly unbothered as he leans back in his chair. “i drive wherever gets me to my destination the fastest, my dear. and, it just seems you’re the shortcut.”

your grip on the bottom of the seat in frustration, glaring at alastor in both annoyance and sheer astonishment at his audacity to make such a euphemism. he thinks that he could just tear down your reputation to build up his own? what an outrageous idea!

perhaps you’ve been too kind to him. he thinks you’re some sort of pushover.

you’re already thinking of ways to fix that mistake. so much so, that the meeting seems to pass by like a fly and the fruit of your ideas are right in your hands in just a few seconds, tasting sweeter than honey.

“mmh—hn!” weak static fluctuated between an incessant buzzing to complete silence as you grabbed his ears roughly, tugging them back to reveal his dainty neck, a perfect place for you to latch your lips on, and soon you hear a jump in his voice as your teeth pierces his skin.

there was usually more leniency when it came to intimacy with al. you want him to enjoy it after all, so you let him bark a few insults here and there, mock you a little. whatever makes him comfortable, either way, his mouth usually ends up running out of words to play at the end of his little show of control once he gets overwhelmed, unable to read his script anymore as you drive his brain into an incoherent repeat of ‘please’.

but tonight, you watch him writhe and sob as his mouth is gagged and his body is completely tied to the bed, spread out and on full display as you ram into him, his head tossing and turning into the pillow behind him.

your hands ground him to reality, the sharp pain of your nails and unrelenting grip forcing him to stay somewhat conscious as you use him, showing how much power you have over alastor.

it was incredible to see his silver tongue unable to lacerate the air with insults, the gag upon him doing a great job at keeping him unable to throw jabs at you like you were some target at a range.

instead, all he could do was wail, drool spilling down his chin and making a mess of his dress shirt that you made sure to keep on him just to piss him off. you know how much he likes to keep his clothes in check. it’s part of his well-crafted image, after all.

“are you learning your place now, bambi?” you chuckle, your words cold on his skin, seeping into his body as he shivers at the frost, unable to protect himself from your punishment.

“answer me,” one of your hands leaves his waist, grabbing his chin and yanking him up towards you. a small, feeble whimper leaves his throat as you do so, and his eyes seem to dilate. dilate, out of all things.

“slut,” you spit, chuckling as you see his ears flop down. such a terrifying overlord, reduced to a small little deer in your hands. it was cute, how he looked at you.

it was even cuter when he shakes, so sensitive that he feels the need to twist and turn as you make him cum for the second time, his body jolting as your hand runs over his cock, still hard underneath your palm.

usually, you’d expect a sharp glare or some sort of defiance to your name-calling, but all you see is his eyes rolling back, his head tilting up as you release his chin.

there are tears that seem to adorn his cheeks like shooting stars in the sky, and babbling that‘s reminiscent of a muffled radio in another room. it was nice, seeing alastor’s breaking like this. watching him fall beneath the weight of his actions, unable to hold them up on his shoulders as they crush him in one fell swoop.

all because of you.

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist @luciferspetduck

[firstdivisiongirl]

hiiii! hru? i hope you’re doing fine, and i would like to say, i rlly love your writing! can i request a law with a fem! reader who’s his wife, basically 6 months pregnant with him taking care of her, and the wife’s personality would be like extremely sweet, kind and always holding law’s hand? i’m dying for a tooth-rotting fluff rn, so this would be greatly appreciated if you write it 😭 (you can ignore this if your too busy)

Hi! I’m doing good and thank you for the kind words. This was a super cute requests. I was so excited to write and I hope there is enough fluffy for you! Enjoy!

Law x Pregnant Fem Reader: Daddy’s Girl

“Room. Scan,” said Law as he scanned you to see how your baby was looking.  You two met 2 years ago.  At first he was reluctant to let you on his crew, you were too nice and sweet to be a pirate.  You actually helped people, you were a small village school teacher, with no experience with anything remotely related to being a notorious pirate.  However, your knowledge of customs and cultures of different islands and their people made you extremely desirable to a crew that went to many different islands, so he let you join.  After a year of falling in love and dating, the two of you got married.  And now here you were on your one year anniversary, 6 months pregnant.

“How’s little Lami looking?” you asked, looking at your husband who was in full on doctor mode.

“How are you so confident it’s a girl,” he retorted, setting down Kikoku on the metal table in the medical ward on the Polar Tang.

“Just a feeling!”

He smiled.  He had been doing that a lot more recently.  If Luffy saw this, he would definitely be annoying him about it.  But he was the best at helping you with your pregnancy.  He gave you a regular check up every week to make sure the baby had no complications or contracted amber lead disease.  Thankfully, the baby was extremely healthy.  He made sure you ate super nutritious foods, which was not the best considering your biggest pregnancy craving was cotton candy.  Bepo also got super involved.  He helped Law with nursery.  Of course it was polar bear themed.  It was Bepo’s idea.  Law wanted to say no, but Bepo was too cute.  That made you worry he was going to be such a pushover as a dad, but you knew he was going to be the best dad no matter what.

Later that day

“Hey Law, can you take me out shopping?” you asked, walking into his neat office.  He looked up from his paperwork he was working on, “I guess.”

He got up from his desk, and you grabbed his hand.  Usually, he hated people grabbing his hand.  But, he liked it when you did it.  As you walked through the town, you led him to a little baby shop.  You immediately went back to the clothes section.  Sitting there on a shelf was a little baby sized hat that looked just like Law’s.  “I think this is perfect.  Can we get it,” you asked looking up at your husband who definitely did not fit in.

“Yeah, I think she’ll look cute in it.”

You looked at Law wide eyed, “is it actually a girl Law?”

“It is,” he answered, smiling almost as wide as Luffy does.

After you walked out of the store with your little girl’s hat, you were so happy about having a little girl.  You knew Law was going to be the best girl dad, despite his cold demeanor.  That little girl was definitely going to become daddy’s girl.

Please do not copy, modify, translate, or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[madthetruemad]

Wriothesley x Reader

warnings: a stalker (not wrio), insecurities, fear, grammatical errors, etc.

small note: insinuated that both of them end up together at the end but not explicitly said.

(not gender specific btw!!)

Currently thinking of a scenario (or maybe a future fanfic someday) where you are an amazing author in Fontaine who feels like writing was the biggest mistake you could have ever made.

At first, writing was your passion, it was what led you to fame and the creation of a certain all-time hit detective series that people all across of teyvat like to read.

At first, writing was what made you happy. You could stay home all day without having to venture out of the safety and comforts of your home. Didn't have to worry about your next paycheck, if you'll have enough mora for tomorrow, or if you'll have enough to pay rent by next week. Sure you had deadlines, but since you loved to write and managed your time wisely - deadlines weren't ever an issue.

But slowly, as you rose to fame, admirers and fans were quick to swarm.

It got to the point that you would get mountains of letters a day (almost by the hour). And as a pushover as you were (your parents never really taught you how to stand up for yourself), you quickly found yourself writing to each fan back who sent you letters or gifts. Thanking them. Talking to them. Even becoming penpals too.

Then there was one man in particular who started to get too creepy. Too close for comfort.

His letters started to get disturbing. He would introduce himself with a fake name but tell you that he was a young man in his late twenties. How your books gave him life and meaning. How he would see you walking the streets and even got your schedule down when you would go to the grocery store or hangout with friends.

It was then when you would find that you had gained your own stalker. It was then that maybe getting the spotlight on you and through your writing was a bad idea.

If only I didn't share my real name. I wonder if things would be different...

Despite the mental stress the man was placing on you. You tried to push those thoughts away even though the fear of being watched at all moments throughout the day ate away at you. Your own home wasn't your safety net any longer, you feared.

You couldn't bring yourself to tell anyone, opting out for dealing with this yourself.

You tried to tell the man to stop. He didn't.

Warned him.

Yelled at him when you would spot him hiding.

Screamed when he broke into your home. Kicked and thrashed around.

It was then when your neighbors called for the garde. Immediately coming to the rescue due to all the noise you both were causing.

And soon a trial was held. The man was immediately found guilty for a numerous of things. Theft, stalking, attempted kidnapping, breaking and entering, etc.

And even when he was sent to the fortress of meropide, you found that you just couldn't write anymore even though your hit detective series was still ongoing. Your editors, in understanding, gave the series a hiatus and let you take a vacation.

But once again, you feared.

You feared that you just couldn't write anymore.

The one thing that you enjoyed doing ended up with some crazy fan wanting more of you. You didn't want to fear anymore.

And it would be two weeks later when you would be approached by Neuvillette and Clorinde. They would tell you about the happenings within the fortress and how your presence was needed in dealing with your ex-stalker.

Apparently he had gotten into some trouble, and he wouldn't talk no matter what unless he got to see you.

So you found yourself reluctantly going. It wasn't like you were going to stay home and do anything anyway...

At the fortress now, you found yourself in a big office. Apparently it belonged to the Duke, the warden of the fortress. You learned quickly by many of the people there that you should refer to him as "your grace."

And as you sat alone in the office in one of the chairs, a noise sounded just down below.

"They're here?! Where?! I must see them!"

That voice, you couldn't help but to tremble. You didn't want to be here. Not here. But Neuvillette and Clorinde helped alot with the case and proving the man guilty, so you felt obligated to stay and forced yourself not to run away.

"Y/n! There you are! I'm so glad to see you again!"

"That's enough. You see them now, right? So get talking."

You finally got to see the Duke of the fortress of meropide (with the chief justice and Clorinde on either side of him). The duke's eyes were an icy blue, sharp and calculated. His hair black and grey, and spiked - you couldn't help but to think of how ... wolfish he looked.

"Talk? Talk?! I didn't ask you to bring them here so I could talk!"

He reached for you. Hands outstretched as if to hurt you. To pull you towards himself. But Wriothesley was already a step ahead as he grabbed the front of the man's shirt and forced him to the ground, pinning him there.

"I guess no one taught you how to treat a lady."

And maybe, just maybe writing wasn't a mistake after all. Because maybe all this time as you would write happy endings for your characters .. maybe you were waiting for your own happy ending. A happy ending where someone saves you from someone and from yourself.

At least, thats what came to mind as when you finally managed to finish your detective series two months later with its final book.

"So, what genre are you looking to write for now? Because I think you got the mystery all covered."

Sitting in Wriothesley's office once more, lunch in hand, you smiled and thought for a moment.

"How about a romance?"

He snorted at the question, "romance, huh? And how do you plan on starting that?"

"If I told you, then it would ruin the whole book."

"I don't mind spoilers."

You grinned, eyes trained on his as you both enjoyed your lunch break together, "well, it starts off with a man saving an author from someone and from themselves."

"That so," he asked while smirking, he already knew where this was going.

"Do they end up together?"

You shrugged, "you tell me."

Wriothesley leaned back in his chair, eyes trained on you, and only you, "I noticed that in your books, your characters get happy endings. So why not write another one?"

"What? Not a fan of angst?"

"Absolutely not."

[wooattackrr]

The kingpin and his match

MDNI

wc: 1.3k (my lazy ass took 3 weeks and 2 shots to get this done)

author notes: my 2nd story! once again I struggled w the smut bit but you gotta push thru 😖

Jeonghan was the self-proclaimed king of the school, or so he thought. He revelled in making others squirm, taking pleasure in their fear. So when you walked into class on your first day, he saw an easy target.

You were quiet, reserved, and unfamiliar with the dynamics of the school. Jeonghan sensed vulnerability and pounced. He began with snide comments, mocking your clothes, your hair, and your accent. He thought it would be easy to break you, to make you cry or run away.

But you didn't flinch. You met his jabs with a calm, collected gaze, your eyes flashing with a hint of amusement. Jeonghan was taken aback, his taunts falling flat. He tried harder, pushing boundaries, but you remained unfazed.

One day, he decided to take it a step further, thinking that physical intimidation would do the trick. He cornered you in the hallway, his gang of friends snickering in the background. But instead of cowering, you stood tall, your eyes locked onto his.

"Jeonghan, I've had enough of your childish games," you said, your voice firm but measured. "Leave me alone, or face the consequences."

Jeonghan sneered, but you didn't back down. In a surprising move, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it in a precise motion that left him yelping in pain. His friends scattered, and Jeonghan was left alone, facing a fierce determination in your eyes.

For the first time, Jeonghan felt a spark of fear. He realized that he had underestimated you, that you were not a pushover. From that moment on, he began to notice the subtle ways you stood up for yourself, the quiet confidence that commanded respect.

Jeonghan's bullying attempts slowly ceased, replaced by a growing curiosity about you. He found himself wanting to know more about the girl who had stood up to him, who had challenged their so called “leader”.

It was the week of school camp, considering you had only transferred to the school 2 weeks ago your circle of friends consisted of your home room teacher and one of the lunch ladies who you had bonded with, simply from the way she warmed the frozen cafeteria cookies; quite embarrassing. You tried your hardest to use your so called “charm” on the other students, but nobody really wanted to share a cabin with the girl who had nearly broken the schools biggest jock’s wrist.

“This has to be a joke.” You said holding up the list of students who would be sharing a cabin for the next 3 days. “Hong Jisoo, Kim Mingyu, Y/LN and Yoon Jeonghan.” This just so happened to be your luck. You gripped the sheet of paper and ran to the cafeteria, this was a rant your lunch lady friend would not hear the end of. “Look at this! I can’t even comprehend how this fancy posh school with this stupid over-the-top architecture can’t fit in a little gender segregation!” But as always, the lunch lady stayed non-verbal and nodded her head in agreement.

The bus that would be taking students to camp arrived and you say next to your new friend Seungkwan. He and Jeonghan had some past and to say he was surprised you were able to conquer the conqueror was an understatement. “You know I never understood why they choose the rainiest days to do fun school activities like this!” Seungkwan continued to blab on about the topic as you zoned out, Yoon Jeonghan, of all people you had been chosen to share a room with him, the other two guys were cute and sure, Jeonghan had his good-looking moments, but you would need more than a prayer to get through these 3 days.

Once you arrived at the campsite your jaw fell in amazement. The beautiful architecture of the building was one thing, but the spacious cabins which looked like a miniature neighbourhood were absolutely amazing, the muddy, mushy terrain however, did not fit in with the rest of the place.

You walked with Seungkwan to your cabins. Thank goodness they were beside each other, you thought to yourself, but once you saw the list of activities you realised that it was fine and could’ve been worse, yoon jeonghan was still an aching problem. You entered your cabin and to your dismay, jeonghan was already there, he gave you a dirty look but quickly wiped it away when the camp councillor came in, “everything alright? Lights out at 9:30 PM.” She announced and then left the room with a smile, this was going to be hell. You set up your area of the room, staying close to Mingyu as the other two argued about who would be top bunk. When you were done it was already 9:15, you decided to check up on Seungkwan’s cabin, considering there was nothing but loud music and laughter coming from there, you opened the door and was met with welcoming smiles, “buh bye y/n, we’re in the middle of a karaoke night, it’s nearly lights out anyways” Seungkwan said jokingly, you nodded and went back to your cabin not so sure if he and his friends would be so keen on you invading their time together, screw all the teachers who came up with this cabin plan.

Once you returned to your place of residence, you sighed heavily, it was empty except for one person, Jeonghan. “You’re back I see. I would’ve called the councillors on you if you stayed any longer.” He said, you could hear the smirk in his voice, it made you feel some kind of way, you didn’t know what it was but you liked it. “Do you want your wrist twisted again?” Jeonghan stayed silent. “Thought so.” You said and climbed into your bunk, you learnt from Jeonghan that the other two had volunteered to help clear the forest in case lightening struck, apparently many other students had gone, you cursed yourself for not volunteering and unintentional putting yourself in this mess. The weather was nothing but horrible, you curled up in your blanket praying that Mingyu and Joshua would return to ease the tension in the room, you weren’t sure if Jeonghan was asleep so you grabbed your torch and walked over to his bed to see if he was awake or not, just as you got up, a large bolt of lightning struck causing you to jump and land on Jeonghan. Fuck. Turns out he was, in fact, awake. “Scared of lightning huh?” He said with a chuckle, you rushed to get up, thanking heaven that it was dark so he couldn’t see the blush on your face. “Who the hell stays completely still when a loud bang is heard” you said trying to put on a brave face, “I bet you flinched too.” Jeonghan got up from the bottom bunk of his bed and stood in front of you, he lifted his hand and placed it on under your chin. “I didn’t flinch.” He scoffs, despite the dimness of the cabin, you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Gosh, I can feel you blushing, pretty ironic for somebody who supposedly hates me, don’t you think?” Jeonghan said while closing the gap between the two of you. To say the tension in the air was immense was in fact an understatement. Jeonghan leaned forward, pressing his lips on yours, you froze in place not knowing what to do, until Jeonghan took both of your hands and brought them to his neck. “Rookie.” He let out in between the kiss.

“Jeonghan..” you let out with a soft moan, the two of you trying to keep your intimacy discreet by hiding under the thick blanket, “you know you gotta be quiet, hm? we’re still on a school trip, doll.” he said, thrusting in and out of you, each time more sensual and pleasurable, you gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you felt your high approaching. “han.. ‘m gonna-“ and just like that, the cabin lights switched on, the two of you poked your heads out of the blanket to see your other two roomates you’d seemingly forgot about.

“Shit.” Jeonghan scoffed and sat up. “Seems mister kingpin has found his match.”

[barbiesmuse]

୨୧ TOLERATE IT.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָsimon riley + fem!reader

summary: in which you decide to meet up with simon, and to your dismay things happen between the two of you. but in the end, he still left. link to part one!

tags: angst, talk of parental issues, arguing-ish, slight fluff, delena puts some sense into simon, and reader is a pushover!!

head barbies announcements: hi barbie!! this is a lot more angsty and slightly sexual so minors dni! there will be one more part of this, but other than that enjoy!! do something kind today! peace and love!

“I miss you, love.” He missed you? You scoffed and ran a hand down your face. You wanted to ignore it, act like you never saw it. You had a new life. Simon wasn't a part of that new life. You promised yourself a long time ago that it would stay that way. You didn't want to know why he left. You want to forget him completely. But you couldn't. You knew that there would always be a part of you tied to him. Simon squeezed Delena's hand, she wasn't one to be impatient. She was gentle with Simon. She had seen the aftermath of what his father had done to him. It was rough. “Del, what if she doesn't respond,” Simon says, his eyes squeezed shut. He tries to ignore the feeling in his stomach. He felt like a nervous schoolboy texting his crush. Delena simply doesn't respond. She loved her godson to pieces but, she didn't tolerate incompetence. Simon looked up at her, waiting for an answer. Instead of answering, she shot him a tight-lipped grin.

You didn't want to respond, but there was a small part of you that felt like you should. He brought out something good in you. You always saw yourself as deeply flawed, not good enough, too hostile. Simon saw you as a phoenix. Constantly getting back up again, rising from the ashes. Your hands trembled as you picked your phone up, you had made up your mind. You were going to respond. Simon's eyes went from soft to offended in a matter of seconds. He knew what Delena was thinking, and he didn't like it one bit. Simon scoffed and took a sip of the large bottle of Disaronno that sat by his side. Delena grunted in disapproval and snatched the bottle from his hand. Simon wasn't himself anymore when Delena looked into his eyes she saw his father. That was her biggest fear. “Simon. If she doesn't respond you have no right to be angry with her. You left without any explanation. That girl deserved the world, and you could've given it to her. Yet you decided to let your trauma get in the way of something great, for the both of you.” Delena says, she stands up the bottle of alcohol still in her hand. Simon's eyes turn to his cracked phone, his lips curling into a soft smile. He picks up his phone and studies the text. It was simple, too simple for him. He wanted more, but he was never satisfied. Simon Riley could have the entire world in his hands and still be unsatisfied. He lifted his phone and showed Delena, he made sure the shards of glass didn't cut her hand. No matter how angry he was, he was gentle with the people he cared most about.

“I'll always miss you, Si.” You responded. It was simple, but it held weight. You would've done anything for him. The two of you were toxic and the both of you knew it. The toxicity was like a drug. Once you're addicted, you can't stop. No matter how long you're clean, a part of you will always long for that drug. There was a point in time when Simon angered you severely. You had held onto it like a grudge. He would make fun of you in front of his friends and leave you to do all the work around the house, but what hurt the most? He acted as if your love for him was simply a burden. Yet you tolerated it. Delena forced a smile. Thankfully, Simon couldn't see the hidden displeasure on her face. She had no problem with you. However, she did have a problem with Simon hurting you. “She misses me, Del,” Simon said with a genuine smile. His heart was beating again, he was slowly becoming the man he was. Delena's hands tightened around the bottle of alcohol, her sharp red nails digging into her palm. “You two should talk, maybe meet up. Then you can apologize.” Delena says with a smile. Yet it fades as he shakes his head. “She can't know why I left Delena, she'll think I'm a coward,” Simon says as he stands up. He needed to see you. He needs to make things right, you were his everything. Without you, he was an empty shell of a man. Delena simply shakes her head and walks away. She was getting a headache and did not have time for him. Simon grabs his broken phone in his hands and sighs. His breathing was slow and heavy, almost as if he didn't want to. Simon.

“Meet me at the café, please baby.”

Simon was one thing for sure, a master manipulator. He knew the buttons to push and when to push them. He knew you were vulnerable right now. He knew you craved his touch. The smell of cigarettes and amaretto still lingered in your house. His side of the bed still smelled like his forest body wash. He lingered. You hated it.

“Yes. Be there at six.”

talia talks: this was kinda a filler i guess? the second half of this fic will be out tomorrow morning if uni doesn't kick my ass!

[twig-tea]

Water Bottles in the Fridge as a Relationship Metaphor [Eps 5 and 6 of LITBC]

I sobbed after finishing Episodes 5 and 6 of Love in the Big City and I have been trying to find the words to articulate why but they aren't coming. So instead I'm going to talk about this relationship, focusing on the image that stuck strongest in my mind: The water bottles. [No book spoilers, this is all just reaction to the series].

After Gyu Ho moves in, Yeong comes home from a really draining day at work late because he's been writing in a cafe, only to passive-aggressively spray the drying laundry to mask the smell and stare at the empty shelf in the fridge where their stash of water bottles should be. He goes to his laptop to write more of his novel, while Gyu Ho behind him puts the laundry in the dryer and fills up the fridge with water. There are at least two other times when Gyu Ho fills up the fridge with water after one of their fights; the other one that stood out to me was Gyu Ho putting water in the fridge after coming home with his suitcase rather than moving out/leaving permanently. That relatively small but repeated chore stuck with me as an embodiment of Gyu Ho's tip-toeing that Yeong mentions in his voiceover.

If you've ever lived with anyone else, you know how the tiniest things can become massive irritants, especially when you are depressed or stressed, but it's true anytime. And you also know that those massive irritants do not mean you love them any less. I was blown away by how well these episodes, especially episode 6, captured a long term relationship's ups, downs, and mundanity. The palpable tension between Yeong and Gyu Ho, mixed with the easy dissipation of that tension and back to life as normal, radiated from the screen. Even when they fight, like in the cafe where Yeong is writing, they are fighting about how they want good things for each other. They just have different ideas about what that looks like and how they get there. I loved the tiny moments like Yeong, frustrated after the fight, walking home and hearing a stranger cuss out a cat, and smiling to himself because it reminded him of the 'Crabby Tabby' nickname Gyu Ho gave him.

[This is a bit of a sidenote, but the difference between Yeong Su's 'I'm moving to New York, did you think what we had was love?' and Gyu Ho's 'Come to Shanghai with me, I won't go without you' is so massive it's still sitting with me days later.]

It's clear that they're both trying, and at the same time, that they both are holding or held back. Gyu Ho is not a pushover and does hold his own in these arguments, and does make his mark on the space by e.g. putting up curtains, but he keeps backing down in the end; and Yeong continues to keep him at arms length even after trusting him with his biggest secret and deepest shame, and even after inviting him to live together. It's clear that sharing knowledge of Kylie does not free Yeong from shame about her. He asks Gyu Ho multiple times where he sees him as 'dirty', and Gyu Ho's response that he's the dirtiest joke is, I think, a loving attempt to say no in a way that Yeong can hear.

The scene on the train to the airport near the end of the episode captured their dynamic perfectly; Gyu Ho is willing to stand in order to spend time with Yeong, and Yeong is unwilling to let him. And Yeong is fundamentally correct that the circumstances of their lives (especially his life, with Kylie) mean that he would be holding Gyu Ho back, and Gyu Ho in the end makes the choice to listen and leave Yeong when he's told to rather than continue to fight him on it.

Yeong noticed and got annoyed by the water shelf not being refilled one time, And Gyu Ho filled it every time since, even when he was furious and barely wanted to be there at all. And Yeong noticed, but didn't know what to do about it, the same way he noticed how Gyu Ho always slept silently, and would constantly check his breathing (and even made snoring noises to himself to fill the silence), and took that as a sign that Gyu Ho did not feel safe or fully settled. He was unclear how much his own behaviour vs. Gyu Ho's personality were to blame:

"I wonder why you sleep in utter silence, like you're constantly on tip-toes. As if you're never home, no matter how long you've lived here. Is that my fault? Or is it your fault? Or maybe it's simply an inevitability."

I think it's the fact that these two love each other so much, and were both so reasonable and tried so hard, still could not make things work, and how fucking unfair it all feels, that made me sob. I don't know that I'll find better words than that.

[fraudulent-cheese]

Actually no, i want to expand on my relative dislike of WT. Because when people talk about this season's faults, i BARELY see people mentionning the complete flattening of like half it's cast!

Oh sure, people are super willing to throw shit at TDA and especially TDAS for it's flanderisation of characters, but outside of some rogue posts by mutuals, i don't see ANY OF YOU pointing the finger at World Tour when i'd argue it's especially eggregious.

Owen's the easiest example of this, and while it didn't start this season it got so much during it. Nearly all of his lines revolve around food, his aerophobia, or Izzy for a single episode. His relationship with Alejandro is also super indicative of this; im willing to accept the HC that he was aware of Alejandro's dislike of him and just wanted to win him over, but that's absolutely not what the writters intended, no way in hell. He's just completely oblivious to his shitty behavior when he seemed at least somewhat aware of Heather's shifty behavior back on Island, or at least able to stand up for himself (shoutouts to that one Action episode). It's not fun to watch, either.

Bridgette too had her personality reduced to one or two traits, for either comedy reasons (because apparently people making out 24/7 is funny) or story reasons (establishing Alejandro as a threat who uses flirting and his general attractiveness to advance his strategy) and it suckssssss because she was! an actual character! and World Tour especially benefits from having a 'straight man' type character that can look at the other's weirdness and react to it like a normal-ish person! That and she could be an interesting presence to have on Team Victory, with her friendships with Leshawna and Courtney for instance.

DJ too is a BIG victim of the flanderisation thing; his personality is dumbed down to just being a huge scaredy cat, and his character is just The Curse. That's all he does and that's all he is, all he talks about. And that sucks because he too, was an actual person in Island and even Action! Sure, he was sometimes a pushover and had an accident-prone bunny, but he was also kind and could actually go out of his way to play pranks on people! But all of that is just gone in WT.

There's also the characters that weren't flanderised, and more just. Written entirely out of character. Outside of the entire Love Triangle (which i will get to) the biggest example of this is Leshawna to me. The writters straight forget the episode in Action where she's entirely dsitrustful of the Pizza they were offered (which did turn out to be tampered with) due to Chef being uncharasterically nice to them. Guess what Alejandro was doing. Being overly nice to her out of nowhere. Frankly she fell victim to the same thing Bridgette did; needing to be sacked for Alejandro's villany to be better established.

Ok fuck i need to mention the Love Triangle too because while people complain about it alot i don't think they complain about the correct stuff. i'll go rapid fire because it's been talked to death however; Gwen's liking of Duncan is a retcon, her acting like this is out of character for her frankly, Duncan's out of character by trying to emotionally manipulate his ex and the lore established to justify it makes it worse (remember the "At least im straight with people" line?), Courtney is villanised from even before this point which while her anger might've been targetted at the wrong person she was justified in being upset imo, Courtney's entire character is thrown out of a window in general this season, blah blah blah.

I'll end on the whole "the writters forgetting entire character traits/arcs" Cody still hitting on Gwen this season makes no goddamn sense and is super uncomfortable to watch. He's really such a nothing character man. Sierra deserved better than being a manic pixie stalker girl.

[saintzweig]

artashrick in the harry potter universe!!! let me know what you think :) edited this because i didn't realize there were so many mistakes so i apologize :3

patrick gives me potter vibes (maybe a cousin or older brother of james potter). he'd be the first slytherin in a long line of gryffindors and has a complicated relationship with his family aside from james. he's troubled and rebellious, sometimes not in a fun way and his family is too fed up with him but really he just wants to be independent and distance himself from the potter name because he knows he'll never live up to it like his ancestors have. too extroverted, will literally start a conversation with someone he's never even talked to seen before. very chaotic, barely surviving his studies but somehow a popular student.

art is a scamander ... theseus scamander's grandson or something like that ... please tell me you see the vision ... and he'd also be the first slytherin in a family filled with hufflepuffs and nobody can figure out why, he's literally the politest slytherin there is. most people perceive him as a pushover because he's quiet and always has patrick speak for him but as soon as he sets his mind onto something, best believe he's gonna get what he wants. he's cunning and calculated like that. becomes a prefect by his fifth year and head boy by sixth.

of course these two are roommates and always attached at the hip. they're paired up with tashi for a potions project and develop the biggest crush on her.

tashi is a muggleborn and the only wizard/witch in her family, she's a ravenclaw of course. i think she would love being on campus and staying there over the break because being the eldest daughter in her family is just exhausting. everyone thinks she's stuck up and cold but also really smart and resilient. she's definitely gotten into an argument with a professor at least once, and won. becomes a prefect by her third year and a head girl by her fifth, also the captain of the quidditch team, leading her house into a winning streak but somehow still loses the house cup to gryffindor (dumbledore has favorites we all know that).

[freakenomenon]

soo.... Anya x Ellen.

ill be honest i wasn't a fan at firs( THUNDEROUS COMMOTION )

HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY. HEY. NO. LISTEN.

im literally a lesbian and i love both characters, but i just wasn't the biggest fan of. the basis of the ship? shipping two characters simply because they're both in sexually exploitative/abusive situations is. i can't be the only one who thinks thats exceptionally odd. im not dogging on anyone,,, just saying.

also not to be some pearl clutching puritan but the age gap. also. worried me a lot. cause i cant decipher if im shipping two consenting adults with a. what id like to call "parental ( in terms of marriage ( like 30 - 40/50 ?? ) , not daughter and mother )" age gap. or... or if im shipping someone pushing fifty ( Ellen ) and someone barely 20 ( Anya ) which is. RETCHES. GAGS.

but with some reassurance from a friend and such, i was able to convince myself it was the latter. so now that i've separated it from its ,, troubling origins. i must say i do quite like it. ive thought about it extensively and. holy shit these two definitely would not be good for each other without some kind of. counseling.

i dont consider anya and ellen to be similar personality wise at all. aside from anyas kind of implied temper not really. which of course, isn't necessary for a relationship. BUT. i also think that. if ellen was ON the tulpar in any case. she would find the psych evals to be. incredibly invasive, despite truly being surface level from what i can gather.

its also incredibly worth while to note that, while both of them are incredibly capable, intelligent, and have genuine passion for what they do. only…. one of them has actually been able to succeed in their field. when. the other. failed. 8-7 times. this brutal concoction of someone at the top of the ladder while the other one keeps falling as they cant help but look down. is. kind of. the cause for jimmys obsession with curly. WAIT WAIT. let me finish. its also because jimmy is a complete loser who can't help but leech off of others, shift the blame, and constantly convince himself he is the victim. and curly is too willing to let himself and others be affected by this behavior without second thought.

BUT. you can't tell me that in the event of her surviving the crash, the anya that has practically been kicked down by life relentlessly, when seeing someone who literally has IT ALL ( without looking at background context ) and seemingly treats others with an unchecked arrogance. wouldn't get. a little ticked? maybe just a LITTLE miffed? a tad SUSPICIOUS? when the woman in question just, greets her with open arms one day.

ellen would probably be overjoyed to let someone in a similarly lonely situation into her life, maybe almost coming off as creepy or overbearing. coming off pitying anya rather than just, trying to get her to stay. but then again, shed never open up about why shes so scared of being left alone without an extreme amount of prying. shes terrified of vulnerability. or showing emotion at all for that matter. it'd be like a constant push and pull. idk,, they could be grossly infatuated with each other <3

and again, im not saying they'd reach jimcurl levels of radioactive. and obviously i dont think anya is as obsessive or mentally ill as jimmy, and i don't think that ellen is as much of a useless fucking pushover as curly, in fact its the exact opposite. but i think with the right ( or I guess in this case,, wrong ) amount of emotional turmoil,,, it could get there,, am i reading way too much into a crossover ship thats kind of mid based on why people made it a ship in the first place? yes! do I care ? yes. a lot actually. it makes me feel weird and im not i promise please please

but whatever ,, anya x ellen but its evil and fucked up ,, heh ,, just a look into my sick and twisted mind.

[slumber-lexifer]

Five Yandere roomates x willing reader gn

(Warning creepy but tame)

You have five roomates what it's like to live with them whiny needy obsessive roomates meet who they are!.

There's Jeff he's lanky man with long black hair, skinny he oddly loves turtles and has bad hygiene but not horrible,you can smell him on your bed sheets, he's needy his jealousy is tame he collects bottle caps he's a loner he's the smartest,has a messy room.

Oh yes the invasion of privacy not all but not much of them do it but at least they pay there rant, and don't make messes and pamper you whenever Melcome cooks for you not the other's tho, have to fend for themselves when making food for themselves.

Melcome he's buff and but softy of the bunch, he holds the yanderes by the neck when they fight, he likes to read crawl into his lap ask him to read to you a bed time story, he be caressing your head if you fall asleep he cradle you to his big chest , he definitely takes pictures and shows em off to the roomates like a proud dad he's a domestic yandere, won't kill as long no one puts you in hospital that is big teddy bear energy is the oldest of the roomates.

Peter he's the shows as the most loving most sweetheart shy short skinny femboy to you, but a twist and the most sadistic yandere of them,oh he loves to show off in skirts to you rubbing you thighs seductively, others find peter obnoxious but Peter not stupid there playing a role for you , the cutise attire is an act to be all innocent, he does wear your underwear.

Brox he is the one who starts fights, doesn't like Peter the most Cain instinct between the two, is the most stalkersh of them all who sucks on your toothbrush thinking about it they all did it, l trough it away that toothbrush and hide the new one has the biggest shrine collects the toothbrush you threw away, is the most overprotective possive, coughs "cameras" coughs.

Alex is the most delusional bad staring problem he knows how many freckles are on you body the most clingy out of them all creepy displays of affection younger brother of brox is shortie compared to everyone else not a pushover he unhinged not incapable of being tough, has a shy deaminour is the real sweetheart, has a lock of your hair.