#what if I did a story? I have an idea of what the fall would be like. hint: these virtues cherubs flip. anyone want that? let me know.

[heegyukeluv]

cross the line (lhs)

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: “How do you know if someone is flirting with you?”  It was Heeseung’s question to you, and you were left with no option other than to show how you do it.

my's note: this is from an old prompt i had. nothing much, just some fluff and highkey desperate (and long) smut... and bestfriends to lovers 🤭i feel like i lost the plot while i was writing it, but yeah! hope y'all enjoy it

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, kinda miscomunication?, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), desperate hee (in many ways lol), hee is sensitive and edges himself, very slooooow and unnecessarily detailed smut, reader is not a virgin but it's her second time!! / lmk if i missed something!

wc: 14,5k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

“How do you know if someone is flirting with you?”

The question lingered in the air longer than Heeseung expected, but he wouldn’t blame you at all.

It was a quiet, calm Saturday afternoon. None of you had work to do or studies to draw your energy. While your back lazily rested on your couch’s armrest with your legs propped up in a triangle, Heeseung was laid on the ground after blaming the couch’s fabric for being too heated for his skin, his head opposite to yours. 

Far enough to miss your instant confused expression. 

“Huh?” You murmured with a frown, trying to figure out if you heard it correctly before diverting your attention from your phone to catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s plain eyes looking up at the ceiling. 

He had shifted his position to a relaxed one with a hand behind his head and the other resting on his stomach, the quiet motion of up and down following his gentle breathing. It could easily soothe your nerves to watch him serenely exist like that in the world, an opposite to his normally chaotic and teasing demeanor. 

“How do you know if someone is flirting with you?” Heeseung repeated his question once again, and you were sure now you had heard it right. It didn’t make you less puzzled though. “Like, I think I struggle to recognize what’s just a normal interaction and what’s a flirt.”

Your eyebrows were sky high as you skeptically eyed Heeseung, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth as your body stiffed a little. 

Growing up together as friends was just a quarter of your story with Heeseung.

Your moms were the typical best friends that surprisingly gave birth around the same time, resulting in you and Heeseung becoming as close as siblings due to your families proximity, although the thought of being Heeseung’s sister haunted the depths of your mind terribly nowadays.

Of course you wouldn’t mind being considered in that position when you were younger; Heeseung annoying ass bothering you all the time with the subtle hair pulls under the excuse of trying to grab your attention, or poking your sides to start a little fight that he always won, or the times he simply feigned to go for a whisper as in telling you a secret just to blow air in your ear and elicit a scream from you, were a huge behaviors proof he had somewhat sibling energy.

Your constant smacks on his shoulders and chest, along with your not-so-gentle bites on his arms, and your giggles whenever you pranked him by tossing flour at his direction when cooking together worked well to establish a strong base to that idea.

However, as you both started to grow up, things changed accordingly to your ages.

You were expectedly very comfortable around each other, and the touches once aiming to bother, switched to casual, caring ones, still having a faint of that light-hearted taunt.

Heeseung would often be seen removing an eyelash from your cheek, his fingertips brushing against your skin softly as you kept talking normally.

Or intertwining your hands when going back from school, so you wouldn’t fall whenever you tripped – and you did quite regularly.

Or, when you sat together, Heeseung would make sure to have your thighs resting on his lap so he could settle his warm hands on top of it, casually caressing your skin while watching whatever you choose to. 

It was great and heartwarming to have him like that, taking care of you even with the slightest teasing alongside genuine intentions – Heeseung struggled to demonstrate his feelings openly, so giving you princess-like treatment with a hint of his usual playful banter was his way to show how much he loved you.

Eventually, puberty hit him, and hit undoubtedly hard. 

The little kid who used to follow you around just to annoy had become the taller, handsome, and effortlessly cool teenager, surrounded by friends and making girls squeal over even the slightest interaction with him, leaving you to wonder when everything had changed that much.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to keep being friends with you the way he was before as time passed, but surprisingly he would often be choosing you over the others, such as hanging out during lunch time with you, doing his schoolworks only with you, spending a part of his pocket money with sweets for you and taking you home everyday – you lived near to each other, nonetheless he would always guide you to your door’s porch before kissing your forehead and saying his farewell. 

At some point you realized your body was reacting similarly to how girls who had a crush on Heeseung would describe when he was around; an urge to scream and giggle just because he smiled, heart pounding hard in your chest after watching him slicking back his sweaty hair while playing basketball with the boys, hands trembling with the thought of being alone for too long with him in your room.

You were starting to act awkward, your hormones messing with your head enough to leave you scared as shit, questioning what you and Heeseung were, because the definition of friendship wasn’t making any sense, seemed lacking, insufficient for what you truly, wholeheartedly wanted from Heeseung.

So your most sane decision at the time was to push him towards other girls randomly, sharing how much in love a friend of yours was with him and how worthy, pretty and intelligent she was. Or how the cheerleader’s leader would fit him perfectly and they would become the school’s model couple.

The sting in your heart was tough to deal with when he started to pick up some of your ideas and openly flirt with the said girls, sharing each step with you how friends constantly did, but you would one hundred percent rather to handle the pain of never having Heeseung as your boyfriend than the hurtful thought of losing him for good.

Then Heeseung started dating, and the girl was extremely jealous of your friendship. 

Though you swore she had nothing to worry about, Heeseung, once again, chose you, dumping the girl just a few weeks after because she said bad things about you, added to the fact that she had a list of reasons why he should end the friendship, something Heeseung would never, ever think about doing.

Despite your mind playing tricks after hearing that people could misinterpret the way Heeseung behaved with you – apparently he would be playing with your hair and giving you headpats quite too oftenly, barely keeping his hands away from you –, you tried to maintain things safely where they should be, focusing on getting over your foolish crush on Heeseung and moving on.

Eventually, little by little the so cherished friendship started to teeter the edge that crossed the line of just friends, and the casual moments started to hold a special place inside your chest.

Heeseung made no effort to help you as well, offering big and gorgeous smiles whenever he saw you as if you were everything he wanted. Laughing graciously when you hugged him so you could hear and feel his chest vibrating with it. Doing his silly little dances to cheer you up in the middle of your living room and, mostly, singing songs with his angelical voice for you to sleep during late phone calls. 

You were so terrified of reading beyond reality.

Was it really that deep?, you would question yourself when your head rested on your pillow at night, the phantom of Heeseung’s presence permeating your room after a game day together, the shared chuckles and teasing prolonging your fast heartbeats as a sweet reminder of your feelings, feelings that you never really managed to bury somewhere else other than on the tip of your tongue, craving for the release you never gave.

The friendship continued the same through the years, or, at least, you both tried to. The emotional bond that tied you two together worked almost perfectly, if you got to keep your voice silenced, if you got to keep the real feelings inside your chest, away from the possible reality.

Heeseung would be eager to share his adventures with you, from the everyday moments, like when he made a shot with his back turned to the hoop and scored, to the more secretive and sexual escapades, the ones you would rather not hear about but had to in order to support your friend spot.

It felt like a punch to the gut when Heeseung talked about his first kiss and the others that followed, each revelation stirring a mix of emotions you couldn't quite shake off, not when you wanted him to be your first kiss as well.

When you both entered college last year, once more things shifted a little.

Heeseung and you began to frequent very different places. While you gravitate towards the quiet spots, such as the library, the coffee shop, or the shade of a tree on campus to read a book in your silent, mellow atmosphere, Heeseung was willing to attend every single party he got to know about, having girls constantly kissing him in front of everyone, caring little to nothing about the talks or if the night would end up in his room.

But he never really committed to anyone.

You wondered what was the reason that held him back, considering the amount of good opportunities he had; the offers were abundant, and the line of admires long to make a curve down the square. Surely he would find the love of his life among that many options, and you had convinced yourself you were far faded from the running.

So, the question felt out of place.

“Are you really gonna try to make me believe that you don’t know when a girl is flirting with you?” You propped yourself on the couch to full face Heeseung, arching an eyebrow. “You? Of all people?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes with a sigh and a smirk, pushing himself up to sit with crossed his legs, fully aware of what you were referring to. “Don’t even start with this shit.”

You chuckled dryly, struggling to contain the bitter taste dissolving in the depths of your throat, the knot was extremely hard to swallow, to know he had fucked who knows how many girls through his life and you, on the other hand, barely had a boyfriend.

It might sound like envy, but you were just frustrated for not being any of those girls.

“What shit? The ‘last weekend I slept with three girls’ shit?” You faked a deep voice to mimic Heeseung, together with his usual cocky smile before deadpanning into a feigned teasing expression.

The episode happened a few days ago, right when you accidentally eavesdropped on him and his friends chatting while playing video games in your shared living room.

It was the typical boys’ talk that you had no intention of listening to, but unfortunately you had just reached the door’s knot to open it, then each word that came out of Heeseung’s mouth traveled straight into your ears, making your stomach drop in an unexpected pain. 

You rushed to your room, cheeks heating and tears stinging your eyes, on the verge of breaking down after hearing what he had said.

Of course you knew Heeseung was sexually active. His room was right next to yours, and though he tried to keep it quiet, the girl he once led in after mistakenly thinking you weren’t home hadn’t bothered to be discreet.

You were fully aware of his private life, the quarter that had you screaming, crying, nearly pulling out your hair and breaking some of your belongings in jealousy because it wasn’t you. 

“Y/N,” Heeseung called out seriously, accidentally bringing you back from your spiral thoughts. “You, more than anyone, know I was joking,” he averted his eyes from you, the prominent area of his cheeks heating as he added. “I literally lost my virginity not even six months ago.”

Now it was your time to roll your eyes, because yes, Heeseung did in fact lose his virginity on that said date, but he never stopped having sex ever since and it annoyed you so fucking much. While you struggled to even kiss a boy, Heeseung was out there living the best of life. Without you.

For years, you thought you hated his behavior because you couldn’t be like him, nonchalant about your crushes as if they were nothing much. You had to literally force your body not to shake when kissing someone, had to hide your sweaty palms and how all your instincts yelled for you to run away when sharing intimacy with someone.

But the actual reality was simpler. You weren’t envious of him. You didn’t want to be like Heeseung.

You wanted Heeseung.

“Whatever you say,” you muttered with a dry chuckle and dropped back on the couch, grabbing your phone to keep scrolling on tiktok, ignoring how hot your face felt after.

Heeseung grunted, his eyes darting towards your face as you absentmindedly watched videos. The boy was oblivious to the real whirlwind happening inside your chest, especially because on his side of the story, he was fighting so fucking hard to contain himself.

Every. Single. Second. 

You were the prettiest girl he ever had the chance to lay his eyes on, with the bestest personality that complemented his own just right, with the most melodic voice and laughter that made his whole world slow down in order to make his breathing ability harder. And he really wished it actually slowed down, to allow him to enjoy and appreciate every passing moment with you even deeper.

Fuck, Heeseung was unable to tell when the butterflies in his stomach started to dance along the beat of your constant presence, but the day you asked if your lipgloss was cute definitely played a big role on it.

Heeseung had a vivid memory of how gorgeous you looked wearing your brand new dress for your fifteenth birthday party, styling your strands with a hair bow and prepping your face with makeup that only accentuated your already beautiful features.

And then you turned on your heels, cheeks painted with a faint blush, big, wide, innocent eyes colored with a soft shade of brown, and your lips, oh, your fucking plump lips with a  shade of a light pink gloss adorning it, screaming for his own mouth to be pressed there.

‘Do I look cute? Does my gloss look cute?’

The question was simple and very common. Heeseung always answered yes to them, because he would always think you were pretty, even when waking up with your puffy face and half-lidded open eyes squinting because of daylight.

But there you were, making Heeseung focus intentionally more on your, now, kissable lips, on your sweet, tempting, fucking gorgeous lips.

Ever since that day Heeseung had to keep you closer to drift his nasty thoughts away.

It was controversial and maybe hypocritical. He should have done the opposite, to avoid you, to keep you as far as possible, but he simply couldn’t, because in that very moment he found himself addicted to you, addicted to the idea of tasting what he had come to crave as his main life goal. 

Having you near meant not dealing with the thought of other guys that had experienced what he longed the most, because with you, everything that filled Heeseung’s mind was the present; your presence, your cheeky smiles, your clingy hugs, your scent, you, as a whole.

It was so fucking tough and hurtful to hear about your little crushes, it fumed his chest with angry flames that spread rapidly, with no sign to have a firefighter strong enough to put the fire out.

You weren’t like him, or at least the part you allowed him to have access didn’t compare to even one percent of what he lived, but Heeseung strongly envied those who had the chance to be the reason behind your shy giggles and blushed cheeks.

Along the chat about flattering boys that stole your heart, you would also ask him why he didn’t date anyone, your curious gaze making him stutter in place. To internally scream and squirm to prevent the words from escaping his mouth – words that would form the sentence that, without a doubt, would change the trajectory of your relationship – was the only suitable option.

It’s your fault, idiot. It’s because none of them are you.

Heeseung always opted to laugh away and give an open answer; ”didn’t find the right one” was his favorite.

In fact, watching you grow up was harder than dealing with some of the questions you threw at him. One moment, you were just the little girl he loved to tease, someone he considered his best friend, and even like the little sister he never had

Heeseung would watch you laugh at his jokes, chase you around scaring you, and protect you from the world when necessary. But then, out of nowhere, you started to change.

You were suddenly a full-grown woman, carrying yourself in a way that left him speechless, not knowing how to react, with boobs and shit.

Ok, that was not exactly what made his life around you harder, nonetheless, it was inevitable the way you physically evolved began to hold a distinct place in Heeseung's mind, blurring his cohesive thoughts with a frightening ease.

Being a teenager while having a hot friend was difficult, no one ever taught him about it.

He felt nasty every time he dared to touch himself while thinking about your body; how your mildly exposed chest, when wearing tight shirts, hinted at what was beneath it. How the soft curves of your belly and hips drew his attention in a way that got his fingertips tingling in craving to hug it, to have it under his touch.

Whenever he achieved his climax, your cute name falling from his lips in a quiet whisper, the following regret flooded his chest within a wave of remorse that he couldn’t control at all. For good minutes he even considered saying sorry to you within a text, without giving a proper explanation, but he would always choose to keep that hidden truth away from your acknowledgment in every instance possible.

Besides his strong, flaming desire, Heeseung loved you with all he had.

You were his best friend, the one and only, the girl who knew his deepest secrets and welcomed them without judgment, that laughed at his stupid jokes and held him closer when he needed comfort.

You knew that when he was a child, he would wet the bed because he had nightmares about clowns. You knew he would eat ramen in the middle of the night, hiding it from his parents and blaming his older brother. You knew that, despite him bragging about his skills, he was terrible at candy crush – and you loved to tease him about it, because who the hell is bad at candy crush?

You didn’t seem to care about his flaws, like the aggressive way he treated things around him when the accumulated stress snapped – never at you, though. Or the fact that he would procrastinate as much as possible to clean his room, to do laundry or wash the dishes. Or that he would always eat while watching TV at maximum volume, and scream loudly while playing league of legends even when late at night.

Heeseung loved you, yet, it wasn’t enough to keep him safely quiet, relentlessly making his body ache for you. What started as the warmth of a deep connection slowly blossomed into something more – more intense, more real, and yet, somehow, delicate, like a fragile flower that could easily be shattered.

Heeseung would treat you like a queen because he thought you deserved to be one, and in the valleys of his heart, he wished for you to let his presence be part of your happiness, to share all the intimate moments, to become a part of your world in a way that was more than just a friend.

So that was the reason Heeseung started this whole thing of asking you about flirting. He was patient, however the urge to be yours and have you completely was swelling not-so-slowly, and he found an unexpected way to maybe drift you both through that invisible boundary line he wished to cross for so long.

There was no actual curiosity behind his question, it was pure and genuine longing and quiet hope for you to, perhaps, reciprocate those confused feelings that only led his heart to decide that he loved you.

And he loved you with his whole soul. 

“Come on,” Heeseung groaned after zoning out, now pushing his body to stand up before taking the seat next to you by scooching your legs away. 

You looked at him over your phone, frowning, your heart still pounding hard in your chest after going thoughtfully over the topic he just brought, pretending to spend your time on the screen when, actually, your head was filled with anxious and fearful thoughts.

Even so, you kept a straight face. 

“What?”

Heeseung sighed, shoulders dropping in something close to defeat and you took your time to move and sit on one of your legs, the other on the ground, casually hanging as you bounced it in order to expel your nervousness.

You didn’t notice your friend had tracked the motion for a quiet second, immediately understanding you had shifted your demeanor in a way he couldn't pinpoint yet, but he had a hunch about it. A suspicion that got his heartbeats notably increasing.

But you saw the exact moment he switched as he gathered the best of his decency to lock eyes with you, guiding the plan forward with excellency.

“Could you, please, for everything we have been through, for our beautiful friendship, and because you love me so, so much, answer my question?”

The drama in Heeseung’s voice was blatant and got you fighting back a grin that threatened to break free. His big-doe eyes flashing you an innocence you wittily figured out as coaxing, added to how he slowly batted his eyelashes, tilting his head only enough to look extra adorable, even curving his bottom lip to pull into a slight pout that had your attention lingering longer than you wanted. 

Once Heeseung learned that his charming eyes were one of your greatest weaknesses, he wasted no time to take advantage of it, oftenly catching you off guard by using his secret weapon to achieve certain goals, offering a soft, yet penetrating gaze that got your knees faltering in place.

He didn’t know with precision what made you so easy to pursue whenever he used that trick, nonetheless it was a big benefit either for simpler favors or big other things, like using your credit card to buy a collector figurine he didn’t have the money to buy during that time.

In that moment, however, Heeseung just wished for you not to catch the flicker of apprehension in his eyes, or the barely contained excitement that danced behind the facade of calmness and fake purity, because he didn’t aim to get something expensive or use your bathroom just to explore your good amount of skincare. 

His only objective was to cross that friendship line, to ruin it, and, if he was lucky enough, have you enjoying it as you both do so.

You pursed your eyelids and then cocked your head to the side, incredulous. “Seriously?” A chuckle echoed from your parted lips, softening your expression to endearing amusement since it pretty much worked all the time, even after you became fully aware of his tactic. “Using bambi-eyes and shit?”

Heeseung nodded with admirable speed, his entire behavior was almost infantile, resembling a shameless child about to get a pricey toy after playing the good kid for his parents, although he definitely did no good. He had a smirk on the very corner of his mouth, and his eyes glossed with complete feigned innocence. 

You damned yourself for being such a sucker for that boy, for allowing him to have that much power over your whole existence. 

And with that, you accepted your fate, your defiance. You had no idea of what was going to happen, let alone what the hell Heeseung wanted to know exactly. Yeah, girls flirting, but in which way? And why?

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, placing your phone away on the side table. Heeseung smiled brightly and shifted on his seat, his whole body now facing you, expectantly. You flashed a hesitant look, cheeks already flaming hot in a strange anticipation, not even bothering to chase for his gaze properly. “What do you wanna know?”

“Ok!” Heeseung nearly buzzed, his body jolting slightly as if electricity ran through it, revealing his excitement. “I’ll repeat the question so it won’t get weird, alright?” 

You allowed your throat to let out a small hum, nodding and eventually daring to glance up for a little, meeting the view of Heeseung's eyes beaming with something close to thrilling and mischievous.

A cold, yet silent shiver ran through your torso and you had to control yourself not to tremble when he glazed his gaze with yours, in a magnetic manner that left you with nothing but the necessity to oblige.

Though you had heard them quite a lot from the past few minutes, the following words didn’t ease your heart to weigh less; the amount of times wasn’t enough to get used to how they sounded to you.

“How do I know a girl is flirting with me?”

The air felt extremely thick, rarefied even, as if you were up on the clouds, out from any equipment of protection as you body travelled near to get out from the atmosphere, heavy in your lungs. 

Heeseung struggled to read your reaction at first. Silence. Pure lack of sounds, only a blank and slightly confused expression facing him.

It wasn’t like he was fully expecting you to partake in his idea, even though he planned to account for every possible outcome variant to achieve at least a fraction of his goal.

And yet, he didn’t have a clear objective. Perhaps he simply wanted to plant a seed of hope, mixed with a ‘what if?’, hoping you would realize his feelings ran far deeper than just friendship. And, if luck was on his side, that you might reciprocate – or at least begin to entertain the possibility.

He wanted to ruin that friendship, because he believed you could – no, should – be lovers instead.

You gulped down the lump forming in your neck, praying for some god to help you to release your nerves as soon as possible, otherwise the possibility of having a heart attack wouldn’t just be a fantasy; it would be a reality.

Although every cell in your body seemed to resonate with joy to step onto that untraveled road of your friendship, you couldn’t help the urge to run, to escape, to get away from that topic and move on with your life. 

For sure you both had conversations about similar concepts, but nothing close to personal-sexual subjects. Nothing similar to Heeseung asking you directly how flirting happens. 

“I think…” You sighed, fidgeting with the rings in your fingers. “It depends on the person…”

That reply was more open than Heeseung wanted, however, he didn’t press. 

Your tone was thoughtful, your gaze drifting to a random spot on the wall behind Heeseung and then you frowned, trying to recall how your other girl friends behaved whenever their crushes were nearby to give him a proper answer.

Heeseung studied your beautiful features intently, momentarily losing sight of his original purpose; his focus hovered longer on your lips, the same ones that taunted his self-control every single day, the same ones he dreamed about having attached to his own, the same ones he nearly said ‘fuck it’ and kissed.

Instead, keeping the natural and respectful approach and also using your words, he rephrased his question, bold and curious to explore furthermore.

“How do you flirt, then?”

You blinked your blurred, distant eyes back to Heeseung, widening them once you noticed not a single hint of hesitation within his speech, not even a drop of wavering as he held eye contact. Your furrowed eyebrows showed deep uncertainty, and Heeseung added, struggling a bit to sound firm, gesticulating with his nervous hands.

“Like, could you demonstrate?”

It hadn’t clarified anything. In fact, it only made everything more doubtable and chaotic, eliciting a tilt of your head and an even deeper frown.

What on earth was he talking about? Out of nowhere? With no precise context whatsoever? You hadn’t bought into his questioning from the start, especially because of how charming that guy in front of you could easily be, no shame at all. And now this – completely sudden and utterly unsubtle.

Heeseung hadn’t laid the groundwork before dropping this delicate bombshell in your lap.

“How do I flirt?” You retorted, emphasizing and pointing to yourself, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, like,” he shrugged, as if it was just a normal question to make to your best friend. “How do you normally flirt with your crushes?” 

You shook your head, your hands freezing in the air, your spinning head barely catching the mocking tone when Heeseung said crushes.  “No, like, I got that part,” you clutched your fists, narrowing your eyes, lips suddenly drying. “But…”

The tension clung in the silence and you could feel your heart ringing in your ears, almost ripping out from your rib cage. Your hands slowly dropped to your lap, resting there as you tried to find a recompose path out of that situation.

“But…?” Heeseung prodded, leaning ever so slightly closer, his curiosity palpable as much as his boldness.

“Do you want me to flirt with you?” You blurted out, struggling to understand the whole picture, a blend of dread and excitement swirling in your stomach that you failed to contain.

Heeseung’s breath rigged, apprehension heavy in his voice, afterall, that simple interaction had the strength, the weight of changing things between you two for good – and he was painfully aware of it. 

“It’s not like, flirt flirt,” he attempted to clarify himself, though it was clear he was growing increasingly nervous with each passing second. “I just wanna see how girls do it. And you’re a girl, as far as I know.” 

Heeseung was trying to sound nonchalant, to ease the tense air with his remarkable teasing smirk, as casual as ever, but the atmosphere had noticeably shifted and you weren’t sure about your thought process during that moment. 

You grabbed one of the couch’s pillows behind you and threw over him, both of you sharing a laugh that seemed a bit too forced to be real.

A rush of heat crept up your neck as you silently fumbled for the right words when the playful banter settled, leaving room for the reality of Heeseung requesting you to purposely flirt with him.

You also grasped with caution the way Heeseung’s gaze lingered on your figure, how it followed the movement of your teeth pressing on your bottom lip, how he mirrored your decision to wet the area with the tip of your tongue as well, drawing your attention towards his own attractive lips, planting, in your mind, a dangerous seed that had you considering a deeper, promiscuous touch. 

The whole moment felt like walking a tightrope in high heels and you were terrified of what might happen if you stumbled. Your friendship was too precious for you to lose it over a stupid mistake. But, God, why did it feel so tempting to surrender to it?

Heeseung looked at you with adoration and eagerness, his body surprisingly relaxed, or at least you read it like that, as if the scenery was as simple as one plus one, as though he had everything under control.

Little did you know he was extremely, ridiculously, intensely anxious of what cost he would have to be paying in order to not destroy everything. If you paid close attention, you would probably see his gray shirt moving to the strong beats of his heart, loud enough to make him wonder if he was going to survive the outcome.

Another sigh trailed off your mouth as you scratched the back of your neck, clearly torn between the open choices in front of you. You could easily opt to ignore that and shove Heeseung away with some joke, or perhaps answer his question without thinking too intensely about it; you could fake it, hiding your real feelings in a dialogue made up from your head. 

Or you could let your friendship fade into the depths of your lustful desire of having Heeseung for yourself as a whole man, shameless flirting with him the way you always wanted to. 

And then, it clicked. He was offering you the perfect opportunity, the perfect project to subtly guide your decisions, all while pushing you towards the inevitable conclusion: you were about to ruin that friendship.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath to yourself, and right after your sharp, determined gaze met his, leaving no chance for any possible retort. “I think we need to fantasize a scenario, then.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the shift in tone but too intrigued to ask questions. “Why?” he smirked, leaning in slightly. “Does the scenario where you flirt with your best friend in your living room not quite match the vibe?”

You forced an exaggerated look of disgust, but it was more for show than anything else. Neither of you was fooled by your performance. “No, it doesn’t.”

Heeseung chuckled, the tension slowly melting between you two. But even as the laughter filled the air, the uncertainty of what was coming next buzzed in the back of your mind, tempting you to run. Yet, your heart, much to a surprise, was urging you to stay, to follow this dangerous path wherever it might lead.

“Ok. So let's just picture we're in a club–” Heeseung started, straightening his posture. 

“I don't go to clubs.” You quickly deadpanned, eliciting a small “oh” from him.

“Right.” He agreed, frowning while trying to think of another situation. “So…”

You sighed in defeat, biting your lip briefly before saying. 

“I'm your classmate and I have a huge crush on you…?” You blurted out in one breath, yet hesitant, feeling your entire face heat up with embarrassment.

Especially because the said scenario had already played out before, making it easier to go along with – or worse, making it feel way too realistic.

“Nice! That's a good one.” Heeseung replied, his voice carrying a cheerful tone that had you scrunching your nose at his obliviousness, though it wasn’t entirely his fault that you were harboring bottled-up feelings for him. “So what would you do?”

You toyed with your bottom lip, grazing it lightly with your teeth as you tried to quell your nerves, all while struggling to ignore the way your friend sounded urgent, excited, and unmistakably eager. It was as if the entire script had been meticulously crafted long ago. As if he genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted you to flirt with him and walk past the friends line.

Dangerously close.

Before you voiced out, you cleared your throat not to waver on your words. “So, since we're classmates, we'd probably see each other everyday...”

Heeseung nodded, his bambi-eyes following your every movement as you shifted on your seat slightly. “Yeah.”

“As a girl with a crush on you, I'd try my best to stand out somehow and grab your attention first. And the most common way is…” You paused, casting a wary glance towards Heeseung, as though your next words carried a weight too immense to risk uttering lightly. “Eye contact?”

After some time, locking eyes with Heeseung became an increasingly challenging task because it meant having the opportunity to take in every detail of his impossibly attractive face.

The faint mole on his forehead and the ones near his nose were like tiny stars adorning a beautiful sky; that very nose that made you want to squeal from how adorable and rounded its tip was, all while provoking thoughts far too indecent to entertain.

His constant parted lips carried an unique charm, naturally inviting with their slightly reddish hue. At times, they took on a deeper tone, whether from the way Heeseung pressed them together whenever he entered the deep concentration state or nibbled at them to suppress a laugh after teasing you.

If you dared let your gaze wander further, you would notice the sharp point of his chin and, just below it, his prominent Adam’s apple – a mesmerizing detail you never imagined could have such an effect on you. The subtle movement of it bobbing up and down held your focus captive as though it had the power to dictate your every subsequent action.

A sigh slipped from your lips before you even realized the silence that had overtaken you, nor the way Heeseung, with his warm brown eyes, oozed affection and attentiveness your way.

“You’re not making eye contact…” Despite his observation, there wasn’t a trace of reprimand in his tone. It was soft, like a summer breeze brushing against your skin, gentle yet impactful enough to make your eyes widen as you leaned back in surprise.

You hadn’t even noticed how close you had unconsciously leaned towards him.

“Sorry,” you muttered after clearing your throat, redirecting your gaze to a random spot in Heeseung’s lap. Yet, contrary to what you expected, he shifted forward, closing the distance further, his knees nearly brushing against yours.

You looked up at him, confusion and apprehension flickering in your expression, ready to ask why he was coming so close, but he left no room for your question.

“Does the proximity of the girl interfere with flirting?”

His tone was low, soft even, each word drawn out with deliberate care. It carried a designed tenderness that nudged the borders of unexplored intimacy between the two of you, crafted perfectly to unbalance your soul.

Breathing became difficult as your heart raced, your body begging you to flee.

“N–normally, it’s not this close.” You cursed yourself for stuttering, but how could you not? How could you remain composed when Heeseung’s voice carried an intimacy you had never heard before? You had never seen this side of him, never had him like this.

Your gaze latched onto the way his long eyelashes fluttered with each deliberate blink, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the way his breath mingled with yours as he leaned impossibly closer.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips in a silent, daring plea to let actions replace words. “Then why are you this close?”

You desperately tried to come up with a coherent response, perhaps to point out that it was he who had closed the gap. But your mind had abandoned rationality, leaving you to stumble over a weak, “B–Because you sat there, you idiot.”

You broke eye contact abruptly, reality crashing over you like a tidal wave. The sheer weight of the moment urged you to shift away, to reclaim your space and calm the chaos in your chest.

But Heeseung wasn’t ready to let you go.

With surprising swiftness, he shifted his body upright and gently pulled your arm so you could get onto his lap, his hands holding you firmly yet carefully in place.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head softly as his voice dropped an octave, steady and soothing, eliciting an immediate gasp from you. “I want to know how girls flirt when they’re this close.”

You found yourself awkwardly sitting sideways on his lap, blinking in confusion, hesitation etched into every line of your expression. All you could manage was a whispered “What?” that answered or replied nothing at all, it simply materialized into words something that reflected your genuine state.

Your breath hitched as Heeseung leaned in even closer, the heat of his body melding with yours like he was a powerful devil coming from the gates of Hell. His gaze, now tinged with something more potent that torn in between desire, yearning and  an unspoken question, stirred something wild within you.

And for a fleeting moment he hesitated, the weight of the uncharted territory between friendship and something deeper making him pause and analyze his possibilities, the small shift on his gaze betraying him. But as his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, his resolve solidified.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his words as soft as the pad of his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. He gently tugged at your bottom lip, leaving you breathless, lips parted, and trembling. “I’m sorry for the way I went about this,” he added, his voice feather-light, his warm breath caressing your skin. “But I couldn’t think of another way to put us in this exact moment.”

Your body froze, your mind unable to fully process what was happening. One moment, Heeseung was your charming best friend who eventually became your lifelong crush, the next you were on his lap, in a compromising position and with your faces inches apart.

You were suffocating in the heavy atmosphere, unsure of how to respond to the rush of emotions crashing over you; it left you in a state of emotional overload, in shock, utterly overwhelmed.

And then, with a softness that cracked the air between you, that broke your tensed nerves and fluttered your chest, you saw his eyes falter, waiting for a sign, a proper answer for his following question.

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining space yourself, your lips meeting in a collision of longing, and, so far, unspoken feelings that were buried deep in both of your souls, now lingering in the atmosphere as a quiet, yet delectable high voltage cursing over your body that you struggled deliciously to drift through. 

Torn in a conflict of decisions and a mutual desire, you had finally tasted what had been tempting you for so long. The softness, the warmth, the way Heeseung’s lips fit so perfectly against yours, tailored to match you as if they were meant to be.

Crossed everything you had imagined, now buzzing like a soft echo of reminiscences from when kissing Heeseung equated to a fever dream, to impossible, unattainable. 

Your body seemed to float in contact to soft clouds that gently embraced you; and then you realized that it was Heeseung holding you tenderly, kindly tracing the curves of your waist in a position that, now, was anything but comfortable.

Even so, the world outside felt like it didn't exist anymore. There was only the two of you, kissing with your breaths mingling intimately, with quiet sounds of contentment slipping out between that touch, one you had longed for far too long to waste the seconds that followed.

You deepened it, seeking Heeseung's tongue with yours almost desperately. The shock of the encounter of the two warm muscles was intoxicating, leaving you completely weak, and had you not been sitting, you would have easily fallen to the ground.

Kissing Heeseung at that moment felt like a relief. Relief in knowing that you were both on the same page when it came to the shared connection. Relief in realizing that his mouth desired you as much as yours craved his.

It was comforting to acknowledge how your body fit into his, in every possible way.

And it was then that you became aware of how your hands had automatically found their way into the soft strands of Heeseung's hair, pulling him just enough to draw the small grunts he released each time you did.

Your heart skipped a beat when Heeseung pulled away, tugging your lower lip with a soft bite. You opened your eyes slightly to search for an answer, fearing that regret had hit him like a powerful, striking bolt, but the truth was: he just needed to breathe in order to stay grounded and aware of what had just happened.

Shit. He was completely fucked, because now he knew how incredible it was to hear your breath hitch, to feel your fingers glide across his goosebumped skin with a tender, tempting touch, almost filthy, as your mouths melded together in an unprecedented rhythm.

He knew what it was like to have you intimately, and losing that feeling started to be his most intense fear.

Heeseung hadn't noticed, but there was a faint frown on his forehead that stirred conflicting emotions in you. He breathed heavily, almost panting while searching for air in his lungs. His eyes lowered, hypnotized by your parted lips, which willingly offered themselves to him.

It felt like a sweet indulgence, completely exposed, like someone on a strict diet, almost forbidden from indulging in the delicious taste of your mouth.

One simple kiss and he was completely undone, in the most delightful way possible. And beyond that, he began to crave you even harder. Dangerously harder. “What’s wrong?” You asked, a mild frighten cursing through your veins, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued to caress Heeseung's neck.

Your hooded eyes tried to pull an explanation for why he had stopped so suddenly.

He let out a low chuckle, a sound deep enough to make you shiver inside, sending a strange energy straight to between your thighs that made you unconsciously clench your legs, as your panties started to damp.

Heeseung’s hand, resting there, immediately noticed, making him smirk and lift his gaze. “You,” he sealed his lips with yours, “are unreal,” followed by another small kiss and, once again, a pause to admire you.

Heeseung looked at you with passion and tenderness, but mostly with desire. He wanted you.

No. 

He needed you.

You swallowed hard as you met his piercing gaze before he stood up, making you rise with him. Standing, he grabbed you by the waist and, still smiling, kissed the corner of your lips without any proper explanation. 

Your hands felt awkwardly frozen in mid-air, near Heeseung’s chest, as if you forgot how to function as a human being. To ease your visible tension and also taking some advantage of the moment, Heeseung lowered his mouth and planted a sweet trail of small, wet kisses down to your neck.

Your head immediately tilted to the side, almost as if he had typed the right password to gain free access to explore your body,  his large hands cupping your ass with just the right balance of respect and desire. While you allowed him this closeness, he was careful not to overstep, not when you both had only just begun to unravel that delicate part of your... friendship?

Gradually, you let yourself go, questioning less and following the flow deliberately; your hands now resting on Heeseung’s broad shoulders while he continued his project of driving you insane with his kisses.

“Hee…” You sighed softly when his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot near your ear, too sensitive to keep you quiet, weak enough to make your knees nearly give way involuntarily.

“Don’t call me like that, baby…” Heeseung murmured softly against your skin, the vibration of his voice aligning with the tremor in your core, the endearment compelling you to clutch your eyes closed. Before you could even think of apologizing, he continued. “Or else I’ll get harder. And this fucking boner is already annoying me.”

For a brief, considerable second, you couldn’t comprehend his statement, your eyes opening in pure confusion as you stared at him, silently asking for an explanation. But Heeseung remained hidden in your neck, and you could even feel the ghost of his mischievous smile tracing your skin, rendering your mind incapable of thinking about anything other than his inebriating presence.

Then, he thrusted forward, just enough to press his hips against your body while gripping your waist to prevent you from stumbling back, and you felt it.

The layers of fabric between you two did nothing to mask the clarity of his intentions, not when he subtly, but unmistakably, demonstrated what he was referring to – a bulge sufficiently big to elicit a jolt of a quiver through your being, firm and clearly starting to grow painfully hard as Heeseung began to repeat that move.

So you had that effect on him? You turned him on? That was an unexpected delight. The warmth of it made you squirm in sudden discomfort, wishing you could feel it in a different way – one with fewer clothes.

Heeseung’s lascivious kisses on your neck switched to sloppy-messy ones, merging with the subtle grind of his hips against yours as he seeked for the smallest release to his thirst. The sensation made you let out a soft, almost teasing moan, provoking his restraint to the brim.

“Fuck…” he groaned, faltering by the way you were letting him grind shamelessly like a dog in heat, still fully clothed. “Tell me to stop, please..." His voice was ragged, like an aching, shaky plea that made his movements halt, since his focus turned inward in order to find some self-control.

But didn’t give such a command. Instead, you opened the door, not-so-silently inviting Heeseung deeper into the moment, into you. You couldn’t care less about your friendship, not when you craved to have your said best friend touching you intimately, to have his length twitching inside you while fucking your senses out of you as if his life depended on it.

You shook your head, a sly smile curving your lips when you whispered right in his ear. 

“Take me to my room, Hee.”

His desperation thickened as he surrendered to the overwhelming warmth between you two, a vocal groan cursing through his throat when he maneuvered easily your body by grabbing your thighs, inciting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he busied his mouth in yours, messily guiding both of you to the your room. 

You found support on his shoulders and giggled in between the sloppy kiss, but you couldn’t quite enjoy the feeling of his strong grip surrounding your body with precision for too long, as your back quickly reached the soft mattress of your bed.

Heeseung's big figure towered over you, scooching up as a way to help you both find a comfortable position until your head was touching one of your pillows, lips still attached to each other in pure hunger.

You wondered if putting your feelings into words would add to the moment, but nothing truly needed to be said. The unspoken tension you shared with Heeseung had carried your relationship this far – this wasn’t the time to disrupt it with confessions of the obvious. Not when you had him kissing you so intensely, so voraciously, as though he were utterly parched and you were his only source of relief.

It felt exhilarating to have Heeseung this needy, his body reacting to every subtle motion of yours. You rolled your hips gently against his, seeking mutual friction in a desperate bid for release.

Your fingers wandered through his disheveled hair, occasionally trailing down his subtly muscular arms – the very arms that had always been your weakness.

Heeseung wasn’t bulky or overly built, but he had a lean, breathtaking frame, with just the right amount of definition in certain places. Supporting his weight on the bed, you could feel the tension in his arms under your touch, muscles tightening even more each time your hands dared to drift lower, grazing his back, your nails lightly scratching.

The slight scrape drew delicious sighs from him, each one lost in the fervor of your kiss.

Heeseung’s free hand explored wherever it could reach, teasingly brushing beneath the hem of your shirt, as though waiting for your silent permission to go further. And you took your cue right away.

“Hee…” you broke the intense, breath-stealing kiss to murmur his name, your voice soft, your eyes barely open as the world around you seemed heavier, hotter.

He reacted instantly to the familiar nickname, though now it carried a filthy weight that would linger with him forever. His hips pressed against yours in a motion that sent a shockwave through your core, the direct contact of his pelvis with yours setting you alight.

Lifting his gaze to meet yours, he found pure, unrestrained lust staring back at him. The words that followed made him falter, disbelief flashing across his features at the reality of what he had craved for so long finally coming true.

“I want you,” you whispered, eyes tenderly, yet oozing with desire looking at his brown orbs.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened as he swallowed hard, his expression shifting to something taut, focused. He studied you with care, searching for hesitation, for any trace of doubt in your plea. But he found none, only mutual desire, raw and unfiltered.

A breath of laughter escaped him, quiet and disbelieving, as his lips, swollen and glistening with your shared kisses, curved into a cheeky, yet content and relieved, smile.

“Don’t laugh…” You whined, squirming beneath him in a feeble attempt to escape his teasing gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said with his voice low, gravelly, making you shiver. “It’s just… This feels like a dream.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you failed to hold back a smile. “So, you’ve dreamed about me?”

“Every single day, Y/N,” Heeseung admitted, his eyes dropping to your lips once again, heavy with yearning, with need. 

He looked intoxicated, or maybe hypnotized. Whatever it was, he felt as though his body had transcended reality itself. Because even in his dreams, he never imagined having you like this – so real, so wholly his.

“Tell me that again…” A delicate plea. “Please,” a desperate beg.

“What?” You whispered back in confusion, your eyelids feeling heavy with the proximity of the moment, making it difficult to keep admiring the tempting view of Heeseung slowly falling apart.

“That you want me.”

Heeseung’s perfume had taken over you, invading your senses completely like a flood, and you were the one feeling drunk right now, as a deep goosebump ran through your spine hearing – understanding – his request.

“I want you,” you repeated, your voice trembling with the weight of confessing something so intrinsic. 

Heeseung's breath mingled with yours, shaky, weak; the warmth of it ghosting over your lips as he hovered above you was making you dizzy. His gaze burned into yours, holding a quarter of darkness and contrastingly tenderness that matched his impossibly gentle touch on your waist. 

He moved deliberately, savoring the anticipation building up quite fast, stirring an ache that got your stomach bubbling with expectation and a weird anxiety. You tightened your grip on his hair when the tip of his cute nose brushed against yours and his reddened lips grazed over your mouth.

“Again, please,” he murmured in a husky whisper; due to the closeness, the movement tickled the skin of your lips and spurred you to lick the area, your tongue caressing both your swollen lips.

You sighed, closing your eyes.

You could feel your core pulsing in need, your skin prickling due to the insufferable tension that grew stronger, ticker, teetering the unbearable within each second, making you wonder how longer you would be able to hold yourself back. 

The magnetic tension surrounding you two made every breath feel like a desperate beg, igniting a hunger within you so fierce it consumed you.

Felt like the last thing you would ever crave in your life was right before you. But apparently, Heeseung longed to hear you speak a little more before taking any action.

“I want you, Hee,” you said again, quieter this time, though your tone was no less intense – it was even more raw.

Heeseung’s lashes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing the confession like it was his lifeline. He repeated the motion of rubbing his nose on yours, now tilting his head to the side and groaning. That couldn't be real. You couldn’t be real.

He needed one more. Just. One. More.

“One more, please…” he pleaded, the words slipping out between deep, controlled breaths that did nothing to mask the tremor of desperation in his tone.

“I need you, Heeseung.”

His forehead pressed lightly against yours as he exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of restraint. The charged air between you seemed to thicken, wrapping you both in an intoxicating haze.

Despite the tenderness of the moment, the desire simmering beneath the surface was undeniable – present in the way his hands traced delicate patterns along your waist, in the way his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of yours, in the way his lips hovered, so close yet so agonizingly distant.

“I need you right now, Hee. Please.”

And with your last wish, Heeseung obeyed your command.

Followed by a passionate kiss, one he tried to take his time to appreciate your taste, he also held the waistband of your shorts and, after your silent nod amidst the clash of your mouths when he hesitated, he began to move it down to your thighs, revealing the softness of your bare skin to his curious hands. 

Thick fingers brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the thin barrier of your panties doing little to dull the sensation. The whimper that followed barely met the real world, swallowed whole by Heeseung’s eager mouth as he drank in your expressive, delicate reactions, savoring every trembling note like a melody meant only for him.

“So wet.” Heeseung stated the obvious after feeling your arousal sticking across the fabric, playfully tapping just to tease and feel its viscosity.

If the room was quiet enough, he would be able to hear the wet sound of his pats. 

He dived into your neck since he couldn’t keep up with the pace of the shared kiss, not when you were letting out such beautiful noises as he pressed his fingers on your entrance over your clothing piece, taunting that release that seemed far to reach.

“Hee–” You whined in frustration, swinging your hips towards Heeseung’s fleeting touches as well as tightening your grasp on his locks.

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, deep and low. You pouted when he flashed you a charming smirk, matching perfectly with his amused, yet playful eyes. “Let me take care of you, mhm?”

And with that, Heeseung made quick work of removing the rest of your clothing, still caught around your thighs, panties included. He bit his lip, a soft sigh escaping alongside a subtle furrow of his brow in delight as he took in the full view of your pussy, glistening with your wetness – all caused by him. 

You wanted to close your legs and hide, but he held you open and exposed to his sight. Heeseung could feel his stomach fluttering, tightening with sparkling expectation. 

Beneath the teasing slowness of his movements, there was a Heeseung teetering dangerously close to the edge of insanity, warring to find some self-control. And it was entirely your fault.

The effect you had on Heeseung was nothing short of surreal. Even the simple act of your consent, given with every piece of fabric he slid away from your body, only served to fuel the fire within his desire, leaving his body, mind, soul, everything he had drunk on the sheer anticipation of what was to come.

“Fucking beautiful, baby.”

The compliment was common – Heeseung always praised your good looks. But the endearment slipped past his lips with extra ease, as if calling you baby – his baby – was as natural as a heartbeat, as expected as blossoming flowers during spring. 

By the way your cheeks warmed, you could tell your entire face was betraying your shyness, especially when Heeseung offered you a genuine, content smile, as if he were expressly happy that you had allowed him to see you in this form.

He still hadn’t unclasped your bra and had only removed his own shirt, dragging out painfully the moment of leaving you both naked.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help the small flicker of worry, a strong fear of disappointing Heeseung.

You had only had sex once in your life, with an ex-boyfriend you had trusted enough to take that step, believing that being in a relationship would make it less hurtful and more enjoyable. You were wrong.

Not only had you suffered physically from his lack of care, but you hadn’t even come close to reaching your own orgasm.

Heeseung knew the rough outline of that story. He was aware that you weren’t a virgin anymore but hadn’t asked for too many details. Partly because he hated the thought of someone else being the one to take that from you.

A pang of jealousy lingered, even though, at the time – just a few months ago – he hadn’t seriously considered taking such a step with you.

It was only after your breakup, and the frustration that radiated off you, that Heeseung decided to act. He couldn’t stand the idea of you putting yourself down, settling for men who gave you less than the bare minimum, when he was right there, longing to give you the world.

“Let me see you too, Hee.”

Your soft request came accompanied by a gentle caress over Heeseung’s slightly flustered cheeks, his lovingly expression hiding the inner battle he was fighting to keep himself composed.

He gave a small nod, standing up from the bed to remove the last of his clothes, granting you the sinful sight of his body, a thin sheen of sweat accentuating the bronzed tone of his skin. Your gaze dropped slowly towards his erection, standing stiff, flushed, with the tip in a darker shade, glistening with leaking precum. 

“Hot,” you murmured quietly, the word barely leaving your lips. But in the stillness of the room, Heeseung heard it.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, shy and uncharacteristic – a glimpse of the awkward, reserved side of your friend that you loved teasing, the side that wasn’t used to receiving compliments and always got adorably flustered when they came.

You giggled, beckoning him with a curl of your finger. “Come here, hmm?”

And who was Heeseung to deny you?

In an instant, he reclaimed his place over your body, his mouth finding its way to the smoothness of your chest, lips grazing and tasting your skin. His hands slid behind your back, intent on finally removing the last piece of fabric that kept you hidden from him, and it took less than seconds for you to whimper, slamming your eyes shut as you felt Heeseung gently nip at your nipple.

“Hurry up,” you muttered within a squirm. “Please, Hee. I need you inside me."

You were quick and precise in expressing your desire, your contorted expression of pleasure blended with frustration making it clear that you didn’t want any more delays, especially since he had already dragged things out too much, and you were about to crawl the walls around you to feel him properly.

“Condom?” He murmured against your skin, smiling slightly at your desperation, though he was just as bad, if not worse.

“I don’t have it,” you moaned as he bit your stomach while lowering his hot, wet kisses. Your hands tried to find support in anything – the sheets, his hair, his shoulders – in order to ground yourself, while Heeseung seemed too calm for his own good. “But we don’t need it.”

Immediately, Heeseung froze. He stopped and lifted his gaze, scanning your face for any trace of teasing or hesitation in your words, half-expecting you to be joking or playing around, but instead, all he found was the raw, unfiltered desire of your soul exposed before him.

“I trust you,” you whispered in between your heavy breaths, a soft smile tugging at your lips that countered any remnant doubt resting inside Heeseung. You gently caressed his cheek, pulling him back to you, your eyes locking in a quiet promise that only you two knew the meaning. “I trust you, Hee.”

That was the tipping point. You, who had been wondering how Heeseung maintained such control, watched as his tender nearly relaxed gaze vanished entirely, swallowed by a wave of desire, as if pure lust had consumed his state completely.

“Don’t say that, love,” a murmur. His voice trembled, just as his arms struggled to hold himself still. He then kissed you intensely, shutting down any possibility of you retorting the pet name, barely giving you time to recognize how your heart skipped a beat.

Heeseung’s hips shifted in the precise motion to bring you closer, to claim you. You shivered.

“I’m going insane, you have no fucking idea.”

Though the choice of words said behind gritted teeth, it was clear Heeseung gravitated towards vulnerability rather than anything harsh; he sounded unsteady, but not in a worrying way. It seemed as if he had surrendered completely to your existence, almost like a personal devotion.

His soft, now familiar lips found home on yours again, pulling you into a singular kiss filled with unspoken emotions, while one of Heeseung's hands gently caressed your waist to keep you still, beginning to position his hardness against your aching hole.

Feeling the distinct pressure in that area generated an unconscious and uncontrollable tension in you, your shoulders stiffening, your hands gripping Heeseung's arms immediately and your mouth stopping properly working as the fear of the pain that would follow from that simple action started to creep up your spine.

“What's wrong, love?” Heeseung asked kindly, pausing his movements as he noticed the sudden rigidity in your body; he had only inserted the tip, and you had become completely tense.

“N–Nothing…” You shook your head, your eyes clenched closed as you tried to regulate your heartbeat and breaths. So far, there was no burning sensation where Heeseung had placed himself, but still, you were afraid.

By any means he was big, you had gotten a beautiful view of him just a few minutes ago, and although your mouth watered to have him fully inside you, there was a lingering feeling that held your soothness back.

“Baby…” Heeseung murmured softly, his voice carrying a subtle insistence as he sensed the clear discomfort and the blatant lie in your response, his concerned eyes searching for any hint of truth in your contorted expression.

“I’m sorry.” You pouted, refusing to open your eyes, the weight of vulnerability overwhelming you.

“For what?” He asked, a small trace of confusion in his voice, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he offered you the choice to end it without guilt or hesitation. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You blurted, snapping your eyes open, your pupils wide and searching his face. Your head shook vehemently, your hands gripping his shoulders in a reflexive act of urgency as well as your legs, wrapping around his waist to keep him in place.

“Then what is it, baby?”

Heeseung adjusted his body slightly, his movements deliberate and tender, ensuring he wouldn’t press into you too forcefully. He kept his tip brushing against your folds, the sensation teasingly close but never quite crossing the threshold. He silently made the decision not to push you further unless you signaled otherwise.

“It’s just…” You exhaled shakily, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. “I’ve never– I mean, I did have sex once, but it was so painful, and it hurt so much, and I didn’t even… Y’know…”

You spoke in a flurry, your words tumbling out in a nervous rush, and through it, Heeseung caught the part of the story you had kept hidden and he never dared to ask about. His heart clenched, it became clear that this was a truth that now needed care.

“He wasn’t even that big, but it hurt because he didn’t care about me, and–”

“My love.” Heeseung interrupted, his voice breaking through with a soft, comforting tone. You stopped speaking instantly, blinking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that held so much unspoken trust. He smiled warmly, a reassuring tenderness in his touch. “I’d never hurt you,” he whispered, his voice firm with sincerity. “And I’d never, ever force you to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, needy, desperate even. “I’m just… afraid.”

“We can take it slow, love,” he said, his words a mutual understanding between you both, the promise of patience in his voice.

He slowly began to press his tip into you again, the sensation soft but insistent, giving you time to adjust. You swallowed thickly, your breath hitching as you tried to calm the anxiety racing through you.

There were sounds threatening to escape your throat that you couldn't properly control, so you just let them out.

“Relax, alright? It’s me. I’m your best friend. I’m not going to hurt you. We can stop whenever you want.”

Through reassuring phrases and tender kisses planted over your face – and mainly on your parted lips –, Heeseung deliberately entered you whole, until his dick was being hugged by your clenching walls and his pelvis fully met your body.

You took a deep breath several times. The sensation was uncomfortable, strange; there was an intruder inside you, and you couldn't quite enjoy the so-called pleasure during sex due to it, but as the long seconds passed and your body relaxed, you began to adjust to the weight of Heeseung's length inside you.

And finally you noticed that Heeseung himself had buried his face at the crook of your neck, breathing as heavy as you, completely frozen in place.

“Hee?” You called and gave a soft stroke to his hair. 

“Give me a minute,” the words came rapidly and slurred, like an incomprehensible mumble.

You quirked an eyebrow, trying to find his face to read whatever was happening.

“Are you okay?”

Heeseung groaned. “Yes. It’s just…” He gulped, clutching his eyes closed and grunting a curse, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. “Fuck—You feel amazing, baby.” His breath hitched as his body tensed, muscles flexing under the strain of trying to hold back. “I need a minute.”

“Alright…” 

Although you couldn’t understand why, you just… Waited. But he made sure to add.

“So fucking tight–” Something about how desperate and lost he sounded close to your ear had your walls clenching even more. “I can’t– I don’t wanna cum right now.”

There was no plausible explanation for the flutter in your chest, let alone the heat that spread across every inch of your skin, hitting your core in a way that was almost overwhelming after hearing his confession.

Knowing that Heeseung was physically unable to move, simply because his release was so close – practically edging himself – made you feel more thrilled than you would ever admit out loud.

As the best of friends – after all, you hadn’t defined your relationship yet –, you chose the path of teasing, letting out a light giggle and giving a playful tap on his back as you said, “Take your time, big boy. I'm not going anywhere.”

Heeseung chuckled, though the sound was tinged with frustration and craving, the weight of his restraint still palpable.

Throughout the heated makeout moment, he was already far too affected – though he wouldn’t admit it now, having your lips against his had been more than enough to leave him ridiculously hard. The shameless grinding had teased his sensitivity with just the right intensity, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

Now, finally experiencing the tightness of your pussy enveloping around his cock, it was a unique kind of downfall that made his control slip past his fingers, his entire body shivering as trying to contain himself. 

“I wanna– I wanna last longer for you,” a breathy, shaky moan escaped when he tried to move, pulling back just a little to shove back again. “Fuck baby…”

Heeseung was on the verge of insanity.

He couldn’t find the right explanation to how good your wet, warm interior welcomed him in an addictive sensation of fulfillment, as if he had found the exact place he needed and wanted to be.

However, as he began to set a slow, tantalizing rhythm, not only to himself but for you not to feel any pain, your soft, breathy noises became the driving force behind his every move.

Each sound you made was like music to his ears, embedding itself deeply in his mind and shaping his every decision; they spurred him on, a motivator to remain as steady and deliberate as possible, even as his own restraint threatened to crumble.

Heeseung was vividly avoiding to fall into the depths of his true needs of egoisticaly fucking you hard and fast.

And then, you begged.

“Can you go faster? Please?”

A guttural groan was Heeseung’s immediate response, primal and unrestrained, as if your request alone had sent him reeling like a starving hunter finally closing in on its prey.

He paused for a beat, letting the weight of your words settle between the thick air and then shifted the pace, growing more intense, aiming for a sharper, purposeful motion.

Heeseung straightened slightly, lifting his torso enough to pull his face from the haven of your neck and give himself a clear view of your beautiful pleasured face. His gaze met yours briefly before going downward, to the mesmerizing connection of your bodies moving together – your hips chasing his pounds like your life depended on it. 

Your hazed sight saw his brows furrowing as well as his pursed lips that reflected his immense concentration. Sweat clung to his skin, a few damp strands of hair got stuck to his forehead while the rest, equally damp, fell forward and lightly brushed your face with every thrust.

That sight was a sinful privilege; watching him completely undone yet intensely focused was enough to leave you breathless. And still, your slightly high-pitched whimpers harmonized with each precise thrust.

You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, and instinctively, you mirrored that grip in your hands, clutching Heeseung’s hair as you pulled him into a messy kiss. Tongues moved sloppily, chasing each other and swallowing his deep groans along with your incoherent pleas for him not to stop.

A mutual desire began to creep, one that neither of you wanted to escape, a longing as deep as two bodies yearning, painfully, to occupy the same space and merge together. It became evident in the way you clung to him, your arms wrapping around Heeseung's warm, sweaty body, pressing him down, not even caring about the slight pain in your sensitive boobs as you did so.

“I think I’m close,” you managed to announce amidst the intoxicating chaos of your senses.

There was a thick veil of lust enveloping you both, leaving you utterly dazed; the sensation was surreal, overwhelmingly good, and for the first time you truly understood what people meant when they talked about sex.

Heeseung had heard your voice distant and muffled, since his mind had drifted away, lost in the overwhelming mix of pleasure and the aching pain of edging his orgasm; his leaking precum started to blend with your sticky arousal as both of you reached over the edge.

Your eyes rolled when Heeseung started to pound into a specific spot in you, stirring your mouth to fall open with soft cries slipping past your throat, while your nails dug into the flesh of his back, scratching strong enough to leave marks. 

Heeseung barely registered it at first, though he would wear those marks proudly once he did. Still, it stung, a faint burn that somehow awakened his primal need to let go. Added to it, your pussy started to pulse and clench tightly against his painfully sensitive shaft. And so, he begged.

“Please, cum for me,” a small pause to breathe. “Please, I need you to– Please…” 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled. Listening to Heeseung’s broken voice asking you for something you couldn’t quite control bordered the inexplicable and finally it snapped. 

You arched your back and went silent immediately, as if the entire world around you disappeared. You could hear and feel the weight of your heartbeats echoing through you, feel the vibrations of your body, hear the faint, distant noises of Heeseung’s moans and curses and the sound of your bodies colliding.

The intensity of your climax had you gasping for air right after you managed to regain a small portion of your consciousness, your legs squirming as the pleasure took over. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung barely pulled out in time, ensuring he had guided you through your high enough to leave you satisfied.

He would blame himself later for not giving you his absolute best. For now, his focus was on relieving the unbearable, painful tightness in his balls and dick. And so he did, releasing a guttural groan that seemed to resonate from the depths of his soul before spilling out into a delicious sound.

The wave that coursed through his body was devastatingly intense, leaving him trembling and unsteady to the point where his arms briefly faltered in holding him up.

You parted your tired eyes just enough to watch as he came all over your stomach – so much of it that it trickled down onto the sheets beneath you, leaving you completely sticky.

Both of you fought for air, desperately panting as your bodies surrendered, sinking into an overwhelming state of relaxation. A genuine urge to drift into sleep washed over you, your arms falling limply at your sides as your heavy-lidded eyes fought a losing battle to stay open.

You gave up to the exhaustion, watching through half-closed eyes as Heeseung collapsed into the space beside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

You tried to blink away your fatigue, but only managed to respond in a low, drowsy whisper, “For what?”

“I lost control. I didn’t do as well as I wanted to. I ruined your sheets. And… you’re all sticky. I know you hate being sticky.”

A quiet giggle escaped your lips at his string of concerns, your body vibrating with a warm, joyous satisfaction at the depth of the bond you shared. It was the expected contrast: Heeseung, overthinking every detail of his performance, and you, utterly smitten, finding his anxieties endearing.

“I loved it, Hee.”

Your praise was genuine, carrying a soft hint of reassurance to ease his insecurity. There wasn’t a single part of you that could ever truly mind the things he listed – not even his so-called mistakes.

“You were gentle and loving,” you continued, brushing a hand against the arm that sweetly wrapped around you, avoiding the result of the earlier moment. 

Heeseung’s face pressed against yours with his breath tickling your skin – an intimacy you could easily grow used to, but for now, had your heart fluttering. 

“And even when you ‘lost control,’ you stayed here. With me.”

Heeseung hummed with a hint of contentment, a faint smile creeping through his tensed barriers after your comforting words. He shifted like a puppy snuggling into a cozy corner, a gesture he did with you a few times before, but never when you were both so intimately bare in that way.

You both remained silent for a while, absorbing the reality of what had just unfolded.

No openly affectionate words were exchanged. Instead, actions took the lead, allowing you to share an intimate, deeply personal moment guided by mutual pleasure. There was no need for a romantic confession – it felt unnecessary.

Every small gesture during the earlier moment – from Heeseung's steady calmness as he talked you through it, easing your anxiety, to the way you reassured him after the end about how well he did – spoke volumes. It was more than enough to prove that the love between you burned far beyond the bounds of friendship.

Heeseung was lost in thought, exhilarated by having been able to share such a profound connection with you. The mutual desire for each other was undeniable, and no words could ever compare to the overwhelming sensation of, now, not simply having the facility to say he loved you – as he had so often as a friend – but to show it.

To demonstrate to you how every fiber of his being, his soul, his existence, was drawn to you, yearning for you, consumed by you.

“Hm, this sticky thing on my stomach is really bothering me,” you broke the silence as the haze cleared and the awareness of your body set in. You pushed his arm aside, preparing to leave the bed and clean yourself up.

“Shit,” Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he got on his feet before you could.

As he had  mentioned earlier, you hated feeling sticky. He realized might had fucked it up by neglecting to help you clean up, by not providing the aftercare you deserved.

Yet, he couldn’t blame himself too harshly; everything about the moment had left him utterly dizzy in the best way possible. It felt like he had lived out a dream once thought unattainable, and the surrealness of it all still lingered.

Your soft, familiar voice snapped him back to reality, reminding him there were consequences to address, and he wanted nothing more than to face each one with you, in every detail, if it meant staying by your side.

“Let me help, okay?” He eagerly offered, reaching out to steady you as you sat up. He barely suppressed a laugh at the grimace that overtook your face as the sticky fluid slid from your stomach to your thighs.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you teased as you walked to the bathroom together. “You’re hot, and all of this was ridiculously amazing, but I really don’t like all this cum–”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Heeseung interrupted, gently but insistently pushing you to sit on the toilet. 

“Pee,” he instructed firmly, yet calm.

You blinked up at him in confusion, one eyebrow raised.

“It helps prevent infections,” he clarified.

“I know,” you rolled your eyes, staring at him for a moment. He stared back. The scene was unexpectedly comical – both of you naked, exchanging deadpan looks.

“Get out of the bathroom, silly.”

“I don’t think that’s really neces–”

“I can’t pee with you here,” you cut him off.

He narrowed his eyes at you but eventually let out a quiet, “Fine, fine,” leaving the bathroom with an exaggerated huff, though he didn’t bother closing the door.

You giggled at his childish behavior, marveling at the man who had once been your friend. Friend.

It wasn’t the right word anymore. Something more significant had blossomed between you, unspoken yet undeniably present.

Once you finished, Heeseung returned to the bathroom and began to bathe you. It was endearing to feel his gentle, careful touch as he cleaned your back, giving you the space to take care of yourself properly.

You helped him wash his hair in return, complaining when he tried to use your expensive shampoo. But you relented when he deployed his infallible tactics: wide, pleading eyes and an exaggerated pout, softly begging, “Please,” in a tone so whiny it was impossible not to laugh.

Your heart ached with love for this man. The one who had once been your friend and, now, the one with whom you had crossed the line.

When you returned to the bedroom, Heeseung had already changed the sheets, leaving the bed fresh and inviting, ready to welcome you back into its warmth.

“Lie down here with me?” You murmured softly.

The sun was already below the horizon, and the air was pleasantly cool. A gentle breeze slipped through the slight gap in the window, rustling the curtains and brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps

The warmth of your recent shower made you extra sensitive to the chill, and noticing this, Heeseung moved to close the window before settling into the empty space beside you.

It didn’t take long for you to naturally nestle into one another, as though this kind of closeness was second nature. And it was.

You had always been comfortable with affectionate touches – warm hugs and innocent caresses were a constant part of your daily routine, alongside the playful teasing that defined your relationship. But now, something new lingered in the air: a tension, subtle and undeniable, that neither of you seemed brave enough to confront.

It felt as though acknowledging the shift, putting words to the new dynamic between you, might unravel it entirely – like opening Pandora’s box and being swallowed by its consequences. Neither of you knew what “dating” the other would look like, nor could you say for certain that this was even the stage you had reached. The unspoken remained deafeningly loud.

Your heart raced as you melted into the comforting warmth of Heeseung’s embrace. The familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach now mingled with a bittersweet sense of uncertainty about what lay ahead.

Despite that, you were usually the one to take control in slightly uncomfortable situations – like when Heeseung started bringing certain acquaintances into the apartment you shared, one of whom had wandered into your room uninvited, sparking a minor conflict that Heeseung quickly accepted responsibility for.

“If you promise to stop ignoring the elephant in the room, I promise to do the same,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Heeseung had been waiting for you to speak first. You always did. And that thought made a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. Even after everything, you were still... you.

Always you.

He was afraid, of course, that things might change drastically. There was a gnawing fear that the friendship you shared could crumble in the worst possible way. But in moments like this, when you unconsciously reminded him that no matter what, it was still the two of you, he felt a sense of calm.

“Go on a date with me tomorrow,” he murmured suddenly.

You blinked, caught off guard by his directness. His voice was quiet, a little tentative, but firm enough to make you pause. Even with a slight tremor of apprehension at the thought of stepping into the unknown with him, you nodded.

“Only if it’s not a movie date,” you replied with a light tone.

Heeseung laughed, his chest rising and falling as the sound escaped him, and the sensation of your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his abdomen made him shiver.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured you.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze. The way he looked at you, dripping with unfiltered affection was almost overwhelming in the best way. And you knew, just as he did, that the feelings you held for him were reciprocated in full.

You had crossed the line, yes. But now, together, you were venturing into new territory, ready to claim and navigate this uncharted space in your relationship. And somehow, it didn’t feel so terrifying when you remembered that, no matter what, it was still the two of you against the world.

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[imrkos]

LOST IN THE FIRE (R.C)

synopsis after the infamous scandal involving Yn and her now ex-boyfriend goes viral, Yn is forced to leave the only world she's ever known and adjust to her new life in the Outer Banks. Sent to live with her aunt, uncle, and cousin Kiara, Yn finds herself hanging around the type of people she swore to never be seen with and quickly becomes entangled in the rivalries between the Kooks and Pogues. And one thing Yn doesn’t take is crap from others which only catches the attention of Rafe Cameron who seems to be seriously smitten about her despite her association with his sworn enemies. But to Rafe’s disinterest Ward seems to have a new idea involving Rafe having to make Yn head over heels about him and use her elite status to cover up what he’s been doing behind everyone's back.

( previous <- MASTERLIST -> chapter two )

CHAPTER ONE : smau + written

WORD COUNT: 3089

10:24 PM — ARRIVAL.

Your name, his name, your face, his face, all plastered across every headline, all on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, and even made its way onto Facebook. The video of you slapping your ex and tossing your ring at your own best friend — the ring he gave you and supposedly designed himself — was now as viral as it was scandalous.

The paparazzi, the parties, your vacation to Dubai, and then Paris were all gone as soon as you answered your phone the next morning. “Pack your bags.” was all your mother had said, she didn't even sound angry, which was even scarier.

You knew you should've waited till the gala was over, but when Gossip Girl posted that picture of Caleb and Gigi, your presumed “ride or die” you couldn't help but mess with them.

You first texted Caleb that you were needy and waiting for him in a room upstairs — you didn't show up — then you texted Gigi, something about her ex waiting for her, and as you presumed she went in and it happened to be the same room Caleb was in, and then you entered.

Long story short, thanks to your new BFF and accomplice Gossip Girl, you found out they were expecting and lucky them they were having a girl! “What great parents you guys will be! Sad she’ll grow up with a skank of a mother and a coward of a father but I guess it works.” The next thing you know Gigi is aiming toward you and falls, Caleb then tries grabbing you and you slap him, toss your ring, say a few nasty words, and the end.

How you guys ended up on tape will forever be a mystery, even Gossip Girl couldn't figure it out. But Caleb assumed you had gotten one of your friends to record and threatened to sue. Pathetic but that was your mother's last straw and now you're here, on a train — which you weren't too happy about — going to see family you haven't seen since you were seven.

Last you heard, they were doing well with their restaurant, and your cousin, Kiara, often got into trouble with some kids that your aunt and uncle disapproved of.

From what you’ve searched up on your way there it seems like they live by the beach which you don’t mind but compared to your room back in the Upper East Side it wasn’t all that. You also noticed that she followed you about two hours ago, you requested to follow her and she almost immediately accepted.

Interesting, you thought, you quickly took notice of her friends, they were all over her feed — the same ones your aunt and uncle disliked you assume. Her life looked completely different from what you were used to, she had pictures of her by the beach with her friends, some of herself, and turtles..lots of them.

Would she be your first choice for a friend? No, but she was family after all and one thing you did prioritize was your family. Suddenly you hear the intercom and watch as people start getting off. Gosh, how you missed New York already.

“Y/n!” You hear as soon as you step out of the train, your aunt stands there with a warm smile plastered on her face — you can tell she was forcing it, she seemed happy to see you, yes but she looked too happy. Your uncle stands to her right as he waits his turn to greet you, he looks the same way he looked all those years ago.

“Hey,” you greeted, “It's been so long!! When your mom was on the phone with me and suggested you come here I was so excited! Maybe you can help Kiara stay out of trouble.” Kiara, you noticed she wasn't there “Kiara, she's at home. Hurricane passed the day before so she decided to stay.,” your uncle Mike says, That answers your question.

10:38 PM.

“So how was the ride?” Terrible “It was alright.” You’ve been answering questions non-stop for the past 20 minutes, the car ride only seeming longer the more she kept asking questions. How’s New York? I heard you want to go to Princeton, your brother, how is he?

The endless questions would replay in your mind as you sat in the backseat of their car. New York's perfect, I actually want to go to Harvard, Princeton is my mom's dream, My brother? He stopped responding to our messages a few months ago.

You sighed looking out the window and watching the world go by. Every now and then you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of home, yet none of it felt like home. You could feel your uncle's eyes on you from the mirror “You’ll get used to this.” you stay silent only looking at him for a second before looking back out “No paparazzi bothering you here, beach days 24/7, I guarantee you’ll make friends fast.” he continued, you only gave him a slight smile.

As you turned onto a narrow street flanked by rows of beach cottages, your phone buzzed. Mom displayed across your screen “I sent you there for a reason, don't make me and your father look even worse.” She was replying to your previous message, four hours later.

Once in a while, you'd wonder how your dad ended up with someone like your mom. They were total opposites. Your mom grew up with wealth and influence, and that's how she landed her roles. Your dad on the other hand came from a humble upbringing, he went to school for music despite your grandparent's disappointment, failed, got back up, and ended up with multiple hits.

They were yin and yang, so different yet they worked.

You always imagined your life with Caleb, would it end up like your parent's relationship? Disagreements here and there but always finding yourselves back to one another, or like his parents? Perfect on the outside but broke from the inside.

Love scared you, yet you seemed to yearn for it.

As you got out of the car, the salt air hit you immediately, and for a second, you almost forgot about the mess your life had become. The waves crashing in the distance gave off an oddly calming effect, but you knew that wouldn't last long.

“Here’s home,” your uncle Mike said, A modest beach house, white with baby blue exterior shutters. It definitely wasn't what you were used to but it was pretty.

“Let's get inside sweetheart, let's hope the wifi’s back up!” you nod and earn a reassuring smile from your uncle as he grabs your bags from the trunk. You quickly take notice of the difference between their house and yours, pictures of all three of them smiling, baby pictures, of course, the half-burned candles, the atmosphere feels warm and peaceful compared to the lonesome one you're used to.

You could hear your aunt snickering with someone on the phone but you paid no mind to it, “Your room is upstairs, three doors down to the left, make yourself at home” Mike said coming down the stairs “Thank you” you reacted making your way upstairs.

The room was cozy and you had a great view of the sea, you couldn't complain. 10:47 Your phone lit up, a message from Instagram,

Kiara 🌺: Hey, wanna go to a Boneyard? I'll be there in about 10 minutes. Get ready.

You stare at the message for a while…Boneyard? You hadn't even met the girl in person and she was already asking to hang out.

You: Your parents fine with it? lol

Kiara 🌺: Fine with me showing my cousin around late at night? Yes of course :)

You chuckle and send a simple “right” text before turning your phone off, So much for staying out of trouble.

You decide on a simple tube top and ruffled skirt you had bought before leaving, your mom had picked out most things in your luggage, you could say many things about her but you couldn't say she didn't have taste.

You hear three quiet knocks before turning around and being met by an awkward-looking Kiara “I was at the Boneyard and remembered you were coming today,” she rambled before sitting down next to you

“It looks cute, your outfit.” she compliments “Thanks. Thought I underdressed but, I'm assuming this Boneyard thing isn't very glitz and glamour.” she snorts “Yeah no,” she gets up before talking again “Can I use it?” she asks pointing at the bathroom, you nod frantically and she smiles closing the door behind her.

You didn't know what to feel about her. She's out there. You're also out there. Maybe you guys will get along after all? But Gigi was out there as well and look at how that ended up.

Your head turns once you hear the door open “Alright so my friends are waiting for us there so we should get going” she says, you quickly stand up straightening your skirt, “You walked?” she turns her head towards you motioning for you to lower your voice, right, her parents.

You guys quietly make your way downstairs and out the door making sure you don't make a sound, “No, I didn't walk, JJ, my friend offered to drive me and I said yes but I kinda thought we could drive there together so he went back.” she answered as soon as you guys made it outside, “Oh” you reply following Kiara to the car you were just in “My dad is gonna kill me, get in” she says opening the passenger door for you.

As you guys make your way to the Boneyard, Kiara breaks the silence and starts asking questions. — like mother like daughter. “Gossip Girl who is it?” “I'm not too sure myself” “How come you've not gotten into acting or singing?” “My mother” “Princeton? So you're really smart” “More like my mom bribed a few people there but I guess”

The rest of the car ride consisted of pure silence beside the hum of the car engine and Kiara’s occasional humming along to the radio. You on the other hand stared out the window drifting back to your thoughts from earlier.

What are my parents up to right now? Is your brother wondering what you're doing right now? Has he seen the many articles with your name plastered on them? Has Kiara?

When the car finally pulled into a gravel lot near the beach, the first thing that hit you was the cool breeze followed by the smell of wood burning. You weren't sure what you were expecting when you heard Boneyard but this wasn't it.

A crowd of teenagers gathered together, sitting on the hoods of cars, some in small clusters, others laughing, dancing, watching a group of guys throwing a football around. It was everything your mother kept you from. Kiara immediately headed toward a circle of people, and you followed, trying your hardest not to stand out too much. But soon enough there were eyes on you — curiosity and intrigue written across their faces. You could hear the snippets of whispered comments and almost hidden glances. You could tell they all recognized you, but you couldn't tell if you were welcomed here or if they wanted you out.

“Yo, Kie, who's this?” a voice suddenly called out, sharp and demanding, cutting through the noise of people around you guys.

You turned to see a guy walking towards you, he was tall and lean, with messy blonde hair that fell just above his eyes. His demeanor was confident like he was used to the attention, having people notice him. When he locked eyes with you his gaze flickered — he looked like he was trying to figure you out. He slightly squinted his eyes, it was hard to tell what he was thinking at that moment but you felt a slight change in the air.

Kiara rolled her eyes but replied “My cousin, Y/n.” she seemed unfazed by his intense stare. “Y/n, this is Rafe-” she continued before suddenly getting cut off “Rafe Cameron.” he extends a hand out but you don't take it, leaving him puzzled but soon his puzzled expression turns into a smug one.

“Alright,” he says leaning in just a little too close, his eyes still fixated on yours “Ms.L/n would you care for a drink?” you shake your head no, keeping your mouth shut, slightly amused at his offer. Rafe takes a step back, his eyes now wandering on your body, he takes notice of your outfit. “Well, I'll make sure to keep an eye out for you Ms.L/n,” he turns to Kiara and back to you “Just be careful, you don't want to get lost with the wrong crowd” he winks.

Before you could respond, Kiara was already pulling you away, leading you to a firepit, you noticed it was surrounded by her friends you recognized from her Instagram. “Gosh, he's so annoying” Kiara complains, you nod, still feeling Rafe’s eyes on you as you sit down next to her.

“I kinda guessed he'd walk up to you guys, I mean hey look who it is!” the blonde-haired guy says, earning himself a slight nudge from the guy beside him “Ignore him, I’m Pope, it's nice to meet you! This idiot is JJ and this one over here,” he says pointing to the guy next to Kiara “Is John B.” You notice them all staring at you waiting for you to say something “Y/n, Y/n L/n, nice to meet you guys.”

“So, Rafe Cameron?” Jj asks, “I think I know better than to associate myself with somebody like him.” They all laugh in unison, “Yeah, he's a bit crazy” John B says “A bit? He’s like a total lunatic.” Kiara adds — Crazy lunatic huh?

11:58 PM.

You had been keeping yourself busy talking with some guy you met a couple of minutes back. His eyes often drifted toward a girl a few feet away from you guys and you quickly understood y'all were in the same boat “Trying to get over her?” you asked “Hmm?” he mumbled turning back to you “Oh- She’s y’know- it's complicated.” You nod, and he gives you a sheepish smile taking a sip from the drink Kiara offered you guys — some cheap-smelling liquor with orange juice.

You were pulled away from your conversation when you heard commotion starting on the other side of the beach. Kiara and Pope looking helpless next to JJ and John B arguing with some guy, you quickly make your way to Kiara’s side listening to the argument unfolding,

“She doesn't want it, asshole!” the guy spits back, slapping JJ’s cup away causing it to spill onto John B. “Topper please.” you hear the girl next to the guy plead “We’re laying low. Being normal.” Pope chimes in trying to calm the situation down but to no avail “Oh my god” Pope lets out as soon as John B pushes Topper

“Don't make me drown you like your old man,” Topper said, causing John B to lunge at him but misses before being punched by Topper, falling to the sand.

“Holy shit!” You yell out, “Stop him!” You say, Pope only shaking his head clearly shaken up, you scoff looking around, your eyes locked with Rafes, he was standing, his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed by what was happening. “Hey” he mouths at you, you roll your eyes turning back to see John B fighting for his life “Fuck” you mumbled.

“Stop!” Kiara yells out getting closer to the two guys fighting “Topper!” the girl — his girlfriend you assumed — yelled out. Suddenly you see JJ, gun in hand, pointing it at Topper's head “Your move, broski.” Your eyes widen at the sight of the gun “Put the gun down, JJ!” the girlfriend yells out, JJ laughs “Did you say something, princess?” John B looks at JJ, shaking his head “Cool out, JJ.” he says trying to regain his breath “I was saving you, bro.” he replies,

Kiara looks over at you, she looks distressed, her hair blowing onto her face, and she has a firm grip on your arm. JJ raises the gun to the sky “Get the fuck off our side of the island!” he yells out firing a few shots into the sky, the people around you panicking — you were too but stay by Kiara’s side.

JJ comes closer to you guys “What the fuck!” you say shoving him slightly “What? I just saved his fucking life!” he cursed, you only looking at him in disbelief “Oh yeah? By pulling a gun out at someone? You're a real fucking genius!” You yell “Listen here, Angel this is how it works out here! Pogues versus Kooks. It's been this way forever, and you can't come here suddenly and tell us what’s right and wrong! Y’know, you seem to really fit in with those Kooks! We’ve all seen those headlines, you aren't a saint.”

“JJ!” you hear Kiara yell, you only look at him and smile “I don't know who you think you're talking to but just know I have eyes and ears everywhere, call me all you want, and don't be surprised when something of yours is leaked to the public. It's a small island, right? I'm guessing things spread around fast here. Watch your tone.” You warn before walking off “Yn!” you hear Kiara yell out as you make your way to the car

“Told you.” you hear, “Told me what?” you ask already expecting to see his face, probably leaning up against something, his signature smug face. “I don't think mommy and daddy would want to see their perfect Angel hanging around people like those Pogues.” you lift your head now leaning against Kiara’s car — you were right, he was leaning against what you assumed was his car, looking down at you. “What's up with this Pogue, Kook thing?” He shrugs “It's been this way for as long as I can remember. You're too pretty to be hanging out with them.” he says leaning in close, just like earlier.

“How about I drive you home?” he suggests “As if.” he chuckles, bringing a hand to his face, and fixing his hair “I like you,” he says “I’ll see you around, doll.”

“Oh no, you're not.” you laugh

“Oh trust me. We’ll be spending a lot of quality time together. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

NOTE: Hello!! hope you enjoyed this lol, was gonna upload it thursday but oopsie and then yesterday it snowed so yeah I went out :> but anyways thank you for reading!

TAGLIST: @vwosnz // @high-functioning-cosplayer // @bettys-redwinesupernova // @bambiangels // @grapejuice32 // @amterasuu // @starkeyszn

[wttcsms]

anatomy of desire, satoru gojo

part i. terminal velocity

with mysterious circumstances centering around a first year med student's "suicide", you do something stupidly noble: reporting to a detective that you saw satoru gojo slipping out the backdoor of the very same building yu haibara supposedly jumped from. in doing so, you start a twisted, sick game of cat-and-mouse with the most powerful and insane student on campus. the only thing keeping you alive? the fact that satoru gojo is apathetic towards everything and everyone, besides you. ( fem!reader )

chapter contains description of dead body word count 3.7k [ next ] [ masterlist ]

There’s an ongoing joke that only those who attend Tokyo Metropolitan College are privy to. It’s posed as a question, serves to make people laugh, but like all things spoken by these students, the intention of the words said are different from what they’re truly asking. It goes like this:

How much was your application fee? 

The joke is the idea that any of them would ever actually have to pay something as plebeian as an application fee to attend a college their parents or family have attended for generations. The “joke” has layers to it, though: how much did your parents have to cough up to get you in here? Did they only “donate” a new building? Did they agree to sponsor the next charity event hosted by the university? Or did Mother and Father only have to invite the head of admissions to a dinner party? For children who come from money, social currency holds a significant amount of value in their eyes. 

With an acceptance rate lower than most of the Ivies, alumni that consist of the world’s most powerful political leaders, actual royalty, and the most influential celebrities in the public eye, and the prestige that comes from graduating from such a decorated institution, attending Tokyo Metropolitan College should have been impossible for someone like you.

Full ride scholarships to TMC are nearly unheard of and are only extended to the best high school athletes or the brightest minds of the current generation. You’re smart, of course, but not at the caliber Tokyo Metropolitan demands. 

With your worn-out bookbag, drugstore makeup routine, and outlet clearance shoes, it’s obvious that you’re a scholarship student. Your classmates might have been willing to ignore your crime of being poor, but not even being able to at least wear last season’s runway designs? Some sins are just unforgivable. 

It’s fine by you, of course. You’re nothing but honest, and so if you were to ever be asked the cost of your application fee, you’re not sure how they would react when you confess that it cost a life. 

You fall in love with journalism when you’re ten years old. At the clearance grocery stores, the type of shops whose air conditioning never seems to work and there’s a perpetual leak at one area of the ceiling, there’s a rack of magazines (your mother tells you these are called “tabloids”) by the checkout line. Of course, there’s usually only one cashier working out of the entire store, and you spend most of your time waiting in line than you do actually picking out your groceries. 

While your mother shuffled her coupons clipped from last week’s newspaper, you would grab the latest issue of National Enquirer, your eyes eagerly soaking up every last word of the publication. Outlandish headlines, anonymous sources, poorly Photoshopped paparazzi photos — this tabloid is your first taste of journalism. It might not be Pulitzer Prize worthy articles, but it is the spark that ignites your insatiable, burning hunger for a story. A true story. 

As you grow older, you swap National Enquirer for National Geographic and Time, going so far as to even grabbing your father’s discarded newspapers from the recycling bin whenever you catch a glimpse of an enticing headline. Everyday, there are hundreds, thousands, millions of stories, all happening at once. Depending on who’s telling the story, the immortalized version of events could very well differ from the truth. And at your young age, when you declare to your entire middle school class that you’re going to be the world’s best investigative journalist who uncovers and reports only the truth, you are met with polite, bored applause. 

Looking back, you realize just how silly you were. You used to walk around with a Hello Kitty notepad, one of those jumbo sized book fair pens (the one where it comes with like, five different colors you can pick from), and an annoying habit of never minding your own business. It pays off eventually, though. Your inquisitive (all the adults call it nosy) nature and hunger to get to the bottom of things leads you to find out that your seventh grade homeroom teacher was stealing money from the classroom’s activity funds. You got your picture in the local paper (it still hangs on the kitchen fridge, even after all these years), and the school principal even encourages you to start a school newspaper club. 

You fear you’ve peaked in the seventh grade, though. It’s been nearly eight years since that incident, and you haven’t quite uncovered anything else that’s newsworthy. You suppose the hot topic on campus right now could be worth getting to the bottom of: did Mei Mei get a boob job or not? If you figure out the truth behind that, maybe then people will actually start to care about what you have to say. 

Good stories don’t just fall into your lap; most journalists don’t spend their time sitting at their desk, typing up their finds. Instead, they’re actually on the ground, actively hunting. 

You tell yourself — justifying your eavesdropping, really — that this is just you hunting for a good story. Besides, if the conversation was meant to be so private, why wouldn’t he at least have it in his dorm room? 

“Listen, Ken — after tonight, I’ll be set for life.” The hushed whisper immediately catches your attention. You pause, glancing behind you to see if anyone’s coming. They’re not. The Liberal Arts Education building houses the least amount of students here at Tokyo Metropolitan, and everyone’s either already in class or getting lunch off campus. No one even bothers with this outdoor walkway; it’s too cold to justify walking in the shade the overhead supplies, and the vending machines located here never have any of the good snacks — just stale packs of peanuts and the brand of soymilk no one likes. 

You don’t make a habit of listening in on people’s phone calls. You have some concept of boundaries. It’s just… The Liberal Arts class is such a small group of fish in an already small pond. You’ve run into everyone who has a reason to be in this building. You were forced to take Public Speaking with at least half of them, and this voice you don’t recognize. 

That, and everyone who can afford to spend years at college, stress-free and getting a degree in the arts, don’t need to make hushed phone calls behind unwanted vending machines to discuss how they’re going to be “set for life.” Ninety-nine percent of the student body here already are.

“Just trust me,” the voice mumbles. “I’ve got it all under control.” 

You’re really trying your hardest to fight the urge to listen, but you can feel it — that sense in your gut that tells you that this is a story worth pursuing. Who cares about whether or not Mei Mei got a boob job? Whatever this student is up to is certainly of more interest than breast implants. 

When he stops talking, you recognize that he must’ve hung up the phone. Trying to remain casual, you continue to walk towards the vending machines, and when he comes into view, walking in the opposite direction of you, you briefly glance at him. 

Brushed brown hair, slightly taller than you — kind of cute, actually.

“Excuse me,” you call out to him. He stops to turn at you, a polite smile stretching across his face. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you happen to know where room L203 is? I just switched to that Japanese Literature class, but I’m still trying to navigate this building.” 

“Hmm.” He takes a second to appear in deep thought. “I’ve never had to take the course, but L203 should be on the second floor, left side.” 

“Thanks!” You chirp out, letting him go on his way. A majority of the buildings here are built similarly; the first number always dictates which floor the room is on, and odd numbers go to the left, with even numbers on the right side of the hall. You know damn well where L203 is; you just needed a second to commit this student’s face to memory. That, and you wanted a good look at the embroidery on his black jacket. 

It says Tokyo Metropolitan College Zenin School of Medicine. 

One thing about medical students is that they (and the college) can never seem to let anyone forget, for even a split second, that they are a medical student. 

You immediately head to your dorm, cracking open your 2006 MacBook that begs dearly for you to put it out of its misery every time you power it on, and wait impatiently as the website for the Zenin School of Medicine page to officially load. Every year, the administrative team at the med school makes a big deal out of welcoming the newest incoming class, and you’re hoping that he, whoever he is, has been enrolled within the last three years. You’re not sure your laptop can handle clicking through more than three links in the timespan of five minutes without excessively overheating and then exploding on your dorm room’s desk. 

You luck out when you realize he’s from this year’s incoming class. The picture is taken outside, in the familiar quad in front of the med school’s buildings. There’s only about a dozen students entering, and you spot his bright, smiling face. To the untrained eye, he fits in well with the rest of his peers. Nothing about him appears to be different, but three years learning to navigate this world has taught you well: he doesn’t have the same social standing as these students. In a sea of On Clouds (for the active students, you presume) and Dior sneakers, he’s wearing a pair of Skechers. 

You squint at the small font of the caption, listing the students from left to right. 

Yu Haibara. 

When you search his name on the school’s site, another article appears, confirming your suspicions. 

Yu Haibara, Latest Recipient of the Zenin Merit Medical Scholarship. Every other year, the Zenin Family provides a scholarship to a promising individual who will “change the medical field for the better.” With his easygoing smile and genuine attempt at being helpful, you can believe it. Yu Haibara seems like a very nice guy.

Which is why, in the glow of the setting sun, you feel a bit guilty for tailing him. No matter what he does, it’s not even like it’s going to be something publishable for the school paper. Putting a first year medical student’s side hustle on blast isn’t anything newsworthy; you know this. The rational part of your mind tells you to go back to your dorm and actually start working on your history paper due next week. You know, something actually productive and beneficial for your future. 

But the gut feeling you’ve never been good at ignoring… It tells you that the hunt is on. There’s something here for you to uncover, and even if you have to keep it a secret to yourself, the satisfaction of satiating your curiosity will be enough. 

Following Yu isn’t really a hard thing to do. This side of campus is unsurprisingly busier than the side you normally stay on. There are more bodies for you to blend in with, more noises to disguise your footsteps, and Haibara doesn’t even seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings. He walks with his arms swaying by his sides, and he makes casual, fleeting conversation with a few faces you recognize from the class photo on the school’s website. You’re hoping that wherever he’s heading to isn’t his dorm; if it’s secrecy he wants, it would make sense for him to do everything in the privacy of his own residence, but—

“Hey, girl, what’re you doing over here?” Distracted by the greeting, you take your eyes off of Haibara’s back to look at who’s speaking to you. Sakura; you share a good portion of classes with her. You remember her mentioning a boyfriend who’s in medical school. Something about her making an offhand joke about being a future surgeon’s stay-at-home wife. It’s not like working was something she was actively going to do in the future, anyway. Her mother is a hotel heiress, and her dad owns a hefty share of Vogue. 

“Sakura, hey!” You smile at her, trying to peek over her shoulder. Haibara makes a left turn, you note. “I wanted to meet with a professor here, actually. To see if he wanted to give an interview on his research. Running out of article ideas for the school paper, honestly.” 

She crinkles her nose. She works for the school paper with you, too, but she’s never paid much attention to anything beyond her submissions to the Beauty & Fashion column. “Have fun with that.” 

“Definitely will.” You chirp, glad that Sakura’s not the type to care about what some old doctor has to say about cancer. The sidewalk is crowded with students grouping together, discussing where they want to eat out tonight, but as you make a left turn, trying to follow Haibara’s steps, you notice that the lampposts lining the walkway are fewer and farther between. It’s still not dark enough to really need their warm, yellow glow, but you’re certain you’ll need them on the walk back. 

There are less students frequenting this area, too. The buildings here are older, less maintained. You doubt any of the major classes are held here, and the only building you can really justify Haibara disappearing into would be the one at the end of this walkway. A three story brick building, whose large sign can be read even at your distance.

OLD KASHIMO LABORATORY.

Old certainly seems fitting. You wonder if the building is even still in use. 

Leaves crunch under your sneakers (that are unfortunately not straight from Rick Owens’ latest drop) as you continue to move forward, heading to the lab. It’s a big building, and it seems a shame that it isn’t as well-maintained as the front-facing buildings that make up the medical school. Your legs are practically burning by the time you make it to the steps leading to the front door. If you realized just how far of a walk it is from your dormitory to the complete other side of campus, you would have at least stretched first. 

Anything to get down to the truth, though. 

Selfishly, you hope whatever Haibara’s up, it’s something scandalous. If it’s boring, and your gut feeling is entirely wrong, you’re going to be so annoyed that you got your daily steps in for no reason. 

Pushing through the large oak double-doors of the building takes some effort, but when you do, you realize the lights here, unlike the other buildings you’ve been in, aren’t triggered automatically by movement. At least the windows all over the walls allow the fading light of the setting sun to filter through the massive entrance. 

Way down on the other end, you see it. A silhouette of someone else; you see them, but you’re shocked you don’t hear them. 

Haibara?

No. Even from this distance, this figure seems taller than the brunet boy you’ve been stalk— following — for the past hour. The figure pays you no attention, but when it opens the backdoor, for a split second, they’re — he’s — bathed in the glow from the nearby lampposts and sunset. 

White hair, sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and even at this angle, his sharp, blue eyes that are recognizable anywhere.

Satoru Gojo. 

The difference between college and high school is that in high school, it’s pretty common to have a few people designated as “popular.” College is different. Everyone is a grown adult now, whether they like it or not, and concepts as juvenile and irrelevant as “popularity” no longer matter.

At a school like Tokyo Metropolitan, though, social hierarchy is everything. A school this small, this exclusive, this prestigious, thrives because parents send their little heirs and heiresses here in order to network. These kids grew up trading Pokemon cards by utilizing tips from The Art of the Deal.

In a small group where only the wealthy and influential are allowed in, Satoru Gojo comes from the wealthiest and most influential family there is. His father has global politicians trying to cozy up to him, and his mother comes from a family who supposedly made their fortune off of blood diamonds (naturally, the Gojos deny this claim, squashing any speculation about how the wife’s family made their money by spamming the news with nothing but reports of their charitable acts). Instead of pursuing business, Gojo makes headlines by his father announcing how proud he is that his son is choosing the noble path of medicine. 

“He’s all about helping people,” the reporter quotes Mr. Gojo. 

That must be true; it’s why Gojo’s so known all over campus. It’s not enough that socially, he’s better than all of them, which makes being his friend all the more appealing. It’s the fact that he’s just a good guy. You remember how last year, the school paper did an article on how Gojo funded the entire extravagant retirement party for a beloved professor at the school. You heard a rumor that the one and only time he was late to class (by three minutes) was because he was helping a student get her kitten out of a tree. During his undergrad, he was captain of the basketball team and took them to the championships every year. He does all of this while remaining absolutely humble, kind, and top of his class. 

You wonder if there’s a story there. If maybe Satoru Gojo, who is too perfect to be real, isn’t real. Maybe his parents figured out where to get their hands on an ultra-realistic robot, something that poses as the perfect son. That would explain his eyes, you think.

You’ve always tried to see the appeal in Gojo. He’s handsome, yes. He’s nice, no doubt about it. You don’t think you could find anyone with a single bad thing to say about him. But during your freshman year at this school, you think about the moment where you had to fill in for the school’s photographer. You had to photograph Gojo accepting an award for being MVP on the basketball team (once again), and while Gojo was charming everyone, from the coach to the dean of the school to the girls in the crowd cheering him on, there was your gut feeling telling you that something was just off. 

“You’re not the usual photographer, are ya?” He peers down at you, hands in his pockets, a big grin on his face. He’s not teasing you, at least, not in a rude way. He just has a light-hearted inflection on all his words that makes everything he says seem… warmer? Like, he’s trying to put you at ease. 

You’re fiddling with the settings on the camera, unused to the tech. “Um, yeah. I’m a freshman, but I’m just subbing in for my senior who got sick.” 

“Really? That’s neat!” He says it, and it sounds so sincere, that you nod along. Yeah, maybe it is neat. 

(Gojo’s good at that. Putting people at ease, getting them to see things from his point of view.)

“Try your best to make me look good, and I’ll do my best to make sure whatever shot you get is fine! Deal?” He’s still smiling at you, and all you can do is nod. Even at this point in time, a fresh-faced baby to this school, you’re aware of Gojo’s power. When you’re looking at him through the lens of the camera, you think it’d be impossible to get a bad photo of Gojo. 

The uneasy feeling you get around him gets chalked up to nothing more than nerves. You’re a writer, not a photographer. Gojo is a legend amongst men, and being in such close proximity to him would make anyone nervous. 

But when you look back at the photo once the article gets published, you know why you felt so weird around him. 

When Satoru Gojo smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You’re not sure why Gojo is — or, more accurately, was — in this building, but it’s none of your business. You’re here for Haibara, and whatever weird ass, secretive but lucrative side hustle he’s got going on. Probably dropshipping. Or, maybe he’s selling old test banks?  

Chances are, it’s nothing special or noteworthy. The reason why you haven’t gotten a good story lately might simply be because your senses, your so-called reliable gut instinct, has just gone dull. Maybe you’ve never even had a good instinct to begin with. Or, maybe losing it is just the karma you deserve for everything you’ve done to get to where you are now. It would serve you right, wouldn’t it? The universe must have a taste for poetic justice sometimes.

You’re hungry. Your legs are sore. It’s getting late. Whatever Haibara has going on, you don’t care anymore. You’ve got a paper due, and a protein bar somewhere in the bottom of your book bag that will serve as dinner for tonight because you don’t have enough funds to get anything halfway decent at the dining hall, and what a waste of time today was. 

You’re opening the doors of the building, letting the cool evening breeze hit you in the face as you exit. You still need something to write for the school paper; the lie you told to Sakura might actually be the only valid idea you have, and— 

“Holy fucking shit! Is he dead?!”

You look to your right. There’s a trio of students gathered around a lump on the ground. Someone’s screaming, then they’re all screaming. More students are flooding out of nearby buildings, and despite the protest of your limbs, you turn and head right where the screams are coming from. 

Bringing your hand to your mouth, you barely manage to hold back your own scream. 

Lying on the concrete walkway is Yu Haibara, with his neck and body at two different odd angles, his head cracked open and spilling blood that leaks onto the manicured grass of the campus.

[lucygraysboy]

“once we’re done here, i’ll wash it and it’ll be as good as new,” he promises, knowing how much sentimental value the dress has. fingertips absently stroking her hair, not even trying to brush it anymore, just trying to make her feel good and help her relax. “i haven’t, by the way. gone through your songbook, i mean.” in case she’s wondering. she gave him permission to do so last night, but it seemed too personal, too invasive. “thank you, lucy gray.” it’s been a while since someone complimented his heart. people often admire what’s on the outside — his blue eyes and dark curls, his nose or cheekbones. she’s one of a very few who seem to care more about what’s underneath. “it means the world to me. i won’t let you down, i swear it.” scooping up a handful of water, he carefully pours it over her back to ensure she stays warm. “so are you, little bird. you’re very smart, too. way smarter than me.” she wouldn’t be here with him if she wasn’t highly intelligent. she wouldn’t have escaped coriolanus. which is still such a strange thought… “oh, yeah?” thankful for the distraction, he lets out another laugh. “never noticed you were also bird-sized and i was horse-sized,” he counters, getting to see her sense of humor for the first time and letting it bewitch him. he adores this side of her, but it has him wondering if this is the girl that she used to be — full of sassy remarks and giggles and sweetness. maybe she’ll be that girl again one day.

“i see…” billy hums, nodding his head even if she can’t really see him. he quickly picks up on what she’s implying, putting two and two together. the stories that she told him last night… “you don’t think my brother was born with a good heart, is that what you’re sayin’?” as children, they were like daylight and dark. polar opposites. but can he call that little boy evil? sure, they’d had their differences, but he wasn’t bad to the bone. he didn’t chase stray cats around the neighborhood or rip the wings off flies. “i’m not sure if i agree. maybe the capitol and our grandmother did that to him.” or maybe he was born with evil already inside him and it just came to light later in life. who knows? “i’m not defendin’ him, just thinkin’ out loud,” he says quickly when lucy gray’s head snaps around, looking at him with something that he can’t quite name or understand. it has him wondering if he’s said something wrong. a small, uncertain smile remains plastered to his visage, his own heart picking up pace. “did i —” say something wrong? but before he can get the words out, she’s speaking up again and he’s falling silent. gesturing for her to carry on.

“you planted a snake to scare him away and slow him down?” dark brows lifting, impressed and wary in equal measure. what if she still thinks he’s coriolanus? will he wake up with a snake under his pillow one morning? and lucy gray nowhere to be found? the idea has his heart missing a beat, chest constricting. but if she wanted to run, she would have done that while he was out by the creek. “i didn’t know ‘bout that. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to bring back any bad memories with that story.” features softening, understanding her reaction better now. amusement fills his eyes, and he can’t help but think it’s such a badass move, setting a snake trap. “oh, i bet he thought it was venomous. what does he know ‘bout snakes? nothin’. i think that was a smart move. risky but smart. and it served its purpose, right?” it’s scary to think that his own twin brother was trying to hunt her down, shot at her, but then he thinks about their father, the kind of person he was… and it’s not so surprising anymore. “you think he would have hurt you anyway? if you came back to him instead of runnin’ away and plantin’ that snake?” is his brother truly as ruthless and heartless as their father? his heart aches for lucy gray, but for coriolanus, too. it must be awful, living that way, filled with hatred. “mhm, yeah. it’s just a silly story, but the moral is very accurate, i think. if you go through life with hatred festering in your heart, you’ll never be happy. but if you learn how to forgive and focus on healing from the bad experiences, you’ll be alright.” as if reading her thoughts, he adds, “he won’t ever find you, lucy gray. reva blue and i won’t allow it. we will always protect you. i will protect you.” 

"it does look like feathers." maybe that's how her mama decided to design it, thinking so as the songstress sweetly smiles. "thank you, that means so much to me." that he likes the way she sings. lucy gray laughs at first before shaking her head to correct him, "because you and horses have good hearts and brave ones." she just had to be careful praising someone's heart before really knowing it first, just like the moment of phrasing you seem like a good man, coriolanus snow. she scolds herself constantly for being so naive. "they're smart and you're smart." knowing how to survive like this. "and you are a lot taller than me way down here, so that could be another thing..." her turn to tease.

perking up in interest, brows raising as she sits with his fingers in her hair. finding what he's saying really fascinating when it sounds familiar to something she'd say. "i used to think they were made, too. sometimes i have my doubts." if coriolanus was right, people like him really were born that way. "but maybe now there's proof, they're either born or made." with him being the twin to coriolanus. then he tells this next story and a strange flash of fear strikes through her. that was a coincidence, right?

shifting slightly to glance at his face, making sure he once again wasn't somehow coriolanus– not going to drown her in this water while she's not looking after telling her this story, mind backtracking all the way back to her first theory of his mind being twisted by dr. gaul. until she realizes there's no way he knows all that stuff about district thirteen, that this type of kindness can be faked and she's back to reality. she really has to stop doing that... when she realizes even her heart's picked up speed beneath her chest.

"well, snake's and me are very familiar with one another." forcing herself to chill out, a wry laugh quietly emitting from her. "and there's a lot of irony in that..." she points out, an odd smile gracing her face, "when i placed a snake out, i set it as a trap. to stall time for myself. it bit coriolanus and i knew it wasn't venomous, then that's what really set him off to go shooting at me." wasn't like he wasn't going to do that anyway, probably. but that's what's so crazy about the similarities with billy's story. "the one who went back to the village. that's the one who lived a happy life?" she answers, while feeling scared that's how coriolanus probably feels towards her... hating her guts, obsessing over hating her guts each day, ready and waiting for the second chance at killing her for revenge. "i agree... i could have definitely turned rotten by now, yet i've not. and the same for you..." as long as he's telling the truth about it all.

[n0tamused]

How elves deal or even feel jealous? What/how easy is to make them jealous?

A/n: Hello, yes I can! You didn't specify which elves you wanted this for, so I just picked a few of the ones I thought would go nicely with this idea. Also, I am trying these different styles of hcs, so let me know if you prefer lenghtier headcanons or shorter ones like these? I'm trying to find some balance with requests and my ability to write them in time.

Contents: (all separate) Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir, Haldir, Glorfindel x GN! Reader. Jealousy hcs, not proof read lol

⋆𓄃Thranduil

-Thranduil can be quite jealous and, more so, protective over his beloved and he does not care to ever admit it. He is quite avoidant of his subjects and feels a bit shocked (or looks like it, he did expect you to point it out eventually tbh) when you point it out to him

-Would make sliding comments about your attention lingering too long on someone, or even something at times. 

-A play of words is sure to ensue if you keep pressing him for his reasons, and throughout he never raises his voice or anything of that sort, he is rather calm and eventually you come to understand that he is enjoying this, both the banter and the attention. This can be sometimes flustering or frustrating when he begins to smirk and offer sass and teasing words. 

-The Elven king has seldom ever expected to ‘fall into’ love like this, or to behave like this while loving someone, but even through his long years of living he is still learning some things. 

-Thranduil is quite wary of others, especially outsiders even if they are his distant kin. So he may keep you away from meetings or tedious dinners with any delegates or visitors that may seem like ‘too much’ for you to be exposed to them.

-He is stubborn, so chances are it would take a long time for him to let up on his views, as he deems it all necessary for your protection and happiness

-But even he cannot deny that he does carry a great weight on his heart and consciousness, and long, late night conversions are not something rare with him. He enjoys them more than anything else because he feels more justified to be vulnerable when the rest of the world falls asleep. He is more open to physical touch as well, and he tells you his worries and his feelings clearly then. 

🍃Legolas

-The prince of Mirkwood is still quite green in the area of emotions and how one deals with them, despite his years. But he is notably much softer in comparison to his father. 

-He would find it odd that he feels this way and would hide it away from you for the longest time until he can bear it no longer. It is like poison to him

-Although you would be able to see it all happening and coming down on him with the way he stares out at nothing, sometimes at the people besides you, the way his lips pull into a deep carved frown and how his jaw sets, almost uncomfortably, even for an elf - especially for an elf. His shoulders are so tense you can put a table on him

-Once he expresses his feelings to you he does apologize as well, he doesn’t want you thinking that he doesn’t trust you or that he believes you’d go behind his back and take the offer of another heart - he truly can’t explain the feelings and where they stem from.

-It’s multiple things all at once - he wants you safe and happy, and the people around may not have the purest intentions, but at the same time he feels odd that you sometimes seem to be having much more fun with someone else than him. So there’s quite a lot to unpack with him, but he is not impatient or unwilling to learn.

♬Lindir

-Lindir is more prone to fits of jealousy that strike seemingly out of nowhere, he is quite dense with it too although not nearly as secretive as he would like himself to be. He may be quiet, but the face he stays quiet with is a completely different story..

-His jealousy does stem from a sense of insecurity in his own ability to be a good partner for you, it eats away at him at times and he can take up to saying witty responses to the individual/s that he perceives as sources of his feelings. He is never malicious of course, neither to you or them, as he understand these feelings can quickly turn to poison

-He may require some more support from you at times like these, and in private he feels utterly defeated in face of his own jealousy. He is not the one to openly ask for attention from you, but at times like these he may ask you questions that may reassure him again. Hold his face in your hands and just kiss the elf, that would be my advice, plainly delivered 

-He would grow flustered at such actions, and he may even give you some sass for it, but he is never refusing your advances at pouring some more of your love on him 

°˖➴Haldir

-The Marchwarden of Lorien is not the most open when it comes to his own emotions and it can be difficult to read his exact trail of thoughts at times. But jealousy is not foreign to Haldir, he knows how it feels and he has long since come to truly dislike(hate) it.

-It is unbecoming of his station and just of his own character in general. Nonetheless, this jealousy he feels holds its roots in worry for your safety rather than any kind of distrust of you, and it's greatly amplified by the distance between the two of you when he is away on duty. 

-Haldir doesn’t act out on his jealousy, although he makes his opinion known if he agrees or disagrees with you on your choice of companions. If he is at home with you, he would also tag along with you, if you so desired or if he just really, really did not like the company you’re going to be with. He knows nearly everyone in Lorien, and so he knows who to be wary of. That is not to say anyone from there would be a liability when it comes to physical harm, he knows that much is less likely to happen, but when it comes to needs that are more from within, love, need for attention - then he is not so sure. He cannot read the minds of others, and everyone changes over time, even elves. 

-His jealousy does lessen up when he is with you, as he is not as worried when he has you in his eye. If there is danger, Haldir would do whatever was in his power to eradicate the source of it. 

-You may notice this particular mood on him by the stiffness of his jaw and the hard look he sometimes directs at no one in general, as if holding an internal monologue with himself over what he’s experiencing and feeling

☼Glorfindel

-The Slayer of Balrogs is not susceptible to jealousy, and he was never a jealous individual to begin with. And that’s also without mentioning that he trusts his partner as well, otherwise he would not be with someone he did not trust.

-After his re-embodiment he may come off as a little clingy - he stays with you for as long as he can, not letting any moment go to waste, even if you are an immortal being as he is. He leaves kisses on your hands and your forehead when no one is around to see, it is intimate and he simply wants you to know that you will always have his love and support

-He is also very clear in his communication with you, and trusts that you’ll tell him if anything is bothering you, although sometimes he does know to postpone telling you something if he believes it could put a strain on you. 

-He is quite free spirited though and open minded at that, just a chill guy, the chillest on this list I dare say

-All in all.. 10/10, would recommend 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[xechu]

[Devour] Chapter 2: Yearning

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: please read my blog's rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, angst, eventual smut, hurt/no comfort, explicit sexual content, undertones of misogyny (because the 'olden days'), mature themes, depiction of gore and violence, mentions of pregnancy and abortion. Please note that these warnings pertain to the entire series as a whole, and not just to this specific chapter.

Tags: mini series, angst, smut, Heian Era, true form Sukuna

Summary: Sukuna brings you back to a temple, where he resides. There you also meet Uraume. You begin to doubt if running away was the best idea, but then, Sukuna offers to be your ally. Unbeknownst to you, he has his own ulterior motives for helping you.

A/N: It's here! Not going to lie, I struggled a bit with this chapter. Since this is a mini series, I would say we're already about 35% through the story, things will progress quickly in the upcoming chapters. Based on my planning, I'm looking at about four more chapters. I don't have an exact release date for Chapter 3 like I did with this chapter, but I'll post an update when it's almost complete! If you would like to be added on the tag list for this series, please let me know/leave a comment here. Thank you so much for reading and stay tuned. x

Masterlist: < Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 (To be continued) >

Sukuna had always deemed love meaningless. It was a feeling that held people back, making them irrational and reckless. Over the years, he had witnessed the greatest kingdoms burn and the strongest men fall, all in the name of 'love.' But the tragedy lay in the fact that, after all was said and done, that love seldom lasted. At the end of the day, people were weak and fickle, rendering love volatile. He often wanted to ask those who sacrificed everything for love: Was it all worth it in the end?

In order to attain his height of power—to become the strongest—Sukuna had given up everything, including his humanity. He had mastered the art of detachment, for attachments only served to tie one down. Letting go of all things was the inevitable cost of power, but it was an easy and insignificant sacrifice for someone like him—who had nothing to lose in the first place.

Yet, despite the King of Curses' strong convictions, there remained one glaring contradiction in his life: you. No matter how hard he tried, he could not detach himself from you. Even after all these years, his burning desire for you was a flame he could not quell, and it only seemed to grow hungrier with time.

Throughout the years, Sukuna had conditioned himself into believing that you were always going to be an unattainable dream—a fantasy that was never meant to become reality. It was better that it remained this way. You deserved to live a peaceful life, and he could continue to live out his days as the King of Curses without restraint.

But what should he do—now that his dream had become reality?

For someone with a wretched life like his, he never believed in any gods. But for the first time in his life, the King of Curses acknowledged that this reunion must have been the universe's divine will—a preordained fate. It seemed that the two of you were destined to be together.

Yes, he thought to himself, since the universe has willed it, then you shall be his exception.

He vowed that as long as he kept you by his side, you would not be a source of his weakness.

At this realization, a dark possessiveness took over him.

This time he would stake his claim.

---

Though you were no longer the little girl Sukuna had once met, he couldn't help but notice how small you were under his hold. Some things didn't change; you were still his little flower.

“It’s me, flower,” he said, urgency creeping into his voice as if he were calling into your subconscious, imploring you to remember.

You trembled in his embrace; the adrenaline coursing through you made it difficult to think straight. His words did not register as you struggled to gather your chaotic thoughts, while your mind screamed at you to run.

You remind me of flowers. The voice suddenly echoed in your mind.

“R-Ryo?” you gasped, finally making the connection.

With shaking hands, you roamed his figure, seeking confirmation in the darkness. Your fingertips softly brushed over his features. Was this a dream? Had you already died? How was it that after all these years, he was finally here—especially in your most dire moment? The surrealness of this situation felt too good to be true.

“I-It really is you,” your voice quivered with emotion. “I-I can't believe it. All this time... I thought I would never see you again."

“I'm here now, flower,” he said, capturing your hand in his. “Come with me; it’s not safe.”

Before you could utter another word, he effortlessly scooped you up, and you instinctively held on to him, tightening your grip, afraid that if you let go he would slip away again.

Sukuna traversed the forest at an inhuman speed. He seemed to know the terrain well, navigating it with ease, but for you, all you saw was unending darkness; the gust of wind threading through your hair was the only sign that you were moving. Your heart raced as he cradled you against his strong body; you could feel the heat radiating from him, evoking a warm and familiar feeling within you—a feeling that you have yearned for so many years.

Moments later, you found yourself in a clearing. Under the clear night sky, vast greenery and towering mountains loomed around you. At the foot of one mountain, a grand tree stood beside an ancient temple. Sukuna gently set you on your feet, and now that you were out in the clearing, you could get a better look at him. Standing before you was no longer the little boy from your memories; he had transformed into a formidable man—perhaps the largest person you had ever seen. He wore an oversized kimono, his bare chest exposed, and his muscular build attested to the life he had lived throughout the years. Your gaze was then drawn to the unmistakable bloodstains on his clothing.

“Are you hurt?” your brows furrowed in concern as your hand ghosted over the stains.

“Nothing worth fretting over; they do not belong to me,” he said, a smile involuntarily curving his lips at the concern you displayed.

Sukuna lifted your chin to meet his gaze. In the moonlight, he could see you with much more clarity.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, a hint of longing evident in his eyes.

Heat rushed to your face at his touch, but you were grateful that the night concealed it.

“How did you know to find me?" you quietly asked.

“The forest and the mountain are my domain,” Sukuna replied, brushing his thumb over your lower lip, as if he was trying to engrave your features into his memory. “You were lucky I found you before something else did.”

Something in your gut told you it couldn't have been mere coincidence, but you decided to keep that thought to yourself. It wasn't the time nor the place for interrogations.

"I see," you smiled wearily. "Thank you... you saved me yet again."

Your words stirred a nostalgic memory within him.

As you continued to stand there in silence, the brave facade you had been putting up began to crumble. All the events that had led you to this moment settled within you, and the feelings you had long suppressed surged to the surface—grief, resentment, confusion, fear, relief, yearning—a tempest you could no longer keep at bay.

“All these years, I’ve been searching for you,” your voice cracked, tears brimming in your eyes.

"I know," he replied, his tone low and hushed.

“Y-You did?"

Sukuna nodded.

"Then why, Ryo? Did you not want to see me?” Your chest tightened at his admission, and tears began to roll down your face.

“It was for the best.” Sukuna's jaw clenched. The sight of you crying evoked a sense of dread within him.

“The best for who?”

A brief silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words.

“That no longer matters, flower. We're here now, and I won't let you go again,” he said, gently wiping a stray tear from your face.

You knew he was hiding something from you, but that mattered little right now. Your body reacted before your mind, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

---

Wooden floors creaked beneath you as you crossed the threshold of the temple, and an inexplicable wave of energy washed over you. It was intense yet comforting, like the warmth of the sun—like him.

The temple was small and modest, but it felt peaceful and comfortable. It was also evident that the wooden interior had been well-maintained despite how ancient it was. The air was filled with the soothing scents of incense and cedarwood.

The earlier conversation with Sukuna loomed over you, leaving so many questions unanswered. While you could still sense a semblance of the little boy within him, he also felt unfamiliar and distant; after all, so much time had passed. You longed to know everything about him, to fill in the gaps, but perhaps that would have to wait.

As you took a closer look around the main hall, your eyes wandered to the beautifully crafted sliding doors at the back, which were fully open to reveal a serene garden that captivated you with its lush greenery and vibrant flowers.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed.

Sukuna looked at you under the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating the hall, and your heart began to race under his gaze amid the intimacy of the setting. He watched you intently as if he could hear the intense beating of your heart—

“Sukuna-sama, you’re back,” a gentle voice cut through the air.

You turned to find a young person standing there. Their gender was ambiguous, but their appearance reminded you of winter's first snowfall. They exuded a calm and serene presence.

“Uraume,” Sukuna acknowledged, gesturing toward you. “She is with me. Draw her a bath and prepare some fresh clothes. I’ll get a fire started.”

“Yes, Sukuna-sama,” Uraume replied, hastily leaving for the back of the temple.

You watched as Sukuna stripped off his kimono, revealing his muscular upper body adorned with tattoos.

“Ryo, where are you going?” you asked, trying to mask the fluster in your voice.

Sukuna turned back to look at you with a smile. “I’m going to hunt some game. We’ll fill our stomachs before going to bed.”

---

The warmth of the hot spring quickly melted away the stress of the day. You still could not wrap your head around the uncanny turn of events; it felt like a nightmare turned dream. Instead of being married to Lord Yamamoto, you were now reunited with the one person who had always occupied your thoughts. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you reached for a washcloth to gently remove your makeup. You knew that there would be other matters to address later, but for now, you wanted to savor this brief respite.

Sinking the lower half of your head into the water, you blew small bubbles, and images of Sukuna and the man he had become flashed in your mind, sending a warmth throughout your body.

Sukuna's renown had been spreading in recent years, and you were acutely aware of his reputation. Whispers surrounded him, calling him the King of Curses—the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of the era. There was much debate over whether he was merely a man or a deity, while others believed him to be a demon in disguise. Your village, having a strong aversion to jujutsu sorcery, viewed it as more of a curse than a gift and seemed to believe he was nothing short of a demon.

Regardless, you had only ever known him as Ryo, so you never gave much thought to the rumors. Man, deity, or demon—whatever he was, you would have accepted him unconditionally. Despite the time apart, you still felt an inexplicable tether to him.

I won't let you go again.

Those words stirred an emotion within you when he had initially spoken them, but doubts and hesitation lingered in your mind. Had it not been for your current predicament, you would have been more inclined to stay with him.

You held your breath and submerged yourself entirely beneath the warm water, hoping to silence these chaotic thoughts—even if just for a moment.

---

Feeling refreshed as you stepped out of the temple in a new set of clothes, you noticed that a fire had already been started and that Uraume was preparing some vegetables.

“Uraume-san,” you smiled as you walked over, “is there anything I can help you with?”

“Y/N-san,” Uraume exclaimed, a gentle light in their eyes. “All the preparations are nearly complete. Why don’t you sit by the fire first? Sukuna-sama should be back soon.”

You hesitated and looked to see if there was still anything to help with, but noticing how there was not much else, you acquiesced and made your way to the fire. You watched in awe as Uraume skillfully finished the last touches of their work. Soon after, they settled down beside you. It was a comfortable silence between the two of you, accompanied by the crackling of the fire.

“Have you and Ryo always lived here?” you tried to make conversation.

Uraume nodded, their expression thoughtful. “We’ve lived here for quite some time. I owe him my life.”

You looked at Uraume, curiosity piqued.

“I was at death’s door when he found me as a child,” Uraume confessed softly. “He took me under his wing.”

“He’s always been kind.” You smiled contemplatively.

“Yes,” Uraume agreed. There was a brief pause. “He…has also mentioned you before.”

“He has?”

Uraume nodded. “He said there was once a girl he met who lived in a village not too far from here. She was as kind as she was beautiful, and she reminded him of flowers. When I saw you, I knew you were that girl.”

It warmed your heart to know that he had spoken about you, but it also felt bittersweet.

“Ah, he’s back,” Uraume remarked, glancing behind you.

Your eyes widened at the spectacular sight before you. Sukuna had a deer slung over his shoulder, effortlessly making his way toward the two of you; he trekked as if the deer weighed nothing.

Sukuna dropped the deer by the fire, and Uraume instinctively got up, ready to prepare the meat. You watched as Sukuna slashed the deer's throat, collecting the blood in a bowl. A wave of queasiness washed over you, and you looked away, unable to face the brutal sight. Sukuna settled down beside you while Uraume got to work, efficiently cutting up the rest of the deer.

“Drink every last drop,” he commanded, handing the bowl to you.

“I—I don't think I can,” you put your hand out in defense, the metallic stench making your stomach churn.

“You are malnourished,” he said, grabbing your wrist to examine its size. “Have you not been looking after yourself?”

“I have,” you insisted, attempting to wiggle your wrist free from his grasp. His touch felt searing against your skin.

“You will drink this, unless you would like me to feed you,” Sukuna insisted, handing you the bowl once more, the intensity in his eyes leaving no room for argument.

You took the bowl in both hands, trembling slightly. As you watched the thick red liquid swirl inside, you held your breath and brought it to your lips, tilting it ever so slightly and allowing the liquid to slip into your mouth and down your throat. Just as you were about to lower the bowl, Sukuna's hand clasped over yours, tilting the bowl upward to ensure you finished everything.

“That’s it, flower—every last drop,” he said, his voice low and steady. When he was satisfied that you had consumed all of it, he released his grip and took the bowl from your hands. You gagged at the aftertaste, coughing as a trickle of blood ran down your chin. Sukuna's eyes grew dark at the sight; he wiped the blood from your chin with his thumb, then licked it clean.

“Ryo—!” you gasped, teary-eyed. “N-no more of that, please.”

“That will depend on how well you eat,” a hint of playfulness threaded through his voice.

“Do you drink this too?” you asked, clearing your throat.

"Of course, the blood of a deer is a highly nutritious delicacy. Did you know in some places, it is a drink shared by a married couple on their wedding night?" Sukuna smirked.

You shudder at the thought. This blood drinking experience was something that you hoped would be your first and last. But the slight implication that Sukuna made at the end also made you a bit shy.

Uraume handed a plate of skewered meat to Sukuna, and you marveled at how quickly they had prepared it. You watched as Sukuna stabbed each skewer into the ground by the fire, your attention lingering on the flames that seemed to beckon you.

"I should have whisked you away from the village earlier, had I known you were not being fed properly." Sukuna intently watched you with one of his eyes, sensing your tension.

"Well, why didn't you?" you muttered. The words escaped your mouth before you could stop it.

You were sure he had his reasons for staying away, yet you couldn’t hide your disappointment in him for keeping his distance. So much precious time had been lost, and so many what-ifs lingered in your mind.

It was juvenile, but you often dreamt of how the two of you would grow up together—an inseparable duo, the best of friends. Then, when you came of age, he would have asked you to follow him, and you would have gladly followed him anywhere. The two of you would travel all over the land, experiencing the world side by side. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, he would have asked you to marry him, and you would have said 'yes' without skipping a beat—

"Come now, don't sulk, flower," Sukuna said, breaking you out of your thoughts. "You're here now. We will make up for lost time."

"You speak as if I'm going to be staying here for good," you couldn't help but challenge him a little.

It might have been your imagination, but you thought his expression darkened for a split second.

"It sounds like you have somewhere to go then."

"I—well, I didn’t have too much time to think details. But I planned to make my way to a far out village, where no one will be able to find me."

"That would be difficult," Sukuna hummed.

"It’s worth a try… better than yielding to the fate I was subjugated to." You hugged your knees.

"Enlighten me, what was someone’s bride doing in the middle of the forest?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

There was a hesitation in telling him about your plight, but you knew it was also an unavoidable topic—after all, he had saved you, so an explanation was due at the very least.

“I ran away… from a marriage I wanted no part of.”

“How bold,” he chuckled. “It’s very like you.”

“It’s hardly a laughing matter, Ryo,” you huffed, anxiety evident in your voice.

“But you've successfully escaped. Should this not be a cause to celebrate?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“I don't know if I would consider it successful just yet," you narrowed your eyes. "I didn’t just run away from any man; I ran away from a lord. My village hoped to leverage my marriage with Lord Yamamoto for aid. There will be repercussions for my actions.”

Sukuna listened as he rotated the skewers.

"Hm, I suppose that is quite the predicament. Whatever shall you do then?" His question came out more like a taunt than a show of concern.

"Are you mocking my situation?" You frowned, your expression dropping as self-doubt crept in. You had to admit that you'd been reckless with your decision, and you didn't exactly have a reliable plan. You wouldn’t have even made it out of the forest had it not been for Sukuna.

“Of course not. Don't look so defeated," he softly tsked, smoothing the crease between your brows with his fingers.

You looked at him with a mixture of surprise and hesitation.

"Is there any reason for you to worry if I am going to be by your side?" he returned your gaze, a burning confidence in his eyes.

“It’s not so simple, Ryo. I don’t want you to be caught in my problems—”

“A mere lord and your measly village is not a problem,” Sukuna replied, passing a skewer to you.

You reluctantly accepted the skewer, your fingers momentarily brushing against his hand during the exchange. As divine as the meat smelled, you couldn't bring yourself to eat; your worries and anxiety loomed large over your head.

"It's not going to eat itself if you keep staring at it," Sukuna sighed, crossing his four arms and giving you a stern look.

Taking a tiny bite, your eyes momentarily lit up. It tasted even better than it smelled. Before you knew it, you had devoured the entire skewer, and Sukuna was already handing you another one. Perhaps you were hungrier than you had thought, but his pleased expression did not escape you—he cared, and that alone filled you with immense happiness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"It's not about what I want," you shook your head. "What if something happens to both of you because of me?"

"You needn't worry about us, Y/N-san; we are more than capable of dealing with Lord Yamamoto," Uraume smiled at you. Their gentle reassurance only seemed to amplify your guilt.

"We can't be sure of that—"

“Are you not aware of what they call me?”

You sighed, a sense of apprehension filling your chest. "I am..."

“Then if you know my reputation, you should understand that even if Lord Yamamoto and his entire arsenal, along with your village, were to descend upon us right now, they would not stand a chance.”

Sukuna seemed adamant about helping, but that only served to heighten your uneasiness. It wasn't that you doubted his capabilities; but you also understood that your actions would have dire consequences. A runaway bride of Lord Yamamoto wasn't a matter that would be overlooked so easily. Surely, the four men who had escorted you had reported back to their lord that you had escaped. Even if Sukuna could easily deal with them, he would be branded a criminal—forever having to be on the run. He had endured enough hardships in his life, and it felt like you were only adding to his strife. You didn't deserve this kindness from him; his life was fine before you came along.

"This will be your home. You will be safe as long as you stay by my side. So stay here, Y/N.” An unexpected possessiveness laced Sukuna's voice.

You looked up at Sukuna in surprise; you had never heard him call your name before. His eyes silently pleaded with you to stay—shattering your resolve.

"Tell me you need my help, flower," Sukuna urged, looking into your eyes with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

A lingering silence filled the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Help me, Ryo…" you finally said.

---

You hadn't felt so full in a long time. Sukuna had ensured you ate your share of food before retiring to bed. Following behind him, you were led to your sleeping accommodations, and to your surprise, he took you into his chamber, which overlooked a small private garden and hot spring.

The temple was modest in size, containing only two bedrooms. It didn’t feel right to intrude on Uraume's private quarters, especially since it was Sukuna's decision to keep you, but he also couldn’t deny he had other intentions.

Before crawling into bed, you turned to meet Sukuna's gaze.

“Ryo… I don’t know how I could ever repay you. If there's anything I can do for you, you must tell me," you said earnestly.

“Hmm,” he paused, feigning contemplation.

You looked at him eagerly, trying to anticipate what he could ask for.

"Anything?" he drawled, rubbing his chin.

You nodded.

“Alright," he smirked, "swear yourself to me.”

Your eyes widened. You weren’t exactly sure what that entailed, but you trusted him implicitly. He most likely needed an extra hand with taking care of the temple and doing some extra work around here.

“A-are you sure that’s all you want? That hardly seems adequate, I am troubling you after all.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeves.

"You undermine yourself, flower."

“Oh, well, I do have many skills I could offer, and I promise to be useful around here. I’m quite knowledgeable about plants, herbs, and flowers. I may not be as good a cook as Uraume, but—”

"Staying by my side is enough," he interjected.

There was a sincerity in his voice that was new to you, making your heart do flips inside your chest.

"Ryo..." you spoke quietly, clasping your hands tightly. "I might misunderstand if you're so kind to me."

Oh, what a delight you were. Sukuna felt an intense urge to smother you.

“Well, what if I wanted more than just your domestic skills?” he asked lowly, taking a lock of your hair into his hands.

Your heart raced, and suddenly the room felt hot as you understood his implications.

“Is that… what you truly desire?"

"And if it is?"

There was a brief pause.

Just this morning, you were still in utter despair, wholly expecting to be wedded to a monster. But now, in this moment, it was not Lord Yamamoto before you, but rather the man of your dreams—the only man you had wished to marry. He had long claimed your mind and heart; what more was your body?

"Then take me," your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, but why did he feel so disappointed by your response? It almost rolled off your tongue too easily.

"You would just give yourself to any man, so long as they ask?"

"N-no, you misunderstand!"

Sukuna remained silent, the look in his eyes demanding you to elaborate.

"If that were true, I wouldn’t have ran away from Lord Yamamoto. You're not just any man to me, Ryo. I—" love you. The heat crept up to your ears.

Your timid confession sent a chilling thrill through his body, awakening a primal hunger within him, he could no longer resist.

“Do you truly wish to be mine?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt dizzy under his touch and gaze.

"Yes..."

"Look at me and say it." He hissed.

"I'm yours, Ryo. I want to be yours." You met his eyes and gently took his hand, placing it over your heart, hoping he could feel how violently it was beating against your chest.

“You didn’t need to ask me to swear myself to you; I would have gladly followed you anywhere. I've felt that way ever since we were children.”

Sukuna was rarely caught off guard. The first time he recalled was when you approached him as a child, and the second was this very moment. You had just confessed your feelings for him and expressed a desire to stay with him of your own volition. Nobody else had ever been able to elicit these feelings from him, and the dominion you unknowingly held over him was both terrifying and thrilling.

"Then I will take you, flower—your heart, body, and soul."

Without sparing another moment, he wrapped his hand behind your head and crushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss. The world around you fell silent.

For once, it felt as if the universe had smiled upon his wretched life.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the pictures used for the banner.

Taglist: @paradisestarfishh @ssetsuka

[nightlyrequiem]

Would it be possible to get Valeria with a homebody writer (specifically romance writer maybe) partner?

This is totalllly not self indulgent at all, but I feel like the scenario you write where she broke into the readers house (which I loved btw) and becomes her stowaway would probably be the only way they meet lol, it's also possible that she could see the writer in a coffeeshop somewhere and have a meet cute but that doesn't really seem like her style to me :(

Feel free to change this up in any way you want I'm just throwing my ideas out from my mind palace

Yeah, I feel like meeting Valeria would be a little difficult unless it was some kind of home invasion type of scenario. Meet Cutes aren't her style sadly

Tags/Warnings: Kidnapping, WLW, Reader Gets Knocked Around, Fangirl Valeria

Meet Cute

Human error is unavoidable, like misspelling a word or grammatical errors. Even with a proof-reader, things are bound to slip past notice. Mistakes will be made eventually, no matter how careful a person is. You're tossed to the cement floor harshly, pain blossoming in your ribs from the impact. The sac over your head prevents you from seeing anything. Your ears ring, making it impossible to make out the low muttering of male voices.

No one is truly aware of how quickly things can change. Having four walls and a door often provides one with a false sense of security. Of safety. You thought you were safe. You were a bit reclusive. Preferring to be inside where the variables of life are easier to control. Even in a city like Las Almas. The environment that night was perfect for writing. Dark and slightly stormy. You were curled up on your couch, laptop in your lap with inspiration flowing from your pores. The first draft for your latest sapphic romance novel was almost completed.

Without any warning your front door was kicked open. The locks proving to be completely useless. You screamed and fought as masked men stormed inside. However, it was a short-lived battle. One punch to the temple was all it took to take the fight from you.

You're not given any time to catch your breath or get your bearings. Your grabbed by rough hands and dragged somewhere else. You're lifted and placed into a chair, hands tied behind you. Footsteps fade as the men leave you bound and blind. The only sound now being your own breathing and the frantic beating of your heart.

Waiting is the worst part. The dread of what's to come will never compare to what will actually happen. You're never going to finish your book. The second in your series. Your readers will never get to know what happens to the two main leads. Maybe it's your writing that got you here. You had gotten death threats before. As well as other types. As was the risks of writing the things you do. The situation almost reminds you of the story you posted to the internet when you were too young to be on it. A flawlessly witty girl is kidnapped by a stereotypically masculine guy. They fall in love.

You doubt there will be any love here though. Love doesn't flourish where death and decay feast. Finally, you hear footsteps approaching. Firm and confident. The door slides open and people enter, the room becoming heavy with tension.

"You thought you'd get away with stealing, hm?" A woman asks. You frown. You don't recall stealing anything. "Thought you were smarter than me?"

The bag is ripped from your head, and you recoil at how bright the lights are. You blink at the sight of the visibly angry woman in front of you. Reeking of violence and danger. Maybe it's because of all the questionable romantic leads you've written but there's something alluring about her. Though her being attractive doesn't make you less frightened.

She almost looks as confused as you feel. Brows furrowed into a frown. She says your name, which doesn't bode well for you.

"... I didn't steal from you." You say softly. Hoping to pacify the situation. "At least not knowingly, if I did I can replace it or give it back." You promise. The woman doesn't respond, just continues to gawk at you.

The silent staring is beginning to get uncomfortable. The two men she brought with her exchange confused glances. Clearly something isn't going the way it should.

"You wrote Stardust." She says finally. Your face warms with embarrassment. You're proud of what you write but it still feels... weird to have people talk about it. You furrow your brows. You didn't think a woman that looks like her would be in your audience.

"... Yeah, I uh, did." You nod awkwardly.

She puts her gun back into its holster. "I have all your books." She says. Surprising you.

The woman turns to the men beside her. 

"This isn't the right woman you fucking idiots! I even gave you a picture how did you mess up?" She hisses at them. You almost deflate with relief at those words. A mistake. A simple case of human error. "Get out." She snaps. The men nod and leave quickly. Ashamed or afraid that they messed up. She turns back to you with an appraising eye.

"... Do you like them?" You ask.

Her brows furrow. "What?"

"My books." You clarify nervously. 

She walks behind you.

"One of my guilty pleasures is romance," She starts. "it's a nice escape from the grueling, bloody reality of my life."

"That's... nice." You reply. She didn't really answer your question.

"I'm picky though, I'll drop a book easily if the characters do something I think is stupid."

Oh. She's probably going to chastise you for writing idiots - which admittedly, you have. In some of your earlier books. The ropes loosen, freeing your hands.

"But I like the way you write people." She praises. "They're realistically stupid."

You bring your hands to your lap and inspect your wrists. The soft skin is a little red.

"Oh, thank you." You say, blinking gratefully. She walks back in front of you.

"This was a misunderstanding." She says, voice soft and placating. You look at her and wonder if this is a trick. You rise to your feet.

"All good." You smile. Though it's actually not all good. You're shaken. Your home was broken into and you were kidnapped. However, saying that might not bode over well.

"... So is Stardust getting a sequel?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

She has a very intense stare. You have to look away because staring into her dark brown eyes is starting to make you uncomfortable.

"I'm in the process of writing it, actually." You tell her. "Well, the draft."

She continues to stare at you. "Do you think you could add me into the book?"

You frown. "Yeah, sure I could do that." You nod reluctantly. This woman scares you and you'd hate to disappoint her.

"I shouldn't tell you my name, but I just love you and your writing so much," She admits. "I'm Valeria."

You nod.

"Valeria." You repeat. "Nice to meet you, I suppose."

Valeria nods and cracks a small smile. "Great. Why don't I take you home now then?" She says, herding you towards the door. You try to protest against that, not really wanting her to know where you live. Though considering her people had taken you from your home in the first place, she probably already knows. Your words fall on deaf ears. Valeria is determined to escort you home safely. Wanting to spend a little one on one time with her favourite author.

[merrybloomwrites]

Build You a Boat (1D x Reader)

Summary: A crazy idea leads to the most wonderful adventure for you and your five bandmates. While none of you had ever dreamed of canoeing the boundary waters, you end up having taken a trip you'll never forget.

Word Count: 1.5K

AN: Back in October I was brainstorming some lighthearted 1D story ideas and for some reason this one stuck with me. Just some fun escapism and adventure!

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“Whatcha watching?” Liam asks, hovering over the back of the couch you’re sitting on. 

“YouTube,” you reply, your focus still on the video.

“That’s nonspecific,” Zayn adds from the other end of the couch.

Finally realizing that people are talking to you, you pause the video and say, “Sorry, it’s this couple that makes travel vlogs. They’re canoeing the boundary waters between the United States and Canada.”

“That’s a thing?” Liam questions.

“Apparently. I didn’t know until they published this video. It’s kind of cool. It’s like, a bunch of little lakes and you have to carry the canoe from one lake to the next and then they camp each night,” you explain.

“How long does it take?” Zayn asks next.

“I think about a week.”

“Sounds like fun,” Liam says.

“Seriously?” Zayn questions. “A week of sleeping in a tent at night and basically exercising all day sounds fun to you?”

“It does!” Liam replies.

“I think it seems pretty cool. I’d do it,” you say.

“What are we doing?” Niall asks as he, Louis, and Harry enter the green room. 

“Canoeing the boundary waters,” you reply.

“No we’re not,” Zayn argues.

“What are the boundary waters?” Harry asks.

Instead of explaining again you decide to play the video on the TV in the room so that everyone can see what you’re talking about.

As the video wraps up Harry says, “I would do that.”

Shockingly, everyone agrees and somehow the six of you start talking about how fun of a challenge it would be, and how much you would enjoy escaping into nature where there’s no phone service or internet. 

“Always fun to dream,” Liam says.

“Dream? No, we are making this happen,” you state.

“Y/N, don’t be crazy. We could never, not with our schedules,” Niall says.

“Plus management would never let us do something that dangerous,” Louis adds.

“‘Specially not Harry,” Zayn says.

“Why me?” Harry asks, confused.

“Cause you’re clumsy. You’d manage to fall over while sitting in the canoe.”

“Heyy. Rude.” Harry’s pout tells you he’s not truly offended, since Zayn is probably correct.

But even with all of these valid concerns, you can’t give up on this idea.

“Let me deal with management. I’ll get us on this trip,” you state definitively.

“Best wishes to you there,” Niall quips.

You know none of them are confident that you can make it happen, and they’re very surprised when a week later you tell them the news. “It’s set. We are officially canoeing the boundary waters this fall.”

Your announcement is met with five pairs of eyes staring at you incredulously.

“Seriously?” Liam asks.

“Seriously.”

“How did you get management to agree?” Louis questions.

“I have my ways.”

“That sounds concerningly dirty,” Zayn states.

“Oh, god no. Nothing like that! I just told them we needed a break to spend quality time together in nature before we all burnt out and quit.”

“Kept it light and breezy then, huh?” Louis jokes. 

“They wanted some security to go with us but they decided that we could go with just us six as long as we have those fancy GPS tracker things,” you add.

“We’re going to need so many supplies,” Niall says.

“I was thinking of reaching out to those vloggers who did it, see if they can maybe send a list,” you explain. 

“It looks like a big physical challenge,” Harry says. “Should we be doing any training for it?”

“We all work out like, every day. We’re in good shape. Maybe just do the rowing machine every now and then.” 

The boys are all still quiet, like they’re absorbing this information. Finally you say, “Guys! There’s plenty of time to get ready. Now’s the time to get excited! Six days, on the water, enjoying nature with no one able to bother us.”

“You’re right,” Liam agrees. “Honestly, I can’t wait.”

The other four all start to get excited as well, and by the time you’re called away for soundcheck, everyone is counting down the days until this adventure.

And even though that countdown starts at quite a large number, making the trip seem ages away, suddenly it seems, you’re flying to Minnesota. 

Those youtubers who inspired this whole idea had been more than helpful when you’d reached out to them. Not only were they willing to give advice, they offered to set everything up for you. When you arrive, everything you need is there waiting for your group.

A local ranger gives you guys the rundown of the route and lists any other information you might need. 

And then, finally, it’s time to get on the water. 

Harry is your canoe buddy for the week, and he holds the boat as you get in. Once you’re all situated, you begin paddling.

It takes a little bit of time to get the hang of rowing, but soon enough, you’re gliding along the water. Niall and Liam often take the lead, as Liam is the master of the map. Zayn and Louis tend to drift behind and then gain a burst of energy to catch up. 

Since it’s a series of small lakes, there are times where you reach land and have to carry, or portage, the canoe on a trail to the next lake. While the other pairs take turns, Harry always carries your canoe, not wanting you to have to lift it. He’s just being a gentleman, but you know you could totally pull it off.

In late afternoon you reach the campsite and begin to set everything up. You have different tent buddies, wanting to switch it up so no one is spending too much time with one specific person. You’ve all learned that can be a recipe for sibling-like bickering to begin. 

You’re sharing a tent with Niall, while Liam and Zayn are together and Harry and Louis take the third. Once everything is set up you make dinner over a camp stove. The evening ends with watching the sun set over the water, and you take in this moment of peace, so happy to be doing this adventure with the boys.

The next couple of days pass similarly. You’re blessed with good weather, and currents that seem to flow with you, rather than against. 

The nights do get chilly, and even with the layers you brought, you’re still cold. Luckily Niall gets cold too and has no problem when you insert yourself in his personal space to steal body heat.

Your other big problem is the bugs. Mosquitos to be exact. They’ve always loved you, and there seems to be an abundance of them here. Add on that any bug bite you get swells up into a welt, you basically look like you have a nasty case of chickenpox. No amount of bug spray deters them, and no amount of calamine lotion can completely take away the itch. 

But not even that can ruin this experience.

On the last full day you finally convince Harry to let you do one of the portages. He guides you through the proper way to lift the canoe, and all the boys shout encouragements as you do the hike. 

When you drop the boat back in the water at the end of the portage, the others cheer and congratulate you. It seems silly, since they’ve been doing the same thing for days, but it really uplifts you the way they celebrate your success.

That night, you all stay up late talking, even though you’re exhausted from the last few days. It was so difficult, physically and mentally. But you’re all so glad you did it. There isn’t much of the trip left, and by lunchtime tomorrow you’ll be turning in your canoes.

You’re sad that it’s ending, but there’s a sense of satisfaction that you were able to do it, and more importantly, the six of you did it as a team. You know you’re not the only one who’s been inspired by this, and there will definitely be multiple One Direction songs about the time out on the water.

None of you want to go to bed, knowing this will all be over the next day and you have to reenter society. But Liam eventually makes everyone call it a night when you practically fall asleep against his shoulder. 

On the final morning you all paddle just a bit slower, savoring every last minute of the quiet waters.

You’ve all mostly refrained from taking pictures, wanting to live in the moment, but you make the others join you for a selfie, needing this time together captured so you’ll have the memory forever. 

After turning in all of your rental equipment you head to the airport, needing to fly right back to London. The six of you sleep the entire way, exhausted from days of exertion.

When your friends and families ask how it was, all of you tell them how great the experience was. They want details, but it’s not something you can really put into words. 

It’s just something that the six of you will always share, and you’re so grateful the boys were on board with your crazy plan.

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AN: Thanks for reading! If you have any 1D requests let me know!

[spidercatweb]

Post-case Bedtime Story ★ Spencer Reid x reader

first fic!! im so scared! but i really like this so i hope other people do too :)

Warnings: none! this is fluff, gn!bau!reader, no y/n, second person pov, in my mind Spencer and reader are already dating in this, i imagined s2 glasses reid while writing, verb tense probably switches but idc, i also wrote most of this while half asleep so...

Word Count: 704

Description: Reader is sleepy on the jet after a case and has a cute little moment with Spencer :)

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciated! 💜

The past week had been long, tiring, and incredibly stressful. For everyone on the team. You would think that after five restless days of tracking down an unsub, the others would want the same thing as you, some peace and quiet, and sleep. Lots of sleep. But apparently not everyone had the same idea.

As the jet peacefully glided through the quiet night sky, Emily, Derek, and JJ sat in the seats around the small table. Not so quietly discussing their plans to go out for drinks when they got back. Surely, Garcia would want to go as well, she would enjoy her friends being back after so long and would most likely try to convince the rest of the team to tag along as well.

Hotch and Rossi sat in the back corner, Hotch tiredly flipped through the case file, determined to finish his paperwork before the jet landed so he could assure as much time spent with Jack as possible before the team was called out again. Rossi silently sipped some whiskey while doing crossword puzzles in a book he carried around in his go bag.

Spencer was sat on the small couch, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and a book in his lap, his messenger bag on the floor infront of him. You were sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, sitting cross legged with your feet up on the couch. You lightly rested your head on his shoulder, angling yourself so that you could at least try to read his book along with him, even though he was flipping the pages too fast for anyone to keep up with. You weren't sure, but you think he may have started to slow down his page flipping just a little bit when he noticed you trying to keep up with his reading pace.

After a while, Prentiss and JJ had both fallen asleep, while Morgan was listening to music with his headphones, staring out the jet window. Hotch had finished the paperwork (or given up on it, you werent too sure) and was "just resting his eyes", Rossi was passed out with his arms folded over his chest, empty whiskey glass on the table beside him.

You felt comfortable. You cozied up to Spencer a tiny bit more now that most of the team was distracted enough not to notice. Putting the full weight of your head on his shoulder and loosely locking an arm with the one of his that was closest to you.

He still flipped the pages of his book every few seconds, though he neared the end. He looked down and scanned your tired expression, your eyes were half closed but a faint smile could still be seen. You liked being close to him like this. The corners of his mouth slightly curve upwards as he looks at you. "You know you're allowed to sleep, right?" he whispers. "Mm, I was waiting for you to finish your book so we could talk." you reply, looking up at him. "Oh, you could've just interrupted me, I wouldn't have minded. What did you want to talk about?" He replies, feeling a little guilty that he was the reason you hadn't gone to sleep yet.

"Nothing specific, I just like talking to you." You smile at him. "And we've only talked about the case for the past few days, I want to talk about something not so gross and scary." Spencer huffs out a small laugh and returns your sweet smile. "Well, you do look pretty tired. I could read to you if you'd like? I wouldn't mind if you just so happened to fall asleep." he suggests, gently nudging you with his elbow. "That would be nice, actually." You reply, nodding while still leaning on his shoulder.

For the next five minutes, Spencer quietly reads to you from his book, picking up where he left off while reading to himself. His voice served as a reminder that he was still there, even if your eyes were closed. Another five minutes pass and you're fast asleep, leaning against him, his arm locked with yours. He continues reading though, hoping that his voice keeps you in a calm, restful sleep.

thank you for reading! <3

please let me know if you enjoyed!

[somegirlontheinternet135]

GOOD MORNING- AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!

✨ I'm back✨

And in a big way too!

I admit, I haven't been able to post a lot recently(school and life had been kicking my ass recently-) Issues arising from my personal and social life made it hard to keep afloat; but within the darkness, there is always light, and that came to me in the greatest way to start the new year! For those new here, I've made it clear that Shadow Milk was my favorite💕 out of the beasts! So knowing he'll be playable soon brings me such joy! That being said, they DID NOT DISAPPOINT with this teaser! The visuals. The animation. The VA Shadow Milk just absolutely killing it as always!? I'M-

Sigh. . .

Safe to say, I'm pretty excited for this update! And I can't wait for what's to come! Like. SERIOUSLY. I CAN'T WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S COMING OUT IN 5 DAYS!? GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME MY SILLY JESTER NOW!!!! GIVE ME-

Ahem. . . Anyways. . .

Let's get to the fun part: the predictions✨

We can all the ancients go to the beasts' respective areas for a reason(Dark Cacao wanted to confront the one responsible for causing the plague, Golden Cheese gets kidnapped, etc) Things get slightly easier given Pure Vanilla and friends are already in Beast Yeast. With Shadow Milk in case, it's likely that he'll trick the group into going into his domain, trapping them; how exactly this'll play out, there's a good idea but it's kinda outlandish. Remember the dough baby they found? the baby born from DE's lab? And the same baby that gets sent to the Cookie Kingdom? Well since I don't know the exact timeframe of when the update happens, it's a possibility that this update takes place after they've just found the baby. Which paints another possibility of Shadow Milk taking full advantage of the situation, taking the baby & bolting, causing the main gang to give chase. A cat-and-mouse game that leads them to a trap

Given the imagery we see in the teaser, it's not unlikely for Pure Vanilla to have a breakdown of sorts somewhere in the story. This is further shown in the new teaser we got (yes I'm slow tf- I'll be linking it here tho��) showing from Pure Vanilla in the tarot card, "The tower". . . Falling from it. . . Oh no. . . And with White Lily gone, he's definitely screwed(rip PV TwT)

Speaking of White Lily, it would be a crime the biggest elephant in the room in the teaser! White Lily disappears halfway through the trailer, and the most logical thing is that White Lily was captured by Shadow Milk, till you remember a crucial thing, it's a game. Yes, this may be me reading into the title of all things, but it's not too far off from what we see with Shadow Milk, he's one to play with his food, torment his victim, and what way to do that than with a game, and when there's games, there's eliminations. I believe that during the story, each of the gang will be "eliminated" one by one, leaving Pure Vanilla as the last one standing. As a plus, games also come with prizes, what's a better prize than the baby Shadow Milk stole?

Last but not least is the star of the show himself, Shadow Milk, of course as the main villain, we'll get many great moments from him, including moments of comedy! It's likely we'll get some fourth wall breaks, maybe some out-of-context jokes. I'm personally hoping for a musical number because a Shadow Milk villain song is overdue!

And that's all I got unfortunately TwT I'm sorry I couldn't give you more and I'm sorry I haven't been able to post! Life has been so consumed and a moment of peace feels short. But now that it's a new year, I have so many new opportunities, and I hope this year will be a chance for new changes! May everyone's new year bring about new hope and prosperity!✨🎉🎊

Be on the lookout for my other projects

And as always, stay tuned!^^✨

[sad-girl-hours23]

This started as a writing exercise for "first lines" and I wrote this first line without any notion of a story: Buck stares at the wedding invitation he received in the mail for a Mr. Eric Williams and a Mr. Thomas Kinard, and says, “what the fuck.”

But then I thought to myself, why would Tommy send him an invite to his wedding and well, this idea was born. Pay no attention to the plot holes and general lack of logistics lol also I did not re-read this so know that going in.

TLDR: Post break-up, Tommy gets amnesia, loses the last 8 years of memories. Doesn’t tell anyone, fakes it with his boss & Lucy. Quits his job & moves to Pennsylvania. Changes his number. Gets a boring desk job and falls in love with the first man he meets. They eventually get engaged & Tommy, wanting to have familiar faces on his side of the aisle, invites Hen, Howie, Sal, Bobby, and Lucy. He doesn’t remember them, but he also sends invites to Eddie and Evan (whose information is in his address book)

Cut to Buck receiving a wedding invitation from Tommy 2 years after he broke up with Buck and never spoke to him again.

Buck/Tommy amnesia fic where Tommy goes out of town and he gets into an accident shortly after the breakup and forgets the last 8 years.

 His emergency contact is his captain who, to Tommy’s memory, he’s only met a handful of times since he remembers his transfer to Harbor being approved, but he doesn’t remember ever working there. He doesn’t remember why he was out of town, but something is telling him he needed to get away. The thought of trying to fit back into a life he doesn’t remember gives him anxiety, as does the thought of asking strangers to fill in the blanks. He doesn’t tell his chief or anybody about the amnesia. Maybe this can be the new start he craved.

When he gets back to LA, he quits his job and prepares to move. He finds a house to rent in Hershey, Pennsylvania of all places. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t ever remember wanting to go there, but it sticks in his brain. Maybe it’s his sweet tooth.

He wonders if there is anybody he should contact before he goes. His phone was lost in the accident, so he had no call history or text messages to go off of. All he had was an address book, with some names he recognized, Howie and Hen, and others he didn’t, an Eddie Diaz and an Evan Buckley. There’s an ache in his chest he can’t explain. Maybe it’s that the only phone calls he’s received in the last two weeks since his accident have been spam or from Lucy. He wishes he remembered her. She sounded skeptical when he skirted things he couldn’t remember, surprised but ultimately happy for him when he told her about the move. Told him not to be a stranger, but he knew he would be.

He gets to Pennsylvania and takes his time settling in. He gets a boring desk job. After a month, with no contact from anybody, he changes his number to one with a Pennsylvania area code. He still thinks about reaching out to Hen and Howie, but he chickens out every time. He does reach out to Sal and finds relief in finally being truthful about his amnesia. It feels like they pick up right where they left off and Tommy’s grateful for the friendship, even if Sal can’t tell him anything about his life (apparently they hadn’t kept in touch often).

Tommy can’t explain why he saves Evan Buckley’s information in his phone or the fluttering feeling in his chest he gets just looking at the name. It’s the same feeling he gets when he finds himself driving down a residential road and catches sight of a white house with green shutters. He can’t explain the way it feels like his mind is trying to retrieve memories that never come. He composes texts that he never sends, isn’t sure what he would even say. 

 He meets a man named Eric, who sweeps him off his feet. He’s just sweet enough that Tommy chooses to ignore the ways Eric can make him feel small and ashamed at being new to dating men. He is new to it as far as his memory is concerned, so he pushes the feeling down. 

He toys with the idea of getting recertified to become a firefighter again, but Eric won’t hear of it and Tommy doesn’t want to lose him, wants the life and marriage that Eric’s talked about. Even if deep down, it feels like there is somebody else out there for him. 

Tommy & Eric get engaged and Tommy leaves all the planning to his fiancee. The only thing Tommy doesn’t want is separate sides for friends and family, considering the fact that Eric and Sal are all he has, but Eric insists. So Tommy decides to send an invite to Howie, Hen, Lucy, and Bobby. He also sends an invite to Eddie and Evan and hopes it isn’t a mistake.

Cut to Buck receiving a wedding invitation from Tommy 2 years after he broke up with Buck and never spoke to him again and Buck is like, “what the fuck?”

[acourtofthought]

Did you catch the latest podcast with Steph and Ava? They absolutely crack me up! The biggest takeaway for me? They both agree that Azriel's book is next. Meanwhile, the Elriels are being suspiciously quiet about it. But hey, a clickbait piece or song by Taylor somehow holds more weight, right? 😂

Sure, Steph and Ava could be wrong, but let’s be real—neither of them is losing their minds over some random “articles” or Taylor Swift lyrics. They actually know SJM personally. I mean, whether we like it or not, they have a better insight into her than any of us do. What do you think?

I definitely think they're a lot of fun together and I agree, in terms of credible news sources I would think if there's any insider knowledge to be had, it would be Steph over a random ScreenRant journalist. That her statement "not everything is meant to be taken romantically" was possibly a message to e/riels because of how they read into everything but beyond that I am a bit divided on what Steph and Ava actually know or, what they know versus what they're saying.

To me it means something that Steph was all on the E/riel train even when she and Sarah spoke about the Az bonus chapter, where Sarah told her she was excited for her to read the crumbs she scattered. Then later, they had done an IG Live where it still seemed Steph thought E/riel was a possibility and Sarah's face seemed to fall a bit but just a short time later Steph no longer though E/riel was happening. Something like that does make me wonder if Sarah told Steph that E/riel wasn't going to be a thing because there was a noticeable shift between Lives in who she thought was ending up together.

In terms of them knowing who the next book is about, I'm not sure whether they have insider knowledge. Since Sarah kept the HOFAS crossover a secret from even Josh, it's possible she's also keeping the main pairing of the next book a secret to those around her as well. Steph and Ava do think Az is next but Steph also mentioned she felt HOFAS was needed in order to build Az up to have his own book and that seems a bit odd to me. An ACOTAR series character should not need an entirely different series in order to set him up for his own book since not every ACOTAR reader will read CC. So what happens for those readers, they buy the next ACOTAR book completely confused as to where Az's story came from when they left off with SF? What if those readers only read the series because they were able to check out the books from their local library and they have no idea that his bonus chapter exists? I think the next story has to make sense for readers who stopped at SF and are not aware of any bonus chapters or what happened in CC because despite our immersion into this fandom I don't think the majority of readers are into all things SJM the way we are. A casual reader should not be obligated to read beyond the ACOTAR books in order to pick up the next book in the series and understand what's going on and Az processing a time traveler who took his dagger when starting the next book is a bit of a stretch for where things left off in SF. Especially when CC did not actually leave us with any new and immediate threats for them to deal with. Where we left off in SF was the peace treaty, Koschei, Beron and Spring as immediate concerns (they didn't sound like things that could wait another 6-9 months so Az can first deal with his stuff) and Emerie joked the Illyrians would be in hysterics for decades (an Az storyline) meaning not an immediate concern. When the big bad starts making moves in a Sarah book, things move pretty quickly from there on out. I.e. We learned of Hyberns plans in January and the war occurred in August. I think the TOG series occurred over a year. In SF, we learned of Koschei and the Trove in September / October and SF ended in April. So I'm not sure it makes sense to have an Az book (my guess is you'd need at least 6 - 9 months for a realistic love story if he's ending up with Gwyn) then at least another 6 months for an Elain book and for us to finally see Koschei's defeat. That stretches out the Koschei / Beron plot well beyond her norm.

With that said, maybe Steph does know something but if she did, would she say it? That would be breaking the trust of Sarah and Bloomsbury. Knowing something then saying "but it's just my opinion" still kind of spills the tea if you've been forced to sign an NDA. Usually if people know secrets they avoid the topic entirely. Or maybe Steph knows something but she says the opposite to throw people off so she doesn't reveal secrets. In the podcast she also said that if Az and Elain don't end up together, she doesn't think Lucien and Elain are ending up together but that Lucien still can't have his story until Elain deals with her bond and to me that's a strange thing to say. If Elain isn't ending up with Lucien or Az then who is she sharing a book with? And how would we get an Az book, then an Elain book THEN Sarah tackles Lucien's story? How are we dividing the current plots between the three, all with three different love interests? Ava also said she couldn't remember Elain stabbing the King so again, are they just messing with us or are they just too busy with other stuff to actually dive deep into these books the same way we do? Which is completely understandable, they seem to be extremely busy with everything else they have going on, I'm just not sure how much of what they say should be written as gospel.

With all that said, I do think it's possible for Steph to know something but at the same time I'm not sure that what she's saying is her revealing the information she knows. I think it would cross a line to have insider information then share that insider information on podcasts while saying "it's just my opinion" to cover yourself.

However, she's also mentioned a few times that she tells Sarah not to spoil anything for her so I end up divided on the topic.

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

Okay, my bad. Clearly I wasn't being direct enough. Let's take this step by step.

1. Nowhere in this post - this specific post - do you specify anything more than agreeing with anon, who claims 'fiction affects reality". The bans on violence etc I mention fall under the same logic that you're using to say certain topics are being "romanticized" - for instance, let's look at GTA 5, where all of the main characters are criminals who don't really have an issue with killing people. If people operated on the logic you describe, there should be a noticeable trend of young men shooting people over dumb shit or driving recklessly or a myriad other illegal acts because they did it in GTA and it was cool in-game.

2. There's a lot of assumptions being made that make the director in the first image seem problematic. First of all, lolicon isn't an exclusively sexual orientation. I know an ace guy who's a diehard lolicon. Even if it were sexual, it would be a sub-category of schediaphilia, or the love of drawings (cartoons, if you will), which naturally doesn't translate into the real world. Further, being a self-described lolicon doesn't mean the director can't make tasteful art. Speaking of, the post is too vague, so I couldn't find exactly what this is about. There doesn't seem to be a manga nor a movie called "Nobody Dies" that's relevant here. Thirdly, lots of films feature underage people. The reason you're alarmed is purely out of the misconception that lolicons even care about real girls and, further, that the director would absolutely make them film something bad.

3. Zone and Shadman aren't representative of the community and, believe you me, lolicons hate them too. Using real kids or the identity of real kids in your art is fuckin deplorable and it doesn't take a genius to understand that. It ain't the same as those soulless, identity-less drawings that look more like aliens than humans. For all I care, the day those two die, nobody will feel sorry for them.

4. Sexualizing rape has damn near always been one of the staples of romance novels aimed at women. I'm not even joking. Predictably, they still don't enjoy actually being raped or raping others. Same goes for abuse - rather, there's even more of that in those novels. Pretty sure incest is relatively common also.

Look, any topic you can really pick, I'm gonna say the same - is it happening to fictional characters that we couldn't possibly mistake for real people? Yes? Then there's no issue.

5. Is Vivz a fucking hack that would probably shrivel up like a dried grape if someone actually showed her a good story? Yes. Does she overuse themes of abuse and rape only to use them incorrectly and make a laughingstock of her characters? Sure. I have no issue flaming her and her shitty work til the end of days, especially since she got a lot of people's hopes up. The idea of a fair representation of minorities (esp based on sexual and gender orientation) in an interesting setting and with good art (the character sheets for the original designs actually look dope as hell) had people hooked immediately. It's just that Vivz fumbled the bag so hard she barely has any honest fans left. Her stupid ass art still had no effect on reality.

6. Again. The ban on violent games, just like the ban on alcohol, just like the ban on certain topics in filmography back in the 80s (I think) - you know, the whole "No alcoholism, no addiction, no bad guy winning etc" thingamabob - and your call for policing certain topics so the people don't romanticize them; those all come from the same place, use the same logic. And they're all stupid as hell.

Oh also. "Rape / murder / being bald / any other topic isn't funny" is just. Not true. You can make anything funny. In fact, laughing has evolved to be a means to allow people to come to terms with certain things. I can laugh at fat jokes despite being fat because the whole point of a (good) fat joke is actually to make me feel comfortable with the fact. Like, c'mon. Or, say, people who make Hitler jokes - they don't do it because they like Hitler, they do it to make fun of him. To make light of his atrocities not for the sake of dismissing them, but to bring people closure. The fact that you can laugh about your issues, genuinely laugh, ensures they no longer hold power over you.

I literally dare the "fiction doesn't affect reality" people/proshits (or whatever tf they want to call themselves) to say that shit to the girl who nearly died because her friends thought Slenderman was real.

This too! 👆🏾

[applecherry108]

I have a theory. .

[beastsovrevelation]

I recently found out people ship Cassandra with Apollo.

My initial reaction was...

Just tan their hides. You know what happened to her because the the bastard, don't you?..

Then, I was overwhelmed by morbid curiosity, and checked AO3. People are writing rape fics about them. ...Why?..

Could I ever see Cassandra x Apollo?.. I don't know, maybe. But, definitely not the nonsense I mentioned. Dubcon at most. I guess, he might somehow coerce her into sleeping with him, and later rescue her from the fall of Troy, because she's pregnant with his child, or something (Zeus would be pissed, I'm fine with that).

Sounds like an intriguing story, with a lot of morally questionable elements. I can imagine Apollo confiding in Artemis, wondering why his wife is so upset. She'd just go "are you serious rn?.. -_-".

...What, you're surprised I'm among those I wish to hide with a broom? Don't be. It happens quite often, actually.